History of the University of Virginia, 1819-1919; the lengthened shadow of one man, |
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 | HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSITY
OF VIRGINIA History of the University of Virginia, 1819-1919; |  |
HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSITY
OF VIRGINIA
NINTH PERIOD
THE PRESIDENCY, 1904–1919
I. The Presidency—The First Suggestion
In our preceding volumes, we referred incidentally
to the altered economic and social conditions which
prevailed in the Southern States during the long interval
between 1865–1904. The influence of these conditions
was perceptible in the life of that region many
years before the close of the nineteenth century; but it
was not until the end of the interval just mentioned that
this influence became overwhelmingly predominant; and
every twelve months which have passed since then have
only served to increase its controlling power. Unless
we bear in mind the existence of these all-pervading,
all-comprehending conditions,—which were unknown
in the South before the abolition of slavery, and which
did not begin to display their full force until many decades
thereafter had gone by,—we cannot thoroughly
gauge the external pressure, which, since 1904, has
moulded the destinies of the University of Virginia to as
great a degree from without as the scholastic work of
the institution has moulded those destinies from within.
With this background clearly understood, much that
would otherwise be obscure becomes plainly intelligible.
To recapitulate these conditions briefly: the first
characteristic of the change was the uprooting of the
old plantation system, and along with that system, the
social order which it had upheld,—this meant the practical
destruction of individualism as the chief factor of
civic polity, the consequent establishment of the public
school, and the spread of the community spirit. The
second feature was the rise of industrialism, as most
conspicuously illustrated in manufactures. This signified
the growth of towns, the creation of new social
forces, the expansion of more diversified interests, and
the demand for more cooperative effort in every line.
How did these influences at work in the altered
South most palpably affect the operations of the University?
They caused, first, the introduction of the Presidency;
and secondly, they made that institution the real
capstone of the public school system of the State. These
were not the only marked changes which those influences
brought about, but they were certainly the most salient.
One of the most impressive characteristics of a society
in which both the industrial spirit and the community
spirit have become predominant is an insistent demand
for efficiency. The creation of the Presidency did not
have its origin so much in the failure of the chairman
of the Faculty to perform the functions of his office
with a fair degree of success, as in the expectation
that a President, invested with larger powers, could execute
the same functions with far greater advantage to
the University. In the course of the inaugural ceremonies
on April 13, 1905, both Professor James M.
Page and Professor Francis H. Smith very correctly
pointed out that the condition of the institution was not
so lacking in prosperity that, for this reason alone, a new
form of government was imperative. The fundamental
spirit of the South which refused to be satisfied with
less than the highest degree of efficiency that was attainable,
whether the organization to be piloted was
scholastic or industrial in its character.
The authorities of the University, yielding to practical
influences which pervaded the air itself, had arrived
at an attitude of mind that was ready to sacrifice
all the suggestions of conservative tradition, if the benefits
of a larger usefulness were likely to follow. In
allowing themselves to be governed by this general principle,
they were not unfaithful to the convictions which
had been expressed by Jefferson, the father of the University.
In a letter which he wrote to his most loyal
coadjutor, Cabell, in 1818, he made this pregnant remark:
"Nobody could advocate more strongly than
myself the right of every generation to legislate for itself,
and the advantages which each succeeding generation
has over the preceding one, from the constant progress
of science and the arts." Would he have approved
of the change to the Presidency under the influence of
the opinion thus announced? There can be no question
that, both in spirit and in practical operation, the chairmanship
of the Faculty, to be held in rotation by each
member of that body, was more democratic than the
office of the average modern college president, with its
more or less autocratic powers and broad personal
responsibilities; and yet the period in which this office
was established at the University of Virginia was
certainly, from some vital points of view, more democratic
in its tendencies than the period in which the
original chairmanship was erected.
Had Jefferson been living in 1904, and been still in
occupation of the rectorship, his sensitiveness to the
him voluntarily to consent to the abolition of the old
form of administration, and the substitution of one less
democratic, it is true, but better fitted to meet the complicated
requirements of a more diversified society.
We have seen how firmly he opposed the appointment
of William Wirt to the Presidency, in spite of his profound
respect for the character and ability of that distinguished
advocate; and although he gracefully yielded
to the wishes of his colleagues, and actually himself
forwarded the invitation, there is small reason to think
that his original opinion had been modified. At that
time, there was no expectation of obtaining a more
efficient administration by the creation of the new
office. The only object in view was, by the additional
salary, to induce some competent member of the bar to
accept the new chair of law, which, so far, had remained
vacant, in spite of the indefatigable efforts to fill it.
Had the Presidency been considered previous to this
offer? The first reference to the office is found in a
letter of Francis Walker Gilmer, which bore the date
of August, 1824. He had been persistently urged by
Jefferson and other friends to become a candidate for
the professorship of law. He was now in Edinburgh,
in search of an incumbent for the chair of physics.
"If you would elect me President or something," he
wrote Chapman Johnson, in a spirit of half-jocularity,
"with the privilege of residing within three miles of the
Rotunda, it would be a great inducement to me to
accept." It is plain that he preferred the shady lawn
of Pen Park to the finest pavilion of the University,
even with the office of chief executive thrown in to give
increased dignity to such a roof.
Did this suggestion, dropped so casually into
form of administration for the new seat of culture?
Probably not for the first time. Among all those interested
in the welfare of the University, there was not
one more discerning or more astute than he,—a man of
genius, and also a man of practical affairs, one who had
learned much from books, but still more from intercourse
with mankind. He had, as a student, attended
the College of William and Mary at the time that it
was under the supervision of President Madison. It is
possible that his recollection of the successful management
of its interests by that wise and excellent prelate
had given him a deep impression of the advantages of
this kind of executive office for an institution of learning.
However that may be, the conviction which he
expressed on the subject in October, 1820, has quite as
much the ring of modernity as if it had been uttered in
1921. "The first of all things needed," he wrote
General Cocke, "is a president, not appointed by chance
or seniority, but appointed by the Visitors, and holding
his rank during their pleasure; not limited in his authority
to the powers of a moderator at the board of
professors, but clothed with the chief executive powers
of the government, and charged with the superintendence
of its discipline and police, and responsible for
their due administration. I hold this to be a matter of
the last importance to the good government of the
University."
Jefferson did not share these emphatic views, and
why? First, because, as we have already mentioned,
he favored in every department of administration,
whether it was scholastic or political, either a nice
distribution of functions, or, should that not be practicable,
an uniform rotation of powers. He had small
or any set of men, who exercised authority above control,
and for an indefinite period. The chairman of
the Faculty was elected annually,—it followed that he
would remain in office long enough to acquire valuable
knowledge and experience, but not long enough to learn
to consider himself supreme. Who can accurately
gauge how far Jefferson's antagonism to the appointment
of a President was colored by his recollection of
the fact, that, with hardly an exception, the presidents
of the colleges of those times were clergymen of the
several denominations? Probably, he carried about
with him the vision of old Bishop Madison lecturing to
his class in clerical garb, and putting on his lawn sleeves
on the occasion of every religious ceremony, and governing
students and professors alike in the spirit of a
shepherd gently yet firmly driving his docile flock.
Jefferson, in objecting to the substitution of the Presidency
for the chairmanship, did not, however, bring
forward his private convictions on the subject in justification,
but founded his opposition on technical grounds:
(1) the Board of Visitors, he said in substance, possessed
no legal right to appoint a President of the University;
(2) the institution was too poor to offer the additional
salary which the office would call for; (3) such an office
would be superfluous, as the chairman of the Faculty was
already performing the duties which were to be attached
to it.
The Board of Visitors had defined the powers of the
proposed President in a very modern spirit,—he was
to superintend the execution of the various laws made
for the government of the institution; he was to have
the right of control over the proctor, and all subordinate
was to summon the Faculty together whenever it seemed
to him, or to any two professors, that the University's
interests required such a meeting to be held; he was to
sit at the head of the table on such an occasion, with
the privilege of casting one vote as a member of the
Faculty, and a second vote in addition, should there be
a tie; and, finally, in the case of his absence or sickness,
his place was to be taken by a temporary chairman.
All these matured provisions were adopted with the
understanding that, should Wirt decline the invitation,
no substitute for him was to be looked for. "I voted
for the creation of the office of President," Joseph C.
Cabell remarked in a letter to Wirt himself, "with the
single view of giving it to you, with an increase of
salary. The creation of the office was for you alone."
And after hearing of Wirt's refusal, he wrote to his
brother, Governor Cabell, "I think that we had better
not urge the appointment of the President any further.
There is not now a member of the Faculty in whom
such an appointment can be prudently lodged. The
better way will be to give the necessary powers to the
chairman of the Faculty, and let that office continue
an annual one."
The impression had got abroad that the mere suggestion
of the Presidency would be hurtful to the welfare
of the University. "I am aware," wrote Wirt,—
who had declined the position, ostensibly on the ground
that he could not afford to give up the greater income
which he derived from his practice, but who was probably
more influenced by his knowledge of Jefferson's distaste
for the change,—"I am aware that the interests of
the institution require that this transaction should not
the occasion; and I will take care that it secures no
publicity from me."
II. The Presidency—Suggested After 1825
Although Jefferson himself had been constrained to
acknowledge that the disorders among the students in
1824 were due to the lax system of government which
he had devised for their control, there is no reason to
suppose that he ever for a moment expected that the
appointment of a President would prevent the recurrence
of such turbulence because it would strengthen the
hand of the University's police power. It is true that
he favored the adoption of sterner regulations, and
the exercise of more vigilant supervision, but, in his
judgment, the existing chairman of the Faculty would
be quite as competent as the proposed President in discharging
these more vigorous executive functions.
Chapman Johnson, as we have already mentioned,
did not share this opinion. Above all, General Cocke,
who, like Johnson, was a man of affairs, and accustomed
to think sturdily for himself, even when he stood in the
very presence of the sage, had arrived at a different
conclusion. "My observation at the University and
daily reflection," he said to Cabell in the month of
February, 1826, "more and more convince me that we
shall never have an efficient government there without
a Head. I believe that the majority of the professors
are convinced of it." And in the following July, only a
few days after the news of Jefferson's death had reached
him, he wrote to the same colleague on the Board, "I
hear that there is a suspension of the lectures at the
University by some of the professors for a fortnight,
and by some for a month. This is a specimen of our
so arranged as to extend through the entire summer,
and the discontinuance of any of the recitations was
contrary to the expressed provisions of the enactments.
But neither Chapman Johnson nor General Cocke, in
spite of their great ability and wide personal influence,
was able to shake the stability of that administrative
machinery which Jefferson had created. The original
rule requiring rotation in the chairmanship might be
abrogated, but the chairmanship itself, consecrated by
the reputation of its creator, and clothed with that
conservative glamour which comes into existence with
the progress of time, stood firmly amid all the fluctuations
in the pecuniary fortunes of the institution, and
amid all those wild commotions which so often destroyed
its peace. On rare occasions, when a feeling of desperation
would sweep over the Visitors, in consequence
of these disturbances, some one among them would
vehemently suggest the panacea of a new executive
office, with far more radical powers. "The Board,"
exclaimed Andrew Stevenson, in June, 1841, "must do
something about the Presidency. We can't get along
without a President. The more I have reflected on the
subject, the more thoroughly I am convinced of its importance.
The experiment should be made, and the
sooner the better." These were almost precisely the
words which the equally impatient and the equally
practical Cocke had used, under the same provocation;
and it may be taken for granted that he had not changed
his opinion.
Four years later, when the University had only
recently been convulsed by a riot of extraordinary
violence, the dissatisfaction with the existing system of
government caused a reversion to the thought of the
of perfect quietude, without these discreditable interludes
of disorder. In June, 1845, in anticipation of the annual
meeting of the Board of Visitors, Professor William
B. Rogers informed his brother Henry by letter that
new schemes of administration would probably be
broached when the members of that body assembled in
July. The one that was most frequently talked of, and
apparently the one that was most popular, he said, was
the conversion of the chairmanship into a permanent
office, or what was to amount to the same thing, into
the Presidency. "Every one has his nostrum for the
college evils," he remarked rather drily and wearily,
"and this seems to be in great favor just now." Only
a few members of the Faculty, however, thought that
the creation of this office would remove that "want of
uniformity of administration" which was supposed to
be at the bottom of the malign conditions within the
precincts now causing so much uneasiness.
The Richmond Whig, which, as we have seen, had
so often acidly criticised the management of the
University's affairs in the past, threw the weight of its
influence in the scale of establishing the Presidency.
"The advantages of the office," it said, "were obvious.
The Visitors, aware that the incumbent will hold his
office for an indefinite period, will select no one but one
whose talents, probity, and capacity for controlling and
directing youth have been tested by experience. The
President, by remaining long in his position, will acquire
a thorough knowledge of the disposition and nature of
young men, and the laws necessary for their discipline."
That this reasoned opinion was shared by the Board
of Visitors was clearly indicated by the instructions
which they gave to their executive committee on the
requested to draw up a report upon the advisability of
bestowing upon the professor who should be chosen for
the new chair of history and literature all the powers
usually vested in the office of President. It is possible
that this action was taken by the Board under the influence
of a suggestion which had been recently made by
the Society of Alumni at their annual meeting. On that
occasion, the latter had, by formal resolution, declared
themselves in favor of conferring on some member of
the Faculty, of proven qualifications, all the executive
powers of the institution, and then reelecting him, from
year to year, as long as he should continue to show the
necessary ability, assiduity, and fidelity. They recommended
that he should be entitled the "President of
the University."
Dr. James L. Cabell, writing to his uncle, Joseph C.
Cabell, in January, 1846, about six months afterwards,
suggested that James M. Mason, then conspicuous in
political life, and destined to become more prominent
still during the period of the Confederacy, should be
chosen for the office, if the Board should decide to create
it. R. M. T. Hunter, who was a colleague of Mason
in Congress, having heard that the future incumbent of
the projected chair of history and literature was also to
discharge the duties of President, and was to be known
by that title, recommended Caleb Cushing, the distinguished
publicist of Massachusetts, for both positions.
"Whether he would take the chair without the Presidency,
I know not," he said to a member of the Board.
"You propose Mason, and I most cordially concur.
If he would take the place, he would make the best
President I know of."
While these exchanges of views and recommendations
inquiring privately of his brother Henry, then residing
in Boston, as to how far the experience of Harvard
College touching its Presidency would justify the
University of Virginia in imitating that institution by
creating the same office for its own administration.
What were the advantages of that form of government?
What were the disadvantages? Such were the principal
questions which Henry Rogers asked of President
Quincy. "I deem the functions of the President," was
the reply, "of the utmost relief to the Faculty of
Harvard. He has no duties as instructor, but his great
business is to overlook the conduct of the young men,
and, by timely interference, suppress bad habits, detect
delinquencies, and administer reproof and punishment in
all instances in which he could do so apart from the
Faculty."
It will be recalled, that, after the riot of 1845, a
legislative committee, appointed during the first following
session of the General Assembly, visited the University
of Virginia in order to report upon the causes of the
late turbulence, and to suggest some means of preventing
its recurrence. In replying to a question
asked by this committee, the Visitors, very much disheartened,
acknowledged that there was some fundamental
defect in the institution's existing plan of government;
and that the only possible remedy for this defect which
they could think of was the appointment of a President
—a permanent executive,—who could be held responsible
for the strict discipline of the students, and for the
proper management of every other department of the
University's affairs. "His character," they said, "by
the singleness and elevation of his position, would be
identified with the character and good order of the institution."
the committee. Mr. Alexander was the spokesman,
and in the address which he delivered in the House of
Delegates on the committee's return to Richmond, he
counseled the early election of a President, as the only
officer who was likely to command respect for the University's
laws and enforce a lasting state of peace. What
kind of a man must he be? He must possess great
moral excellence, fine literary culture, and urbane and
conciliatory manners. A person of this character, asserted
Mr. Alexander, would, as President, be in a freer
position to inspire awe and compel submission in cases
of disorder than he would be as chairman of the Faculty,
for the time and energies of the latter,—as was
well known,—were chiefly taken up with discharging the
ordinary routine duties of his post. The change would,
it is true, be in the nature of an experiment, but it was an
experiment that had proved successful in other colleges.
The General Assembly must, at first, have been favorable
to the adoption of the change proposed, for Professor
George Tucker, who happened, at this time, to
be in Richmond,—perhaps in the character of a witness,
—informed Professor Gessner Harrison by letter that
the appointment of a President would soon be authorized;
and that the new office would be invested with
powers larger, not only than those of the chairmanship,
but also of the Faculty itself as a body.
Why was it that an innovation which was so generally
acknowledged to be desirable failed so signally so
long to become a part of the University's organic law?
There were two reasons for the falling down of the proposal.
First, the original suggestion had been made,
not for the purpose of increasing the purely material
prosperity of the institution,—which was the influence
—but because it was thought to be the most effective
means of putting an end to the constantly recurring
turbulence among the students. There was always a
hope that each disorderly incident would be the last,
—at least on an important scale; and so long as this
expectation remained, the disposition was to put off the
subversion of the existing system, which, in its operation
in other provinces, had turned out to be so successful.
In the second place, there was ground for apprehending
that the addition of the Presidency to the other offices
would impose a burden of expense on the institution
which it would be unable to carry with ease. It was
anticipated that no competent person could be engaged
who would be willing to serve for an annual salary
smaller than twenty-five hundred dollars, which would
swallow up exactly one-sixth of the yearly revenue
to be granted by the General Assembly. Besides, at this
time, that body was requiring the University to give,
not only free tuition, but free board, to thirty-two State
students, at an annual cost to its treasury of thirty-five
hundred dollars. Pile the charges of the proposed
Presidency upon this gratuitous outlay, and the State
annuity would be practically cut down nearly one-half
of its total amount.
The Faculty, as a whole,—as might have been predicted,
—had little patience or sympathy with the advocates
of the suggested alteration, if, for no other reason,
because it would certainly diminish the authority and,
thereby, the importance of that body. Professor John B.
Minor, who, as we have seen, favored an addition to the
powers of the Faculty at the expense of the powers of the
Board of Visitors, voiced the conviction of his colleagues
when he said that the "benefits of the Jeffersonian
disadvantages." And why? "It makes," he continued,
"the institution less dependent on a single man, generates
a more lively interest in its fortunes amongst all the
members of the Faculty, each of whom feels a due
share of responsibility for its success; and by exercising
all more or less in administration, fits them, to a greater
or less degree, for its duties."
III. The Presidency—Suggested After 1865
When the war ended, and the prospects of the University
at the start appeared to be so overclouded, the
proposition of establishing the Presidency was again
broached. Now, for the first time, the need of the
office as a means of building up the purely material fortunes
of the institution was earnestly discussed; but it
would seem that it was not the members of the Faculty
or the Board of Visitors, but the alumni, who suggested
its creation. This project came to nothing, as the attendence
in the beginning proved to be unexpectedly
large. By 1872, the students had, for one reason or
another, shrunk in number. Soon the agitation of the
question of electing a President was renewed among the
alumni, but, as before, not among the instructors or the
Visitors. In a letter to N. F. Cabell, a nephew of
Joseph C. Cabell, and editor of the Jefferson-Cabell
Correspondence, Professor Minor, in the course
of that year, reaffirmed his own loyalty, and, apparently,
the loyalty of all his colleagues, to the prevailing system
of the chairmanship. Mr. Cabell earnestly deprecated
such an expression. "I think," he said, "that the objection
to the Presidency may be obviated, whilst the
institution itself might have all the advantages of such
an office. Had such an office been created immediately
different might have been its status!"
This is the first indication, in an authoritative form,
which we have been able to discover that the name of
the Confederate Commander was ever thought of in
connection with that office at the University of Virginia.
A report has long been in existence that it was definitely
and formally offered to him; but, so far as we are aware,
there is no entry in the records of the institution, and
no reference in the Lee Correspondence, to justify the
acceptance of such a statement as correct. The words
used by Mr. Cabell would seem to demonstrate that
a popular impression prevailed that General Lee had
not been invited to fill the Presidency; and that there
had never been any intention of creating the post for
his incumbency. Mr. Cabell shows a very natural impatience
with a policy which obtusely failed to seize an
opportunity so full of promise for the immediate prosperity
and lasting distinction of the institution; and this
feeling has been shared by persons of the generations
which have followed those times. The plaster-cast and
straight-jacket of ultra conservatism have, on more than
one occasion, constricted the growth of the University
of Virginia; but the influence of this attitude of mind,
pushed beyond the bounds of moderation, has never, for
that institution, worked more unfortunately than when
it stood in the way of the selection of one of the greatest
and noblest men of the ages for the office of its first
President. Identified as the University had always been
with the Southern States as a whole, his appointment
would have consecrated that relation with the halo that
will forever linger around his memory as the most splendid
of Southern champions and with the exception of
Washington, the loftiest representative of Southern
had the invitation been held out to him previous to the
overture of another seat of learning, it would have been
accepted by him, unless he would have shrunk from the
greater publicity pertaining to a residence situated less
remotely from the world at large than Lexington, and
to the headship of an institution of a National, instead
of mere State, reputation.[1]
The earliest sign of a change of opinion touching
the practical sufficiency of the chairmanship which we
detect in the Faculty's attitude was discernible about
1885, when a standing committee of three professors
was appointed to take charge of the external relations
of the University,—that province in which a President
was expected to prove most useful; but their colleagues'
jealousy even of such a limited power as this was shown
in their requirement that every important step actually
taken by that committee should have received the approval
of the Faculty as a whole beforehand. The
students, however, being entirely free from the burden
of collegiate responsibilities, displayed an almost scornful
impatience with the timidity of their professorial
superiors. The editors of the magazine boldly proposed
that the office of President should be at once created.
"The spirit of the age," they asserted emphatically,
"calls for the innovation. Every prominent seat of
learning in the United States, except our own, has
adopted it. Who but a President could be expected to
be on the qui vive always to advance the interest of his
college, or to give blow for blow in one of those controversial
firmament."
College Topics, in 1891, with the rashness of youth,
or that wisdom, which we are told, sometimes proceeds
from the mouths even of babes, had the audacity to
dispute the good sense of the Jeffersonion system of
administration. Was not the chairman of the Faculty
primarily a professor in a particular school, and only
secondarily the chief executive of the University? This
being so, how was it possible for him to discharge
properly the intricate business details so continuously
intrusted to his judgment? Had not Jefferson's plan
of organization been simply tentative and theoretical?
After all, was he not a mere idealist, nurtured in the
school of the French Revolution? Did anyone really
think that his business principles,—if he had any at
all,—or his financial methods, were entitled to modern
consideration? In the opinion of the editors of this
periodical, no answer but a negative one could be returned
to these iconoclastic interrogatories. Two years
afterwards, the same periodical renewed its assault upon
the existing system of administration. "Why should
the Board of Visitors," it asked, "be confined in their
selection of a chairman to one of twenty-two men, some
of whom refuse to serve, and some are not qualified to
do so? What were the characteristics demanded in a
President? Good executive ability, honesty, truthfulness,
straightforwardness, a fixed standard and firmness
in maintaining it. He should be impartial, just, tactful,
and discreet; and should be respected and trusted by the
student body."
At the hour when the Faculty were turning to the cumbrous
device of a committee to furnish a substitute for
a President, and the students, with youthful boldness and
creation of that office, the Board of Visitors, with whom
the final authority rested, seemed to shrink from the
consideration of the suggested change. Apparently,
this body, at that time, was unalterably hostile to the
adoption of a new executive system.
Since the above was written, the following passage in Riley's General
Robert E. Lee after Appomattox, just issued, has come to our notice:
"To some suggestions (in private) that he should connect himself with
the University of Virginia he objected because it was a State institution."
A formal and pressing invitation might have overcome this objection.
IV. The Presidency—Resolution of 1896
But by 1895–96, a new spirit had begun to be exhibited
by at least some of the Visitors. "When I first went
on the Board in 1894," says Armistead C. Gordon,
afterwards the rector of the University, "it did not take
me six months to realize that, under the system of business
administration then existing, the University was losing
its students to other institutions, North and South;
that it was in an almost moribund condition; and that it
was entirely incapable, however high its scholarship or admirable
its literary methods, of competing, in the midst
of the decay of the old private classical schools, with
other higher institutions of learning, fed by the tremendously
growing public school system,—a system then
totally inadequate to University preparation. I saw too
that, in its domestic management, existing and developing
defects were many, and if they were irremediable,
as they appeared to be under the then system of government,
they would tend to the institution's gradual and
final decay. The Faculty was torn by radical differences
of opinion; there was no liaison between its members
as a body and the Board of Visitors through any responsible
administrative head, because the chairman
was himself a member of the Faculty. The conditions
that prevailed were more or less chaotic."[2]
By June, 1896, these conditions had not improved,
the 16th of that month, submitted a resolution calling for
the appointment of a committee which was to report upon
the advisability of electing an officer empowered to serve
as the executive of the institution, and in that capacity, to
assume the direct personal charge of all its affairs. It
will be observed that the author of this resolution, in
drafting it, avoided the use of the word "President,"
either because, for the moment, it was desired, in a spirit
of conservatism, to retain the old title, or because the
employment of the designation at that stage might increase
the opposition to the proposed alteration in the
administrative system. Mr. Gordon was appointed
chairman of this committee, and William B. McIlwaine
and Joseph Bryan, of the Board, were associated with
him as members. All three, by their connection with
the University, both as alumni and as Visitors, were
thoroughly in sympathy with all its traditions; but they
were also experienced men of affairs who understood the
value of practical tests.
Mr. Bryan did not think that the hour had yet arrived
for a change. Mr. Gordon and Mr. McIlwaine dissented
from this view. "Competition," they declared in
their majority report, "is no less keen in the educational
world than in that of business; and other conditions being
equal, that University will be most successful in the race
which adds to the best discipline the best instruction, and
to the best instruction and best scholarship, the best business
management. To ensure the latter, it was necessary
that the executive head should be unhampered in the discharge
of his administrative duties by the duties of a
professor." So, in turn, no professor, in their opinion,
should be encumbered with the former duties. They
should be appointed for a term of four years, at an
annual salary of five thousand dollars; that he should be
required to discharge the main functions now incident to
the chairmanship; that he should be expected to familiarize
himself with those educational methods which had
been adopted in the most advanced seats of learning of
the world; that he should be called on to visit the principal
cities periodically in order to stimulate the interest
of the alumni in the welfare of the University; and that
he should be looked to, to suggest administrative changes
of value for the consideration of the Board, and to assist
the professors in developing their respective schools.
The chairmanship of the Faculty was to be retained,
but the independent executive duties of the incumbent
were to be limited to the right to convene the members
of that body; to sit at the head of the table at their
meetings; and to enforce the numerous regulations which
had been passed to maintain discipline among the
students. He was also to take the place of the President
in the absence of that officer; and was, at all times, to
serve as the medium of communication between him and
the members of the Faculty.
Mr. Bryan, in the minority report, asserted that the
appointment of a President would be repugnant to the
fundamental theory upon which the University had been
organized, and to which it had been loyal for a period
of seventy years; that this theory left no room for the
creation of a one-man power in the government of the
institution: that, in the present era, the office of President
called for both a scholar and a business manager to fill
it, and such a combination of qualities it would, perhaps,
be impossible to find; that the appropriation of a new
which would be necessary,—would impose an intolerable
charge upon the resources of the treasury; that the
office was certain to become one of the footballs of State
politics; that its allurements would be so irresistible that
many gentlemen of dignified presence, elegant manners,
general culture, and acknowledged eloquence, would desire
to rush into the vacuum without any real intention
of devoting their abilities and energies to practical administration;
that, when once the Presidency had been
occupied by a man of this type, it would require something
more than a crowbar to prize him out, for he was
quite sure to be a man of a pugnacious disposition, who
would resist removal tooth and claw, and thus precipitate
a scandalous row,—which could not fail to tarnish
the dignity of the institution.
Mr. Bryan predicted that the alteration of the existing
system would damage the standing of the professors,
since it would subordinate them completely to a supreme
head, thus destroying that independence of the individual
school which Jefferson had considered to be of the
first importance. Under such a shadow, it would be
difficult to obtain scholars of the highest attainments to
accept a vacancy in the Faculty. A President was not
needed to stimulate the generous spirit of the alumni, as
the history of the University had demonstrated; he was
not needed to strengthen the arm of discipline, for the
majority report itself had expressly left this branch of
the administration under the control of the chairman
as of old; it was not needed for the preservation of the
University's property, for every one admitted that the
proctor had discharged the duty of general oversight
with success. To confirm and further buttress his argument
Mr. Bryan appended a statement of the opinion
been nominated.
Had the conditions and tendencies observable in the
Southern States in 1896 been the same as those discernible
in 1850 or 1860, or even in 1870, the conclusions so
forcibly expressed in the minority report could not have
been refuted. But the conditions and the tendencies
alike had undergone a radical transformation; and
it was the authors of the majority report, not the author
of the minority report, who had gauged correctly what
the University's welfare really called for. Nor, in submitting
their proposition, had they been disloyal to Jefferson's
spirit, for had he not said, with that prescience
which distinguished so many of his utterances, that each
generation understood its own wants best? and that to
each generation should be left the decision as to what
measures it should adopt for its own good? The office
of President might not be introduced at once, but its
ultimate creation could not be prevented, simply because
the movement in its favor was but one phase of that
universal movement in the Southern States which imperatively
demanded the highest efficiency in every department
of their affairs.
V. The Presidency—William Gordon McCabe
Although the two reports were read with keen interest,
yet, for the present moment, no change was brought
about by the practical reasoning of the majority of the
committee. In time, however, the vigorous and lucid
argument in favor of the Presidency embodied in their
report encouraged the friends of at least one conspicuous
scholar to advocate his appointment, should the office be
created,—as many alumni now anticipated it would be.
In a previous volume, we have described the successful
Board of Visitors, in liberalizing the courses assigned to
the principal academic degrees. When the supposed
need of the Presidency became, in 1896, a topic of popular
discussion, attention was at once directed to his
striking fitness for discharging the varied duties of the
office. Apparently, indeed, he possessed all the qualifications
which the incumbency of that position called for.
First of all, he was a citizen of the world, who had
associated, on a footing of intellectual equality, with
many of the most famous men of his age, regardless
of their country or clime, profession or business. His
personal charm, originating in his keen wit and genial
temper, and enhanced by culture and travel, would make
him an almost unequaled host in entertaining the eminent
guests,—the literary and scientific lecturers of
high reputation,—who would be visiting the University
from time to time. He was an alumnus of the institution
—therefore, he would, by the force of intuition, understand
its peculiar spirit, value its traditions with
filial loyalty and tenderness, and, at all times, be willing
to sacrifice his means, his energies, and his hours for the
furtherance of its welfare. He was a native of Virginia,
—therefore, he would be conversant with all those
local currents of sentiment and opinion which had to be
taken into tactful account in managing the affairs of the
University. He personally knew all the influential men
of the State, and enjoyed the friendship of many of them
and the respect of all. During many years, he had been
a member of the Board of Visitors, and had thus gained
a thorough knowledge of the diversified interests of the
institution. He had displayed remarkable capacity as a
man of business,—which would aid him to perform with
success the administrative duties of the Presidency. He
greatest classical students of his age; he was a litterateur,
the productions of whose pen had won popularity by
their brilliant and varied merit; he was a public speaker
who never failed to captivate by his polished wit and
instruct by his solid information; and, in addition to
all these very pertinent characteristics, he had been
both a soldier and a teacher, and in the one school of
discipline had learned how to command men, and in the
other, how to control the young.
No one knew Colonel McCabe more intimately on
every side of his individuality than Professor Thomas
R. Price, himself one of the most accomplished gentlemen
of that day, a gallant officer, an inspiring instructor,
a finished writer, the pink of courtesy and urbanity in
his personal deportment. "McCabe," he affirmed in a
letter to Dr. W. C. N. Randolph, the rector of the University,
"is the one man, that, by a strange combination
of gifts, is exactly fitted, as perennial chairman, to do the
institution a noble service by his sagacity, his shrewdness,
his insight into things and men, his prudence, his
perfect honesty, his ability to make friends and acquire
personal influence, his rare and delicate scholarship, his
brilliant form of eloquence, that would enable him to
represent the University and the Southern system with
splendid force and effectiveness."
In answering this commendatory letter, Dr. Randolph
voiced an opinion which was held by many others during
this period; namely, that the creation of the Presidential
office, without restriction in its general powers,
would (I) destroy the independence of the different
schools which had existed from the time of Jefferson;
and (2), deprive the Faculty of their right of discipline
over the whole body of the students,—which would remove
public sentiment within the precincts. Dr. Randolph declared
himself in favor of the introduction of the Presidency
provided that all questions involving discipline'
should be left to the decision of the chairman, as recommended
by Mr. Gordon and Mr. McIlwaine in their
majority report. "The name of President," he said, "I
hate. It is almost as common as that of the time-worn
Virginia and Southern Colonel." Professor Price also
thought that there was "something odious and vulgar"
in that title. Both preferred the designation of "chancellor."
Dr. Randolph, as time passed, became more firmly
convinced that an executive head, by whatever name he
might be called, was indispensable. "Such an officer is
needed," said he, "in order to cope with the rapid
growth in the external business relations of the University;
to develop further the practical relations with
the alumni; and to get in closer bonds with other educational
institutions. In Jefferson's day, there were no external
relations, no educational societies, no alumni to be
taken into consideration. The chairman of the Faculty
cannot give the proper amount of attention to all these
interests, as his time is absorbed in discharging the duties
of his position. The proctor cannot give it, as he has
eight hundred accounts to keep, and can leave his office
only for a few hours a day. The Rector and Visitors
cannot give it, for they hold office only for a short time,
and are constantly occupied with their own private
affairs."
What was the attitude of the members of the Faculty
in the course of this anxious and conflicting debate?
A resolution adopted by that body in May (1897)
would seem to reflect an emotion of resentment because
taken into the confidence of the Board of Visitors. A
rumor that found its way into the columns of the newspapers
was said to have been the first information which
they received that a change in the University's form of
government was contemplated. They asked for a "full
and free conference" with the Board; and this request
was accompanied by a feeling statement of their position.
"By long and constant residence," they said, "the Faculty
are intimately acquainted with the internal operations
of the University, not only in minute detail, but also
in general bearing; and by personal experience are enabled
to appraise accurately their deficiency and sufficiency.
Moreover, the Faculty are able to judge clearly
and exactly concerning the external relations of the University,
—to the State and its citizens, and to the educational
institutions in Virginia and elsewhere; and also
to estimate rightly the comparative advantages of different
policies in organization and management, and the
comparative efficiency of various systems of education.
The several members of the Faculty have devoted their
lives to the work of University organization, management,
and instruction. This is their distinct and formal
profession,—a profession to which all their abilities and
acquirements are devoted; in which their public and
private reputation is involved; and of which, they were
supposed to have competent knowledge. Besides, it is
their livelihood, both at present and prospectively.
Thus with the University are bound up their personal and
professional reputation, their year-by-year sustenance,
and whatever of disinterested regard they may be granted
to have for the cause of good education, and for the
general welfare of the State."
So soon as the Faculty's request for an interview
reply; but at the very hour that this favorable announcement
was received by the former body, the members
of the Board put themselves on record as being
hostile to the creation of the office of President. The
influence of the Faculty, joined to that of numerous
alumni who were inimical to the proposed change, seems
to have been powerful enough, at this time, to prevent
the adoption of the recommendation so warmly urged
in the majority report drafted by Mr. Gordon and Mr.
McIlwaine.
VI. The Presidency—George W. Miles
About five years afterwards, the rumor was bruited
abroad that the Board of Visitors had at last decided
to elect a President of the University, and that their
choice had already fallen upon a specific individual. The
name of this person was soon revealed. It was Colonel
George W. Miles, of Radford, Southwest Virginia.
Colonel Miles had been a member of Governor Tyler's
official staff, and had also occupied a seat on the
Board of Visitors. When appointed to the latter position
in February, 1898, the number of students in attendance
on the lectures was in the neighborhood of four
hundred only; and there had been a deficit of ten thousand
dollars for the last fiscal year. The amount devoted
to the cost of advertisement was limited to three
hundred dollars. A resolution was submitted by Colonel
Miles, which provided for an appropriation of three
thousand dollars for that purpose; and it was afterwards
said that it was due to this more liberal expenditure
that one hundred students were added to the roll of
matriculates, and that a surplus of ten thousand dollars
took the place of the former deficit. Friction had arisen
exclusive right to lay out the advertisement fund in
harmony with the suggestions of his own judgment. But
causes for irritation, it seems, had existed before this
conflict of authority,—as a matter of fact, the Faculty
had not been working in complete accord with the Board
of Visitors since the debate over the creation of the
office of President began in 1896.
The existing bad feeling, joined to a decline in number
of students, with the consequent falling off in financial
resources, appears to have drawn the thoughts of
the Board, with renewed interest, to the election of a
President. On the motion of Colonel Miles, the incumbency
of the projected office was offered to Woodrow
Wilson, of Princeton University, whose reason for declining
then was, no doubt, precisely the one which he expressed
privately as follows at a later date: "I understood
the situation perfectly," he wrote Professor R.
H. Dabney in November, 1902, "namely, that while
they (the Faculty) were unwilling to have any President,
if a President was to be given to them I would be more
acceptable to them than any other person who could be
chosen. It was my knowledge of that attitude on their
part, more than anything else, that inclined me to take
the matter seriously under consideration; and the reason
why it did not go further was simply that the men here
were so overwhelmingly opposed to it, and were so immeasurably
gracious to me, that I felt that it would
be mere ingratitude to leave them."
So keen was Colonel Miles's interest in the subject,
that, during the next few years, he endeavored to influence
the Board of Visitors to offer the position to other
men of equal prominence, but this body declined to do so.
It seems that his own name was first suggested for the
that time. He was informed of this fact by Carter
Glass,—also a member of the Board,—when the
Visitors assembled in June, 1902. Other members of
that Board were equally friendly to his candidacy. It
was known, to Colonel Miles's credit, that he had built
up the excellent school of St. Albans at Radford; that he
had been successful in the management of large business
affairs; that he possessed a wide acquaintance among the
public men of the State; that he was a speaker of decided
ability; and that, as one of the Visitors, he had been
most active in discharging the duties of the position.
All these were weighty qualifications for an exacting
executive office.
In the beginning, he refused to permit his name to
be used, on the ground that his business interests demanded
his attention exclusively. Afterwards, he disposed
of these interests to advantage, and thus was at
liberty to accept the overture of the Board, should it
be renewed. Having previously visited the chairman
of the Faculty in his office, he, in August (1902), informed
the rector, Charles P. Jones, that he was a
candidate for the position of executive head of the
University and then forwarded the resignation of his
membership in the Board to the Governor of the State.
The first public reference to his candidacy appeared in
the columns of the Richmond Times in the course of the
following September. Colonel Miles found earnest
supporters among the members of the Faculty; especially
in Colonel Peters, Professor Thornton, and Professor
Kent; but a majority of the remaining members were so
warmly opposed to his success, that they met and drew
up a statement of objections to his candidacy.
On October 13, before these objections had been considered
and adopted as their own a paper of exceptional ability
which had already been drafted by one of the members in
exposition of a plan of government for the University.
The substance of this paper was as follows. Under
the system which then existed, the Board of Visitors,
through their constitutional advisers and agents, were
called upon to weigh and adopt measures with respect
to (I) dealings with students; (2) dealings with
professors and employees; (3) University expenses; (4)
administration of funds; and (5) intercourse with the
public. The Faculty declared that they themselves were
the most efficient advisers and agents of the Board in
regard to all branches of the subject of dealings with
the students. They admitted that, as to the other four
heads, they would not be in a position to counsel as
effectively as a single executive could do. There were,
they said, three choices confronting the Board: (I) to
retain the present system unaltered; (2) to elect a
President, who would take over all the executive functions;
or (3) to confer some of these functions on the
Faculty and some on the President.
It was the Faculty's conviction that the third
alternative was the one which it would be wisest to
adopt, provided that their own powers were confined to
dealings with the students. By "dealings with the
students" was meant all questions involving the conduct
of the latter, their attendance upon class, their application
to their books, their pursuit of athletics, the scope
of lectures and examinations, the standards of instruction,
the number of studies, the character of degrees,
and the choice of volumes for the library and of
apparatus and materials for the laboratories. The
Faculty thought that there were distinct advantages in
it would increase the importance of the professor as an
individual and of the Faculty as a body, in the eyes of
the students; and second, it would preserve the independence
of the schools as originally designed.
The Faculty acknowledged the superiority of a
President as the agent of the Board in managing every
other department of the University's affairs, both external
and internal,—such as the selection of professors
and employees; the determination of the students' fees
and the professors' salaries; the investment of University
funds; the acquisition of State appropriations and
private benefactions; the supervision and improvement
of the University grounds; the calculation of the annual
budgets; the creation of new chairs and scholarships; the
intercourse with colleges and universities; the attendance
at public meetings; the communications with alumni;
and the entertainment of strangers.
In substance, the plan proposed by the Faculty divided
the advisory and executive functions into two groups,
—over one, the Faculty was to be subordinate only to
the Board of Visitors; and over the other, the President
was to be subordinate only to that Board also. They
were convinced that, relieved from the larger part of
their executive control of the University, they would have
more time to give up to the performance of their duties
as professors and to original research; that the University
funds would be periodically distributed among the
various departments with a more discriminating understanding
of the best interests of all; and that the new
instructors would be selected after more intelligent
inquiry into their merits and claims. The Faculty
advised that the General Assembly's consent should be
obtained to an enactment, in amendment of the code,
authorizing the Board to fill it. Provision should also
be made that the right of nomination was to be possessed
by a committee of three members of the Board,
three of the Faculty, and three of the alumni society.
The Board as a body should have the right to reject any
nomination submitted by these three committees.
This thoughtful plan of the Faculty was adopted by
the voices of all the members who were present, seventeen
in number. Professors Smith, Peters, N. K.
Davis, Thornton, Kent, Buckmaster, and Page were
absent, but cast their votes by letter. Buckmaster and
Page wrote in approval of the plan; but Professor
Thornton was opposed to it, on the ground that it
divided the executive responsibility, while Professor
Kent considered the discussion of any plan whatever to
be inopportune. In the meanwhile, a copy of the
statement of objections to the candidacy of Colonel
Miles had been sent to him.
A canvass at once began, marked by intemperate opposition
on one side, and by very vigorous support on the
other. Many letters were addressed to the newspapers
advocating or deprecating the proposed action of the
Board. The response of the hostile alumni was immediate,
—formal objections were lodged by many of the
chapters, and vehement resolutions were adopted by the
students in mass-meeting. Colonel Miles too was backed
by numerous partisans, and one of the most pertinent of
these was the Richmond News-Leader. "He came
from a new country, the Southwest," said that journal,
"a country occupied by a new people palpitating with
eagerness and striving to go ahead. He entered a
settled, old, peaceful establishment, where the methods
were easy-going and leisurely. With sharply opposed
and Board of Visitors, antagonism was inevitable.
Accustomed to deal in a hurry, and by clean-cut decisions,
with large issues and properties and wide principles,
Colonel Miles was impatient of the things that loomed
so large to men living and thinking in seclusion. It
was inevitable that he should be thoroughly disliked by
the Faculty, which he was always nagging, goading,
urging, stirring, and pushing."
It seems that the intention of the members of the Board
of Visitors, all of whom favored Colonel Miles, was to
elect him to an office to be known as the "Permanent
Chairmanship of the Faculty," for, without an act of the
General Assembly, it was impossible to establish legally
the office of President. He was also to deliver a course
of lectures on the subject of economics, for which he was,
at that time, not fully equipped, as he had received
no scientific education. He had, in fact, spent but
two years at the University of Virginia as a student,
and, during his stay there, had won diplomas only in
the Schools of Latin, German, and French Languages.
Among the members of the Board of Visitors, at this
time, were Charles P. Jones, who was the rector,
Carter Glass, afterwards Secretary of the Treasury and
Senator in Congress, Henry C. Stuart, destined to become
Governor of the State, R. Walton Moore, afterwards
a member of the House of Representatives, R.
Tate Irvine, who was rector subsequently, Judge A. W.
Wallace, Eppa Hunton, Jr., H. H. Downing, and Daniel
Harmon. All these members, with the exception of
Carter Glass, were alumni of the University.
The Board convened on October 17, at three o'clock,
but did not turn to the objections to Colonel Miles's
candidacy, submitted by certain members of the Faculty,
this was followed by the reading of similar communications
from the alumni chapters of Norfolk, Richmond,
and Baltimore, and handed in personally by
their appointed representatives. There was also read
a resolution which had been adopted by the Executive
Committee of the Society of Alumni, which urged that
action in filling the projected permanent chairmanship
should be suspended "in view of the overwhelming importance
of the matter, and of the uncertainty of the
power, under the present law, to create such an executive
head." The ensuing discussion clearly demonstrated that
the only objection which could be brought against Colonel
Miles was that his experience as the head-master of an
academy, however excellent, was perhaps insufficient to
fit him for the novel and difficult duties of the Presidency.
It was debatable whether even this objection had not
been suggested partly by opposition to that office, however
experienced and distinguished the incumbent might
be.
After lending an attentive ear to the discussion which
took place at the meeting on that day, the 18th, the
Board first passed an unanimous resolution highly
commendatory of Colonel Miles, and then decided that,
instead of filling the permanent chairmanship at once,
it would be advisable to appoint a committee of three
to urge upon the General Assembly the expediency of
permitting the Visitors to create the office of executive
head. The same committee were instructed to report
as to the title to be borne by the incumbent, and the
scope of his powers. They were also enjoined to obtain
the views of the great body of the alumni. The elaborate
plan drafted by the Faculty for the division of
powers between their own body and a President seems
perhaps, of the reason mentioned by Professor Thornton;
namely, that such a division would be likely to lead to
friction and confusion. Receiving attention quite as
scant was a resolution passed by a group of alumni,
which would have barred from the office of President
any one who was a member of the Board of Visitors,
or had been a member within an interval of four years.
The Visitors did not reassemble until April 28 of the
ensuing year (1903), by which time an enabling act had
been passed by the General Assembly; they then adopted
a resolution calling for the election of a President at the
next meeting of the Board, which was to be held on June
13. The chairmanship was to be abolished so soon as
a President was chosen. When June 13 arrived, the
election was postponed until July 28, and on that date,
it was postponed for the second time. The Board,
however, had now reached the conclusion that however
high the undoubted qualifications of Colonel Miles
in experience, ability, and character might be, it would
be unwise to elect any one to the office of President unless
he was shown to be practically the unanimous choice
of Visitors, Faculty, and alumni combined; and this
seems to have been the opinion of the citizens of the State
at large as reflected in the press.
VII. Election of President
However regrettable may have been the publicity
which had been aroused by the incident we have just
related, it is indisputable that it had the beneficial result
of directing a closer scrutiny to the practical advantages
of establishing the office of President. "It stirred
things up," remarked the editors of the College Topics,
"set the Board and alumni to thinking, and made them
real one and a fit one,—and made them immediately
active in what otherwise might have been postponed
indefinitely."
The Faculty itself perceived more clearly than ever
that the welfare of the University would be promoted
by an alteration in the general character of the administration;
but they still very stoutly denied that this
change was called for by the presumption that the institution
was drying up in its financial resources. "Why
was a President needed?" asked Professor James M.
Page. "Not because of some alarming decadent or
atrophied condition which had disclosed itself in the
University in late years. On the contrary, the opinion
of the Faculty, and, I suppose, to some extent, that of
the Visitors,—that this University needs a President,
—was based, in large measure, upon the fact that the
administrative affairs of the institution have grown both
in scope and complexity within the last decade and a
half. The form of government practicable when the
constitution was younger, had proved too cumbersome
to meet the altered conditions. The University has not
been the victim of arrested development, for, as a
matter of fact, the number of students matriculated
has more than doubled within the last fifteen years.
Financial conditions have been improving and are better
today than ever before."
After the failure of the Board of Visitors in June,
1903, to elect Colonel Miles to the newly authorized
office of President, that body deferred action for
another twelve months. In the meanwhile, several
persons of high qualifications for the post were considered,
—among whom were Bishop Collins Denny,
Professor W. M. Lile, Professor James M. Page, John
the twenty-five members of the Faculty attached their
signatures to a paper advocating the election of Professor
Francis P. Venable, of the University of North
Carolina. But on June 14, 1904, the Board, by a
unanimous vote chose as the first President of the
University of Virginia, Edwin Anderson Alderman, at
that time President of Tulane University, in New
Orleans. He accepted, and in September, began to discharge
the duties of his new office. There had preceded
him seventeen incumbents of the chairmanship of the
Faculty, with an average length of service of five years.
VIII. The Inauguration
The formal inauguration did not occur until April 13,
1905. The day was marked by beautiful weather, which
brought out in perfection all the vernal charm of the
Piedmont region. The cloudless sky seemed to have
stolen its tint from the hue of the noble chain of
mountains that leaned against the western horizon.
The grass that carpeted the Lawn was as green as the
turf of some English dell or Kentuckian pasture; the
trees springing up before the two long lines of dormitories,
on either side, were just putting forth their first
red buds; the white surfaces of the pillars and arches
of the arcades reflected the slightly misty sunlight that
fell over the scene; while the fronts of the pavilions, with
their white columns and entablatures, shone through the
network of branches which shaded their porches. At
the head of the vista rose the imposing Rotunda, commanding
the entire academic village, like some splendid
temple of the classical age, and at the foot towered, in
the distance, the range of the Southwest Mountains,
against the broad background of sky.
If perfect harmony, down to the minutest detail, had
been sought for the academic procession, which, on that
day, formed in front of the south steps of the Rotunda,
the figures of the numerous professors, college presidents,
and public men, taking part in it, should have
been wrapped in the togas of the ancient Romans, for
were they not to start from the Pantheon? and in their
stately progress to Cabell Hall, were they not to pass
the Diocletian Baths, the Temple of Fortuna Virilis,
and the Theatre of Marcellus? But the spirit of
modernity was too strong for mere consistency, and in
the place of the loose robes of the Romans, all of one
color and of one piece, the figures of those participants
who could boast the possession of a degree were covered
with their scholastic gowns adorned with hoods dyed
scarlet, blue, yellow, gold, maroon or purple.
In the advance down the terraced Lawn, first came
the State officials, among whom was to be observed the
attorney-general, Major William A. Anderson, who had
been a student at the University during the war and
had been crippled for life on one of the great battlefields.
In this group also were to be seen the lieutenant-governor,
and the presiding justice of the Court of
Appeals, the librarian of Congress, and the head of the
Federal Bureau of Agriculture. Next came the members
of the State Legislature and of Congress; after them,
the superintendents of city and county schools, followed
by the teachers in the public and private schools. Then
came the representatives of educational and scientific
societies. In this group was noticed Moncure D. Conway,
who, before the War of Secession, had left Virginia
him walked Randolph H. McKim, a gallant soldier in
the Confederate armies. Near at hand was Samuel
Spencer, who had demonstrated that the South could
beget great men of affairs as well as great orators and
great statesmen; and not far off was Archibald C. Coolidge,
of Boston, who was sprung from the blood of the
Founder. Next followed the representatives of all the
Universities of the North and South and West, robed in
the doctor's gown and hood, and presenting, in their
figures, all the colors of the rainbow. The representatives
of Harvard and the College of William and
Mary, the two oldest institutions of higher learning in
the United States, marched at their head. The seventh
division was formed by the members of the Faculty of
the University of Virginia, and the eighth, of the Board
of Visitors, the officers of the University, and the trustees
of the Miller School. The last division numbered
in its ranks the speaker of the day, the Governor of the
State, the Rector of the University, and the new President.
The galleries of Cabell Hall were packed with students;
and as the long procession slowly entered the
great apartment, the young men burst out with their
college song sung to the moving tune of Auld Lang Syne.
The only touch of color employed was in the use of the
United States and Virginian flags. The picture that
adorned the wall back of the platform, the School of
Athens, was set off with an American flag on either
side; the portrait of Jefferson was similarly decorated,
and so was the bust of Lafayette; while the flag of Virginia,
—with its picture of Liberty trampling the tyrant
under foot,—was suspended above the speakers.
The Board of Visitors, the Faculty, the State, the
and South,—were all represented in the speeches that
followed. The ceremony ended with the inaugural address
of President Alderman.
IX. Antecedents of the New President
In appraising the work of an executive head, whether
of a nation or of a university, it is essential that we
should know something about the influences which have
qualified him to perform successfully the duties of the
position that he occupies. This is especially imperative
in the case of the president of an institution of learning,
which, like the University of Virginia in 1904–05, had
passed at one leap from the divided administrative
system approved by Jefferson to a system in which the
power was, in no small part, concentrated in the hands
of a single individual. We shall, in a later chapter,
describe the scope of the very liberal functions, which
by the action of the Board of Visitors, were attached
to the newly created office. Suffice it to say here that
these functions gave the first President so much authority
that a study of the circumstances of his previous
life becomes necessary if we are to obtain a correct
impression of the history of the University while under
his supervision.
The opinions which an executive has expressed form
an important key to an understanding of his general
policy if his power has been commensurate with his
responsibilities. It is true, that, no matter how great
this power may be, a college president is compelled to
be considerate of the views of his board of trustees, and,
in a less degree, also, of those of his faculty; but if
he is a man of vigorous character and clear convictions,
—and without these traits it is hardly likely that he
stamp the seal of his personality upon the contemporary
tendencies of the institution which he superintends. We
shall touch only on those aspects of the new President's
previous career which appear to us to bear most directly
upon the history of his administration, so far as it has
yet progressed.
In a suggestive address by a distinguished Carolinian
teacher, delivered prior to the Presidency, before the
General Alumni Association of the University of Virginia,
he, with that candor which is always permissible
in a friend, although not always relished in proportion
to its disinterested sincerity, pointed out what he considered
to be the three worst deficiencies of the alma
mater of the men to whom he was then speaking. These
deficiencies, he said, were an absence of the democratic
spirit; a lack of organization; and an aloofness from
the masses of people. This statement, as a whole, was
exaggerated, but admitting its correctness in some
details, what had there been in the career of the new
President which offered a fair assurance that he would
be able to furnish the remedy?
In the first place, he was a native of North Carolina.
Of all the commonwealths of the South, even during
the existence of slavery, that State possessed the most
democratic framework of society. The prevalence of
a general social equality was more perceptible in it than
in any Southern State of equal population. It possessed
no city of importance, like Richmond, Charleston,
Savannah, or New Orleans, to set the social pace; nor
was there sufficient inequality in material fortune among
its inhabitants to produce such a distinct stratification
as was to be seen, for instance, in South Carolina and
Virginia. Its society, as a whole, was one of great
virtue of its own, was only able here and there to pretend
to a share of the distinction which could be rightly
claimed for the social life of its two most famous neighbors.
There were many names in the history of the
liberty-loving people of North Carolina' which were
celebrated for talent and public service, but there were
not so many which enjoyed a general prestige for social
reasons only.
It was altogether logical that the soil of a State,
which even the presence of the slave could not make
aristocratic throughout by encouraging everywhere a
sharp division into classes, should have been nourishing
to the public school long before it had taken root elsewhere
in the South. Education at the public expense
had been pushed further in North Carolina, previous to
1860, than in any other of the Southern communities.
And why? Because that commonwealth possessed a
social organization, which, in its democratic spirit, resembled
the social organizations of the North and West,
—regions that had always supported a public school
system. In 1854, ninety-five thousand of the children of
this State,—one-half of the population whose years
ranged between five and twenty,—were enrolled in local
schools that depended upon the public purse alone for
their maintenance. By 1861, the number of pupils in
these schools had increased to one hundred and fifty
thousand; nor did this juvenile host shrink in size in the
course of the war.
As early as 1839, it had been enacted by the General
Assembly of North Carolina, that, for every twenty
dollars obtained by local taxation for education, forty
should be appropriated for the same purpose out of the
State Literary Fund. Calvin H. Wiley was elected
he continued to fill the post until 1865, when he was
thrown out by an alien administration. In consequence
of the dissipation of the school fund, in the Reconstruction
era, through the failure of banks and official robberies,
and in consequence also of the reduction in every
branch of taxation after the restoration of good government,
the work of the public schools was more limited in
scope, and less effective in quality, in 1880, than it had
been in 1860, two decades earlier; but the attitude of the
community towards the system had undergone no real
change.
President Alderman was born too late to have any
personal knowledge of the conditions which prevailed
in his native State before the abolition of slavery; but
he grew up in an atmosphere in which the old community
spirit had been confirmed, and the old democratic
spirit intensified, by the universal impoverishment which
followed the war. The public school system remained,
though temporarily clipped in wing. The great tradition
handed down by Calvin H. Wiley had not lost its hold
upon the imagination of that stout-hearted people, elevated,
not degraded, invigorated, not enfeebled, by all
the sacrifices which they had made for their cause.
The spirit which that people had cherished long before
the war, now, under the pressure of new conditions,
began to spread all over the Southern States. The
lofty example set by Lee at Lexington, and the unwearied
labors of Ruffner, and Sears, and Curry, and their disciples
in less conspicuous spheres, gradually created the
conviction throughout that region that it was only
through a general system of public instruction that its
complete regeneration in every province of activity
could be brought about. In this atmosphere of unselfish
before known in the South,—the educational statesman,
the man who weighed the importance of education, not
from a pedagogic point of view alone, but principally
from the broader point of view of practical and constructive
citizenship. Talents, which formerly would
have been directed to the defence of the institution of
slavery, or to assaults upon the tariff, were now nobly
content to limit their exercise to the advocacy of the
public school.
The most persuasive, eloquent, and zealous spokesman
of the new principle was Curry, a man who deserves
to have more statues erected to his memory than any
statesman associated with the history of the Southern
States in recent times. What was the aim of this man
in the prosecution of his invaluable work? "It was,"
said a distinguished disciple, "to democratize the point
of view of an aristocratic society; to revolutionize its
impulses and aspirations; to stimulate the habit of community
effort for public ends; to enrich the concept of
civic virtue; to exemplify the ideal of social service to
young men; and to set the public school in its proper
correlation to all other educational agencies in front
of the public mind as the chief concern of constructive
statesmanship."
The example set by Curry before all eyes, and the
principles which he advocated, with the passion of a
great preacher and the wisdom of a practical statesman,
inflamed the imaginations and appealed to the sense of
action of many promising young men, who soon came
to think with him that here was to be found the most
effective means of rebuilding the South materially and
of restoring its former political influence. Among
these young men was Edwin A. Alderman. "The first
1902, "was for the public school; the first dollar that
I ever earned was in the public school; and no honor
has ever come into my life, no joy has entered my soul,
comparable to the annexing of my life, twenty years
ago, to this high service."
During his studentship at Chapel Hill, he had displayed
the special abilities which, under the former
order, would have fitted him for a successful political
career, and under the new, for the less brilliant honors
of the profession of law or theology; but instead of
following the gleam which led straight to political, legal,
or ecclesiastical distinction, he turned away to devote his
powers, native and acquired, to the more prosaic and
much less lucrative calling of a teacher. Thus he started
upon a career which carried him step by step from the
superintendency of the public schools of Goldsboro, in
his native State, to the Presidency of the University
of Virginia. In travelling the highway of that long
interval, he was to pass a succession of milestones which
were to indicate the stages of his progress in his profession,
—the chair of History in the State Normal and
Industrial College at Greensboro, the chair of History
and Philosophy of Education at Chapel Hill, the Presidency
of the University of North Carolina, and the
Presidency of Tulane University, in New Orleans.
It was in 1883 that young Alderman heard for the
first time an address by Dr. Curry. The impression of
that occasion confirmed him in the view, which he, as
an earnest teacher in the public schools, already took
of the moral aspects of his vocation. "A thriving
North Carolina town," he says, "was proposing to tax
itself for adequate school facilities. This was not then
an everyday occurrence in North Carolina. Curry stood
children of the community. I remember how he seized
a little child impulsively, and with dramatic instinct,
placed his hand upon his curly head and pictured to the
touched and silent throng the meaning of a little child to
human society. It was the first time I had heard a man
of such power spend himself so passionately in such a
cause. I had seen and heard men speak in that way
about personal religion, and heaven, and hell, and struggles
and wrongs long past, but never before about
children. It seemed to me, and all young men who
heard him, that here was a vital thing to work for,—
here, indeed, a cause to which a man might nobly attach
himself, feeling sure that, though he himself might fail,
the cause would go proudly marching on."
In 1889, when President Alderman was only twenty-eight
years old, and when barely seven had passed since
his departure from college, there occurred an episode in
his life which was colored with something of the ardor
that burns in the breast of the true crusader. He and
Charles Duncan McIver, that sturdy offspring of the
transplanted stock of the Highland glens, were appointed
conductors of institutes for their native State. These
two young men, who were especially picked out because
of their experience, ability, zeal, and energy, were instructed
to visit every part of that highly diversified
region, in order to demonstrate to its people, in a general
way, (1) the need and duty of the commonwealth
to give an education to every child, whatever his class
or color, within her borders; and (2) the positive right
which each of those children possessed to receive an
education at public expense. It was planned that an
institute should be held in every county. Through the
institute, the mass of inhabitants were to learn precisely
how its standards could be raised; how its usefulness in
every way could be improved. In their turn, the
teachers working under this system were to be taught
the best methods of pedagogy; the true aims for members
of their profession; how each separate school should
be organized; and how the pupils should be housed and
their health protected.
In his sympathetic sketch of his associate, President
Alderman says, "I recall commencement night at Chapel
Hill in the year 1889. We were to start out on a new
and untried experiment in North Carolina and the South,
—a deliberate effort by new campaign methods to create
and mould public opinion on the question of popular
education, involving taxation for the benefit of others.
I remember that we talked about our plans and purposes
and difficulties until the cocks began to crow. We
talked on until the sun rose. I am inclined to think it
about the best night I have ever spent, for an intelligent
and unselfish idea held our youth under its spell, and
bound us for life to a service which was not the service
of self."
Having apportioned the territory of the State between
them, they then, with words of mutual encouragement,
separated, like two young missionaries to whom
had been assigned respectively a spiritual task in a different
region; and during three years, without a single
halt in the prosecution of their adventure, each, in his
own set of counties, carried forward aloft the new banner
of civic salvation through popular education. The
ground traversed by young Alderman spread from the
sea to the mountains. In one stage of his crusade, he
was only able to advance from point to point by the use
looming on the horizon, the glittering surface of the
Sounds. In another stage, he passed along in sight of
the highest peaks of the Appalachians, wreathed in the
clouds of morning or afternoon. In the eastern counties,
shut off by salt water from railways, and possessing
few roads, a deadly lethargy seemed, at that time, to
have palled the minds of the illiterate and ignorant but
kind-hearted and good-natured inhabitants. No effective
means of mental improvement were then in reach of
those isolated men, women, and children.
The young conductor lingered a week in each county
employing every moment of his time in conferring with
school teachers and trustees, and addressing the people at
large. Like a Methodist minister riding his circuit, he
spoke to his audiences in granaries, in churches, in town-halls,
in ware-houses. Each occasion, in its social aspects,
recalled something of the spirit of the camp-meeting
and the country fair. The rush of yelping dogs to
the door when aroused by some sound without, and the
wailing of sick babies or sleepy children in the laps of
mothers seated on the benches, broke the patness of many
amusing anecdotes, and the flow of many eloquent periods,
from the lips of the man on the platform. But in
spite of these crude interruptions, he continued to talk
to them in a strain of familiar conversation, which, notwithstanding
the by-play of humor to ease the attention,
never lost sight of the main thesis; namely, that the free
school was the ark of the covenant, and that each community
must consent to support it by the taxation of its
own citizens. In the course of his entire tour, he conducted
thirty institutes; travelled nearly twenty-seven
hundred miles by rail and five hundred by carriage; and
reaching indirectly from seventy-five thousand to one
hundred thousand children.
By his association with city schools as teacher and
superintendent, and by his incumbency of an important
chair in the State normal and industrial college, Professor
Alderman had come to comprehend the educational
wants of the large or urban communities; and by his
swing around the circle of the Carolina counties, he had
been able to get an equally clear insight into the needs
of the small or rural communities. There was no man
of his age in the South whose practical knowledge of the
public school system, founded upon actual observation
at the closest quarters, was superior in fullness or sympathy
to his own. His convictions were summed up in
his own utterance: "Every child has the same right to
be educated as he has to be free; and the one right is
as sacred as the other."
The next step forward was his appointment to the
professorship of History and Philosophy of Education,
in the University of North Carolina; and the next,
his election to the Presidency of that old and honored
seat of learning. This was a State institution, and
the capstone of the public school system of the commonwealth.
He soon perceived that the spirit of its students
had drifted from the aspirations which had been
popular during his own undergraduate years; at that
time, the most talented looked forward to law, pedagogy,
or politics, as the pursuit surest to furnish an opportunity
to gratify their ambition; now all the solid financial
enchantments of an industrial democracy had begun
to whisper to them from the walls of the lecture-rooms.
The new President, in his inaugural address, struck a
chord upon which he was to continue to lay an emphatic
of a university are we going to make here?" he asked.
"Shall it be a good, honest, disciplinary college, seeking
no new truth, dealing with letters, and records, and traditions,
and arts? Or shall it become a great modern
force, doing that also, but alert to all social needs, from
the problems of suffrage to the problems of the transfusion
of electrical forces? There can be no limit set
to the ideal of a State university. It must be a source
of power to all below it, or fail miserably. Everything
may be justly brought in it necessary to citizenship,
livelihood, and character, in the twentieth century. After
isolation, we are entering into membership in the modern
world. Not only is there needed the directing brain
and the cunning hand, the factory and the blast furnace,
but also the man who has the right public spirit, and the
force to make himself felt; the thinking man who sees
that civic unity and community effort must replace raw
individualism, and the disunion and rage of section, party,
and sect. This is the mighty social engine to create that
benign force."
In the course of his official oversight of this famous
university, President Alderman obtained as accurate
a knowledge of the working of a great State seat of
learning as he had already acquired of the working of
the humblest primary, and the most advanced secondary,
school. Here too he was in a position to exhibit administrative
capacity in a large way. By the influence
of his policy, the faculty and students were welded into
a harmonious unity; the number of matriculates enrolled
increased; the volume of income rose; new buildings
were added to the original group; and a higher appreciation
of the value of the institution was spread abroad
through the commonwealth.
From Chapel Hill, he was translated to Tulane University,
a seat of learning in which were combined the
characteristics of a State organization and a private
foundation. The original college had merged its entity
into a new institution created by the endowments of
four individuals, the chief of whom was Paul Tulane,—
in whose honor, it had been named the "Tulane University
of Louisiana." It was really a union of colleges,
—the college of arts and sciences, the college of technology,
the Sophie Newcomb Memorial Woman's College,
and the schools of pedagogy, law, and medicine.
President Alderman's administration here was marked
by the same success which had given distinction to his
administration at Chapel Hill. As a member of the
Southern Educational Board, he had an additional opportunity
of studying and weighing all the varied influences
which were either retarding or advancing the welfare
of the Southern States in every department of their vital
interests. In cooperation with McIver, he had directed
the educational activities of that Board; and after
McIver's death, he had become the chairman of its campaigns
and its principal agent. In 1906, he was chosen
a member of the General Education Board.
X. Scholastic Convictions of the New President
From the previous statement of facts, it is obvious
that the new president had enjoyed an exceptional experience,
—whether in extent or variety,—in preparation
for the office which, in 1904, he was called upon to fill
at the University of Virginia. To sum up: he had been
educated at one of the oldest and most respected seats
of learning in the South; as a public school-teacher, a
public school superintendent, a conductor of institutes,
and a professor in a normal and industrial college, he
had had an opportunity to weigh the power of the public
of the people at large; as President of the University
of North Carolina, he had been in a position to decide
what was the right policy which a State university should
pursue, if it was to fulfill its duty to the community as a
whole; as President of Tulane University, he had been
able to study the special influences for good in many
directions which a great institution of culture, resting
upon private endowment, could create and spread abroad.
By virtue of these combined experiences, rising from the
lowest to the highest rung of the scholastic ladder, the
new executive head of the University of Virginia,—
gifted originally by nature with the necessary basic qualities,
—had learned to administer large affairs with good
judgment; to take the lead of faculties and students with
tactful skill; and in his representative capacity, to appear
before the world in an attitude of grace and dignity.
And to crown these advantages, he had, as a member
of the great educational boards, which had scattered,
with liberal hand, their benefactions throughout the
South, come to know, with thoroughness, the conditions
which prevailed in all parts of that region; the difficulties
which had to be surmounted by its people; and the spirit
in which the solution of their problems had to be
approached by themselves and by their alien friends.
The educational convictions of a Southerner who has
enjoyed such comprehensive opportunities as these to
understand the needs of his own section, are always important;
but they assume a special significance, in their
relation to the University of Virginia, when they are
the convictions of a man who occupies the office of its
presidency, with the possession of very great personal
power in every province of its administration.
The impression which had prevailed in that institution
was that the only functions of a university were to breed
or nourish gentlemen and to produce scholars,—the
first function preponderating in value over the second.
The most consistent motto which the University of Virginia
could, in those times, have adopted was to be found
in the familiar stanza of Thackeray beginning "Who
misses, or who wins the prize,"[3] supplemented by other
lines proclaiming the power of knowledge. The old argument
was that, if the instincts of the gentleman and the
scholar could be brought to flower in the student, the impulses
of a useful citizen would inevitably accompany the
development. If the student was chivalrous in feeling,
unselfish in motive, and gentle in conduct, a lover of good
literature, and the possessor of a cultivated intellect, it
was confidently anticipated that he would later on perform
with fidelity his duty to himself, to his family, to
his neighborhood, to his State, to his country.
The University of Virginia made no pretension to
serving the community directly, but it did claim that it
served the community indirectly by tacitly and persistently
inculcating in the individual student the importance
of setting an upright and stimulating example, and by so
training him in mind and morals, within its precincts, that
he did set that example in after-life. It reached out to
every citizen, high or low, only through its graduates.
It did not assert that it was a lighthouse in itself, but
it did endeavor to convert each graduate into a guiding
torch for his own community. Every community was
an aggregation of individuals. Develop the individual
under the arcade, in the dormitory, and in the class-room,
and he in turn, would, with the cooperation of his former
fellow-students, develop the community. It has
aristocratic bent in this attitude. If the usefulness of
a tree is to be judged by its fruit, then those in sympathy
with that spirit have only to point to the types of men
who left the halls of the University at the time that this
spirit was in the full flush of its vitality.
As we have seen, the economic changes set in motion
in the Southern States by the fall of the Confederacy
had come to be plainly perceptible by 1904. One of the
most conspicuous results of these changes, as we have
already mentioned, was the rise of the community spirit.
The existence of this new spirit had been clearly discerned
by the authorities of the University of Virginia
long before that year; and they had endeavored to adapt
the administration of the institution to it without destroying
that original policy upon which we have just been
dwelling. They had altered the curriculum of the old
degree of master of arts simply because this degree, as
it then was, tended to disassociate the University from
the current life of the State, by narrowing its capacity
for practical usefulness, and by restricting its principal
function to serving as a nursery for specialists and technical
scholars. They had been successful in creating a
genuine relation between the University and the teachers
by free tuition and the summer institutes; and between the
public school pupils and the University undergraduate
courses by the establishment of scholarships. The long
agitation for the erection of the Presidency had a part of
its origin in this desire to get in closer touch with the
new community spirit, which called so imperatively for
the spirit of efficiency while insisting upon the spirit of
democracy. Before the new office was introduced, it was
perceived that the University of Virginia could not
disregard the requirements of the new era if it was to
recoordinate its studies; it must alter its outlook, if it was
to retain the place which it had so long held with so much
distinction.
How far was the man who was elected President in
sympathy with this new community spirit, which all
thoughtful alumni of the University, however wedded to
the past and its splendid traditions of individualism, knew
had to be reckoned with and obeyed? His repeated
utterances, recorded through a long series of years, leave
no room for doubt as to what he looked upon as the
true function of the universities of the modern South;
and as to what he considered to be their proper relation
with all the phases of the waxing industrial democracy
of that far-spreading region.
"Education," he said in his inaugural address at Tulane,
"exists to make men. The public schools constitute
one step in that process, the secondary schools, another,
colleges still another. If we let the grass grow
between us and the doors of the public school, that neglect
will spell ruin to us. The University must keep
its eyes on the people." Again, in an address before
the National Educational Association, delivered not long
afterwards, he said, "Our universities must interest
themselves in the things which interest the people, no
matter how homely or prosaic,—the negro's cabin, the
factory child, the village library, the prices current, the
home, the field, the shop." "The University," he remarked
in his inaugural address in 1905, "is an agent
of society as completely public as the State capitol. Its
glory is service to society. Its strength is sustenance by
society. We who administer, govern, teach, are the servants
of the people. The university must reach out into
every hamlet, and touch hopefully every citizen, so that
university for what it is: an intellectual lighthouse, not
alone for the few who trim its wicks and fill its lamps,
but for all the uncharted craft adrift upon the sea."
"No cry for guidance, in its complex development,"
he declared in an article printed in the South Atlantic
Quarterly in 1906, "should come up out of an American
State which is not met with an immediate answer by its
State university. Its duty is not alone to provide
teachers, lawyers, doctors, and clean-hearted and clear-minded
men,—it is that, of course,—but to provide as
well experts in every phase of expansion in a complex
time: in engineering, in commerce, in agriculture, in the
domestic arts, in public health, in public transportation
and public welfare generally." In a letter to the alumni
during the session of 1909–10, he wrote, "The University
should see beyond its walls the needs of an advancing
civilization, and have both impulse and power to
carry help to a free society, ever reaching out to higher
levels. If they need to know how better to till the soil,
—out of which all wealth must come,—and to carry
forward an orderly economic life; if their thought is
upon the health and physical well-being of community
life; if they desire to build their schools and local institutions
with wisdom and farsightedness; if they have
need of the knowledge which will enable them to put
beauty and dignity and spiritual value into their homes
and lives,—their university should not fail them in these
just desires, but should be an ever present stimulus to
their aspirations, and a tower of strength in elevating
the standards of living, As the servants of the commonwealth,
the scholars and teachers of the university are at
the call of the people."
"The ultimate mission of the State University in
brains, not only to the fortunate few who can repair to
its walls, but to all the people, who constitute the life of
the State." And in an address delivered during the
session of 1911–12, he said that "the supreme duty of
this generation in educational progress was to rise
above institutional exclusiveness, and behold primary
schools, colleges, technical schools, professional schools,
and university, working together as one great
beneficial agency, feeding, stimulating, guiding, and understanding,
and supplementing each other."
"The university," said he in an address at Chapel
Hill, in 1915, "may justly take its place as that coordinate
branch of democratic government out of which may
be drawn a body of experts and social-minded men, ever
ready to undertake, to analyze, and understand, and
sympathize, with the State in the making; who can organize
the education of its children, foster economic organization
in its moral life, and vitalize and socialize the
isolation of its country life; who can improve its agriculture
and animal husbandry, and aid in organizing its
public revenues and give direction to its thought."
"More and more," he affirmed in a report to the Board
of Visitors, in the course of the same year, "the
university is seeking to emphasize the duty of the
university to care for the State. The old idea was for
the State to care for the university." And in the Alumni
News for 1915, he declared that "the primary duty of
a university was undoubtedly to discover truth, to set
standards, and to train men within its walls. Its secondary
duty was to carry its knowledge to the whole life of
the State and region which it serves. The first prepares
for leadership; the second guarantees wise and sympathetic
citizenship."
"No university," he remarked on another occasion,
"will long endure which is not in fairly close touch with
the community to whose needs it must minister. The
university's chief task is first to teach its own students
faithfully and well, not primarily for their sakes as individuals,
but as a means of State and national enrichment.
It must mould the sources of public opinion by
supplying technical evidence, just standards, and varied
scholarship, to the State's peculiar problems of business,
health, education, religion, and agriculture. University
and State must work together in a partnership of mutual
obligation. The university must be given a chance to
realize its ideals and demonstrate its energy, and the
State must then demand of it inspiration and guidance."
And again he affirmed that a university "is a great
cooperative public corporation in harmony with the
growth of modern activities, uniting on almost equal
terms with the State in contribution to the material,
social, and moral welfare of all the people without, as
well as within, its walls. Universities have drawn closer
to the people, not to popularize themselves cheaply, but
to enrich and strengthen the lives of the people. The
people are asking of every institution whether it be
serviceable or no, and demanding that its efficiency express
itself in service to the people as a whole."
"If a State is wise and farseeing," he remarked as
late as 1917, "it will demand of such accumulations of
human energy and scientific material a service to the
whole commonwealth which will cause a deeper intelligence
to filter throughout the State; and which will
bring creative helpfulness to communities as well as to
individuals. Those who govern the State, whenever
they undertake large matters based on scientific needs
affecting the public good, should immediately ask themselves:
from their institutions of higher learning; and these
should be commandeered (to use a military term) to
help the State rather than be put in the position of thrusting
themselves into the service of the people, whom they
were brought into existence to serve."
The preceding quotations from the addresses of
President Alderman, which might be greatly multiplied,
disclose the convictions which he has always held as to
the proper functions of a modern seat of learning. We
have seen what ideals entered into the administration of
the University of Virginia before the influences of the
present conditions in the South had begun fully to reveal
themselves. The additional ideals of the same institution,
as created by these new conditions, and stimulated
by the policy of its executive, in harmony with the
trend of the age, are that the University is not simply a
more or less secluded nursery for the production of
scholars and gentlemen, but that it is also a great workshop
to which the whole community can turn for practical
instruction and leadership; that it is a lighthouse, which
casts penetrating rays along the whole coast of the
State's multitudinous and complicated interests, for the
profit of every citizen.
The most radical exemplar of this general conception
of what a university should do for the community is,
of course, the University of Wisconsin, which has been
described as a bureau of experts attached to the State
government for the benefit of the State,—a general information
office, ready to supply all persons with scientific
and technical knowledge for use in their daily life.
It possesses numerous fully equipped laboratories for
research, and a circle of professors thoroughly trained
to employ these laboratories to the utmost advantage.
annually, it has added many millions of dollars to the
incomes of the people of its commonwealth.
We will anticipate our account of the different schools
during the Ninth Period, 1904–1919, by pointing out
briefly, at this stage, the community directions which
the new university spirit has, under President Alderman's
general guidance, so far taken. First, there has been
established a geological department, which is investigating,
with ever increasing thoroughness, the geological
formations and mineral deposits of the State.
Second, there has been founded a department of forestry,
designed both to utilize and to preserve the State's resources
in this important province. Third, there has
been erected a large and well-equipped addition to the
hospital for ministering to the sick, and for researches
in the field of public health. Fourth, a school of education
has been created to strengthen the general aims of
the public school system; and to this a department has
now been added for the training of teachers, and for
the improvement of university instruction in all its
branches. Fifth, university extension has been adopted,
with the view of carrying university information
and nurture to every hearth. Sixth, the Summer School
of Methods has been perfected; and, seventh, a School
of Finance and Commerce has been established, with a
large endowment to support it.
Professors of the University of Virginia have served
with ability on different Public Commissions, such as the
Educational, the State Geological, the State Tax, the
State Highway, the Federal Tariff, and also on the State
Board of Education and the numerous State cooperative
leagues. In addition, the institution has taken, through
its School of Secondary Education, an important part in
and through its school of hygiene, it has increased the
value of the public health inspection. Furthermore,
it has entered the religious life of the State by the zealous
and efficient labors of its Young Men's Christian Association;
it has encouraged the work of the State Archaeological
Society; it has assisted the debating societies of
the high schools; and by every means in its power, has
fostered and encouraged the various bodies organized
for civic betterment.
XI. Powers of the Presidential Office
What were the powers bestowed on the new executive
office by the Board of Visitors? The new President
occupied the chair for the first time at a called meeting
of the Faculty on September 14, 1904; and on the following
day, the Visitors assembled and clearly defined the
scope of his authority in the administration of the
University's affairs.
First, he was to serve as the medium of communication
between the Board and the Faculty, and also between
the Board and the subordinate officers. The object of
this provision was to remove the awkwardness so often
created, during the existence of the chairmanship, by
the greater loyalty which the incumbent of that position,
not unnaturally, exhibited towards the Faculty and
officers than towards the Board. It was expected that
the President, being practically independent of Faculty
and officers, would be able to fulfill these liaison duties
with perfect impartiality.
Second, the President was to be responsible for the
discipline of the students. This regulation was in sharp
contravention of the recommendation of the Faculty,
who, as already pointed out, had claimed that their
the internal affairs of the institution than the President;
and that the sole right to supervise these affairs was essential
to the preservation of their influence with the
students. The reasons that led the Board to deny this
claim were: (1) that, so long as there was a duality of
authority, there would be constant danger of a conflict
between the President and the Faculty, with the undignified,
and, in the public view, damaging, incidents
certain to follow; and (2) that, unless the primary
authority was concentrated in the office of President, he
could not justly be held responsible for the proper
government of the University. This did not signify the
complete elimination of the Faculty as a part of the
administrative machinery. On the contrary, as we shall
see, the members of that body, as members of the several
administrative committees, possessed and exercised
great influence in the general direction of the University's
internal affairs.
Third, while the President was required to overlook
these internal affairs only in a general way, he was nevertheless
expected to keep a very vigilant eye upon the
working of all the academic and professional departments.
This latter regulation, if it did not destroy
the independence of the schools as established by
Jefferson, materially curtailed it. The last word in the
guidance of these schools now lay with the President,
and not with the respective professors. The purpose
of the change was to bring about a closer coordination
between all the schools by subjecting them to the continuous
supervision of one responsible person. It was
desirable, too, that the line between the college department,
—the undergraduate and the graduate courses,
—should be more sharply drawn; and that the college
of the public high schools. All this could be more
satisfactorily effected under the new system.
Fourth, the President was to represent the University
on every public occasion; and also to take the chair at
meetings of the General Faculty, or the minor faculties,
—bodies whose powers and duties he was authorized
to determine.
Fifth, he possessed the right to recommend to the
Board the names of such persons as seemed to him to
be properly equipped to fill vacancies on the teaching or
administrative staff. Under the operation of the old
rule, the testimonials of the several candidates were submitted
directly to the Board, who, after examining them,
announced their decision in favor of one of the candidates
upon the strength of his superior claim to personal
and scholastic consideration. Under the practical working
of the new rule, the function of the Visitors resembled,
—partially at least,—the function of the
United States Senate in passing upon a nomination: if
the nomination was disapproved of, it could be rejected,
without the necessity of their substituting another in its
place. This was looked upon as a sufficient device to bar
all really objectionable selections by the executive head;
but the rule still left the choice to the disinterested or
biased judgment of the man who happened to be filling
the Presidential office. The reputation of the University
depended primarily upon the learning, character, and
personal impressiveness of the members of the Faculty,
and a failure to rise to the right level in any of these
particulars was, perhaps, less apt to occur when the
Board relied upon their collective judgment than when
they trusted to the fallible judgment of one man, however
conscientious and faithful he might be. But the
to be held responsible for the successful administration
of the University's affairs, he should be permitted to
exercise the practically exclusive right to recommend
the appointment of all who were to serve under him, in
whatever capacity.
The additional functions conferred on the President,
which tended to increase the efficiency of his office, may
be grouped as follows: he was to be a member of the
Board of Visitors,—without the right to vote, however,
and he was always to serve as the chairman of the
executive committee of that body; he was empowered to
determine and define the duties of the students who had
been awarded scholarships and fellowships; he was to
appoint the deans of the several departments, subject to
the subsequent ratification by the Board; he could compel
guilty collegians to leave the precincts; and it was incumbent
upon him to inform any professor who had been
delinquent, of the ground of the charge against him.
The latter, however, could not be turned out without
the approval of the Board.
One of the President's additional tasks, as time lapsed,
was to adjust the annual budget. Written reports are
first obtained from the professors of the different schools,
and personal conferences, if necessary for further explanation,
are held with them. The substance of these
reports, and the conclusions of the conferences, are
summarized by the President, with the assistance of a
small budget committee. Then follows the process of
cutting down to make tongue and buckle meet. "One
has need," it has been very truly said, "of great
sympathy and comprehension of varied problems and
personalities, as well as accurate fiscal sense, in order
to handle such a problem."
In weighing all the powers bestowed on the new
executive head of the University of Virginia in
September, 1904, it is perceived that the administrative
system then introduced was less democratic than the one
which had been established by Jefferson; and this fact
is all the more pregnant in the light of the assertion
made at the time of the first President's election; namely,
that the institution was too aristocratic for the spirit
of the times; and that what it needed most was a democratic
purge. The Presidential form of administration
was, as a matter of fact, adopted, not because the Board
of Visitors thought that the institution required a democratic
purge, but because they thought that it required
a more efficient form of government, which, in this instance,
the experience of other universities had demonstrated
would be a modified form of autocracy. Unity,
cooperation, the community spirit,—all were called for;
and these were the more easily secured, as in our modern
municipalities, by a general manager or President, than
by a Faculty chairman, whose powers were limited, and
who was the mouthpiece of a subordinate body rather
than of the University itself. "The new Presidential
system," remarked Judge John W. Fishburne, in a
speech delivered at an alumni meeting, "hinges on the
idea that the President is a man thoroughly familiar
with modern educational questions, who stands ready
to guide the institution along modern lines of complete
service to all the people of the State." In these comprehensive
words are to be found the justification for
the radical alteration, in 1904, of the University's
system of government; and it would be sufficient even
if there had been no other reason for making so far-reaching
a change.
XII. Rectors and Visitors
Before examining the right possessed by the Faculty,
through its administrative committees, to participate,
in a modified way, in the management of the University's
internal affairs, it will be pertinent to give some account
of the personnel of the Board of Visitors, a body to
which the new President was subordinate, in spite of
the wide sweep of his authority. The influence of the
members of that body did not spring solely from their
statutory powers,—it rested largely on their just
appreciation of the moral demands of their office, their
native ability, their professional attainments, and their
weight of experience. Beginning with 1904 and ending
with January 1, 1919,—the limit of this history,—
there were, during this interval, twenty-four Visitors by
appointment. In addition to these, there were two who
filled the office by reason of the fact that one was State
Superintendent of Public Instruction, and the other,
President of the University.
Of the persons enlisted in this group, three had
occupied the post of rector. Charles Pinckney Jones,
the first of the three in date of appointment, had been
a Confederate soldier, and, during many years, served in
both branches of the State legislature; but he continued
to pursue his profession of law, in the meanwhile, with
distinction. Altogether, he performed the duties of
rector for a period of twelve years. He had already
been the incumbent of the office for some time when he
participated, as the representative of the Board, in the inauguration
of President Alderman.
Robert Tate Irvine occupied the rectorship from
1918 to 1920, two years altogether. He was appointed
vacancy caused by the death of Basil B. Gordon, and
served during five terms of four years each, omitting
the interval between 1904–1908. Mr. Irvine was
sprung from an ancestor who had gone from the Scottish
Lowlands to North Ireland, had taken part in the desperate
defense of Londonderry, and struck many resounding
blows for the Protestant Cause. His more
immediate forbears, accompanying the great Scotch-Irish
stream of immigration in its westward flow, had halted
in the Valley of Virginia. They were ardent patriots
in the Revolution. One of his ancestors on his
mother's side, Captain James Tate, had fallen at the
head of his company at the battle of Guilford Court
House; and a shaft commemorative of his heroic
death has been erected on that field.
The subject of our sketch grew to manhood in the
park-like blue grass region of Kentucky; he received his
principal education in that State; and afterwards
graduated in the School of Law of the University of
Virginia, under the tutelage of Professor Minor.
Almost from the threshold of his professional career,
which began in Southwest Virginia, he took a very influential
part in political affairs,—represented his county
in the House of Delegates; and was only defeated for
election to Congress in that Republican district by a very
much reduced majority for his opponent. Mr. Irvine
was distinguished, not only as a lawyer and politician
in the higher sense, but as a man of superior scholarship,
—in 1920, he became a member of the Phi Beta
Kappa academic fraternity; and he also received the
degree of Doctor of Laws from Centre College in 1919.
In addition, he has been an important factor in the
of the State in which he resides.
In the numerous provinces of vital activity in which
he has participated, whether professional, business, or
political,—as a member and rector of the Board of
Visitors of the University, for instance, or as a citizen
of a prosperous and cultivated community,—his influence
has been cast in the scale of all that was calculated
to aid, to improve, and to elevate, whether the object
of his consideration has been his State, his district, his
town, his profession, his alma mater; and he has illustrated
once more the energy, steadfastness, and integrity
of that Scotch-Irish stock to which the Commonwealth
of Virginia has been so deeply indebted for so many of
her most useful and distinguished citizens.
If we except Joseph C. Cabell, Armistead C. Gordon
filled the office of rector for a longer period than any
of his predecessors: namely, thirteen years; and as rector
and visitor, he occupied a seat at the table of the Board
for the space of sixteen years. There have been few
intervals in the history of the University which have
been as pregnant with vital influences touching its welfare
as these sixteen years; and throughout their
successive stages, the vigilance, devotion, and helpfulness
of Mr. Gordon never slackened. There was a
hereditary as well as a personal reason for this attitude
of loyalty on his part. He was the grandson of General
William Fitzhugh Gordon, the most faithful and trusted,
if not the ablest. Lieutenant of Joseph C. Cabell, in the
Homeric struggle for the passage of the University
bill, the adoption of Charlottesville as the site of the
institution, and the acquisition of State appropriations,
from time to time, for its extension and support. General
Gordon had, on many occasions, made important
sought to overthrow the whole of that beneficent project.
His watchfulness never ceased and his firmness
never relaxed throughout that long contest, in which so
much factional spite, so much private malevolence, and
so much provincial narrowness, were always conspiring
to confuse and defeat the efforts of those who were
fighting for the cause of higher education in Virginia.
It was General Gordon, too, who, standing on the steps
of the Rotunda facing the Lawn, welcomed the French
hero, Lafayette, to the University precincts, in a speech
long remembered for its grace and dignity.
It was from a patriot like this, who had sat with
Jefferson and Cabell at the birth of the University, and
had helped assiduously to rock its cradle in its feeble
years of infancy, that Mr. Gordon was sprung. His
father was named after one of the staunchest of General
Gordon's lieutenants in the House of Delegates,—
George Loyall, who not only employed his great talents
without stint in supporting the interests of the University
in that body, but afterwards served, with invaluable zeal
and intelligence, as a member of the Board of Visitors.
George Loyall Gordon, in the flower of his young manhood,
perished for his country at Malvern Hill, in the
course of the great assault which has made that ground
one of the most hallowed spots in the South.
The son of this soldier-martyr,—the future rector,—
passed his childhood and boyhood on the family estate,
which reposed in the midst of those beautiful Piedmont
hills which he afterwards pictured in one of the most
moving of his poems. Around that home, as around the
homes of Francis Walker Gilmer and Joseph C. Cabell,
not far away, there lingered all the charming influences of
Virginian social traditions and social culture, inherited
colonial mansions standing on the banks of the
James and the Rappahannock.
Mr. Gordon, like all the members of his own class
in the old times, obtained his first taste of the English
classics in the home library; and here too he laid the
broad foundation for the literary skill which has made
him so conspicuous a figure in the literature of his native
State. Having passed the early stages of his tuition
in one of those private schools the headmasters of which
were great moral teachers as well as great scholars,
he entered the University at a day when its chairs were
filled by the most inspiring body of men recorded in its
history, and when its atmosphere was still on fire with
that spirit of patriotism and high endeavor which had
been so vividly aroused by the sacrifices of the recent
conflict. All the impressions of his previous life,—his
loving associations with home and school, his keen appreciation
of literature and scholarship, his thorough
knowledge of Southern history, his profound reverence
for Southern heroes, his boundless devotion to his native
State and its great traditions, and his fervent sympathy
with the spirit which had conferred so much distinction
on her past,—all united to make him deeply responsive
to the silent lessons, as well as to the formal instruction,
which the University of Virginia had to give.
Throughout the years when he was consolidating his
position in his profession of law, and also winning a wide
reputation as a novelist, biographer, and poet, his interest
in the University of Virginia continued to burn as
brightly as during the days of his student life. He had
chosen as his future home a town from which he could
still look out on that splendid chain of mountains on
which his eyes had rested unbrokenly in his youth and
to the scenes of his college years, and to bring himself
into immediate contact with the institution which he
still held in undiminished honor. The interests of a
career that touched many more sides of life and thought
than is usual with professional men were never offered,
as they so often are, as an excuse for indifference to
the call of his alma mater. There was in his attitude
towards her a reflection of that devotion which, in old
times, the Virginian felt for his native State,—an emotion
which was the combined result of inherited instincts,
social traditions, personal memories, patriotic pride,
passion for the sacred soil.
The appointment of Mr. Gordon to membership in
the Board of Visitors was a very proper recognition,
not only of his high personal reputation, but also of this
unselfish attachment to the institution, exhibited at
every opportunity which had arisen in his life. Born
almost in sight of the dome of the Rotunda, brought
up from childhood under the influence of the principles
which the University represented, educated first in its
shadow, and afterwards in its lecture-halls, a distinguished
writer as well as a lawyer of standing, a man of
affairs as well as a citizen interested in the welfare of
the community, it was to be expected that his appointment
would receive the stamp of public approval, and
that it would be predicted, that, in time, he would be
advanced to the rectorship. In his performance of the
varied, intricate, and delicate duties of the latter position,
practical wisdom went hand in hand with sentiment and
affection. There was not a more zealous and indefatigable
member of the building committee after the Great
Fire than Mr. Gordon; and to him was due the paternity
of the resolution which first proposed the conversion
The same spirit, at once reverential for the noble
traditions of the University, yet keenly alert to the demands
of progress as created by new conditions, was exhibited
by him in every other province in which he was required
to reach a decision as the rector of the institution.
At the close of his successful tenure of that responsible
office, he could truly say as he did in the privacy of personal
friendship: "I have loved the University of Virginia
through a life, now far beyond the crest of the
hill, that has, in no small measure, been dedicated to
its welfare, and that is bound to it by a three-fold cord
that is not lightly broken,—the cord of friendship, love,
and death. There is not a stone of its noble edifices
that is not dear and sacred in my regard; there is not
a story of its glory and its greatness in which I do not
rejoice; and it could have no agony in which I could
not share."
The members of the Board of Visitors who served
contemporaneously with the three rectors just named,
were men of influence and prominence, either in the
commonwealth at large, or in their respective communities.
Of this useful body, fifteen were active practitioners
at the bar, two were physicians, and two were
engaged in business, either of banking or manufacturing.
Henry D. Flood had been a member of Congress
during many years, and R. Walton Moore was destined
to occupy a seat in the same assembly. William H.
White and Eppa Hunton, Jr., were lawyers of prominence,
and both were to be identified with the office of
president of railroads. J. L. M. Norton and George
S. Shackleford had won an excellent reputation on the
bench. Daniel Harmon, Joseph W. Chinn, Goodrich
Hatton, B. F. Buchanan, Robert Turnbull, A. F. Robertson,
known and respected throughout the State. Several of
this number had been influential members of the General
Assembly. John W. Craddock had been successful in
establishing one of the largest manufacturing plants
in the Southern States. G. R. B. Michie had been
successful as a publisher, and at the same time had served
as the chief officer of a prosperous bank. W. F. Drewry
and F. W. Lewis were skilful and trusted practitioners
of medicine. J. Stewart Bryan, educated for the bar,
was widely known for public spirit, and as the editor
and proprietor of newspapers. All were men of recognized
talents who had been trained in the practical
school of the new conditions which had arisen in the
Southern States; all were in full sympathy with the
predominant tendencies of their times; and all performed
with disinterested zeal and fidelity the varied and exacting
duties incident to a seat on the Board.
XIII. Administrative Committees
After the establishment of the Presidency, the administrative
offices embraced the incumbent of that position,
the dean of the University and the college, the dean of
the department of graduate studies, the dean of the
department of law, the dean of the department of medicine,
the dean of the department of engineering, the
director of the summer school, the bursar, the registrar,
the librarian, the superintendent of buildings and
grounds, the director of the Fayerweather gymnasium,
the superintendent of the hospital, the University physician,
the sanitary inspector, and the alumni secretary.
We have already given some description of the powers
of the President. The Faculty, taken as a whole, was
known as the General Faculty. The minor faculties
according to departments. The principal administrative
machinery was composed of working councils, drawn
from the membership of the General Faculty, which
also included the President. The most important of
these was the Administrative Council, which consisted
of the President and the deans of the several departments.
This committee took shape only a few weeks
after Dr. Alderman gathered up the reins of government,
and it was his chief adviser in one of the most vital provinces
falling under his supervision, for it passed upon
the delinquencies of the students,—more particularly in
cases of individual drunkenness, or improper conduct
on the part of their different social organizations.
The second administrative body was the short-lived
Academic Council. Its function was to thresh out beforehand
all matters of importance which were to be
disposed of by the General Faculty at their next meeting.
Its work in this way sensibly facilitated the progress
of business in the Faculty room by bringing it forward
in a digested form, for this made practicable a quick
decision on the merits of each case as submitted. The
Academic Council itself not infrequently relied upon
a sub-committee to investigate a question under consideration,
and report first to its own body before the
Faculty was informed of the conclusion reached. Such
a question was the one that came up in 1904 touching
the regulations to be adopted for entrance examinations,
—at that time under earnest discussion.
The General Faculty was divided into administrative
committees charged with the performance of certain
clearly defined duties; thus there was a committee of
this character to supervise the University publications;
another, athletics; another, the catalogue. There was
purposes; to keep in order the University cemetery;
to oversee the condition of the buildings and grounds;
to adjust the entrance requirements; to advise with the
librarian; to follow the affairs of the different college
associations; to superintend the religious exercises;
to arrange for the public celebrations; to regulate the
relations with the accredited schools. In addition
to these different committees, there was one to watch the
condition of the several devices in use for fire protection;
another to find out the means of self-help for students
of small income; another to keep the University clock
and bell in proper repair; another to manage the affairs
of the Commons Hall; another to supervise the graduate
department; and still another to superintend the
Summer School of Methods. For additional purposes,
there were other committees in active existence. In
short, there was no single interest of the University,—
indeed, no important branch of any single interest,—that
was not under the protecting eye of a trained committee.
The largest membership embraced in any committee
was to be observed in the one in charge of publications.
That membership numbered eight; but, of the committees
in general, the membership ranged, on an average,
from seven to three. Most of these committees acted
through sub-committees, which reported to their head committees;
and the latter, in turn, reported to the
President and General Faculty.
After the establishment of the office of President,
much of the business which had formerly been transacted
by the General Faculty was transferred to the
minor faculties representing the several departments,—
academic, law, medical, and engineering. The dean of
these departments possessed some of the powers of the
referred the applications from students submitted
to the minor faculty of that department. A
student found deficient was first admonished by his
professor, and then by the dean of his department;
and it was the dean's duty to report that fact to the young
man's parent or guardian.
With the delegation of authority to councils and committees,
the need of the General Faculty holding frequent
meetings steadily declined. In 1907, there seem
to have been eleven sessions of that body; in 1909, ten;
in 1911, nine; in 1914, four; and in 1915, five. Between
October 22, 1906, and November 24, 1917, apparently
the number of meetings did not exceed seventy-nine,
a yearly average of seven,—the greater number
of the seventy-nine occurring previous to 1911.
One of the innovations which followed the creation of
the Presidency was the use of the academic cap and
gown. This had been introduced by President Alderman
at Tulane University. In a short time, several
ceremonies were established at the University of Virginia
which were thoughtfully calculated to increase the
dignity and impressiveness of its administration. For
instance, in 1905, the graduating class was, for the first
time, formally presented to the alumni at the banquet at
finals. Next, the University Hour was appointed. This
was a monthly meeting of teachers and students in the
public hall for the purpose of discussing the numerous
questions which involved the interests of both. Convocation
Day, in the autumn, and Founder's Day, in spring,
were celebrated with academic processions, full of color
and distinction; and on the same occasions interesting addresses
were delivered. Thus, on the ceremonial side
of university life, a new vision was exhibited, which
promoted, not only by an appeal to the sense of intellectual
acquisitiveness, but also by an appeal to the sense
of beauty and dignity.
XIV. The Students—Number, Birthplace, and Parentage
During the session of 1904–05, approximately six hundred
and sixty-two students matriculated at the University
of Virginia. By March, 1913, that number had
grown to eight hundred and thirty-six; but it was not until
the beginning of the session of 1915–16 that the roll
embraced one thousand names,—the thousandth name
being that of Matthew S. Martin, of New Jersey. By
March, 1916, the number of matriculates had swelled
to one thousand and sixty, and by March, 1917, to one
thousand and ninety-two. During the interval between
1904–05 and 1915–16, the rate of increase had not exceeded
fifty per cent.
The explanation for the slow advance during the early
part of this period was to be found in the operation of
several adverse influences: (1) the adoption of more
rigid entrance examinations by the University; (2) the
popularity in the world at large of certain branches of
technological education, which could be more satisfactorily
acquired in institutions devoted exclusively to that
province of study; (3) the reputation for difficulty which
had long stuck to the University's undergraduate courses;
and (4) the false impression that the expense of living
within its precincts was abnormally high. There was a
suspicion that jealousy on the part of some of the less
prominent colleges had led them to exaggerate the
importance of all these supposititious drawbacks. The
principal competitors of the University of Virginia in
the State, at this time, in enrolment of students, were
William and Mary, the Military Institute at Lexington,
and Washington and Lee University. At least two of
these,—the College of William and Mary and the Virginia
Military Institute,—like the University of Virginia
itself, received a large number of matriculates without
any charge for tuition.
The declaration of war with Germany led to a shrinkage
in the roll of matriculates at the University of Virginia
during the session which followed that event. By
March, 1918, when American participation in hostilities
had been protracted over nearly twelve months, the number
of its students did not exceed seven hundred and
sixty; but before another session had passed, that number
had rebounded to thirteen hundred and eighteen, the
largest, up to that year, in the history of the institution,
and the immediate result of the return to college of so
many young men whose education had been temporarily
interrupted by their enlistment in the army,—from
which they were now withdrawn, as peace had been again
established.
To what States were the students enrolled in the Ninth
Period, 1904–19, accredited? And what was the proportion
of attendance belonging to each State? The
number of matriculates coming from Alabama previous
to 1916–17 had never, in any one year, risen above thirty
or fallen below fourteen. Arkansas could never claim,
during the same length of time, more than sixteen;
Florida more than twenty-two; and Georgia more than
twenty-seven. During some of the sessions, each of
these commonwealths was represented by one half of
these respective numbers. In 1907–08, Kentucky had
sent forty-four matriculates; in 1911–12, fourteen only;
but in 1918–19, the attendance from that State rose to
claim between 1904–05 and 1916–17 was twelve; the
largest which Mississippi could claim was twenty-four;
North Carolina, thirty-one; South Carolina, twenty-seven;
Tennessee, forty-eight; West Virginia, thirty-two;
and Texas, twenty-six. All these States showed a
large increase in enrolment during the abnormal year of
1918–19.
The smallest attendance to which any of these commonwealths
sank was six matriculates. This occurred
only in the case of Louisiana. In the instance of both
North Carolina and Texas, it was seven; of South Caolina,
eight; of Mississippi, twelve; of West Virginia,
fifteen; and of Tennessee, seventeen. The number of
students from Virginia who matriculated in 1904–05 was
three hundred and seventy, and in 1908–09, four hundred
and thirty-five. There was a shrinkage to three hundred
and ninety-four in 1910–11; but, in 1915–16, the
attendance from this State rose to six hundred and fifty-five.
The same abnormal increase was observable in
its enrolment in 1918–19 as in the case of the other
commonwealths of the South.
Among the Trans-Mississippi communities represented
in the lists for the Ninth Period were Arizona, California,
Colorado. Idaho, Kansas, Iowa, Missouri, Montana,
Nevada, New Mexico, North and South Dakota,
Oklahoma, Oregon, Utah, Wyoming, and Washington.
Previous to 1917, about three hundred and sixty students
matriculated from these States; about two hundred
and one from Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Minnesota,
Ohio and Wisconsin; and about five hundred and
ninety-two from Connecticut, Delaware, Maine, Massachusetts,
New Hampshire, New Jersey, New York,
Pennsylvania, Rhode Island and Vermont. Of these
of matriculates, with Pennsylvania following close
at its heels. China, Japan, and the South American Republics
were also represented by a small attendance.
| 1907–8 | 1911–12 | 1914–15 | 1918–19 | |
| North Atlantic States | 51 | 56 | 48 | 44 |
| South Atlantic States | 530 | 562 | 710 | 977 |
| South Central States | 139 | 127 | 129 | 188 |
| North Central States | 34 | 26 | 25 | 14 |
| Western States | 19 | 27 | 15 | 6 |
| Foreign Countries | 5 | 8 | 8 | 5 |
The above table would seem to show that, during the
interval between 1907–08 and 1918–19, it was only the
attendance from the South Atlantic States that increased
substantially. With the exception of the South-Central
States,—in which there was a small addition,—the
other great divisions of the Union disclosed a positive
shrinkage in their enrolment; and this was most conspicuous
in the roster of matriculates for the NorthCentral
and the Western States. From this fact, it
would be inferred that the drift in the attendance of students
at the University of Virginia during the Ninth
Period, 1904–1919, was away from these latter two
groups of commonwealths at the very time that the registration
from the South Atlantic States,—practically
the former Confederacy,—was repidly growing in volume.
In 1905–06, the University of Virginia and
Princeton obtained about thirty per cent. of their students
from beyond the borders of the States in which they were
situated, while the proportion for Columbia, Cornell, and
Harvard Universities, and the University of Pennsylvania
ranged from thirty to twenty-six. In 1914, the attendance
at the University of Virginia from outside the
boundaries of its own commonwealth was estimated at
a ratio as high as fifty per cent. The University of
Michigan alone approximated this figure.
In what schools were the young men who were enrolled
prepared for admission to the University of Virginia?
In 1906–07, about forty-one per cent. of those registered
had been students in private high schools; about twenty-two
per cent. in public schools; about twenty-six per
cent. in colleges; and about nine per cent. in universities.
Only about two percent. had been taught by private tutors.
In 1911–12, the group of young men who entered
for their first session had received their previous drilling
in the following institutions: fifty-one in universities;
fifty-nine in colleges; ninety-nine in public schools, and
one hundred and thirty-one in private. As yet, the private
school could claim the largest proportion of the
matriculates. In 1912–13, the number of first-year students
who had been previously trained in universities
was forty; in colleges, seventy-one; in public schools, one
hundred and eleven; in private, one hundred and twenty-two.
The private high school could still show the higher
proportion. In 1916–17, forty-five of the first-year students
had been instructed in universities; seventy-six in
colleges; one hundred and twenty-two in private schools;
and one hundred and seventy-five in public. The public
school had at last run ahead of the private in the numerical
race.
The remarkable growth in the attendance of students
in the undergraduate or college department was thought
to be due to this rapid increase in the number of young
men who had received their secondary education in the
public schools. What an important tributary to the reservoir
of the University the public high school had now
become is disclosed by the fact, that, in 1906–07, twenty
six of the thirty-three Virginian counties without a representative
in the student body did not possess a single
school of this grade,—in other words, only seven
schools had been able, during that session, to add to the
University's list of matriculates; and the same general
ratio continued to be observed during later years.
We have seen, in our description of earlier periods
of the University's history, that the proportion of young
men returning to the precincts for a second or third year
of study was far smaller than would have been normally
expected. The same condition was perceptible during
the Ninth Period. In the long interval between the
sessions of 1904–05 and 1915–16, only eleven hundred
and forty-five of the twenty-two hundred and forty-one
first-year students entered for a second year; only six
hundred and eleven for a third year; only two hundred
and thirty-three for a fourth; and only seventy-four for
a fifth. Dean Page attributed the failure of so many to
come back to the professors' inability, from overwork,
to give the necessary amount of attention to each student.
Discouragement, for one cause or another, was,
undoubtedly, the reason which influenced a large number
to remain away after their first session. Not all had
been sufficiently trained even for the college or undergraduate
department; and this deficiency possibly continued
after admission, either because of their own indolence,
or because the number of professors was too small
to remove the shortcomings of all the members of their
classes. Restricted means too led many first-year students
to limit their attendance to a single session; and the
desire to earn a livelihood in active life at the earliest
hour practicable governed the decision of many of their
companions.
These several grounds for depression did not come into
such powerful play in the Northern institutions of learning,
—especially in those in which the modified curriculum
of students of the first year who did not return
for a second session was only twenty-two percent.; and in
Williams College, eighteen. This was very near the
ratio for the other seats of higher learning situated in
that part of the country.
What was the parentage of the students who registered
during the Ninth Period? Of the seven hundred
and ninety-six enrolled during the session of 1905—06,
five hundred and twenty-seven replied to an inquiry
submitted to all on this point,—eighty-seven were found
to be sons of farmers, about sixteen percent. of the
whole number: eighty-two, the sons of lawyers, about fifteen
percent.; and seventy, the sons of merchants, about
thirteen per cent. The most important of the other
pursuits disclosed in the return were medicine, manufactures,
real-estate, clerkships, teaching, civil engineering,
banking, contracting, and the ministry. During the session
of 1909–10, forty-four percent. of the young men
were the sons of farmers, merchants, and lawyers. The
farmers were still the most numerous in the parentage.
During the session of 1911–12, nearly every calling in the
community, from the highest to the lowest, from the
proudest to the humblest, was represented,—of the
students reporting, one hundred and three were the sons
of farmers, one hundred and two, of merchants; and
sixty-five, of lawyers. The sons of parents engaged in the
remaining pursuits ranged in number for each pursuit
from two to forty. During the session of 1913–14, the
majority of the parents were still farmers, merchants,
lawyers, and physicians, taken in the order named.
Forty-seven callings were to be found in the parentage.
In 1914–15, the farmers again headed the list, followed
by lawyers, physicians, and clergymen. Forty-nine pursuits
session of 1916–17, eighty-four per cent. of the students
reported their parentage,—the farmers again led, followed,
in proportion to numbers, by merchants, lawyers,
physicians, clergymen, real-estate agents, bankers, brokers,
railway employees, manufacturers, and teachers.
All the other vocations were also represented.
It may be seen, from the preceding enumeration, that
the largest proportion of students were the sons of farmers;
the next largest, the sons of merchants; the next,
the sons of lawyers. The number of parents belonging
to the learned professions fell, as a whole, short of the
number of those who pursued the ordinary callings.
The progress of the Ninth Period does not seem to have
altered this condition.
In 1906–07, the average age of the students enrolled
in the college department was nineteen and three-quarter
years; in the graduate, twenty-six; in the engineering,
twenty and one-third; in the law, twenty-two and two-thirds;
and in the medical, twenty-two and one-half.
In 1914–15, the average age of the students in the college
department was twenty years and two-thirds of a month;
in the graduate, twenty-five years and three months; in
the law, twenty-one years and eleven months; in the
medical, twenty-three years and one month; and in the
engineering, twenty-one years and two months. During
the session of 1910–11, the average age of the whole
body of students was twenty-one years and two months.
In 1913–14, it advanced to twenty-one years and four
months; in 1914–15, it fell back to twenty-one years and
three and one-half months; and in 1915–16, it further
declined to twenty-one years and two months. During
this session, the average age of the first-year students
was nineteen years and ten months.
XV. The Students—Admission of Women
Previous to 1910, the question had been raised but
once whether or not the student body should be permitted
to receive recruits from the ranks of women; this
was in 1893; and after a somewhat timorous coquetting
with the proposed innovation, the Faculty and Board of
Visitors decided that the University must be reserved for
persons of the male sex alone. At that time, there was
no very aggressive sentiment abroad in Virginia in favor
of granting the same opportunities to women as to men
for the acquisition of a higher education. There was,
it is true, a hazy sort of impression that, as a matter of
common equity, they were entitled to it in all the institutions
supported by the State; but public opinion was
not yet ripe for the introduction of so radical a change.
Many years were yet to go by before the women themselves,
under astute leadership, would grow bold enough
to knock, not at the Faculty door of the University, as
in 1893, but at the door of the General Assembly itself,
as the most direct path to the possession of those educational
privileges which they stoutly asserted belonged as
much to themselves as to men.
The first bill was entered on the calendar of the Senate
in January, 1910, by Aubrey E. Strode, of the Amherst
district, one of the ablest members of that body. Under
its provisions, women who were at least eighteen
years of age could be enrolled in the undergraduate department
of the University, but they were not to occupy
the class-rooms with the male students,—a special
group of buildings was to be erected for their use; special
equipment supplied; and special instruction given, just so
soon as the required fund should have been accumulated
by the Board of Visitors. This measure, which had a
in the Senate by a narrow margin, and was not brought
up in the Lower House.
A second bill, known by the names of its patrons as the
Early-Rison bill, was submitted in 1912. It provided
for the inauguration of coordinate education at the University
on a more elaborate scale than the preceding
measure had done. The bill expressly prohibited a system
of coeducation in the undergraduate department,
but that system was to be allowed in the graduate and
vocational departments, should the Board of Visitors,
having no objection to the innovation, consent to lay
down the terms for admission. The Governor of Virginia
was to be empowered to appoint the members of a
board to supervise the affairs of the projected coordinate
college. The Rector and President of the University
were to serve as members of that body ex officio. The
bill containing these matured provisions was defeated in
the Senate by a large majority of votes, and was never
pressed to an issue in the House of Delegates.
But the advocates of a coordinate college were not to
be discouraged,—in 1914, a third bill was introduced.
This provided for the establishment of such a college;
appropriated a large amount for its construction; and
expressly subordinated its administrative board to the
Visitors of the University. The Senate passed favorably
on the terms of this measure, but it failed of adoption in
the House by six adverse votes. A fourth bill, submitted
in 1916, with almost identical requirements incorporated
in its text, was successful in the Senate, but was
lost in the Lower Chamber by a margin of two votes.
Two years later, Senator Strode, with his spirit of loyalty
to the cause only whetted by all these discomfitures,
introduced the fifth bill, which provided for the admission
—with the exception of law and engineering, which were
omitted from the list. This bill, having been entered
low on the calendar, never reached a vote.
Such, in very bare outline, was the history of the legislative
steps taken in the progress of the controversy
which the proposed innovation at the University aroused.
By keeping these successive steps in mind, the course of
that controversy, and all the influences which entered
in it, are rendered more intelligible.
When the movement for the higher education of
women began in Virginia, it was acknowledged by all who
were interested in its success that there were only three
ways of securing for the members of that sex the advanced
instruction which they demanded as a right: (1)
by the erection, at the expense of the State or private
philanthropy, of a great college resembling Bryn Mawr,
Vassar, and Wellesley Colleges and entirely conducted by
women; (2) by throwing the doors of every seat of
learning in Virginia, controlled by the commonwealth.
open to the entrance of female students on a footing of
complete equality with male; or (3) by building an imposing
coordinate college, which, in essentials, would be
divorced from the University, but, in the point of administration
and guidance, would be subject to the authorities
of that institution. The proposed college would be
an integral part of the greater seat of learning, but separate
from it. They would be equal in dignity, equal in
scholarship, and equal in all other claims to consideration.
It was the general opinion that Virginia was not yet in
possession of sufficient wealth to justify the State in erecting
an entirely distinct female college, like the greatest
of those in existence in the North and England; nor, at
that time, could it be hoped that private benevolence
the impression of many men who had pondered over the
question of higher education for women that their isolation
as students was not favorable to the acquisition by
them of the richer fruits of such education. "I do not
believe," declared the President of the University in a
letter addressed to the Board of Visitors in December,
1917, "that a policy of complete segregation is the
best way to give to women the training which they will
need for their public life in the century to come." And
this was also the conviction of many of the female advocates
of this wider instruction for the members of their
sex. What those advocates as a body preferred was
either a partial association with the State University in
the form of coordinate education, or complete identification
with it through the adoption of coeducation.
Every one of those measures, which, as we have seen,
were introduced into the General Assembly in the interval
between 1910 and 1918, had in view, not absolute
independence, like that of a private foundation,
but, at the lowest reduction, coordination. It was equality
that was desired, if not within the actual bailiwick of
the male students, at least so near the fence as to catch
some of the inspiration pervading the atmosphere of the
jealously guarded ground beyond it.
While the controversy over the admission of women
to the advantages of the University was absorbing the
attention of the General Assembly, what convictions
on that subject were expressed by the authorities and
students of the institution? The editors of the magazine,
in 1911, pointed out that coeducation already
prevailed in the medical department, for had not a class
been established for the training of nurses? Had any
harm followed? None at all, was the reply. How
the proximity of a coordinate college? One beneficent
result at least was certain to flow from it,—it would
increase the number of those who would be practically
interested in the prosperity of the University. In other
words, it would be sure to swell the contents of the University's
treasury. But it is doubtful whether the students
as a body, at this time, took so favorable a view as
this. They unquestionably did not do so at a later date.
The President and most of the Faculty, in May of the
same year (1911), by formal resolution, assumed a favorable
attitude towards the proposed coordinate college;
urged its establishment in the "environment" of the University;
and advised that it should have a separate and
distinct individuality and academic life, but that, at the
same time, it should be so joined on to the University,
through its administrative board, as to make unnecessary
any duplication of instruction and expense. An amendment
was afterwards submitted, which, while approving
coordinate education, set forth the suggestion that coeducation
might be practicable beyond the Master's degree.
Forty-two of the professors present supported this
amendment, but without committing themselves beyond
that point. Messrs Graves, Dabney, Echols, Minor, and
Wilson, who were warmly inimical to the proposed coordinate
college, voted in the negative. These members
of the Faculty had been cooperating with Eppa Hunton,
Jr., Murray M. McGuire, and Henry Taylor, spokesmen
of the Richmond alumni.
It was the opinion of both President Alderman and
the rector, Armistead C. Gordon, that the establishment
of the coordinate college was the only means of warding
off coeducation in all the departments of the University.
"Is it not saner," wrote Mr. Gordon in January 1912,
General Assembly, "is it not really wiser, that the
friends of the University, by allying themselves with the
coordinate bill in its least objectionable form, shall seek
to control, guide, and direct this force rather than permit
it to fall into possibly reckless hands? I favor the
coordinate college because I am opposed to the coeducational
university. This movement, I feel assured, will
never end until Virginia women receive a university
education." Such was the conclusion which had been
reached by most men who had been observing the drift
of public sentiment.
The cry for higher educational opportunities for Virginian
women was never more insistent than it was at
this hour. Where was the most modern advanced instruction
to be obtained by them? Not on their own
soil. Not a dime was then appropriated from the State
treasury for such instruction in its highest form for the
benefit of the members of this section of the community;
not a dollar for the benefit, even in a lower form, of at
least eighty per cent. of the women who taught in the
public schools. On the other hand, the facilities in the
State for the higher education of men were sufficient to
meet the needs of two thousand or more of their number;
and great sums were expended to afford them all these
advantages.
It was pointed out by advocates of the coordinate
college that the experience of Harvard University, Columbia
University, Brown University, and Tulane University,
—each of which had connected with it an institution
of this kind,—had proven the perfect feasibility
of this type of institution. "Coordinate education,"
said President Faunce, of Brown University, "has meant
for us the same standards, the same examinations, the
for men, and, at the same time, an entirely separate
social life." The same experience was reported by the
representatives of Radcliffe, Barnard, and Sophie Newcomb
Colleges. It was asserted that, in these coordinate
institutions, the women did not feel like intruders. On
the contrary, their attitude, sustained by their separate
college life, was one of complete independence, and yet
contemporaneously they enjoyed all the benefits of instruction
by university professors, and the use of the
best libraries and the most fully equipped laboratories.
In spite of all these practical illustrations, the bill of
1911–12 was thrown out, as we have already mentioned.
XVI. The Students—Admission of Women, Continued
In December, 1913, in anticipation of the discussion
which the reintroduced bill was expected to arouse at the
approaching session of the General Assembly, the
Visitors expressed their willingness to listen to a debate
on the merits of the question involved; and an invitation
was sent out to prominent supporters and opponents of
the measure to be present and to speak at the next meeting
of the Board. The arguments offered on this occasion
are worthy of being summarized as showing the
differences in the opinions bearing upon the subject in
controversy. President Alderman's convictions were
submitted in the form of a letter. "The coordinate college,"
he wrote, "would assure (1) economy of force;
(2) unity of effort; (3) a better understanding between
the men leaders and the women leaders in social effort.
To women themselves will come from such association
with men a certain tradition of honor and breadth, a certain
habit of courage and thought, a certain discipline of
the mind, which will greatly tend to fit them for the uses
of Virginia," he continued, "were the only seats of
learning of the first order in the United States which
had undertaken no responsibility for the higher education
of women. This attitude of aloofness might be
assumed without censure by a privately endowed independent
institution like Princeton, but could the same
position be safely held by a State University, the creature
and the servant alike of the people? "The reply
was an emphatic negative.
Mrs. Mary Branch Munford, who may be correctly
called the Joan of Arc of the movement for the higher
education of women in Virginia,—a champion who was
never daunted by an army of opponents, and never dismayed
by a world of difficulties,—took up the argument
where President Alderman had left it. Jefferson's
plan of a university, intermediate college, and primary
school, she said in substance, had been realized, so far
as men were concerned, by the growth of the public high
school. For them, the University had become the capstone
of the public school system. But not for women.
For every boy who finished the course in the high school,
there were two girls who also completed it. Where
were these innumerable couples to obtain the advanced
training necessary to fit them adequately to be high
school teachers, social workers, competent mothers?
The women only asked that the University should be
the capstone of their educational system as well as the
capstone of that of men, as it was now.
The State, Mrs. Munford continued, had been appropriating
one hundred thousand dollars less for the support
of the female normal schools than for the support
of the various institutions then in existence for the
training of persons of the male sex. Virginia stood in
Jersey, from the fact that she, like them, provided no
collegiate education for women. Could she really afford
to provide such education by founding an independent
institution, in which every facility would have to be built
up from the ground? But even if she could, why erect
such an institution when there was the University, with
its administrative force, its teaching staff, its library,
and its laboratories, all in operation? It was one of the
advantages of the proposed coordinate college at Charlottesville
that it would make possible a stricter degree
of economy than an independent college elsewhere could
do, simply because it would have available for its own use
the various instrumentalities already in the service of
another seat of learning. In addition, the coordinate college
would be able at once to share in the traditions of
scholarship, and in the prestige of academic achievement,
which had been accumulated by the older centre of culture.
It was the influence of these subtle possessions which
had attracted to the University of Virginia professors of
the highest order of acquirements. Could a new independent
female college, without a large endowment,
hope to secure that class of teachers? Certainly not.
What was needed, as well as what was desired, was a
college standing off to itself far enough to ensure absolute
privacy for its students, and yet not so remote from the
University as to impair the efficiency of the teachers
who would lecture in both institutions, or to cause
serious inconvenience to the students in using the
common utilities.
Professor James M. Page described the pecuniary
advantages which would result from the establishment
of a coordinate college. "The principal financial saving
in having the Woman's College located near the
teaching staff at a comparatively low rate. None of
the present full professors of the University could undertake
to give courses in the Woman's College in
addition to what they are already doing. Instead, however,
of employing an adjunct professor of a certain
subject, paying him fifteen hundred dollars a year, the
University might join with the Woman's College and
employ an able full professor at three thousand dollars,
the University paying one half the salary, and the
Woman's College the other half. This full professor
could do at the University of Virginia the adjunct
professor's work, and at the Woman's College, the full
professor's work. With the aid of an instructor, that
particular subject could be cared for. Pay him eight
hundred dollars. Thus fifteen hundred, added to eight
hundred, would get full work instead of paying three
thousand dollars. The second saving would be in
having one president instead of a woman president besides
at five thousand. The Woman's College could be
operated through a dean who could give one-half of
his time to teaching. One bursar and one registrar
could serve both institutions."
The speech in opposition to the founding of a coordinate
college was delivered by Murray M. McGuire, an
alumnus of ability and prominence, whose exceptional
loyalty to the institution was known to all. He dissented
from the opinion held by the President and the
Rector, and many other interested persons, that the
adoption of the coordinate college project was the only
practical means of driving away the spectre of coeducation
from the University class-rooms. He had
employed all the powers and energies at his command
to discredit the several bills on the legislative calendar,
the one which he had successfully put forward, and was
to continue to reiterate, before the committees of the
General Assembly. It was the strongest that was
offered on that side of the controversy.
The University of Virginia, he said, had been a man's
college from the beginning, and as such it had won all
its extensive reputation. Its tradition of scholarship,
its form of administration,—both grew out of the fact
that it was founded for the instruction of men, and to
encourage the association of men with men. The most
important feature of its social polity was the Honor
System. This could not be prolonged on its present
footing, or on any footing at all, should the Woman's
College be affiliated with the University. The Faculty
would have to pass new laws touching that system; and
the more such laws adopted, the more serious, in the
students' judgment, would become the encroachment on
their rights. The principle of self-government could
not fail to be enfeebled and undermined, since it would be
impossible, in actual practice, to apply the rule with the
same degree of strictness to the members of both sexes.
Furthermore, the need of economy would be certain to
augment as the demand for new buildings, more professors,
and an enlarged administration grew with the increase
in the size of the student body. In order to meet
this need, coordinate education would, in the end, be
forced to merge and disappear in coeducation. To what
resources could the State look-for the fund that would be
required for a double number of professors, salaries, dormitories
lecture-rooms, expenses, and repairs of all
sorts? Could not this difficulty be overcome by the
adoption of coeducation? Unquestionably. Nor would
as in the case of the schools for the two races.
Necessarily, the atmosphere of the University would
be altered by the proximity of a woman's college, for
the former institution would be theirs as much as it
would be the male students', even if they should attend
lectures in different halls or should occupy separate
living quarters. It would be neither a woman's world
nor a man's world,—rather it would be an atmosphere
of a mixed character and of no distinction. It was
different with the coordinate colleges now in existence,
for, without exception, they were situated in cities. The
significant fact had been noted that the unaffiliated
woman's seminaries were far more numerously attended
than these annexes. It was not accurate to say that
Virginia women were registered in the female colleges
of the North in larger groups than Virginia men were
registered in the male colleges situated in that region.
There would be no advantage to women in possessing in
common the University's staff of teachers, as these
teachers were already overworked. How could they
be rightly expected to prepare for two classes? Who
would correct the additional exercises of all sorts, and
also the voluminous examination papers?
Not one of the objections marshalled by Mr. McGuire
was devoid of a solid foundation in fact or reason.
But the logic of the position taken by him, and those
persons who shared his opinion, was that either an
independent institution must be erected for women, or
they must be denied all enjoyment of the ripe educational
facilities possessed by men in Virginia. If the need of
economy, as he said, would convert coordinate education,
in time, into coeducation, then the same need was equally
college for the members of the female sex.
The ultimate inference of that line of argument seemed
to be that Virginian women must remain indefinitely
without the advantages of that higher education which
even Mr. McGuire and his supporters acknowledged
they had the moral, if not the legal, right to claim and
enjoy.
When the debate came to an end, the Board of
Visitors announced that they would reserve their decision
until the ensuing January 5 (1914). When they reassembled
on that date, they adopted a resolution to
the following effect: that it was due the young women
of the State that they should have the amplest opportunity
to obtain the highest education which the Commonwealth
could afford to give; and that the surest way of
creating such an opportunity for their benefit was to
found a coordinate college in affiliation with the University
of Virginia. They recommended that, before
this step should be taken, a commission should be
appointed by the General Assembly to report upon the
cost of erecting such an institution; and, on the same
occasion, it was also suggested that the site should be
chosen on the eastern side of Charlottesville. The
object in view in this proposal was partly to enable the
projected college "to realize a definite individuality,"
as the President of the University expressed it; and
partly to allay the somewhat gratuitous apprehensions
of those alumni who thought that the mere presence of
so many young women would diminish the dignity of the
older institution.
When the bill for the establishment of the coordinate
college came up again in the General Assembly, during
the winter of 1913–14, the former arguments used in
submitted. The wishes of the female advocates of that
measure were succinctly stated by Mrs. William G.
Stanard. "The kind of college wanted," said she, "will
consist of a group of buildings, containing class-rooms,
dormitories, and recreation halls, within its own grounds,
about half a mile from the University. The college
will be a part, and under the control, of the University,
but with such women superintendents and leaders as
shall be found necessary to be resident within it and
control its students. The college will have its own
name, its own individuality, its own life, but will share,
separately from the male students, the teaching force
and the laboratories of the University to such a degree
as may be found possible without detriment to the interests
of the male students. The coordinate college will
thus have the stamp which able professors have given the
University; share the sentiments and historical interest
created by a century of background; and breathe a
measure of the atmosphere of ideality that is one of the
characteristics of Jefferson's creation."
Such was the reasonable and temperate position
taken by thoughtful women at that stage of the controversy.
The bill, however, was defeated, as we have
already mentioned. Again, in the winter of 1915–16,
the same measure was listed on the calendar of the
General Assembly. A few weeks earlier, the Board of
Visitors had recommended that legislative authority
should be obtained for the establishment of a coordinate
college just so soon as sufficient funds should become
available for its erection and maintenance. It was
expected that the State would appropriate one hundred
thousand dollars for this purpose, while another one
hundred thousand would be collected in the form of
again summed up the advantages to accrue to it from the
projected college: "First, it would, through that
college, have its opportunities of service increased
enormously; second, it would be able to reach with its
help one-half of the community which it had never pretended
to reach before; third, it would become an object
of constructive interest to a great multitude of new
homes in Virginia, the South, and the United States;
fourth, it would, in time, create new departments
peculiar to its own life,—like art, domestic economies,
museums, and lecture foundations; and, fifth, the new
duties imposed upon it would foster in it new energies,
new latent powers, new sympathies,—so that, drawing
near to the whole community, it would become a far
more useful, a far more inspiring institution, for it
would touch, with creative hand, all sides of State and
national life."
These arguments, pertinent as they were, failed of
their mark, for the new bill for the authorization of the
coordinate college was again defeated. The proposed
measure simply could not ride down the opposition of
those alumni who were convinced that coordinate
education was the first stage to coeducation, or the
hostility of those persons who thought that the sum to
be appropriated could more properly go to the improvement
of the primary schools. So far, the project had
not been directly patronized by the University. The
committee of women, apparently disheartened, submitted,
in December, 1917, to the Board of Visitors, a new bill
for approval; and they urged that body to father the
measure openly at the approaching session of the
General Assembly. During the discussion of the provisions
of this bill by the Visitors, it was disclosed that,
that it should not be pressed so long as the war
lasted.
The committee of women were not in sympathy with
this seemingly reasonable view,—they expressed the
opinion that the coordinate college needed the University
as much in the time of war as in the time of peace.
What institution could train women for all branches of
war-work as successfully as the University of Virginia
could do? Which could better prepare them for the
radical economic innovations which were certain to
follow the close of the conflict? On the other hand,
the University needed the coordinate college. Was not
the whole row of dormitories in East Range locked up
because so many young men had been drawn away into
the army? Were not the lecture-halls half empty for
the same reason? If there should be a lack of room
within or near the precincts to accommodate all the female
students, could not board and lodging be obtained
in Charlottesville?
But the Visitors could not be persuaded to recall their
decision. They believed as firmly now as before in the
practical wisdom of establishing the coordinate college,
but they were convinced that nothing was to be accomplished
at this hour by their complying with the request
of the women's committee. That committee, therefore,
determined to go ahead independently. The bill, which,
through their action, found its way into the General
Assembly in the winter of 1918 seems to have stirred up
a feeling of unexampled bitterness. One observer informs
us that this emotion was fanned into such a flame
that the fundamental academic issues of the controversy
were forgotten. "The opposing contestants no longer
see things in a clear and detached way," he said, "and the
can be obtained." And so apprehensive were the
University authorities of the lengths to which this
exasperated sentiment might go, in the settlement of
the controversy, that the President, in a letter to R.
Walton Moore, earnestly counselled that all legislation
bearing on the admission of women to the University
should be confined to the field of the professional and
post-graduate courses.
There was sound reason for this prudent advice. By
1918, the argument which had been used by hostile
alumni that the coordinate college would divert to itself
funds that ought to be reserved for the country
schools had produced such a temper in the members of
the General Assembly that many of them were convinced
that coeducation was the cheaper system, and, therefore,
would interfere less with any appropriation which
they might wish to make for the public schools of the
State. This impression had really exercised an opposing
influence from the beginning of the controversy.
In a letter to Mr. Gordon, the rector of the
University, written as early as 1913, a prominent
citizen had condemned the coordinate college bill on
the ground that the Commonwealth possessed thousands
of illiterate children who, for their own tuition, were
pitifully in need of the solicited funds. "Should such
facilities be denied them," he asked, "simply to gratify
the hobby of a few women who were aspiring to establish
a school of higher training for women?"
The enemies of the coordinate college bill among
those alumni who were taking the leading part in the
discussions of the legislative committees still positively
refused to admit that the coordinate college was the
only means available to ward off coeducation, either in
tended to shake the convictions of the President of the
University. It fretted him to think, he wrote in 1918,
that the University might, by that time, have had the coordinate
college in full operation, to offer the amplest assurance
that coeducation would always be excluded. A
modification in the attitude of the committee of women
was plainly indicated in a remark of Mrs. Munford's recorded
in March, 1919. "I am more and more impressed,"
she said in a letter to President Alderman,
"with the wisdom of getting the Board of Visitors behind
a proposition for opening the graduate and professional
work of the University on a full coeducational
basis as our next move." Ultimately, this policy was
successful. In 1920–21, for the first time in its long
history, women students were registered in the graduate
and professional departments of the University of
Virginia. In the meanwhile, coeducation, without
limitations, had been introduced within the precincts of
the College of William and Mary.
XVII. Matriculation and Entrance Requirements
At the beginning of the Ninth Period, 1904, the
annual session opened on the Thursday which preceded
the seventeenth of September; and, with an interval of
ten days for recess at Christmas, continued until the
Wednesday that preceded the nineteenth of June.
Under the custom prevailing at this time, the new
student, so soon as he arrived at the University, repaired
to Madison Hall, where he obtained information
about boarding-houses, lodgings, and the method of
matriculating. He was required by the rules to report
his presence to the dean of the University within the
ensuing three days. By that official, he was called upon
to submit a certificate of good moral character, either
or given by some person of respectable standing. He
was expected next, on the same occasion, to hand over
a diploma or certificate as proof of scholastic preparation;
and if he could show neither the one nor the other,
he was required to pass an entrance examination.
Having fulfilled any one of these conditions, he received
a card from the University dean, with the direction to
carry it to the dean of the department in which he wished
to be enrolled; who, having questioned him and found
his replies satisfactory, gave him a second card to be
delivered to the different professors associated with that
department; and all of these having, in succession,
interrogated him on the subjects taught in their several
schools, and discovered him to be properly informed,
his name was written down in their rosters. The card
was then carried back to the dean of the University,
who jotted upon it the amount of fees to be paid by the
holder; and this card, so inscribed, was taken by the
latter to the bursar, and the entire sum so designated
turned over to that officer in cash or by check.
The first lectures were delivered on the ensuing
Monday; and on the following Tuesday evening, a
reception was given in Madison Hall to the new students,
at which refreshments were served by the ladies of the
University. On Wednesday evening, the young men
assembled en masse, and for the benefit of those who
had matriculated for the first time, a series of addresses
were made by older students on various aspects of college
activities,—such as the magazine, the several smaller
journals, the Honor System, and the like. The new
students also then received their earliest lessons towards
learning the college songs and the college yells. At one
time, on an appointed day, all the first-year matriculates
in the public hall; and here the members of each division
were presented by the dean of that division to the
President,—who, subsequently, welcomed the whole
body into the hospitable fold of the University.
We have mentioned incidentally that every new
student, in order to gain admission to the institution,
was compelled to hand in a diploma or certificate from
the college or school which he had previously attended,
or to pass successfully the prescribed written examination.
This scheme of entrance requirements was made obligatory
in September, 1905, just one year after the first
President's administration began. The resolution in
favor of its adoption had been affirmed during the preceding
October. The object of these requirements was to ensure
the admission of a more thoroughly equipped set
of students, and also to bind the secondary schools more
closely and helpfully to the University.
What was the general character of the diploma, the
certificate, and the written examination? The character
of the diploma and the certificate underwent a number
of superficial changes during the Ninth Period, but only
the subjects of the written examinations were substantially
altered from time to time. The diploma must
have been given by an institution of collegiate rank.
The certificate also must have been received from such
an institution, or from an accredited school, public or
private, which offered courses in harmony with the requirements
laid down by the State Board of Education.
If the certificate was from a school situated beyond the
borders of Virginia, that school must have been included
in the list of those accredited by the State University,
or some other important institution, of the commonwealth
in which it was situated. In 1915–16, the condition was
school, show that the recipient had graduated after
pursuing a course of four years, while the certificate
from the private school must indicate substantially the
same achievement. In 1909, a certificate from the
summer school was made acceptable within the discretion
of the dean of the University.
The regular examinations for admission occurred
annually in June and September. Those which were
held in September were held at the University, while
those held in June were held in the accredited schools,
and were based on papers which the University had
transmitted to the headmasters of these schools. Such
papers were afterwards returned. The Honor System
was enforced in the examination-room while the answers
were preparing.
The general examination, when first introduced, embraced
such a test of knowledge of English as had been
fixed by the entrance requirements adopted by the
Association of Colleges and Preparatory Schools of the
Southern States; the like test of knowledge of certain
of the simpler branches of mathematics; and the like
test of knowledge also of two elementary courses belonging
to any two of the following subjects: the Latin,
Greek, French, German and Spanish languages, history,
physical geography, algebra, geometry, plane trigonometry,
astronomy, physics, chemistry, and botany.
By 1908–09, the requirements for admission by examination
had been increased to the extent of one hundred
and fifty per cent. It was said that they were as severe
as those prescribed in the most exacting American
universities. In a general way, it may be stated that,
at this time, the examinations to be passed were to be in
and in addition, in any four of the following courses:
the Latin, Greek, German, French, and Spanish languages,
science, and applied mathematics. This rule
was still in force in 1915–17. The requirements were
now gauged in units, a unit being taken as the equivalent
of one full year of high school work embracing five
periods weekly of not less than forty minutes each.
During the session of 1916–17, the number of units
assigned was increased from fourteen to fifteen. It had
previously been twelve.
Besides the general examinations, there were examinations
for classification. These were held at the University
alone, and were restricted to September. In the
beginning, they were pertinent only to the following
academic schools: the Latin, Greek, Teutonic and
Romanic languages, English literature, historical and
economical science, pure mathematics, applied mathematics,
astronomy, and natural philosophy. The candidate
who passed in any one or more of these examinations
for classification was absolved from standing the
corresponding general examinations.
One of the objects which the entrance requirements
had in view was the encouragement of cordial relations
between the University and the secondary schools. The
innovation was fully successful in accomplishing this
purpose. One of the few complaints that were heard
from the principals of these schools previous to 1907
was that the standards of the requirements were too low.
This, however, was removed by the more rigid tests
which went into effect in June, 1908, and June, 1909.
Several headmasters in the private academies were of
the opinion that certain collegiate branches in
German languages, should be transferred to the
secondary schools; but the authorities of the University
of Virginia declared that "it would be wrong to have
the academic work in a State university begin at a point
which was utterly unattainable by the best public high
schools of the State." Some of the principals also
counseled the abolition of the certificate altogether, and
the enforcement of written examinations in the case of
every entering student. This suggestion also was received
with disapproval, on the ground that experience
had shown that the natural and logical way to transfer
a pupil from one member of the public school system
to another,—whether this was from the primary or
grammar school to the high school, or from the high
school to the University,—was by a carefully adjusted
method of certificates.
It was acknowledged that the regulation had its flaws,
—for instance, a small percentage of students annually
brought out the fact that their previous drilling had been
inadequate,—but, taken as a whole, "the entrance requirements,"
in the opinion of the Faculty, in 1916–17,
"had, after being in force during a period of twelve
years, been justified by their results." Applicants for
matriculation who had left behind their twentieth birthday
and could prove that their preparation for the
courses which they wished to pursue was entirely satisfactory,
were permitted to join these classes without
having first passed the examination normally demanded;
but they were denied the right to become candidates for
a degree. Such applicants were compelled to stand the
regular classification examination, however, before they
could be admitted to any school in which that examination
was required.
XVIII. The College Department
Having been enrolled in the roster of matriculates,
the academic student undertook either an undergraduate
course or a graduate course. Previous to the establishment
of the presidency, there existed what was known
as the academic department, divided into the college
or undergraduate section and the University or graduate
section. At that time, the schools embraced in this department
comprised the schools of ancient and modern
languages, literature, history, philosophy, and the
sciences. Each of them offered at least one undergraduate
course, which had to be traversed by every candidate
for the degree of bachelor of arts who had chosen
an elective in that school. This undergraduate course
was followed by a graduate course. Completion of
the two entitled the successful student to the diploma
of graduation.
During the existence of this system, the income of
the University was too small to justify the employment
of one professor for the undergraduate course and another
for the graduate, in each school. It was the universal
impression among scholars that the qualities required
of an instructor in the one course were different
from the qualities required of the instructor in the other,
for, in the one, he was called upon to be simply a teacher
of facts, and in the other, to be an independent investigator.
The proper scope of the undergraduate course
had already become a subject of general discussion. It
was the belief of many educators that much of this
work, in its primary stages, could be more successfully
prosecuted in a small college than in a university; and
in some of the institutions of the North, the suggestion
had already been advanced that the freshman and sophomore
years should be abolished.
Among the important steps taken at the instance of
President Alderman, during the first years of his administration,
was the formal division of the old academic
department into the college department and the graduate
department; the former senior classes were incorporated
in the graduate department; the former junior and
intermediate classes in the college department. This
division was correctly pronounced by him to be "a clear
and scientific definition and development of the college
and graduate school, and a necessary unity in the structure
of the University."
In 1908, it became necessary to reorganize the college
department, in harmony with the requirements of the
National Association of State Universities; but it was
not until the session of 1912–13 that the change was
fully completed. The position which that association
had taken was as follows: "The standard American
university, hereafter, shall, for an indefinite time, include,
as an important part of its organization, a standard
American college. This college shall offer a four-year
course, and it shall be so arranged that its first two
sessions shall be deemed to be a continuation and a supplement
of the secondary instruction given in the high
school, while its second two sessions shall keep in view
an advanced or university instruction, rising methodically
to the level of the work of the graduate school." Already,
in some of the great universities of the North,
there was to be observed a cleavage of the college into
the junior and senior college, in accord with the general
principle thus enunciated.
In June, 1910, a very able report of the committee
on rules and studies recommended that there should
be no alteration in the college courses of the University
of Virginia assigned to the first year; but that the
It is unnecessary to enter here into the full technical
details of the proposed changes. It is sufficient
to say that the plan of four or five courses each session
was substituted for the plan of three studies then in
vogue; that, from this time forward, each student in
the college department was required to accomplish a
minimum of fifteen hours of class attendance a week;
and that two hours in the laboratory were to be counted
as one hour of lecture. It is to be remembered that all
these important changes applied only to the college department.
It was the work of the old senior classes,
represented now by the graduate department, that had
given the University of Virginia its high reputation for
scholarship; and these were not to be affected by the
reorganization.
The advantages of reorganization may be summarized
in a few paragraphs.
From the time when the old junior and intermediate
classes were first established in each school, they were
taught by the professor who had charge of the senior
class; and he pursued the same method of instruction in
all his classes, whether junior, intermediate, or senior.
It followed that the University spirit was infused into
even the undergraduate courses from the very start;
and so continued until the new principle of sharp division
in spirit as well as in scope between courses was
brought into play. It was expected that, under the
operation of this principle, an ever increasing number
of the graduates of the high schools would be successful
in the pursuit of the undergraduate studies, for this had
been the experience of every State university which had
adopted it. "As the college of the University of Virginia
is now organized," said Dean Page, before the
with our present enrolment of first-year students, there
ought to be one hundred successful candidates, each
session, for the baccalaureate degree, instead of only
twenty-five. The baccalaureate degree elsewhere stands
for liberal education, and not as an evidence that the
holder is a specialist in at least seven branches of learning.
Moreover, a crying need of our public school
system is that these schools shall be manned, at least
to a reasonable extent, with the graduates of the college
of the State University, but where only the elect can
graduate, their ambitions soar far above the position of
a teacher in a public school."
In spite of the difficulty of winning the baccalaureate
degree at the University of Virginia before the reorganization
actually took place, its possession only enabled
the recipient to obtain in the Northern and Eastern
institutions of learning a small fraction of the advanced
standing which he could rightly claim. Indeed, unless
the degree itself had been acquired, the New York
Board of Education positively refused to give any credit
at all for work done in the course. These Northern
educators declined to admit that the nine-hours-a-week
plan of the University of Virginia was as beneficial to
the student as their fifteen-hours-a-week plan; and there
was danger that the Association of State Universities
would refuse to accept that institution as a standard
American university, should it fail to meet their requirements.
Again, with the college reorganized, the existing awkwardness
of adjusting the advanced standing of candidates
from other seats of learning would be simplified,
and the migration of students from university to university
would be encouraged,—a condition which was to
Furthermore, reorganization would strengthen
the department of graduate studies. As the college
courses were formerly arranged, the student who was in
his fourth year need not be more advanced than the student
who was in his second year. He could win his
degree without having got even a foretaste of the higher
work of the graduate department. This could not occur
under the requirements for the college course laid down
in the scheme of reorganization. Another drawback of
the old nine-hours arrangement was that the student,
having but one lecture a day on three days of the week,
and two lectures on the alternate days, was inclined to
undertake additional tasks, which were certain to overburden
and overcrowd him. This disposition was most
conspicuous in the young men who had graduated in the
secondary school, where the rule of twenty or more
periods a week in the class-room prevailed.
The disadvantage of reorganization was confined to
the fact that the University of Virginia thereby abandoned
the unique position in the general province of
educational theory which it had held from the beginning.
An impression arose that, in adopting the standard
principle, the institution lowered its old tests of scholarship.
Apparently, this was incorrect, for the principle
was limited in its operation to the college courses, which
corresponded to the earlier junior and intermediate
classes. The graduate department, representing the
old senior classes,—which alone had given the University
its great reputation,—remained unmodified.
The recommendations of the academic faculty, as incorporated
in the report of the committee on rules and
courses, were adopted by the Board of Visitors, who, in
doing so, pointed out that, under the proposed plan, the
the then existing plan; and would also have the various
stages of that instruction more precisely and logically
graded from start to finish. The Board thus epitomized
the practical results to be brought about by reorganization:
(1) the adjustment of the courses and methods of
the college department more strictly to the work of the
secondary schools, on the one hand, and to the work of
the graduate and professional departments of the University
itself, on the other; (2) the bestowal on all candidates
for the degree of bachelor of arts and bachelor of
science of the same amount of personal teaching in languages,
literature, history, philosophy, and mathematics.
as had always been given such candidates in the schools
of natural sciences in the University of Virginia, and on
all subjects in other American seats of learning of equally
high standing.
Five years after the reorganization of the college
department was completed, the particulars in which that
department most clearly demonstrated the substantial
progress which it had made can be enumerated as
follows: (1) the entrance requirements had been
advanced to fifteen units; (2) a course in physical training
had been established, which increased the number of
session-hours needed to win the baccalaureate degree;
(3) one graduate study, to which certain undergraduates
were admitted, was counted at three hours instead of at
six, as formerly; (4) the minimum grade to which the
student in the undergraduate department must attain
during his first term, in order to ensure his remaining,
had been materially raised; (5) additions to the teaching
staff of that department had allowed of more instruction
by men of professorial rank than was given by men of
that rank in most of the standard institutions.
One of the important features of the undergraduate
department was the provision which assigned each new
student to an official adviser. It was, however, optional
with the matriculate whether or not he should take
advantage of this arrangement. It was the duty of the
dean of the college, in 1908, to prepare, before the
session opened, a list of full professors and adjunct professors
who had expressed a willingness to serve in this
capacity. Ten students were tallied off to each adviser,
who must always be one of their teachers in the classroom.
If any member of this group, or the entire
number, became dissatisfied with an adviser by the end of
the first term of the session, it was permissible for him
or them to turn to a substitute who was likely to be more
popular in his counsel. Before the rule allowing the
employment of an adviser went into effect, there had
been an attempt to curb the right enjoyed by the first-year
student to make an unfettered choice of schools.
The committee of the Faculty which had charge of rules
and courses in 1906–07 recommended that such a student
should be required to confine his attention to a small
number of fundamental cultural subjects. "A free
elective system," said the dean of the college, Professor
Page, "is detrimental in the college course;" and he
was authorized to use the veto in every case of an
obviously unsuitable selection. It was, perhaps, to
afford him relief from this exacting duty that the plan
of naming advisers was adopted.
XIX. Department of Graduate Studies
In 1904, the University of Virginia was elected a
member of the most exclusive scholastic organization in
the United States; namely, the Association of American
Universities. Four years afterwards, there were eighteen
the University of Virginia was the only one situated in
the region lying south of the Potomac and Ohio Rivers.
No seat of learning was eligible unless engaged in
graduate work; and it was to increase the usefulness of
such work that the association was founded. Through
the weight of membership in this association, all graduate
work accomplished at the University of Virginia was
allowed credit in the most important universities of
Europe.
To be entitled to admission to the graduate department,
the candidate for the master's or the doctor's
degree must be able to show that he had already received
a baccalaureate degree either from the University of Virginia,
or from some institution of collegiate rank which
he had previously attended, or at least a certificate of
graduation in an equivalent course, should that institution
not confer such a degree. The graduate studies
in 1905–06 were open, not only to bachelors of arts
and masters of arts who were candidates for higher
honors, but also to young men in the possession of one
or the other of these degrees, who, lacking time and
money, were anxious to pursue advanced work along
special lines without regard to winning a still higher degree.
The advantages offered to an aspirant for the
doctorate of philosophy were unsatisfactory, owing to the
numerical shortness in the teaching force. "It cannot
be expected," remarked the dean of the department
during this period, "that a single professor should do
justice to B. A., M. A., and Ph. D. courses in a great
subject all at the same time." By 1906–07, graduate
studies had been introduced into every academical school.[4]
There was some doubt expressed during this year as
to whether the University of Virginia was, as yet, in a
position to do well, simultaneously, both undergraduate
and graduate work. The question that perplexed the
minds of these critics was, in their own words, "Should
that institution be made up of a college with university
tendencies, plus a graduate school with collegiate tendencies?
Or should the University of Virginia consist of
a college with lower standards than it has had up to the
present, plus a real graduate school, which has not so
far been established?" The authorities very properly
thought that a college of high standards and a genuine
graduate school could be built up at the University of
Virginia side by side; and there was constant progress
towards the consummation of these ideals as the years
passed on.
It is germane to our subject to compare the number
of students who registered in the college department
with the number that registered in the graduate department.
During the session of 1904–05, there were three
hundred and six enrolled in the former, and thirty-two
in the latter; and six sessions afterwards, at the same
date of the month (March 20), the corresponding
numbers were three hundred and fifty-two, and thirty-four.
In 1915–16, the number of first-year students in
the college department was two hundred and seventy-four,
and in the graduate department, eleven. The
total number in each respectively was five hundred and
thirty-nine, and fifty; in 1916–17, five hundred and
ninety-three, and fifty-two; in 1917–18, four hundred
and fifty-seven, and sixteen. In consequence of the
World War, the draught on the ranks of the more matured
students of the graduate department was heavier
than on the ranks of the younger men of the college
seventy per cent.; in the latter, to only thirty-five per
cent.
In 1907–08, twelve of the students in the graduate
department had obtained their baccalaureate degree
from the University of Virginia. Of the thirty students
enrolled in this department in 1909–10, a small minority
had received that degree from the University of Virginia,
while the majority of the remainder had received
it from other institutions situated within the State. Of
the forty-seven students registered in the department in
1914, nineteen held the baccalaureate diploma of the
University of Virginia. Harvard, Princeton, and
Michigan Universities were represented among the rest
of the institutions conferring the degree. The proportion
of bachelors from the college department of the
University of Virginia fluctuated from thirty per cent.
to fifty per cent. of the whole number enrolled in the
graduate department.
If we consider all the schools embraced in these two
departments, an examination of the records for the
Ninth Period reveals that the most numerously attended
class was the class in English literature,—during the
session of 1904–05, for example, one hundred and
seventy-four students were entered on its roll. The
School of Mathematics followed close behind with one
hundred and seventy. During this session, the average
attendance in fifteen schools was seventy-six students.
In 1907–08, the attendance in the School of English
Literature rose to one hundred and ninety-one, while
the attendance in the School of Mathematics fell to one
hundred and twenty-three. The average enrolment in
twenty-two schools was forty-nine students. In 1913–14,
the corresponding figures for the Schools of English
and one hundred and forty-eight. The average
registration in twenty-six schools was now seventy-two
students. The Schools of English Literature and Mathematics
continued to be the most popular during the
session of 1914–15,—by which year, the average
attendance in twenty-seven schools had increased to
seventy-seven.
XX. Academic Schools
In the chapters that immediately precede, an account
has been given of the entrance requirements and also of
the college and graduate departments. What were the
studies embraced in these departments, to which admission
was gained in the manner already described?
We will consider the several schools in sequence, beginning
with those pertaining to the languages, both ancient
and modern.
The first in order now, as formerly, was the School
of Latin. On the threshold of the Ninth Period, 1904,
it was said of the work of this school that it found its
logical place in the Virginian system of public education
by taking up the study of the language at the point where
that study had left off in the high school. In other
words, the pupil admitted to the School of Latin was
presumed to have spent at least four years beforehand
under a competent teacher in a public high school in
acquiring a knowledge of Roman pronunciation,
quantity, and accent; in being drilled in grammar and
prose composition; and in mastering the elementary
reader, the campaigns of Caesar, and the easiest orations
of Cicero, the Metamorphoses of Ovid, and the Aeneid
of Virgil. The standard course of reading in the high
school seems to have been four books of Caesar, six
the proposition came before the Board of Public
Instruction to curtail these requisites. Professor FitzHugh
opposed the suggestion. "Under the prevailing
system," he said, "seventy-nine per cent. of the Virginian
students passed successfully our seventy per cent.
standard, while the record showed a steady improvement,
from year to year, in the Latin preparation, under
the stimulus of the standard requirement. The records
show that, since the establishment of the full standard
for admission to Latin A (the lowest grade) in the University,
there has been a marked improvement in the
preparation of Latin students entering the University
of Virginia from public high schools widely scattered in
the State."
In the four courses in Latin pursued in the University,
in 1904–05, the general topics covered were the language,
literature, and life of the Romans. The final course
was designed for graduates only. By 1907–08, there
had been an enlargement in the scope of the studies for
the benefit of undergraduates and graduates alike,—
more advanced ground was now taken in all courses, and
more subjects added, so that not a phase of the three
great primary divisions remained neglected. The lyric,
the epic, the dramatic, the historical, the biographical,
and the philosophic side of the literature; the public, the
religious, the mythological, the artistic, the cultural side
of the life; the character and structure of the language
in its different ramifications,—all were subjected to an
exhaustive exposition.
During many years, the Hertz collection of classical
texts had been stored away unutilized in a garret of the
Rotunda. This was known to be the richest collection
of its kind to be found in the South; and yet it had
For lack of its aid, the work of the School of Latin had
been seriously crippled. By the session of 1913–14, this
choice library had been fully classified, catalogued, and
shelved in the classical seminary adjoining the lecture-room
of the Schools of Latin and Greek.
An acute need was felt about 1911–12 for classical
scholarships which would enable the most promising
students in the School of Latin to undertake an advanced
course without leaving the University of Virginia. A
costly stereopticon was now regularly used by the head
of the school, in the course of his lectures, in illustration
of classical art and life, while plaster-casts of several of
the most beautiful statues of the Roman and Greek
civilizations had been bought and put in place in Cabell
Hall for public exhibition. There was now an increasing
desire for the acquisition of a museum of classical art,
and the establishment of a school of archaeology. Partly
through the influence of the University, the Classical
Association of Virginia and the Richmond Society of
the Archaeological Institute of America had been successfully
organized. The Classical Association formed
an integral section of the State Teachers Association,
and through that connection, it was able to stimulate the
interest taken in the ancient languages in the public
schools. The leading American students of archaeology
were drawn to Virginia by the Richmond branch of the
Archaelogical Institute for the purpose of delivering
lectures; and several of them spoke on that subject at
the University, under the auspices of the School of
Latin.
At the beginning of the Presidency, the studies belonging
to the School of Greek were arranged as
follows: there was one course intended for beginners
Attic prose and elementary grammar and exercises; and
by a third course, composed, in its turn, of prose somewhat
more difficult, together with exercises and instruction
in literature, history, and meters. These three
courses were designed for the benefit of undergraduates
only. For undergraduates and graduates, there was a
fourth or advanced course which covered certain works
of Demosthenes, Thucydides, Aeschylus, Sophocles,
Aristophanes, and the lyric poets; and also included the
study of meters and syntax. The fifth course was intended
only for graduates who had determined to give
their time up to perfecting themselves in classical scholarship.
In addition to these five courses, there were four
special ones which continued during a half-session.
They may be described as follows: selected readings
(1) from the entire province of Greek literature in the
order of its historical growth; (2) from Greek orations,
for the elucidation of grammar and artistic form and
style; (3) from the Attic drama; and (4) from the
great poets, to throw light on music, rhythm, meter,
and structure. A course in private reading was also
prescribed for each class in this School.
In June, 1912, Richard Henry Webb, a graduate
of the Universities of Virginia and Harvard, was elected
to fill this professorship. "The primary object of the
courses open to undergraduates," he said, in taking up
the duties of his chair, "is to enable the student to read
and appreciate the masterpieces of Greek literature.
The study of grammar will not be treated as an end in
itself; but the ability of the student to construe his
authors satisfactorily will be constantly tested. In
order to obtain a knowledge of the broader aspects of
ancient life, collateral reading in English on various
based on this reading, will be included in the examinations."
The first course was designed to satisfy the needs of
students who wished to gain, in a short time, a working
knowledge of the Greek language, either as an aid to
the study of other languages, history, and theology, or
with a view to a more extended acquisition of Greek itself.
But it was not intended to supplant the lessons of
the secondary schools in the same tongue. During the
session of 1914–15, the ground covered by the instruction
in the School of Greek was embraced in seven courses.
Two of these were taught by an assistant; the remainder,
by Professor Webb. Twenty-three students were enrolled
in the school in 1912–13; twenty, in 1913–14,
thirty-seven, in 1914–15 and fifty-one, in 1915–16.
During the session of 1904–05, the study of the
modern tongues was assigned to two schools: the School
of Teutonic Languages and the School of Romanic
Languages. The former school embraced the courses
in English grammar and etymology; English literature
previous to the advent of Shakespeare; and the German
language and literature. One course in English was
designed primarily for undergraduates, its object being
to lay a broad foundation for the intelligent study of
the tongue on both its historical and its literary side.
For undergraduates and graduates, there was the same
course in a more specialized form, and with greater
stress laid on the historical aspects of the language.
The course designed for graduates only was still further
specialized. English literature previous to Shakespeare
was now exhaustively presented, and also English
philology,—with a review of Gothic, Old and Middle
English, Old and Middle High German, Old French
grammar and syntax.
The German courses were designed for both graduates
and undergraduates. They began with elementary
grammar, reading, composition, and exercises; passed
on to a course that assured a broader view of the philological
and literary aspects of the language; and closed
with the study of the tongue on the historical side, an
examination of the masterpieces of German literature,
and the presentation of the salient characteristics of
German life. There were five special courses for graduates,
ranging from those in Middle High German, and
in epic and lyric poetry, to those in Old High German
and Gothic. In 1915–16, there were three German
courses for undergraduates: the first, which was for
beginners, treated of grammar and prose composition,
—with a particular stress on pronunciation
and simple conversational expression; the second was
confined to readings of prose texts illustrative of modern
German life and thought, and grammatical and conversational
exercises and composition; the third bore
upon the history of German literature,—with conversational
exercises and composition themes also.
There was a second general course for undergraduates
and graduates. In its first section, the instruction was
conducted in the German tongue. The subject of the
second section related to historical grammar,—with selected
readings from Goethe. The third general course
was designed for graduates, and seems to have been limited
to candidates for the degree of doctor of philosophy.
During the incumbency of Professor Harrison, the
chair of Teutonic languages was taught with unsurpassed
efficiency in the field of English philology, which, until
1908, remained associated with this chair. The breadth
as well as of the romance of word and language history
was extraordinary. His attention was less engaged with
German as a living, spoken tongue. In the advanced
courses, fruitful instruction was given by him in etymology
and historical grammar; and extensive parallel
reading in classical German was required. He was especially
interested in the Germany of the Romanticists,
but less so in the various phases of more modern periods.
The method followed by Professor William H. Faulkner,
who succeeded him, was in harmony with the one which
had been adopted by Professor R. H. Wilson in the
conduct of the associated School of Romanic Languages.
The aim has been to impart a practical mastery of the
German tongue for scientific and literary study as well
as for enjoyment. Attention has also been given to the
interpretation of the economic, political, and literary
history of the second half of the nineteenth century
down to the year 1914. In the advanced courses, particular
emphasis is laid on the classical period of the
literature, and on lyric poetry, ballad poetry, and the
drama.
In the School of Romanic Languages, the subjects
taught were the Old French and the modern French,
Spanish, and Italian languages. To the Old French
and Italian respectively one course was assigned; to
Spanish two; and to modern French, three. The first
course in the latter province of instruction was elementary
enough for beginners. In 1907–08, the second
course treated of the subject of the novel, the drama,
and the lyrical poetry of the nineteenth century; the
history of French literature; and the character of the
subjunctive mood. The third course gave an interpretation
of modern French prose; dwelt upon the tendencies
of France in civilization.
The first course in the Spanish tongue at this time
was also designed for beginners who wished to undertake
the study of the language either from a cultural
or a practical point of view. The second course touched
upon the characteristics of the drama and novel of
modern Spain; analyzed the verb; and offered exercises
in composition and dictation as a means of perfecting
knowledge of the language. In Italian, one course was
laid down which required no previous study of the
tongue. From elementary grammar, the pupil passed
to a series of graded texts, the mastery of which enabled
him to read the printed language. The works of Dante,
Petrarch and Boccaccio, among the earlier authors, and
the works of the most distinguished modern writers, were
examined in turn, and the history of Italian literature
inquired into.
By the session of 1912–13, some of the courses in the
School of Romanic Languages had been altered in several
particulars. It is not necessary to dwell on these
in detail. A new feature of importance, however, was
a course in South American literature, introduced prior
to the session of 1910–11. In this course, special attention
was directed to the study of conversational Spanish,
and to the character of the spelling and punctuation
employed in the countries of South America, together
with their colloquial and idiomatic constructions. A
course in the Portuguese language was added in 1911–12.
The object of these studies was to equip the student
for trade adventure in the Southern republics. Three
sessions afterwards (1914–15), Adjunct Professors
Bardin and Hundley delivered a series of lectures on
the general character of South America,—its physical
the conquest, the colonial epoch, and the revolutionary
era, were also included in this new course, with a full
account of the growth of commerce on that continent
and of the increase in its manufactures, and also with
a description of its existing universities.
Professor Richard H. Wilson, who had charge of
the school of Romanic Languages, laid his principal
stress on the practical command of these several tongues;
and by making eclectic use of all the modern methods
of teaching modern languages, inspired his pupils with
a keen interest in the living ones. Taking the present
as the starting point, he led them back to the past along
many profitable avenues. He, as well as his colleague,
Professor Faulkner, also favored the division of large
classes into small teaching sections. The establishment
of beginners' courses in both schools also constituted
an innovation. All these improvements were made
feasible by the increase in the number of instructors.
XXI. Academic Schools—Continued
In 1904–05, there were three courses in the Kent
Memorial School of English. The first, which was
designed for those students who were either deficient in
training, or preparing for professional studies, embraced
the subjects of composition and rhetoric, poetry and
prose in general, and the history of American literature.
The second course covered the subjects of rhetoric,
versification, types of poetry, Shakespeare, Pope, and
Johnson, and the poetry of the nineteenth century; the
third touched upon still broader themes—such as
Shakespeare as a dramatic artist, Johnson and his times,
Victorian and American poets, and the like. The course
of graduates who were aspiring to the degree of doctor
of entrance requirements in the autumn of 1905,
changes were made in all these courses,—without, however,
substantially modifying their character. In conjunction
with this school, a course in the art of public
speaking was established in 1907.
As time slipped by, there sprang up a demand for the
division of the school into several schools. The original
chair was specifically a chair of English literature, but,
afterwards, the subjects of belles-lettres and rhetoric
were added; and still later, the theme of American
literature. The first offshoot established was the Edgar
Allan Poe Memorial School of English Literature, to
which Professor C. Alphonso Smith, of the University
of North Carolina, was called. One of the most important
courses taught by him at the beginning of his
incumbency had for its topics the short story, the essay,
and the oration, as types of literature,—all of which
were studied both in their origin and in their structural
development; and themes were also suggested by him
for essays and orations, and plots for tales. Another
course bore upon the general subject of American
literature. Professor Smith endeavored to measure
the proportionate degree to which each section of the
country had, through its authors, contributed to the
growth of the national spirit and to the formation of
national ideals.
In 1911–12, he taught, in his first course, Old English,
Middle English, and lastly, modern English. He also
lectured upon the syntax of English, which included the
foundation of English grammar, the principles of structure,
and the changes now in progress. In his second,
he had American literature as his subject; and the
third course, which was for graduates, was divided into
prologue. Subsequently, Professor Smith delivered a
series of lectures on English and Scotch ballads, and the
Morte d'Arthur poems.
The interest aroused by the course on English and
Scotch ballads led in April, 1913, to the organization of
the Virginia Folklore Society, an association which, under
his inspiration, accomplished a work of singular value.
The Bureau of Education was so much impressed with
this work that it commissioned Professor Smith, its most
conspicuous member, to undertake a nation-wide quest
for versions of these old ballads, which had exerted so
deep an influence on the sentimental character of so large
a part of the colonial population of America. It was
his opinion that the task of research could be performed
more successfully by the public school teacher than by
any other person in the community, since he reached the
very class of people who were most likely to have preserved
the ancient ballads of the British Islands in their
transmitted form in America. A ballad bulletin was
issued by the Department of Public Instruction in Virginia,
which became a bond between the University of
Virginia and those numerous Virginian school-masters
who were interested in assisting Professor Smith and
the Folklore Society, of which he was the President.
Of the original three hundred and five English and
Scotch ballads, twenty-six were, after no long interval
of hunting, found in Virginia; and of these, five had
never been reported to exist elsewhere in the United
States.
During the session of 1916–17, the courses taught by
Professor Smith embraced, in a general way, the subjects
of Old English, Chaucer, and early modern English,
the history and the structure of the English language,
and Poe. The most popular of all these topics
was the history and structure of the English language,
which drew one hundred and fourteen students on the
average to his class-room. Professor John Calvin
Metcalf succeeded Smith when he resigned after his
appointment to the faculty of the United States Naval
Academy at Annapolis. Associated with him is Adjunct Professor
H. P. Johnson. Professor James Southall
Wilson is the present incumbent of the chair of the Kent
Memorial School of English.
In 1906–07, a course in exposition of the theory and
practice of journalism was added to the latter chair.
It was asserted that this course would furnish all the
instruction which could be imparted outside the precincts
of a newspaper office. The teacher was Leon R.
Whipple. In 1909, the financial condition of the English
schools made necessary the discontinuance of this
course. In 1915, the President of the University, in his
commencement address, spoke of the need of a School
of Journalism within the precincts, which would equip
young men to serve as the leaders of public opinion.
This utterance prompted the class of 1908 to raise a
fund to reestablish the chair. In the end, the sum of
twelve hundred dollars a year was guaranteed by that
particular body of alumni for the support of the professor
during a period of three years, by which time it
was expected that the chair would be able to maintain
itself. The professorship was in full operation by the
beginning of the session of 1915–16, and continued in
existence until Professor Whipple,—who had been again
chosen to fill it,—was displaced by the decision of the
Board of Visitors. Twenty-one students registered
during the first session. Some of these soon proved
province of composition. Stories were disposed of by
them to the New York Evening Post, the Christian
Science Monitor, and the Louisville Courier-Journal; and
they are said to have furnished editorials to the Charlottesville
Progress. A University publicity bureau was
organized to prepare a detailed weekly letter for the
greater papers, and to forward items of college news to
less conspicuous columns.
The study of history in the University of Virginia
was, in 1904–05, directed (1) to the unity and continuity
to be observed in the progress of world events, with
particular regard to the principal periods; (2) to English
and American annals; (3) to European development
in every aspect; and (4) to the Reconstruction
of the Southern States. The third and fourth courses
were taught in alternate years. In the first and second,
the professor quizzed the student; in the third and
fourth, the student quizzed the professor. By 1915–16,
the subjects of instruction had been slightly shifted.
The first course,—which was intended for undergraduates,
—was divided into two sections: one of these
treated of general history down to the close of the
Middle Ages, and the other, down to the outbreak of
the World War. In the second course, which was designed
for undergraduates and graduates, the professor
lectured on the subject of American history, and in the
third, which was designed for graduates only, he lectured
either on the general development of Europe or on the
Reconstruction of the Southern States.
As early as 1905–06, it had been clearly discerned
that the School of History and Economic Science ought
to be divided into two schools, a School of History and
a School of Economics,—the latter to treat of the subjects
the single school then stood, the professor was called
upon to traverse ground which, in seventeen of the
principal institutions of learning of the country, was
assigned to not less than ten instructors. Properly
speaking, the then existing school should have been
divided into four schools, having, as their topics, history,
economics, political science, and sociology respectively.
But for the present, the University had to be content
to establish a separate chair of economics and political
science. This was in operation by the session of 1906–
07, with Thomas W. Page as the incumbent. The subject
of instruction for undergraduates was the principles
of economics; for undergraduates and graduates, the
growth of American industry and commerce; and for
the graduates, some theme requiring original research.
The fundamental weakness of this school, in its early
stages, consisted of its inability to offer a large number
of courses pertaining specifically to ordinary business
affairs. "There is no field," said Professor Page, "in
which the Southern college has done so little, and none
where growth and expansion would more immediately
accrue to the public benefit, than the field of scientific
business training. While the Northern and Western
States, during the last fifteen years, have been developing
schools of this kind, those of the South have either
been unable to do so, or have failed to appreciate the
need of it." In time, several new studies of a practical
bent, preparatory to a business career, were added.
Professor Page was appointed a member of the
Federal Tariff Board in 1911, and this chair, during his
absence, was occupied by a substitute.
In 1911–12, the instruction in political science related
to (1) the formation of the Federal system; the State
administrative methods of other countries; and (2)
political theory and practice. By 1914–15, a separate
professorship for political science had been created. Its
first incumbent was W. M. Hundley, who, on his translation
to the Virginia Military Institute at the end of the
session of 1914–15, was succeeded by Lindsay Rogers.
During 1915–16, the instruction given in the general
School of Economics and Political Science touched upon
(1) the principles of economics and constitutional
government, commercial geography, taught by Professor
Bardin, and commercial law, taught by Professor
Forrest Hyde; (2) the growth of American industry
and commerce, and public finance, international law, diplomacy,
and State and municipal government; (3) politics,
jurisprudence, and the constitutional aspects of social
and economic problems.
The ground traversed by the School of Moral
Philosophy had not, previous to 1904–05, undergone
any conspicuous modification during many years,—the
instruction, for want of time, had been limited to the
bare elements of logic, psychology, ethics, and the history
of philosophy. In 1906, the Corcoran School of Moral
Philosophy was re-named the Corcoran School of Philosophy.
Professor Noah K. Davis withdrew in 1906–07;
and for some time, the subjects of logic and psychology
were taught by Professor Bruce R. Payne,—who filled
the chair of secondary education,—and the subject of
philosophy, by Professor Albert Lefevre. After Professor
Payne's retirement, Associate Professor Balz and
Adjunct Professor Pott were connected with the school.
During 1915–16, the three courses belonging to it treated
of the following themes: (1) logic, ethics, general
psychology, and history of morals; (2) history of
(3) empiricism and rationalism, together with
a critical study of Kant, Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel.
The John B. Cary Memorial School of Biblical History
and Literature was the outgrowth of a Bible lectureship
founded at the University of Virginia by the
Christian Women's Board of Missions, and earnestly
supported by many persons interested in Biblical instruction.
An acute need of such support in the case of that
branch of teaching existed at the University of Virginia
because the public taxes could not be used for the
advancement of religion. There were two obstacles to
surmount: (1) how could the prejudice against such
teaching at this institution be removed? and (2) how
could that teaching be conducted there without raising
a suspicion of sectarianism and denominationalism? All
this was accomplished by the establishment of a lectureship
which had no scholastic connection with the University.
But, ultimately, this was not considered sufficient.
How could it be so arranged that work done in a course
of Biblical instruction should receive credit in a candidacy
for a degree? It was recognized by the teacher of
this course, Rev. W. M. Forrest, that it would never
acquire its rightful importance until it was placed on a
footing of equality with all the other studies prescribed
for the baccalaureate diploma. To this status, the
lectureship was advanced in 1905–06,—at first, for a
period of three years, in order to test the acceptability
of the proposed new chair by actual experiment. It was
organized as the School of Biblical History and Literature,
and on the normal basis of an elective. Its general
object was to impart such an acquaintance with the
for granted in one supposed to be liberally educated.
This chair was supported by the income accruing from
a special fund created by the generosity of the Christian
Women's Board of Missions and the children of Colonel
John B. Cary, of Richmond,—in whose honor the chair
was named. The new associate professor was expected
to cooperate with the Young Men's Christian Association
in religious work; to deliver open lectures on the
Bible; and to teach the local Bible classes.
Through the donation to the general library by Rev.
Haslett McKim of a large collection of Biblical
volumes,—added to the volumes already there,—the
new school came into possession at once of one of the
most extensive departmental libraries to be found at
the University. By the session of 1908–09, the instruction,
—which had, originally, been limited to the history
and literature of the Old Testament and the English
Bible,—had been extended to the history and literature
of the New Testament also. Within a few years,
the studies of the school were divided into three
courses, leading, like the courses in the other schools,
each to its special degree or degrees. In 1915–16, these
studies embraced the history of the Hebrew people,
the literature of the Old and New Testament, the
history of the English Bible, and the theology of the
two divisions of the Sacred Book. At first, the
members of the class assembled in one of the rooms of
Madison Hall; but they were afterwards transferred
to the room elsewhere occupied by the School of Moral
Philosophy. During the session of 1915–16, the School
of Biblical History and Literature was placed by the
Standardizing Committee of the Religious Coeducational
which only thirty-one Biblical departments in the United
States were then assigned.
XXII. Academic Schools—Continued
As has been shown in our history of the School of
Mathematics previous to 1900, that school had received
its principal characteristics from the stamp given to it
by the genius of three of its professors; namely, Bonnycastle,
who had been trained in an English college;
Courtenay, who had been educated in the United
States Military Academy at West Point; and Venable,
who had grafted upon the methods of these predecessors,
the methods of the German and French instructors
of the science. The course,—which led up to the
degree of master of arts,—at first was spread over
three years; the ground which it traversed consisted of
algebra, geometry, trigonometry, analytical geometry,
and differential and integral calculus; and to these were
added by Venable a course in mixed mathematics,—
which, however, attracted only a few students.
At the beginning of the Ninth Period, the work of
the school was protracted over five years; and there
were two professors engaged in delivering twenty-four
lectures weekly throughout the length of the
session. In the first year, the instruction was in elementary
algebra, geometry, and trigonometry; and in the
second, in elementary analytical geometry and elementary
differential and integral calculus; in the third, in
advanced analytical geometry, differential and integral
calculus, differential equations, and the history of
mathematics. During the last two years,—the fourth
and fifth,—the instruction became highly specialized,
as the avenue to the doctorate of philosophy.
So large had the attendance now become that the
professors could not concentrate the amount of personal
attention upon the needs of their classes which
they thought imperative. It was said that not less than
twenty persons were occupied at Cornell University in
giving instruction upon the subjects which Professors
Echols and Page were teaching without assistance.
After the adoption of entrance requirements in the
autumn of 1905, the topics embraced in the entire round
of the school were arranged in eight courses. During
the session of 1909–10, more elementary texts were
introduced in the classes of the college department in
order to bring them into closer harmony with the differentiation
between the undergraduate and the graduate
sections. By the session of 1910–11, two new courses
had been added to those already covered. In consequence
of the exacting nature of Professor Page's duties
as dean of the University, a considerable part of the
instruction during the years coming just before 1915–16
was given, under his supervision, by young men who
held student-fellowships. In June, 1916, J. J., Luck,
a distinguished graduate of the School, was elected
adjunct professor in order to take charge of the classes
of the first year, so as to afford relief to the overburdened
senior professors. During the session of
1915–16, there were in operation five courses for undergraduates,
one for undergraduates and graduates, and
three for graduates alone. The first course for undergraduates
was divided into three terms. In each
ascending class, knowledge of the subject of the preceding
lower class was essential.
In the School of Applied Mathematics, the subjects
taught under the usual division of courses, namely, for
undergraduates, for undergraduates and graduates, and
mechanics, and mixed mathematics. There were
advanced courses in addition. The course in mixed
mathematics was designed for candidates for the degree
of doctor of philosophy; and no student was admitted
to it unless he had graduated in the school of pure
mathematics, or had enjoyed a previous preparation
commensurate therewith. In 1915–16, there were two
great divisions: the first course, assigned to undergraduates
and graduates, embraced theoretical mechanics;
and the second, assigned to graduates, embraced analytical
mechanics. The dean of this school was still
Professor Thornton.[5]
In the School of Physics, in 1904–05, instruction was
given in elementary and practical physics. There were
two elementary courses,—one in general physics; the
other, in electricity. The advanced courses related to
mathematical physics and mathematical electricity, each
illustrated by tests in the laboratory. Ample facilities
existed for independent investigation. During the
divided into three separate schools,—the School of
Physics, the School of Geology, and the School of
Biology; and it was now predicted that the original
school would throw off several more schools, just as the
planet Jupiter has thrown off moons; namely, a School
of Electricity, a School of Physical Chemistry, and a
School of Mathematical Physics. After 1907–08, when
the new admission requirements were in force, experimental
electricity and magnetism in the classes for undergraduates
and graduates; and optics in the class for
graduates. By 1912–13, a course intended only for
prospective medical students had been introduced. This
work was confined to the most elementary lines. A
course in dynamics also was now given. The professors
in charge of this school were Professor Hoxton and
Adjunct Professor Sparrow.
The primary aim of the School of Astronomy has
been to impart such knowledge of the facts, principles,
and methods of the science as every man of liberal education
should possess. When the Board of Visitors assembled
in November, 1910, a discussion arose as to
whether the observatory was then fulfilling all the expectations
of the men who had built and endowed it. The
original condition attached to the observatory fund was
that the director should be called upon only to teach
practical and theoretical astronomy. This was interpreted
by Professor Stone as meaning such graduate
work as would adequately prepare the student for the
profession of an astronomer; and to this, he added independent
research,—which he continued to pursue until
1889, when the means to print the results unhappily
ran dry. It was the opinion of Mr. Hall McCormick, a
son of the founder, expressed in 1910, that the original
purpose of the gift was to enable the director to keep up
this original investigation for an indefinite time, as well
as to teach the graduate courses. Instead of doing this,
he said, the director, after 1889,—when astronomy
had been included, like the ordinary academic schools, in
the scheme of the degrees,—was required to devote a
large section of his time to drilling his classes in the college
or undergraduate courses. In consequence, the
more or less into a professorship of cultural and descriptive
astronomy.
In a general reply to this statement, the Board of
Visitors declared that the work of teaching had always
been the principal duty expected of the director of the
school, and that his attention had only been diverted to
research in the interval of his performance of that duty.
Investigation had not been neglected, as was proven by
the achievements of the school in this province during
recent years.
After the retirement of Professor Stone, the vacant
chair was filled by the election of Professor S. A.
Mitchell, formerly a professor in the astronomical department
of Columbia University, and acting director
of the Yerkes Observatory in Chicago.
It has been said that the old astronomy was the
astronomy of the telescope and the eye; the new, the
astronomy of the spectroscope and the photographic
plate. During the last fifty years, the development of
astrophysics has gone beyond the development of every
other section of the science. This section is interested in
the nature of the heavenly bodies and not in their mutual
relations. "It inquires into their chemical make up,"
we are told, "investigates their physical state, their
stores of energy, their radiation and temperature. The
work of the modern astronomer is no longer that of a
star-gazer. He must be an expert photographer. His
work is not finished by daybreak. The workshop of
astrophysics includes the laboratory as well as the fully
equipped observatory."
The spectroscope had been employed in one course at
the University during the period of Professor Stone's
incumbency; but greater use of it was made after the
study to astrophysical astronomy, without, however,
neglecting mathematical astronomy. By May, 1914,
he had a photographic attachment to the great reflector
in place; and it was found to give quite as accurate
measurements as the telescope at Yerkes Observatory.
In order to obtain the means to increase his staff, he
sought appointment to the Adams Research Fellowship
at Columbia University, and held the position during
five years. A solar plate-holder was given to the
observatory by Professor Poor of that institution, which
made it possible to continue the routine work in the daytime;
and a wireless apparatus was presented by John
Neilson, of New York. The income of the school was
increased by an annual donation from the McCormick
family of Chicago.
By 1916–17, the measures of the parallaxes of one
hundred stars had been completed by Professor
Mitchell. For his accuracy in preparing the observations
on meteors taken throughout the United States in
1916, Adjunct Professor Charles P. Olivier was chosen
secretary of the meteor committee of the American
Astronomical Society. An agreement was entered into
with Harvard University, under which the two universities
cooperated in observing the variable stars,—
Harvard, possessing a smaller telescope, watched a star
until it became too faint for observation further; and
then the University of Virginia took up the observation
and completed it.
In 1915–16, there were three divisions of study in this
school: the first, which was intended for undergraduates,
treated of general astronomy and modern astronomy;
the second, designed for undergraduates and graduates,
related to spherical and practical astronomy and celestial
had for its topics advanced practical astronomy, the
determination of the position of undisturbed bodies, and
the elements of undisturbed orbit, and the theory of
special perturbations, advanced celestial mechanics, and
photographic astronomy.
Prior to 1907, the instruction in the School of Chemistry
had been given by lecture alone. The original
method had been purely didactic, but, in time, it was
largely superseded by the laboratory method. Formerly,
Professor Mallet had offered a course in general
chemistry for undergraduates and the candidates for the
degrees in engineering. This course, with important
additions, was taken over by Professor Robert M. Bird,
who had previously filled with distinction a similar
chair in the University of Missouri. He was designated
the collegiate professor of chemistry and director of the
laboratory for undergraduate instruction in that particular
province. He practically established a new
department. The salient features of his school were
the importance of the laboratory instruction and the
differentiation between the work done by the engineering
students and the work done by the candidates for the baccalaureate
degree,—especially in the laboratory, which
was situated in the building standing at the south end
of West Range, formerly occupied by Miss Ross.
After the adoption of requirements for admission,
there were arranged three divisions relating to the
science of chemistry; namely, general chemistry, taught
by Professor Bird; industrial chemistry, taught by Professor
Mallet; and organic chemistry, as illustrated in
the laboratory,—which also was taught by Professor
Bird. In March, 1909, Professor Mallet was succeeded
by Professor Joseph H. Kastle.
There were four bodies of pupils to be instructed
at this time: the academic students, who entered upon
the course in their pursuit of a liberal or disciplinary
education; the students in the department of engineering;
the medical students; and finally, the students
who were looking forward to becoming professional
analysts, assayers, and directors of chemical factories.
The Chemical Journal Club was established in 1909–10
for critical review and discussion of topics of interest
in current chemical literature, and also to nourish a
strong esprit de corps among the members of the school.
The session of 1914–15 was made memorable by the announcement
of a gift of fifty thousand dollars by John
B. Cobb for the erection of a great chemical laboratory.
Mr. Cobb's donation was exempt from all conditions
beyond the expression of the hope that due recognition
would be given to chemistry as applied to the agricultural
and manufacturing interests. An anonymous
benefactor presented, through the President of the Uni
versity, the supplementary sum of fifty thousand dollars.
It has been represented to us, by surviving pupils of Professor Leopold
J. Boeck, of the original School of Applied Mathematics, that
the reference to him in Dr. Culbreth's Recollections, which we quoted
in a note on page 361, in Volume III, offers a narrow and misleading
view of one of the most accomplished and many-sided men associated
with the history of the University of Virginia. In contradiction of that
view, the following brief outline of his career, furnished by one of these
pupils, would seem to indicate a very remarkable degree of manliness,
whatever the superficial impression that may have been left by the
difference between the Continental European, and the American, personal
bearing and manner: "Professor Boeck was a member of the
Polish nobility, but lost his estates during the Polish Revolution, at which
time he was a student in Germany. He accompanied General Bem, a
countryman of his, to Hungary as his Chief-of-Staff and afterwards became
the Chief-of-Staff and Secretary to the then Governor, Louis Kossuth.
He retained this position until after the treason of General Georgey
and the disastrous defeat at the battle of Temesvar, when he was
appointed Minister and Agent to the Sublime Porte at Constantinople.
Germany, Austria, and Russia demanded his extradition and surrender;
and to protect him, the Turks made him a prisoner of war. He was,
finally, given a parole at the urgent solicitation of the American minister.
Mr. Marsh, and was taken to Marseilles, France, aboard the U. S. S.
'Mississippi.' He proceeded to Paris, and became a professor at the
Sorbonne, and remained there until the 'Coup d'Etat' of Louis Napoleon.
During his stay in France, he was intimate with Victor Hugo and the
first literary characters of that country. After leaving France, he went
to England, and later on to the United States. Professor Boeck, soon
after his arrival in this country, established the first Technical Engineering
School, which he gave up to accept the call to the University of
Virginia. The latter years of his life were spent in Philadelphia, first
as a professor in the Kennedy School of Technology; and afterwards, he
was engaged on his great work, 'The Theory of Graphical Statics and
Dynamics, and its Applications to the Workshop and School.' The
first parts of this work were published, but his death interrupted its
completion."
The following impressive tributes to the character and conduct of
Professor Boeck, selected from many placed at our disposal, demonstrate
the esteem in which he was held by the men of distinction with
whom he was associated. The first is from the famous patriot, Kossuth,
of Hungary, and is dated December 13, 1849, when he was an exile.
"The undersigned certifies that Mr. Leopold J. Boeck, a native of Prussian
Poland, induced by his liberal convictions to take part in the
righteous self-defense of Hungary, has served with distinction in the
Hungarian Army of Transylvania, attached with the rank of Major
to the Staff of Lieutenant-General Bem, and being always employed in
the immediate suite of said General, acted as his Secretary of War,
dispatching his official correspondence in such an excellent manner, that
I, who, as Governor, was in uninterrupted correspondence with the gallant
General, was often tempted to envy him on account of his Secretary;
and, therefore, when, after the unfortunate catastrophe of Hungary,
Major Boeck,—not wishing to follow the example of his chief, who had
embraced the creed of Islamism,—parted from him after our emigration
to Widdin, I felt very happy to be able to receive him into my own
staff in the same capacity. And I only perform an act of the most
simple justice by stating that he has filled this confidential position,—
which demands as much firmness of character as ability,—with the greatest
energy, skill, faithfulness, discretion, and talent, showing me, at the
same time, in my unfortunate situation, when I hardly had any opportunity
to express my gratitude, so much disinterested affection, that, as
he now,—saved from this unpleasant position by the protection of the
Prussian minister,—parts from me, I deem it a duty of honor to acknowledge
myself his ever grateful friend, and to declare him to be a
man who will always respond to every accepted trust, and to every
confidence in as distinguished and as honorable a manner."
After Professor Boeck's withdrawal from the Faculty in the session of
1875–76, Professor Gildersleeve made the following reference to him in
writing: "Mr. L. J. Boeck, formerly professor of applied mathematics
in this institution, is a gentleman of rare attainments as a scholar, of
eminent ability as a professor, and of long experience as a teacher.
During our intercourse here, I have been more and more impressed with
his grasp of intellect, his range of knowledge, his power of illustration,
and his faculty of vivid statement."
"I have no hesitation in stating," said Professor Frank H. Smith, during
the same session, "that Professor L. J. Boeck is the most accomplished
teacher of engineering it has been my fortune to know. I have
heard a pupil of his lately speak in high terms of the great clearness of
his explanations. I have several times seen letters addressed to him by
his former students, after they had gone into the active practice of their
profession, in which they gave most hearty expression to their gratitude
for his instructions, and of their attachment to him as a man."
Professor Minor also spoke of Professor Boeck's "very remarkable capacity,
learning, and accomplishments."
One of the most distinguished pupils of Professor Boeck was Professor
Gaetano Lanza, long associated with the Massachusetts Institute of
Technology. Commenting on Dr. Culbreth's reference to Professor
Boeck's bearing and manner in the class-room, Professor Lanza writes
us as follows: "I will say that my acquaintance with Professor Boeck,
from the time that he came to the University, until 1871, when I left
Virginia, does not justify any such statement regarding him, as Dr.
Culbreth has made. I do not know the particular definition of dignity
in the minds of those who criticise Professor Boeck in this particular,
nor what they think its application should require; but, according to my
ideas, the criticism by Dr. Culbreth is incorrect and unfair. Being a
foreigner, Professor Boeck used some expressions which sounded strange
to American ears, such as "You understand, sir" when talking English,
and "Par exemple" when speaking French; but this and other idiosyncrasies
do not seem to me to be of sufficient importance to be mentioned
in the estimate of a man's ability as a teacher."
There is no minute in the official records of the University of Virginia
which justifies the slightest inference that the withdrawal of
Professor Boeck from the Faculty was involuntary, and not in harmony
with his own personal plans. The testimonials of such men as Professors
Gildersleeve, Minor, and Smith, were given after his retirement,
and indicate the undiminished good will in which his distinguished
colleagues held him.
XXIII. Academic Schools—Continued
In 1904–05, the School of Analytical Chemistry embraced
a series of courses in agricultural chemistry and
quantitative and qualitative analysis; and also a course
in practical chemistry for medical students. The last
of these was established in order to conform to the
regulations of the Medical Board of New York. After
admission requirements were introduced, the course for
undergraduates treated of chemical manufacture, blowpipe
analysis, the fire assaying of ores, inorganic qualitative
analysis, practice in analysis of salts, alloys, and
ores, determination of minerals, and the examination of
potable water, coal, limestone, and the like. The
quantitative analysis of mineral ores, technical products,
and so on. A series of lectures on agricultural chemistry
continued to be given. The course for graduates
was designed to increase the range of their experience
as analysts and to cultivate their capacity for original
research. There was laboratory work each day. In
the end, the School of Industrial Chemistry was joined
on to the School of Analytical and Agricultural Chemistry,
—which was still taught by Professor Dunnington.
It was estimated that, between 1893 and 1903, barely
thirty-nine per cent. of the students enrolled in the
classes of practical chemistry sought, after leaving the
University, employment as teachers of that science or
engaged in industrial enterprises. Manufacturers,—
more particularly ironmasters,—were reluctant to accept
the new theories, for to do so would make necessary expensive
changes in their plants; and it was not until the
European factories took the initiative that competition
forced the American to follow in the same groove. Rigid
tests had now to be applied to ores, fuel, and flux, and in
consequence of this innovation, the chemical graduates
of the University of Virginia, found no difficulty in obtaining
high-salaried positions so soon as they completed
their technical education. In 1900, the Du Pont Powder
Company needed only three chemists in their business;
in 1910, they furnished employment for one hundred
and fifty. Between 1906 and 1916, fifty of the former
pupils of Professor Dunnington were taken into
these great works, and their services were sought, not
simply because of their technical knowledge, but also because
they had been specially trained to be cautious,
manufacture of explosives.
The burning up of the old Chemical Hall was a severe
blow to the method of teaching analytical and industrial
chemistry which then prevailed at the University. The
contents lost included a large quantity of rare materials,
valuable as illustrations, and of great practical usefulness
in research. The destruction of spectroscopes,
polariscopes, and microscopes, brought to a temporary
close the pursuit of certain lines of investigation. The
industrial museum, with its choice collections, had given
the students a lasting impression of certain wonders and
beauties of nature, and of the patience and skill of men.
The new chemical building, however, is fully equipped
with apparatus and materials.
In 1904–05, the School of Geology and Natural History
was restricted to the subject of geology and descriptive
mineralogy. Only one professor was engaged
in the instruction of its students; but even then it was
thought that more provision should be made for the
course in mineralogy by the employment of an additional
teacher. There was a demand for lessons in practical
mineralogy, and also for laboratory work in the same
province. Indeed, the science of geology had so greatly
expanded in recent years that no single teacher could
cover even the whole of its general principles successfully.
An adjunct professor was needed for the work
in the field and laboratory. In 1907, Thomas L. Watson
was appointed to the chair of economic geology; and
when in June, 1910, Professor Fontaine, of the School
of Geology and Natural History, retired, the two
schools were merged under Professor Watson's general
direction. He had the highly competent assistance at
Professor Giles.
In 1915–16, the ground traversed by the two schools
of general and economic geology was as follows: the
courses for the undergraduates bore upon general geology,
engineering geology, mineralogy, and determinative
mineralogy; and for undergraduates and graduates,
on petrology, geology of ore deposits, geology of
the non-metallic minerals, geological field methods, structural
geology, and invertebrate paleontology. To the
graduates were assigned courses in advanced geology,
mineralogy, petrography, advanced economic geology,
and the economic geology of the Southern Appalachians.
In 1908, the General Assembly reestablished the Geological
Survey and fixed its headquarters at the University.
The Survey was expected to find out and appraise
the geological resources of the State with special reference
to their commercial importance,—such as buildingstone,
coal, clay, cement materials, materials for roads,
and the like. Detailed maps, showing the situation and
extent of these products, were also to be drafted. The
Legislature of Virginia and the Federal Government
appropriated jointly the sum of twenty thousand dollars
for the support of the Survey; and Professor Watson
was put in charge of it as State geologist and director.
It was said, in 1912, that no other department of geology
in the United States was in possession of so complete a
set of maps relating to Southern areas. With its collection
of these maps, rocks, minerals and models, the
school was able to give instruction unsurpassed in wealth
of information and illustration by any similar school in
the country. The Brooks Museum was partly rearranged
to afford the necessary facilities for additional
library was also begun.
During the session 1912–13, Professor Watson and
Professor Grasty undertook, under the authority of the
State, to make a geological survey of the Commonwealth
from tidewater to the mountains. The various soils,
rocks, mineral deposits, and water powers were enumerated
in the series of bulletins which followed. There
was, at this time, a growing demand in the Southern
States for mining geologists. That region possessed
one fourth of the mineral resources of the United States,
and its output was as high as one fifth of the output of
the whole country, and yet its schools only trained one
per cent. of the men engaged in superintending the mining
that went on within its borders. In 1914, the class
in general geology, under the direction and tuition of
Professor Grasty, explored the geological formations
that lay around the town of Clifton Forge; and such
practical tours were frequently repeated.
The first proposal to establish a School of Forestry
at the University of Virginia was submitted at a meeting
of the Faculty held in May, 1908; but no immediate
step seems to have been taken to carry this proposal into
effect. It was not until 1914 that the office of State
forester was created; and by Act of Assembly, the same
relation was established between this office and the University
as already existed between the University and
the Geological Survey. The State forester became a
member of the Faculty; and he was also expected to
cooperate with the staff of the Survey, and with the incumbents
of the various scientific chairs. He was the
principal of all the forest wardens, and was directly responsible
to a commission composed of the Governor of
President of the Virginia Polytechnic Institute, the
Superintendent of the Virginia Military Institute, and
one private citizen specially picked out.
Provision was made for its support by the State after
March, 1915. In the meanwhile, a small sum had been
placed at the disposal of the new forester, Professor
R. C. Jones,—a graduate of the Yale School of Forestry,
and formerly an assistant State forester of Maryland,
—by the University to meet the expense of the
educational and demonstration work of his new chair.
This work at first was confined to lecturing before
granges, schools, women's clubs, and farmers' institutes.
In the end, the University was called upon to pay only
for the tuition actually imparted to its class in forestry.
It was stated in a former volume, that, when Professor
Tuttle began his lectures, as the new head of the
Miller School of Biology and Agricultural Science, he
was expected to give instruction to academic students
only, but that, within a few years, at the urgent request
of the medical faculty, he undertook to offer a course of
lectures on the subject of medical biology. Indeed, his
greatest service, was, for a long time, performed in behalf
of the medical students. The work done under
him by academic students, during this interval, was not
even counted in their candidacy for any one of the degrees.
This course was unpopular, chiefly because of
Professor Tuttle's original announcement that each lecture
would be accompanied by tasks in the laboratory,—
which necessarily would take up much of the time of the
students. Such time, they thought, might be more
satisfactorily occupied with themes that would lead up
to a degree.
When the requirements for the academic degrees were
of all the other natural sciences, the size of the class,
which had hitherto numbered but few members, began
to increase, since it was now permissible to choose biology
as one of the necessary electives. This growth became
particularly noticeable after the removal of Professor
Tuttle's lecture-room from the old Medical Hall
to the new academic building. There arose, in time,
a demand for advanced work as preliminary to the doctorate
of philosophy; but, owing to the lack of equipment
at that hour, this was discouraged.
With the close of the session of 1906–07, Professor
Tuttle brought to an end his connection with the department
of medicine, and, thereafter, his labors were restricted
to the academic branch of his school. He was
at first assisted by W. A. Kepner, who was afterwards
elevated to the position of adjunct professor. In 1904–
05, the ground traversed by the academic School of
Biology embraced (1) the elements of the science; (2)
biology and zoology; (3) the histology and embryology
of plants and animals, and the morphology of selected
groups from each of the two great kingdoms of organic
beings; (4) cytology and general biology. It was announced
that the aim of the academic school at this time,
as formerly, was to offer facilities to students who wished
to acquire a general knowledge of biology, such as a
liberally educated man would aspire to, or which would
fit them to become teachers of the science, or would
prepare them for the study of either medicine or agriculture.
In 1915–16, the school was divided into three
courses: (1) biology and agriculture; (2) botany; and
(3) zoology.
The attendance during this academic year was the
largest in the history of the school,—sixty students
direction of Professor Kepner; and eighty-three in the
classes of botany, taught by Professor Tuttle. In consequence
of the lack of sufficient space and equipment,
twenty-six young men had been denied admission to the
lecture-room and laboratory. After Professor Tuttle's
withdrawal, Professor Ivey F. Lewis, a graduate of
Johns Hopkins University, and subsequently associated
with several seats of learning, was elected to one of the
chairs of the school.
It will be recalled that Jefferson included in his original
scheme of schools a school of fine arts. No practical
step was taken, previous to 1919, to realize one of
the most enlightened hopes of the father of the institution;
but on the anniversary of his birthday in the course
of that year, the President of the University announced
that the sum of one hundred and fifty-five thousand dollars
had been given by Paul Goodloe McIntire for the
endowment of the long wished-for chair. Mr. McIntire
was an alumnus of the institution and a native of Charlottesville,
—a city which he, in a spirit of noble liberality,
was soon to adorn with the heroic figures in bronze
of several of the loftiest spirits in Virginian and American
history. "I sincerely hope," he wrote to President
Alderman, "that the University will see its way clear to
offer many lectures upon the subject of art and music, so
that the people will appreciate more than ever before
that the University belongs to them; and that it exists
for them."
The series of lectures on art began before the series
on music. They were delivered by Professor Fiske
Kimball, who had been elected to the newly created
chair while associated with the department of fine arts
in the University of Michigan. He had also been a
sciences. Among the ten electives were three at large.
In choosing the latter, the candidate had to be guided
by the selection which he had already made of his first
seven. Each of the several groups of studies was subdivided
into different courses. There was a frequent
shifting of the content of these courses during the Ninth
Period; new ones also, like those in Biblical history and
literature, economic geology, physics, public speaking,
and journalism, were added; but the requirements for
the degree did not change to any revolutionary extent.
There arose in 1906–07, however, a sharp controversy
over the question whether the choice of the ancient languages,
as an elective, should not be left to the option of
the candidate for the degree. The course in Latin
practicing architect of distinction, and had written a very
elaborate and discriminating volume on Jefferson's
achievements in that splendid province. The School of
Fine Arts contributed to the artistic training of the
numerous students enrolled in its several classes by offering
extensive courses on the history and the interpretation
of art, illustrated by exhibitions of loaned paintings
and copies of old masters, and by the groups of buildings
and statues to be found within the precincts of the University
itself.
XXIV. Academic Degrees—Baccalaureate
In 1904–05, the candidate for the baccalaureate degree
was required to choose ten electives, unless he had
selected, as among the number, the respective courses in
Latin and Greek,—in which event, the ten were reduced
to nine. These electives were to be picked out of the
following groups: the ancient languages, the modern
languages, history and philosophy, mathematical
so violently for a time. The question first came up in
the committee on rules and courses in the form of a
proposal to reorganize the baccalaureate studies. It was
referred in the beginning to a sub-committee. The principal
point involved in that question was: what was a
liberal education? Was any separate branch of human
knowledge indispensable to such an education? These
interrogatories had been growing more and more insistent,
as time had passed, with the broadening of all the
sciences and the increasing demand for practical information.
They had long ago shattered the fixed system
of the old curriculum colleges, and were now intruding
into the immemorial temple of the Latin and Greek languages,
and calling for the reduction of those scholastic
deities to a footing of equality with humbler studies,
by making them optional also.
The sub-committee pronounced in favor of such dethronement,
and the general committee accepted their
decision and recommended its approval by the academic
faculty. This body at once began to consider it, in
their turn, with extraordinary earnestness; they assembled
seven times to debate the subject; and at every
meeting remained in session from three and a half hours
to four. Every aspect of the question was minutely examined
and exhaustively discussed. When the final vote
was taken, seventeen professors were present, of whom,
two expressed, in vigorous language, their opposition to
the adoption of the report; one either voted "no," or
did not vote at all; while another happened to be quite
deaf and failed to catch the query when put. Among
those who voted in the affirmative was the professor of
Latin, whose action at the time was not inaptly compared
by the advocates of the change to the action of those
patriotism, on a memorable occasion, stripped themselves
of all their honors and orders born of aristocratic
privilege. The vote stood about thirteen in favor
of the innovation and about three in opposition to it.
President Alderman counseled that this decision should
not be recommended to the Board of Visitors unless the
affirmative sentiment among the majority of the members
of the Faculty should come, after further consultation,
to be shared by all.
The Faculty, in spite of this discreet suggestion, and
in the teeth also of the continued antagonism expressed
by some of its members, drafted a report in harmony
with the general tenor of the original sub-committee's
conclusions. This report was supported by energetic
statements in writing on the part of several professors.
"Why," said one, "should Latin be given any superiority
of position over the other courses? What advantage
did it possess over history and economics, or English
literature, or history,—all of which, if the student desired,
could be passed over when he came to make a
choice among the electives? Should not the entire number
of studies be on a footing of equality?" "In preparing
to give students an option between the classics
and other things," remarked Professor R. H. Dabney,
"the Faculty are no more degrading the former than a
host degrades a saddle of mutton when he asks his
guests whether they will take that or turkey. He knows
that both are good."
In spite of the visions of their annual feasts which this
gastronomic simile must have called up in their minds,
the alumni refused to be seduced by its plausibleness.
Protests against the proposed innovation, expressed in
every key, from the sarcastic and scornful to the gravely
chapters in Baltimore, Charleston, Lynchburg, New Orleans,
New York, Washington, and Richmond raised a
threatening, a warning, or a sadly remonstrative voice.
If there had been any doubt before, there could be none
now that the alumni of all shades of opinion and all
kinds of occupations, from the scholar in his class-room
to the banker in his counting-house, felt so deep an interest
in the study of the ancient languages, and valued so
highly their own training in those courses, that they
would consider their alma mater to be shorn of half her
strength, and much of her charm, should the baccalaureate
candidate not be required to include those tongues
in his fixed groups of studies. Eloquent alumni appeared
before the Board to impress that body with the fatality
of adopting the suggestion of the Faculty; the
Visitors were compelled to pause; and not knowing what
else to do at the moment, laid the Faculty's recommendation
on the table, with the intention of taking it up at
their next meeting.
In the meanwhile, the Board again laid off the courses
to be studied by the candidate for the baccalaureate degree.
Having met satisfactorily the different entrance
requirements, he must, at a later date, pass the regular
examination (1) in the first section of English literature
and mathematics; (2) in Latin and another language,
ancient or modern; (3) in one subject from the group
of mathematical sciences; (4) in two from the group of
natural sciences; (5) in one from the group of philosophical
sciences; (6) in one from the group of history,
literature, and economics; and (7) in certain electives
at large, the number of which was to depend upon
whether one or two ancient languages had been chosen.
By the spring of 1908, it was plainly perceived that
of science satisfactorily, and this prompted many members
of the Faculty to advocate a line of studies that
would lead up to the degree of bachelor of science. At
this time, there were three large groups of collegians
who had to be considered in readjusting the degrees:
first, the group who thought that the original
courses prescribed for the old degree of master
of arts embraced all that education had to impart;
second, the group who desired to retain Latin only
of the ancient languages, and to rely upon the modern
humanistic studies chiefly for their cultural development;
and thirdly, there was the group,—and it was the
largest of the three,—who were content to look to the
sciences alone for that development, and who, discarding
the ancient languages altogether, valued the modern
only as a means of more easily learning those sciences,
and more successfully pushing their individual researches.
At their meeting in October, 1908, the Board of
Visitors, wisely recognizing the existence of these different
groups, created in the college or undergraduate department
two new degrees of great importance; namely,
the cultural degree of bachelor of science, and the vocational
degree of bachelor of science, in neither of which
was an ancient language included. This was a satisfactory
solution of the controversial problem, for Latin
or Greek was still taught in the course to be traversed by
every candidate for the degree of bachelor of arts.
Moreover, it was a more judicious arrangement than the
Faculty had proposed in recommending that all the
scientific departments should be consolidated into one
department of science. There were now three well balanced
degrees in the college department: the degree of
acquisition of a liberal education in all the fundamental
branches of knowledge; the cultural degree of bachelor
of science, which was open to those who desired a general
culture, independent of the classical languages, and
with a scientific bent; and finally, the vocational degree
of bachelor of science, which was open to those who had
decided to pursue in the future a calling requiring
special training in some one of the sciences, natural or
mathematical. Such a calling was that of the practical
chemist, biologist, or geologist, or the teacher of natural
or mathematical science. The diploma of the vocational
bachelor referred to him as bachelor in chemistry,
in biology, in medicine, in architecture, and so on, according
to the particular course which he had been able to
master.
XXV. Academic Degrees—Master and Doctor
The degree of master of arts belonged to the department
of graduate studies. Its evolution differed little
from that of the degree of bachelor of arts. In 1904–
05, it was conferred on the student who, after winning
the baccalaureate degree, had successfully traversed the
courses in four electives chosen among those assigned
to the graduate department. Three of these electives
had to bear such a near relation to each other as to form
a cognate group. The schools from which the four
might be selected had for their subjects the ancient languages,
the German and Italian tongues, English literature
history, philosophy, education, mathematics,
astronomy, mechanics, physics, electricity, industrial
chemistry, analytical chemistry, geology, biology, plant
morphology, and animal morphology. It was from
this series of studies that the candidate for the preliminary
choose his three electives at large,—which represented
the advanced work required of him for the attainment
of that degree.
By a rule adopted in 1907, the candidate for the
master's degree was authorized to limit his electives to
three subjects instead of as formerly to four. This
provision was adopted for the benefit of students who
wished to cover an advanced second year's graduate
course in one of three subjects, in preference to covering
a less advanced course in a fourth subject.
The committee on academic degrees was very strict
in inquiring into the preparation of every candidate for
the master's degree who had obtained his baccalaureate
degree in another institution of learning. He was first
directed to return to the registrar an application in
writing drafted partly by himself and partly by the
President of the college or university which had conferred
the preliminary degree; and when this had been
examined, it was sent to the academic faculty, either
with the committee's unreserved approval, or with the
recommendation that the candidate should be required
to join on to his graduate electives the undergraduate
courses which led up to those electives. The general
rule followed by the faculty was that the ground gone
over elsewhere by the candidate for the degree of master
of arts must conform with reasonable closeness to the
ground prescribed for the baccalaureate degree of the
University of Virginia.
In spite of all these precautions, there was a popular
impression that the new degree of master of arts did
not necessarily signify the possession of the same high
scholarship as the old degree always indicated. This
critical attitude found expression in the following communication
the present regulation was adopted, did any man ever
make the degree of master of arts at the University
of Virginia in the short time it is now done? Would
it have been in the bounds of reasonable possibility for
anyone to have done so? If this is answered in the
negative, we submit that the standard of scholarship
required by the University for the degree of master of
arts has been lowered. Of course, a holder of the new
master's degree may be a brilliant scholar, profoundly
versed in ancient and modern languages, in history and
literature, in the arts and sciences, and mathematics.
So, for that matter, may be the holder of an honorary
degree. It is not a question of what the master's attainments
may be, but what those attainments must be.
That determines the value of the degree."
These comments were only pertinent to the case in
which the preliminary baccalaureate degree had been
conferred by some obscure college which could not
be expected to give the same thorough drilling as the
undergraduate department of the University of Virginia;
and safeguards were supposed to have been raised
against the deficiencies of such inferior institutions by
compelling their graduates to traverse certain courses
in the University's collegiate schools. In June, 1910,
the committee on rules and studies recommended that
the only foreign baccalaureate degree that should exempt
its holder from this provision should be one that had
been received from a member of the Association of
American Universities, or the National Association of
State Universities, or from any other university or college
of high reputation whose requirements for admission,
or for the attainment of the baccalaureate degree,
were commensurate with those of the University of
by adding the following clause: "No
candidate for an advanced degree who has obtained a
baccalaureate degree from an institution having the
standard prescribed by the Board of Education of Virginia,
in February, 1911, in its definition of a college
or university, will be expected to do any undergraduate
work except such as the committee on rules and courses,
and the professors in charge, would consider necessary
for the successful prosecution of the graduate courses
elected for the advanced degree."
In a general way, it may be stated that the University
of Virginia accepted as substantially equivalent to its
own baccalaureate degree the like degree of any institution
which (1) had a faculty of at least six professors,
who gave up their whole time to undergraduate or
graduate work; which (2) had adopted entrance requirements
equal to those of the University of Virginia;
and which (3) offered a baccalaureate course of four
years in liberal arts and sciences.
When the degree of bachelor of science was established
in the college department, the degree of master
of science was established in the department of graduate
studies. This new degree was based either on the cultural
degree of bachelor of science or on the vocational
degree: and in neither instance was Latin or Greek included
among its electives. The graduate courses pursued
by the holder of the vocational degree were always
chiefly those in continuation of the principal subject of
his study for the baccalaureate degree.
The requirements for the degree of doctor of philosophy
in 1904–05, and afterwards, did not differ substantially
from those in force for the same degree during
the years which antedated that session. The candidate
were known as the major course and the minor course;
and he must also have won the bachelor's or the master's
diploma, either at the University of Virginia, or at some
chartered institution of equally high standing. The
only exception to this rule was allowed in the case of
one who could prove, by actual examination, that he
had obtained somewhere an education on a par, in extent
and quality, with that which was indicated by the possession
of either of the two preliminary degrees. The
subjects to be chosen by him were to be three in number;
were to be selected from at least two schools; and were
to be cognate in character. The major subject must
have received the approval of the academic faculty.
The period of study was to be spread over at least three
years; and throughout this interval, there was to be
no intermission in the pursuit of this major subject.
The candidate must also show, in reply to searching
questions, that he possessed a reading knowledge of the
French and German languages, and sufficient information
about any other subject considered to be equally essential
for the mastery of his course; but he was not compelled
to submit to the first test if he had graduated in those
languages in winning his baccalaureate degree. Advanced
standing for graduate work done in another institution
of repute was allowed, if that work was shown
to be equivalent to the work of the same character called
for in the University of Virginia. The graduate study
of the last year of candidacy was always required to be
done in the latter institution unless exemption from the
rule had been granted by the academic faculty. Every
aspirant for this degree who succeeded in obtaining it was
expected to submit a dissertation which should indicate
original research in the province of his major subjects.
What proportion of the students succeeded in acquiring
the degrees of bachelor, master, and doctor? In
the interval between June, 1904 and June, 1915,—a
single decade roughly speaking,—two hundred and
ninety won the degree of bachelor of arts, and between
1908–09 and 1916–17, eighty the degree of bachelor of
science. Between June, 1904, and June, 1915, the degree
of master of arts was won by one hundred and
fifty-eight; the degree of doctor of philosophy, by thirty-one.
The largest number of candidates who succeeded in
any one year in acquiring the baccalaureate degree was
in 1912–13, when thirty-three received the diploma. In
this session also, twenty-three candidates for the master's
degree were successful. This broke the record for that
degree during the Ninth Period up to that date.
It had been sanguinely expected that the introduction
of the degree of bachelor of arts in the college department
would tend to influence the undergraduates to remain
for a longer period at the University; but it was
not until 1910–11 that the ratio of loss for the first time
showed a falling off. In the meanwhile, the cultural
and vocational degrees of bachelor of science had been
established; and it was, perhaps, due to these degrees
that the slight arrest in the decline took place. Nevertheless,
the number of candidates for all these degrees
continued curiously small to a point in time as late as
1916–17, in spite of the increase in the general attendance.
There were only fifty-two candidates in 1913–
14, and in 1914–15, only thirty. In 1916–17, the
percentage was nine as against twenty at Harvard University.
Many of the undergraduates made no pretense
to being candidates for any of the baccalaureate
degrees, either because they did not possess the time or
the money to return a second year, or because they were
one session alone, 1907–09, at least ninety disclaimed
all aspiration for the undergraduate degrees.
The thirty-eight candidates for these degrees in 1909–
10 who either failed to return, or to reenter the academic
schools, in 1910–11, when requested to give the reason
for their action, replied respectively as follows: fifteen
had been hopelessly unsuccessful with their work; nine
had registered with the department of law; one was too
poor to matriculate; one was in such bad health as to
forbid further study; five had gone to other institutions;
two had died; and one had no reason to give. The
following was the proportion of holders of degrees
among the undergraduates who had previously studied
elsewhere: in 1909–10, it was six per cent; in 1910–11,
slightly in excess of three; in 1911–12, nearly one and a
half; and in 1912–13, two and a half. The percentage
in the department of graduate studies was naturally very
much higher.
XXVI. Scholarships and Fellowships
In the account given of previous periods, mention was
made of the numerous scholarships and fellowships which
were established from time to time during those periods.
All these were still in existence after 1904–05, but since
they have already been fully described by us as they were
founded, we shall not refer to them again.
The first scholarship to be created after the inauguration
of the Presidency was the Isabella Merrick Sampson
Scholarship, the gift of W. Gordon Merrick, of Glendower,
Albemarle county. Its endowment consisted of
two bonds for one thousand dollars each. The income
of the fund alone was to be used. Its purpose was to
afford a support to some deserving young man living in
of the University of Virginia with a view to
preparing himself to become a member of that profession.
The incumbent was to enjoy the income of the
fund until his graduation, after traversing the full course.
The fund itself was to be held by three trustees, one of
whom was to be the President of the University; another,
the dean of the engineering department; and the
third, a citizen of Albemarle county.
In 1912, a scholarship was founded by the members
of the department of law in memory of Daniel Harmon,
always a useful member of the Board of Visitors, but
conspicuously helpful during the exacting and critical
years that followed the great fire in 1895. This scholarship
was open to any young Virginian who stood in
need of pecuniary assistance and also possessed decided
ability and high character. The Herndon Scholarships
owed their existence to a bequest of Dr. Cumberland G.
Herndon, a medical graduate of the University. They
were awarded by the medical faculty after a competitive
examination held during the summer vacation. The
candidates must submit acceptable proof of their inability
to defray the cost of a medical education; and they
must also put on record their intention to enter the medical
service of the Federal army or navy after graduation.
Each of these scholarships provided for the necessary
expenses of the holder for the space of four years,
which was the length of time now covered by the medical
course. The total amount embraced in this bequest
was fifteen thousand dollars.
In 1914, Thomas F. Ryan, of New York, but a Virginian
by birth, founded ten scholarships, one of which
was to be assigned to each of the State's ten Congressional
districts; and they were only to be granted to
financial resources. The Faculty, if they thought
proper, were authorized to reduce the number from ten
to six, reserving six hundred dollars for each in the place
of the three hundred which was to be paid out should
the plan of distribution by districts be continued. The
latter division seems to have been preferred. The applicant
must have been a resident of his district at least two
years before he sought the appointment; and he must
satisfy the normal entrance requirements. In the beginning,
he enjoyed the privilege of remaining four years
in any course which he had selected; but the tenure was
afterwards restricted to two years. The incumbents of
these scholarships were chosen by the Board of Visitors.
Under the will of Edward C. Folkes, two scholarships,
in memory of W. C. Folkes, were established about
this time for the benefit of young men living in Campbell
county. The principal of this bequest,—which
was not to be delivered until the death of the testator's
daughter,—amounted to $23,373.33, while the income
accruing to each scholarship was in the neighborhood of
six hundred dollars. When Colonel James H. Skinner,
of Staunton, died in 1898, he bequeathed his estate for
the creation and maintenance of as many scholarships as
the income would allow, taking the sum of three hundred
dollars,—afterwards cut down to two hundred and
fifty,—as the maximum amount to be attached to each
scholarship. The applicants must put on record their
intention of becoming clergymen in the Protestant
Episcopal Church. The principal of this bequest aggregated
$41,988.92. As the gift had been made subject to
the life interest of Colonel Skinner's sister, it did not
fall in until 1913.
In 1914–15, a scholarship valued at one hundred and
Law Review. During the same session, a small
number of scholarships were offered by the University
to natives of Virginia, of adequate scholastic equipment,
who had been nominated by the Boards of Supervisors
of their respective counties. Such matriculates were
required to pay only five dollars for the use of field instruments
and laboratory apparatus,—a reduction of
forty-five dollars as compared with the sum demanded
of the regular students. In 1915, the Board of Visitors
founded twenty-two scholarships in the College department
for the benefit of descendants of Confederate soldiers.
These scholarships were awarded on the recommendation
of the different divisions of the United
Daughters of the Confederacy. A scholarship that
insured an annual income of fifty dollars was created by
Hollis Rinehart, an influential citizen of Albemarle
county; and two years afterwards, the chapter of the
Daughters of the American Revolution, domiciled in the
same county, founded a similar scholarship, with an annual
income of thirty dollars, and a maximum tenure of
one year. Its holder must have graduated from the
Charlottesville High School, with the highest mark of
his class; and he must also be a resident of the town or
the county.
In 1905, a fund of five thousand dollars was given by
Dr. William C. Rives to establish the William Cabell
Rives, Jr., fellowship of history and economics. Dr.
Rives was a grandson of the distinguished statesman of
the same name who had been a member of that noble
company of public-spirited citizens who had sustained
the University of Virginia in its early and most trying
years.
In 1911, the trustees of the Phelps-Stokes fund delivered
the creation of a fellowship in sociology for the
thorough study of the negro. This fellowship was expected
to yield an annual income of five hundred dollars;
and, at the end of four years, was to be filled only
by students of the graduate department. The object
of the original Phelps-Stokes Fund was to improve the
condition of the African race in the South. It appeared
to the trustees, according to their own statement,
"that the right way to go about this was to get first of
all the best information available on the subject, and
then to analyze and classify it in a scientific way"; and
they decided that the most reliable plan for accomplishing
their purpose was "to provide means to enable
Southern youth of broad sympathies to make scientific examination
of that people." In the summer of 1916,
there were issued two volumes which contained the
public addresses of recognized authorities on the negro
problem who had been invited to the University to
speak on that topic; and also the fruits of the investigations
by the fellows. These addresses and researches
bore upon every phase of the life and character of the
Southern blacks.
Two fellowships were created by the will of Dr.
Bennet W. Greer in 1913. Dr. Green had been a surgeon
in the Federal Navy before the War of Secession;
had been a zealous supporter of the Confederate
cause during that war; had subsequently accumulated a
handsome fortune in the Argentine Confederation; and
after his return to the United States, had led the life
of a retired scholar. He was a man of salient characteristics;
was ardently devoted to Virginia, his native
State; and was exceptionally loyal to his alma mater.
By the terms of his bequest, $24,000 was set aside for
holders of which were to be required to have graduated
both as masters of arts and as doctors of medicine, in the
schools of the University of Virginia. If no such
doctors were eligible in any one session, because of failure
to win the academic degree, then two masters were
to be picked out who were anxious to continue their
studies in European seats of learning. If two masters
of art also were lacking, then two bachelors of laws
of the University were to be chosen,—provided that
they desired to go abroad for additional preparation
for their profession. Preference in making the appointments
was to be given, in the first instance, to
native Virginians; and in the second, to native Southerners.
If no applicants for the fellowships came
forward, then the income for that year was to be expended
in the purchase of books for the medical department.
In 1915, there were two fellowships, with an annual
income of two hundred dollars each, established by the
Board of Visitors. Another fellowship proposed at
this time seems to have been purely honorary. It was
to be conferred by the Board on the recommendation of
the President and the Faculty. A bronze medal was to
be delivered to this fellow on graduation day at the commencement
exercises; and he was to be entitled to write
D. S. F. Va. after his name, and also to wear a ribbon-dyed
in the University colors.
The most important lectureship established after
1904–05 was made possible by a gift of twenty-two thousand
dollars from Mrs. Thomas Nelson Page, the income
from which was to be used in securing the annual
delivery at the University of a series of three discourses
by a specialist on some aspect of the department
the reputation of an expert. Each set of discourses
was to be marked by such unity of thought and treatment
that it could be published in book form. Among
the distinguished men who have spoken on this foundation
have been Viscount Bryce, President Taft, Professor
Gildersleeve, Professor Lounsbury, Professor
A. C. Coolidge, and President Charles W. Eliot.
A prize annually presented by the Virginia Chapter of
the Colonial Dames of America was granted to the author
of the most meritorious essay on some subject descriptive
of the history or literature of Colonial Virginia.
A second prize was established by Mrs. Susan Colston
Blackford, of Lynchburg, in memory of her husband,
the distinguished lawyer, Charles Minor Blackford.
This prize,—amounting to fifty dollars annually in cash,
—was each year awarded to that student in the department
of law who had written the best dissertation upon
some legal or sociological topic.
XXVII. Professional Departments—Law
In 1904–05,—the initial session of the Presidency,—
the applicant for enrolment in the first year of the law
course, unless a special student, was called upon to submit
at least one of the following testimonials as the
condition of admission: the diploma of graduation in
some institution of collegiate rank, or a certificate of
good standing in the classes of such an institution; or a
diploma of graduation in a public or private high school
of reputation, or a certificate of equivalent value from its
principal; or a written statement that he had passed the
entrance examinations of the University successfully.
Of the twelve units required in 1907–08, three were in
English, three in mathematics, and two in history. The
standing was allowed on the basis of study done else
where previous to matriculation.
By 1910–11, some changes in these requirements for
admission had been made: the high school granting a
certificate must be on the accredited list; and the receiver
of the certificate must have graduated in a four-year
course.
With the lapse of time, the special and conditioned
students,—who were admitted without the privileges of
the regular members of the class,—became a cause of
uneasiness and dissatisfaction. In 1914–16, at least sixteen
per cent, of the enrolment consisted of special
students; and of these it was asserted that a considerable
proportion were incorrigible idlers who had entered
simply to be able to say in the future that "they had
been college men." In a registration, during one year,
of forty-three special students, not more than six or
eight were really qualified to pursue the study of law;
and the proportion for the conditioned students at this
time was substantially the same. The existence of the
evil was so damaging that the dean of the department,
Professor Lile, recommended that, after the session of
1915–16, all conditioned students should be debarred
from entrance; that no special student under twenty-three
years of age should be admitted, and those above that age
only by the action of the law faculty, after submitting
to a written examination; and that no irregular
student should be permitted to become a candidate for
the degree unless he had qualified as a regular student
at the end of his first year, and shown, by the success of
his previous diligence, that he was entitled to the privilege.
By 1909–10, the general course was so spread out as
as to fit, not only these three sessions, but the
three terms of each session. It had been enlarged by
the expansion of existing subjects, and by the addition of
subjects not previously offered. This allowed of the introduction
of numerous elective topics. The entire
course now embraced one thousand lecture periods or
units; and of these, as many as four hundred were elective.
This new system made it possible for the student to
select his subjects in harmony with his prospective need,
—thus, if he had matriculated from another State, he
was at liberty to omit the statutory law from the circle
of his choice, and substitute another topic that would
be more useful to him in his future practice. One consequence
of this expansion in the general course was to
increase the great reputation which the department had
always enjoyed. As time passed on, the disposition was
to convert the elective studies into obligatory studies,—
after 1915–16, the only electives permissible were Roman
law, admiralty, and damages. A choice could also
be made between Virginia pleading and code pleading.[6]
The enlargement of old subjects, and the addition of
new, made it imperative to increase the number of
teachers associated with the department. When Professor
Lile was granted a leave of absence during the
session of 1907–08, his place was temporarily taken by
Armistead M. Dobie, who was afterwards assigned to a
full professorship. By 1913–14, there were four
full professors,—Graves, Lile, Minor and Dobie,—and
one adjunct professor of law, Eager, and one adjunct
professor of public speaking, Paul. Definite tasks had,
for some time, been performed by assistants, who, though
receiving small salaries, considered the compensation satisfactory,
since the prestige of the position led to subsequent
connections with large practitioners or to junior
partnerships. It was through them that a system of
daily quizzes was maintained, which proved to be highly
beneficial in its results.
The introduction of the course in public speaking had
been recommended in 1910 by the law faculty. The
ground covered by this course embraced the principles
of argumentation and debating, and also the methods
of delivery. The students, in groups of four, discussed
legal and forensic questions in the presence of the general
class. This course was supplemented by Professor
Lile's lectures on brief-making. In addition to the debates
under Professor Paul, there was, during many
years, a law debating society. The attendance in this society
had been voluntary, although, at one time, every
candidate for the degree of bachelor of law had been required
to argue at least one case before this body while
under the presidency of a member of the law faculty. A
debate open to all was permissible afterwards.
During the session of 1907–08, the General Assembly
appropriated sixty-five thousand dollars for the erection
and proper equipment of a law building at the University
of Virginia. The first site that was considered for its
location was one in the vicinity of the present post-office;
but the final choice fell upon the slope lying east of Dawson's
Row. The turf there was broken for the foundations
of the edifice in the spring of 1909; it was completed
in January, 1911; but was not used until the beginning
of the next session. Its total cost reached the
sum of $64,560.28.[7]
The structure may be said to consist
of a central mass with two subordinate wings; its
entire front is accentuated by a line of six Doric columns;
and it stands two stories in height. It was very appropriately
named in honor of Professor John B. Minor.
On the upper floor of this building, the books of the
department were deposited. It was estimated, that,
during the long interval between 1826 and 1895, the
Board of Visitors had not appropriated altogether for
the law library as much as one thousand dollars. Beginning
in 1895, that body, from time to time, provided
sums sufficient to increase the number of volumes to a
point that rendered them, by 1904–05, a very fair nucleus
for a really imposing collection. As we have seen, these
books had been, for many years, stored in the basement
of the Rotunda,—a situation encompassed with
many inconveniences. By 1908–09, nearly ten thousand
volumes had been accumulated. During this session,
a notable addition was made to the collection by Professor
James Barr Ames, of the Harvard Law School,
in the shape of three hundred and fifty volumes of the
English Law Reports, which brought the issue fully up
of a practically complete set of all the State reports in
spite of their heavy cost. Those of Delaware, for instance,
had required an outlay of twenty-five dollars
per volume.
Through the generosity of W. W. Fuller, an alumnus
who had won distinction and fortune in the practice of
law, the library received a fund of ten thousand dollars,
the income of which was to be devoted to the purchase
of additional books. During the session of 1910–11, an
accession was obtained through the bequest of Judge
Lambert Tree, another alumnus who had risen to eminence
in the same profession. He left the larger part
of his collection of law books to the law library.
A set of Maryland reports was also received from
Joseph Wilmer, a brother of the late Skipwith Wilmer,
of the Baltimore bar. By this time, the collection of
the decisions of the American and English courts of
last resort was substantially without a gap. The library,
in 1913–14, contained about 12,700 volumes, and it was
in the care of a thoroughly competent librarian, Miss
Lipop, and her assistant. By 1916–17, the number of
volumes had increased to fourteen thousand.
How many students attended the classes of the department
of law during the years of the Ninth Period?
In the course of 1904–05, about two hundred registered;
during the session of 1908–09, approximately two hundred
and ninety-four; but, in 1910–11, the number sank
to one hundred and ninety. This decline followed the
adoption of the three-year course. It could not be told
until the session of 1913–14 whether this shrinkage
would be permanent, for it was not until then that the
new rule was to come into full operation. The upshot of
the attendance was, at that time, encouraging,—the
in 1915–16, it fell to two hundred and fifty-one; in
1916–17, to two hundred and thirty-five; and in 1917–
18, to ninety-nine. Only eighty members of the several
classes were really present. This remarkable decline
was due to the pressure of the war, which made, from
the beginning, the heaviest draft upon the schools in
which were enrolled the young men of mature years.
The number of degrees of bachelor of laws won during
the Ninth Period by members of the department ranged
from fifty in 1904–05 to seventy-four in 1908–09; and
fell off from ninety-six in 1909–10 to fifty-two in 1914–
15. In 1910–11, there were only fifteen graduates; but
this was attributable to the extension of the course.
So thorough was the preparation which the graduates
received for their future profession that Dean Lile was
able to declare in his report to the President in March,
1910, that, since the adoption in Virginia, in 1896, of
the rule that all applicants for a license must be examined
by the Supreme Court of Appeals, there had been proportionately
only a small number of failures to meet that
test among the winners of the University's law diploma;
indeed, that as many as ninety per cent, of the students
who had carried off the coveted degree had passed successfully
those exacting examinations for admission to
the bar.
Another proof of the superior character of the tuition
was to be found in the excellence of the journal issued
by the law department. In June, 1913, the Board of
Visitors appropriated one thousand dollars for the support
of this periodical, which was to make its first appearance
in the following autumn, under the direction
of an editorial board of twenty-five students chosen on a
scholarship basis from among the members of the junior,
to be published annually. The law faculty was to serve
only in an advisory capacity. This review was established
as planned, and soon ranked with similar reviews
issued by the law departments of Princeton, Harvard,
and Yale Universities. During the session of 1916–17,
in a lecture on the Barbour-Page foundation, Dean Wigmore
referred to it as one of the best of its kind published
in the United States.
The following was the division of studies arranged for 1917–18,
but which was interrupted by the war:
- First year, first term: Lile,—Study of Cases, Legal Bibliography and
Brief Making, Interpretation of Statutes; Graves,—Contracts; Dobie,—
Criminal Law; Paul,—Forensic Debating; Eager,—Domestic Relations.
Second term: Graves,—Torts; Dobie,—Bailments and Carriers;
Eager,—Agency. Third term: Lile,—Negotiable Paper; Minor,—International
Law; Dobie,—Sales; Eager,—Insurance. - Second year, first term: Lile,—Equity Jurisprudence; Graves,—Common
Law Pleading; Minor,—Real Property, begun. Second term:
Lile,—Private Corporations; Graves,—Pleading in Virginia; Minor,—
Real Property, concluded, Constitutional Law begun; Eager,—Admiralty;
Dobie,—Code Pleading. Third term: Eager,—Practice; Minor,
—Constitutional Law, concluded; Dobie,—Taxation. - Third year, first term: Minor,—Criminal Procedure; Dobie,—Wills
and Administration, Roman Law; Eager,—Bankruptcy and Partnership.
Second term: Lile,—Equity Procedure; Minor,—Conflict of Laws;
Dobie,—Federal Jurisprudence and Procedure; Eager,—Damages.
Third term: Lile,—Public Corporations, Legal Ethics, Preparation of
Cases and Practice of the Law; Graves,—Evidence.
In March, 1911, Professor Lile estimated that the "interior furnishings,
up to that time, had entailed an outlay of $10,000.
XXVIII. Professional Departments—Medicine
During many years following the close of the war between
the States, as we have seen, the medical school of
the University of Virginia was satisfied to restrict itself
to the methods of didactic teaching. The instructors,
outside the hall of the demonstrator of anatomy,
relied only on the lecture and text-book; and the
information thus acquired by the student during the
session was clarified and confirmed by written examinations
at its end. The reputation of the school rested
chiefly on the record made before army and navy boards,
whose touchstone of competence consisted alone of a
series of questions in writing. During that period, there
were no oral interrogatories, and no laboratory or hospital
tests.
By the beginning of the Ninth Period, 1904, a new
spirit had come to govern medical education everywhere.
Its influence was reflected (1) in the increase in the
amount of preparation required of prospective medical
students; (2) in the employment of the laboratory as a
method of imparting expert knowledge; and (3) in the
far greater prominence accorded to practical research.
For some years, this spirit had made little impression
upon the didactic system prevailing at the University of
through the convictions of younger professors who had
been trained to more modern methods than their predecessors.
The earliest indications of this fact in practical
application were the use of out-patient clinics, the introduction
of classes in histology, embryology, bacteriology,
pathology, and clinical diagnosis, and the erection
of a hospital in part. The foremost upholders of these
new methods were Barringer, Christian, Dabney, Tuttle,
Flippin, and the younger Davis. The demonstrators of
anatomy, like the elder Davis and Towles, had, in their
department, long anticipated the coming revolution, and
in doing so, had won a reputation which extended far
beyond the precincts. But the teaching force and equipment
continued inadequate, and the University was, during
all this time, unable to meet all the needs of the situation.
Nevertheless, it had become imperative that the
institution should do so if it was to maintain a respectable
position in the profession. Instead of examining
boards being satisfied now, as formerly, to submit a series
of written questions, they called upon all applicants
to prove their knowledge to be practical; and this was
done by requiring them to answer oral questions or to
do test work in laboratory or hospital. It was
generally admitted that the deductive system by itself
left the student pitifully weak along practical lines.
When the Ninth Period began in 1904, the modern
aim of the department was only illustrated conspicuously,
though not exclusively, in those special branches
of work which we have enumerated, and which were all
too few as we have seen. Professor Barringer, in a
formal report to the President in 1904–05, said that
"there were but three strong points in favor of our
school of medicine: (1) its medical professors, removed
like the professors of Latin, history, and so on; (2) the
faculty work is best done in an educational atmosphere,
—here we have it to perfection; (3) our hospital,
small as it is, is yet under our sole conduct, and close at
hand, and is usable to its full extent. Medicine is becoming
each year more of a science and less of an art.
While the art demands the clinical material of the city,
the science demands only the habits and spirits of investigation."
It was acknowledged, at this time, that the graduates
were particularly deficient in training in physical diagnosis,
in pathology, in clinical microscopy, and in materia
medical. The general need of reorganization along
more modern lines was fully grasped by the new President
very soon after his inauguration; and one of the
first great tasks which enlisted his attention was to bring
about its realization. The principal demands were for
(1) a more cultured preparation for the study of medicine;
(2) fully equipped laboratories in the fundamental
medical sciences, under the direction of thoroughly educated
instructors; (3) the creation of a larger teaching
hospital, in which students in their third and fourth
years would have an opportunity to observe in person
phenomena of disease. This was to be done at the bedside,
under the guidance of professors whose only duty
would be to instruct them.
Who was the man most competent to build up the department
along these broad, salient lines? The President's
choice fell upon Richard H. Whitehead, then
occupying a chair in the University of North Carolina.
He had graduated at the University of Virginia in 1886,
having preferred to enter its didactic school of medicine
rather than some school elsewhere, in which the tuition
in 1905, general charge of the department, as the
dean of its faculty, his first important policy was to require
that, from the session beginning September, 1907,
no student should be admitted to the school who had not
received a year of laboratory training in the three fundamentals
of medicine in some institution of collegiate
rank. His second was to establish properly equipped
laboratories, under the direction of experts, who had been
appointed after a careful appraisement of their fitness.
His third was to reorganize the hospital for the purpose
of teaching students as its principal form of usefulness.
The history of the medical department during the
Ninth Period is a history of the development of this combination
of policies. We propose to treat each in turn
in its various ramifications. Let us consider first the requirements
for admission adopted from time to time.
In the interval between 1904 and 1906, the American
Medical Association undertook in earnest to elevate
the character and condition of medical education in the
United States. That body declared it to be essential
that there should be first an improvement in the preliminary
education of the prospective student of medicine.
This improvement,—in accord with the demand of the
Association,—was, in 1904, considered to be evidenced
by the completion of a four-year high school course,
and afterwards, in 1906, by an additional year of college
work in the basic sciences. The University of
Virginia, beginning with 1907–08, required that every
applicant for admission to the first year of its medical
department should submit the diploma of a recognized
institution of collegiate rank or a certificate of good
standing given by the like seat of learning; or the diploma
of a high school offering at least a three-year
an equivalent course. In addition, he must have completed
at the University the college courses in physics,
general chemistry, and biology, or the same courses in
some other institution of reputation.
Under the operation of the various entrance requirements,
during a period of four years, the enrolment
shrank from one hundred and thirty-six students to
seventy-eight; but, in the meanwhile, as we shall see, the
means of restoring the balance were being created by the
establishment of new laboratories, the appointment of expert
teachers, and the extension of hospital facilities.
How necessary for the high character of the Medical
School these admission requirements were, is demonstrated
by the report of the dean for 1906–07,—the year
before they went into effect. "A little more than fifty
per cent. of the medical classes this year," he said, "had
devoted from one to four years to collegiate education
before beginning medicine. The class contains all degrees
of quality, from mature, intelligent, trained men, at
one extreme, to raw, untrained boys, at the other." It
was expected that pupils of the latter type would be unable
to obtain entrance at the beginning of the next session;
and this anticipation, as already stated, proved to
be correct. It was to equip the raw and untrained that
the college course especially was laid off with such care
and discrimination. Not less than thirty-five per cent.
of the students in the medical department in 1908–09
had won the degree of master of arts or bachelor of
arts. The rule was based on two facts: (I) it was impossible
to impart a proper knowledge of modern medicine
to an unripe and undisciplined mind; and (2) it had
been observed that the young men who had received instruction
in those naturalistic sciences which were fundamental
the most successful, in the medical course.
By March, 1915, Dean Whitehead concluded that the
department had won such a high position that it would be
safe to increase the entrance requirements to two years of
college work. He based his recommendation on two
reasons: (I) the average student found it difficult to
acquire in one year the necessary training in chemistry,
physics, and biology, and in those modern languages
which had been added to the course; and (2) the laws
of numerous States already prescribed two years. By
1916–17, the requirements for admission called for proof
of two years of college work, covering, among other subjects,
always English, mathematics, inorganic chemistry,
physics, biology, and either the German or the French
tongue. This work was to follow the completion of a
four-year course in a high school. The student who was
able, on entering the medical department, to secure an
advanced standing, was enrolled in the classes of the
second, third, or fourth year. To accomplish this, he
had, not only to show that he had satisfied all the general
requirements for entrance into the department, but also
to submit a certificate from an accredited school of medicine
in proof that he had done work equivalent to the
grade of at least eighty per cent. in each subject for which
he was asking credit. The like privilege for one year was
allowed the holder of the degree of bachelor of arts or
science whose academic course had included medical subjects
equal in quality and volume to those of the first year
in the medical course. This regulation was already
in operation in 1905–06; and seems to have continued in
force during succeeding sessions.
In 1904–05, the medical courses which had to be completed
by the candidate for the degree of doctor of medicine
as already stated, from so prolonged a stay if he had been
successful in obtaining advanced standing by the required
testimonials which relieved him of the first, second, or
third year, as the case might be.
The division of studies in force in 1905–06 was as
follows: during the first session, instruction was given in
elementary biology, chemistry, practical physics, practical
chemistry, medical biology,—which embraced physiological
anatomy, normal histology and embryology,—
and descriptive anatomy; during the second session, in
physiology, bacteriology, general pathology, special pathology,
descriptive anatomy and regional anatomy; during
the third session, in obstetrics, materia medica, surgery,
clinical diagnosis, and dispensary clinics; and during the
fourth session, in practice of medicine, therapeutics,
hygiene, clinical surgery, derminology, diseases of eye,
ear, and nose, gynecology, medical jurisprudence, diseases
of children, and dispensary and hospital clinic.
The largest proportion of the course of the first year
was accompanied, at this time, by practical work in the
laboratory. This condition was true, in almost equal
measure, of the course of the second year. During the
third year,—and especially during the fourth,—the attention
of the student was very much occupied with
practical clinical instruction. Some account of the character
of this supplementary work will be given on a later
page.
By 1906–07, the dean of the department was able to
say in his annual report that "an excellent beginning
had been made towards the full realization of a well-rounded
modern school." "We only lack now," he
added, sufficient motive power,—money." During this
session, the chair of anatomy was separated from the
from the chair of pathology. With the subsequent introduction
of a course in pharmacology, Professor
Whitehead declared that the department had been completely
reorganized in the sense "that all the more important
branches of medical science were represented in
its courses on a basis that permitted of their going forward,
should the condition of the future be favorable
to them."
By 1907–08, the division of subjects was as follows:
during the first session, the instruction was limited to
normal histology and embryology, anatomy, anatomy of
the nervous system, and physiological chemistry; during
the second, to physiology, bacteriology, pathology,
anatomy, pharmacology, and physical diagnosis; during
the third, to obstetrics, materia medica, practice of medicine,
surgery, gynecology, clinical diagnosis, and clinics;
and during the fourth to neurology, pediatrics, therapeutics,
hygiene, surgery, dermatology, gynecology,
medical jurisprudence, diseases of eye, ear, nose, and
throat, and clinics. This division and assignment to
successive sessions followed a logical scheme: the first and
second years were occupied with the study of those
sciences which were fundamental to the subjects of the remaining
two years. These latter subjects were the
strictly professional ones. They had been begun in the
second year. Both in the third and fourth years, particular
attention was still given to clinical instruction.
In March, 1909, as the result of a movement which
had been inaugurated by the President of the University
in the previous autumn, at the suggestion of Dr. Rawley
Martin, a distinguished physician of the city of Lynchburg,
the Board of Visitors authorized the establishment
of a series of courses for the practical teaching and
public health, and other topics which related to the
training of public health officers. The first series of
lectures formed a part of the summer course in 1909, and
embraced the subjects of sewerage, filth disease, malaria,
ventilation, plumbing, vital statistics, and the like. An
advanced course in physiology was now added for the
benefit of the fourth-year students who had completed
the lower courses and wished to specialize in the science.
XXIX. Professional Departments—Medicine,
Continued
We have already referred incidentally to the stress
laid upon the laboratory after the reorganization of
the medical department. The aim which the new
dean kept in view from the first hour of his induction
into office was to bring the laboratory studies up to
the minimum standard set for those subjects by the
Association of American Colleges, and approved by the
American Medical Association and the Association
of the State Licensing Boards. At the time of his
appointment, the department was crippled in this direction
by the following deficiencies: (I) there was practically
no laboratory work undertaken in the fundamental
science of chemistry,—it was necessary that
the medical student should have open to him courses
in the methods of qualitative analysis, in toxicology,
and in physiological chemistry; (2) there was no instruction
at all in the methods of experimental physiology.
The hours assigned to bacteriology were short
of the minimum by at least fifty per cent., and of the
requirement of a really great school by a much wider gap
still.
By the beginning of the session of 1907–08, these
The Massie house, at the north end of West Range,
had, by that date, been remodeled inside,—one section
had been converted into a laboratory for physiological
chemistry; and another section into a laboratory for experimental
physiology. There was reserved in the
basement a room for experimental practice of medicine
on animals. The former Ross dwelling-house was
now used for storerooms, offices, and small laboratories,
while the Ross boarding-house was divided into two
laboratories,—the one occupying the upper floor was
assigned to the professor of general chemistry for undergraduates;
the one occupying the lower was used
not only for the like purpose but also as a lecture room.
Before the close of the session of 1908–09, the number
of laboratories had been increased threefold at least.
The work now done therein was for the illumination of
the fundamental subjects of organic chemistry, gross
anatomy, histology and embryology, bacteriology, pathology,
physiological chemistry, physiology, pharmacology,
and materia medica.
In the absence of funds with which to erect new laboratory
buildings, old structures were renovated and
equipped with apparatus for teaching, and to a less
extent, for original investigation. The medical student
gained through these laboratories a large part of his
knowledge at first hand and by his own exertion. He,
by the same means, acquired confidence in himself,—
a state of mind imperative for successful practice
afterwards.
President Alderman, in an address delivered, in
1917, before the Medical Association of Virginia and
North Carolina, affirmed that "the University of
Virginia, during the previous six years, had expended approximately
its scientific laboratories and their equipment ten-fold, increasing
its instructorial staff, and, above all, developing
the advantages of its own hospital to the point where
fifteen hundred cases of disease pass through it yearly,
and where, in surgery, its service for the students enrolled
equals the best in America." Let us now inquire
into the history of this beneficent institution since 1904–
05.
The hospital was designed and conducted as a teaching
hospital, and was so constructed as to allow of indefinite
expansion. In 1906, the edifice consisted of an
administration building and one completed wing, with
a second wing in the process of erection. There was
now accommodation for fifty patients; and fifty more
could be taken in when the new wing had been finished.
The clinical work at this time was carried on by the professors
of the practice of medicine, general surgery, abdominal
surgery and gynecology, and obstetrics. The
medical class was first divided into medical and surgical
groups, and then subdivided into sections, which were
distributed through the four wards,—two of which were
reserved for white people and two for colored. Each
clinical patient was assigned to two students, under the
criticism and advice of the physician-in-chief; and they
assisted at the operation, if surgical treatment was called
for. In the central building, there were an amphitheatre,
private operating rooms, and x-ray rooms, while
in the basement of the north wing was situated a fully
equipped clinical laboratory.
During 1914–16, steps were taken to erect an additional
wing to the hospital. The money required for
this purpose was donated by the town of Charlottesville
and the County of Albemarle,—which together
and Mr. Charles Steele, of New York City. This new
wing was occupied in the summer of 1916; and it gave
the hospital a capacity of two hundred beds. There
were now six wards,—two of which were for the use of
the colored people,—and forty private rooms.
The out-patient department, by this time, had been
made an integral part of the hospital itself. It had formerly
been housed in the old dispensary, but in the fall
of 1916, it was transferred to the first floor of the new
wing of the hospital. The dispensary had been in charge
of an advanced medical student, who, together with other
students of the same grade, responded to calls in the
neighborhood, in addition to prescribing for persons
who came to the building. One or two of the medical
professors met their regular classes at the dispensary;
and under their guidance, diagnostic and pathological
examinations of patients were made by the members.
By 1910–11, the number of cases treated at the hospital
had increased to fifteen hundred annually. Of the
1565 patients admitted between July 1, 1910, and July 1,
1911, six hundred and twenty-two were charged no fee;
six hundred and sixteen paid in part; and the remainder
paid in full. During this interval, over one thousand
surgical operations took place. There were for the fiscal
year ending July 1, 1912, 1781 patients; for the fiscal
year ending July 1, 1914, 2133. Since the first of July,
1908, the number had trebled. At the close of the fiscal
year of 1916–17, the number of patients had grown to
3200. In other words, it had nearly quintupled. Of
the 2313 cases treated in the fiscal year of 1914–15, 1348
were gratuitous. In consequence of these services to individual
health without pecuniary return, the hospital
indeed, the outlay ran ahead of the income to such a degree
that there was always a deficit on the annual operations
of this section of the medical department. For the
fiscal year ending July 10, 1910, this deficit amounted to
nearly nine thousand dollars, even after the Board of
Visitors had advanced the sum of eight thousand. Beginning
with the session of 1910–11, the General Assembly
made an annual appropriation of ten thousand dollars
for the benefit of the hospital, but this failed to balance
the annual accounts,—during that year, the expenses rose
to $40,183.98, while the income did not exceed $21,927.65.
In 1912–13, the total expenses,—exclusive of
the salaries of the professors,—amounted to $26,909.71;
the receipts to $15,960.67. From $42,579.21
in 1913–14, the expenses swelled to $90,379.08 in 191617;
the income from $42,769.09 to $79,134.28.
A rise in prices of all articles used in the hospital was
now perceptible. The cost of maintaining a patient
was $1.21 per diem in 1914–15 as compared with $1.03
in 1913–14; and the advance grew only more rapid after
war was precipitated in Europe.
At the beginning of the Ninth Period, there were four
full professors whose instruction was restricted to the
courses of the medical department; and in addition to
these, there were two adjunct professors, a demonstrator,
and three assistants. Of the academic faculty, three full
professors and one adjunct were called upon to devote a
portion of their time to lectures on purely medical topics.
Professor Whitehead, in addition to the deanship of the
department, occupied the chair of anatomy. Dr. W. M.
Randolph was the adjunct professor of surgery. When
a separate chair of bacteriology and pathology was established
in 1906–07, Professor C. H. Bunting was
previously been associated with the famous Institute of
Technology in Boston, was, during the same session,
appointed to the separate school of physiology, and afterwards
became the dean of the department of medicine
following the death of Professor Whitehead. During
his first year, his time was given up altogether to the
construction and equipment of the new laboratories. Dr.
William D. Macon was elected to fill the chair of obstetrics.
Dr. Stephen H. Watts followed Dr. Buckmaster
as professor of surgery; and, as director of the hospital,
assumed general charge of that section of the department,
while Dr. H. B. Stone became the adjunct professor of
general surgery and gynecology, to be succeeded by Dr.
William H. Goodwin. Dr. James C. Flippin was appointed
to the chair of clinical medicine and therapeutics
after the retirement of Professor Barringer. Simultaneously,
Dr. H. S. Hedges became professor of the diseases
of the eye, ear, nose, and throat. Subsequently,
this professorship was divided and Dr. Robert F. Compton
delivered the lectures on a section of the original
course. Dr. H. T. Marshall succeeded Dr. Bunting in
the chair of pathology and bacteriology, with Dr. C. R.
Meloy as the adjunct professor.
In 1910–11, Dr. H. E. Jordan, the associate professor
of anatomy, was promoted to the full professorship of
histology and embryology, a section of that school. Dr.
John A. E. Eyster was the first exclusive teacher of pharmacology
and materia medica, in which position he was
followed by Dr. Jas. A. Waddell, in 1912. Dr. Joseph
H. Kastle was the successor of Professor Mallet in the
chair of medicine, and, in turn, was succeeded by Dr.
Graham Edgar. Dr. Charles M. Byrnes was, for some
time, the incumbent of the adjunct professorship of anatomy
in surgery. For a period, the administrative
work of the hospital was in charge of Dr. M. R. Pratt.
A vacancy in the chair of gross anatomy and neurology
was filled by the appointment of Dr. Robert B. Bean.
During the sessions of 1909–10, 1910–11, and 191112,
the number of first-year matriculates in the medical
department increased so rapidly that it was considered
advisable to reduce that enrolment thereafter to thirty-six
new students, as this was the largest number which
could be properly provided for with the then existing
staff of teachers and laboratory facilities. In 1915–16
eighteen qualified applicants had to be denied admission;
and it was expected that, at the beginning of the ensuing
year, as many as thirty-five would have to be turned away,
as there were, at that time, sixty students in the college
department preparing for the medical course of the first
year. The following table indicates the number of
young men who attended the lectures between 1907–08
and 1917–18 inclusive, and also the number who won the
degree of doctor of medicine in the course of the interval
between 1907–08 and 1915–16 exclusive:
| 1907–08 | 1908–09 | 1909–10 | 1910–11 | 1911–12 | 1912–13 | |
| Number of students | 107 | 88 | 89 | 79 | 84 | 91 |
| Number of graduates | 22 | 18 | 31 | 20 | 12 | 14 |
| 1913–14 | 1914–15 | 1915–16 | 1916–17 | 1917–18 | |
| Number of students | 104 | 108 | 121 | 108 | 100 |
| Number of graduates | 17 | 21 |
The temporary falling off after 190708 was attributable
to the adoption of the new requirements for admission.
Down to 1914 inclusive, 6214 students had matriculated
in the department of medicine since 1825. Of
this number, 2019 had received the diploma of doctor of
medicine. One hundred and sixty-eight had entered the
service.
About 1912–13, the committee on medical education
of the American Medical Association, having thoroughly
inspected all the medical schools then in operation in the
United States, registered the medical department of the
University of Virginia in class A, a primacy which was
granted to but twenty-two in a very long list. The only
Southern institutions admitted to this star roll, besides
the University of Virginia, were the Tulane University,
the University of Texas, and the Johns Hopkins University.
Early in the session of 1913–14, the Board of Visitors
were informed that, should the medical department of the
University of Virginia and the Medical College of Virginia
in Richmond agree to consolidate,—the Medical
College to take over the University medical department,
—a large endowment could be obtained for the united
schools. A committee reported to the Board in January,
1914, the upshot of their investigation, which was unfavorable
to the acquisition of the endowment; and after
the Board had weighed other adverse information bearing
on the question of consolidation, they adjourned without
further action; and ultimately the original proposal
was permanently dismissed from discussion.
XXX. Professional Departments—Engineering
The requirements which had to be met by the applicant
for admission to the department of engineering were
practically the same as those demanded of the applicant
seeking entrance to the medical department. If his object
was simply to be enrolled in the first-year course, he
must present the diploma of a reputable institution of
collegiate rank; or a certificate of a well known school of
school, either public or private; or an equivalent personal
certificate from the principal of such a school. If
he was unable to show such testimonials, yet was able to
pass satisfactorily the general entrance examinations, he
was admitted to the department without further conditions.
Should he wish to obtain the advantage of advanced
standing, he had only to submit a certificate from
a respectable institution of learning which should indicate
that he had covered all the courses for which he was
asking credit. There was an allowance of credit also for
engineering work done in the summer school of the
University of Virginia or any other University.
The most salient features of the engineering course at
the beginning of the Ninth Period, 1904, were (1) the
length of time given up to pure and mixed mathematics;
(2) the requirement that, at the end of the lecture, the
student should work out on the blackboard problems
resembling those which he would have to solve in professional
life; and (3) the additional requirement, that,
instead of copying from tracings, he should cut out models
from his own designs. He was taught to illustrate
the principles emphasized in the lectures by designs reduced
to plates. This plate system was thought to be a
progressive step in imparting that branch of technical
education.
Five general lines of study were pursued in the engineering
department at this time simultaneously: (1) in
the lecture-room, the fundamental subjects were covered,
such as pure mathematics, mechanics, physics, chemistry,
mineralogy, geology, and the applied sciences; (2) in the
drafting-room, the technique of the graphic art and the
methods of the graphical analysis were mastered; (3) in
the laboratory, the ability to measure lengths, weigh
the like, was acquired; (4) in the surveying field, lengths,
angles, heights, depths, and velocities were determined;
(5) in the shop, exactness and accuracy in measurements,
skill in workmanship, and care in execution, were learned.
The successive courses included in the preceding general
lines of study were as follows: (1) required
courses,—in the first year, these were directed to the
mastery of the art of technical drawing, field work, and
laboratory testing; and in the second, to the acquisition
of such knowledge as would constitute an introduction to
technical mechanics; (2) elective courses,—these began
in the third year of residence, and continued through the
fourth and final year; they included courses in all the
three branches of engineering, civil, mechanical, and
electrical; (3) laboratory courses,—these, which were
protracted throughout the four years, consisted of a
series of tests of different materials; (4) drafting
courses; and finally, (5) work in shop and field. All
these courses were taught by the joint use of text-book
and lecture; they were made objective by parallel practice
in the drafting-room, the shop, the laboratory, and
the field; and they were enforced by daily oral examinations,
frequent written reviews, copious exercises in drafting,
and abundant illustration by means of specimens and
experiments.
After the reorganization,—which went into full operation
with the session of 1908–9,—the extent of the
technical instruction required of each candidate for a degree
was increased over one-third. Instead of two years
given up to technical courses in each branch of engineering,
three years were the number adopted. Every student
was introduced to his strictly professional studies at
the beginning of his second year instead of his third, as
date of his graduation. Previously, the first and second
years had been limited to the fundamentals of education
in the applied sciences; and because of these fundamentals,
each engineering student had been required to take
the courses of these two years regardless of the branch
which he intended to pursue specially during the third and
fourth years. Each one, in his graduating year, about
this time, was called upon to submit to the dean of the
department some theme for independent study suited to
the particular course which he was following.
In 1907, at the request of the engineering faculty,
Professor T. L. Watson, the new incumbent of the chair
of geology, delivered a series of specialized lectures,—
accompanied by laboratory and field work,—on engineering
geology, economic geology, and petrography; and
in 1908–09, Professor R. M. Bird, of the chemical faculty,
gave instruction in chemical engineering.
Ultimately, the four years of the courses in engineering
were divided formally into the freshman year, the sophomore
year, the junior year, and the senior year; and in
each course, a definite set of studies were assigned to
each year. By 1912, there had been an important rearrangement
of the latter. The freshman class received
lessons in mechanical drawing, elementary machine construction,
and plane surveying. Associated with these
were practical courses in the drafting-room, the workshop,
the machine-shop, and the field. All the members
of the department were required to pursue these introductory
studies. With the sophomore year, the specializing
began in civil, electrical, and mechanical engineering. A
series of general courses in mathematics, physics, chemistry,
and geology were also taught simultaneously.
The defective side of the instruction in engineering
from great industrial plants abbreviated the
number of visits to important engineering works, owing
to the expense of the journey and the length of time taken
up. There were, however, in the vicinity of Charlottesville
several foundries, machine-shops, and railway-shops
which proved highly useful. The courses were strong
in the emphasis that was laid on the fundamental sciences,
and in the influences brought to bear to encourage independence
and resourcefulness in the student. On the
other hand, it was thought that they were weakened by
the failure to require, as one of the conditions of admission,
work in at least the physical and chemical laboratory;
and also by the absence of facilities for a humanistic
training. But in spite of these shortcomings, the
department continued to make satisfactory progress.
"The last decade," said Dean Thornton, in 1916–17,
"has seen a general advance in the work of instruction.
The laboratory equipment has been improved and enlarged.
Modern text-books have been introduced.
The most vital force of our growth has been the laboratory
teaching. In strength of materials, in cement testing,
in roads material testing, in hydraulics, in steam engineering,
in general testing, in experimental study of
engines and boilers, and in all the branches of electrical
engineering, there has been a steady improvement in the
apparatus and methods of study."
After the World War began, the engineering faculty
adopted measures to broaden the curriculum of the department.
By omitting certain courses of a post-graduate
nature, and by condensing others, room was obtained
for a new group of studies, including English, general
economics, cost accounting, specifications, contracts, and
candidates for all the engineering degrees.
In 1904–05, there were eighty-eight students enrolled
in the different sections of the general department. The
attendance in 1909–10 was divided into two nearly equal
groups, one of which was specializing in civil and mining
engineering, and the other in electrical and mechanical.
There were, at this time, one hundred and eight students
present in all these classes; and there were one hundred
and thirty-three in 1916–17,—the session that saw the
entrance of the United States into the great world conflict.
The impression, however, prevailed that this department,
throughout the Ninth Period, ought to have
drawn to its lecture-halls a larger number of matriculates,
for, in no other, was the instruction more faithful, more
thorough, and more modern than in this. The only explanation
that could be offered for the comparative paucity
of students was that the University of Virginia was
known primarily as an institution in which the humanities
held by far the most conspicuous place in the general
esteem.
Beginning with the graduating class of June, 1904,
and ending with that of June, 1917, there were thirty-nine
young men who had received the diploma of electrical
engineer, while, during the interval between June,
1906, and June, 1917, there were sixty-one who had received
the diploma of civil engineer. The diploma of
mechanical engineer, on the other hand, had, between
June, 1904 and June, 1917, been won by only twenty-nine.
The expansion in the courses and facilities of the department
was indirectly demonstrated by the increase in
the membership of its faculty. There were, in 1904–05,
thirteen persons employed in instructing its different
This list included the professors of physics, chemistry,
analytical chemistry, and geology, as well as the professors
of mathematics and applied mathematics. The
names of the men so employed have been already mentioned.
In 1910–11, W. S. Rodman was adjunct professor
of electrical engineering, and Charles Hancock,
associate professor of mechanical engineering. There
were, in 1914, nine assistants. The two senior professors
were still William M. Thornton and John Lloyd
Newcomb. Another useful teacher, during many years,
was Jared S. Lapham. "No greater improvement in
the discipline of applied science at the University of Virginia
has ever been made," said Professor Thornton,
"than when all the laboratory work,—in strength of
materials, hydraulics, steam-engines, gas-engines, fuels,
lubricants, road materials, etc., introduced by the several
professors as the needs of their specialties demanded, and
continued under their individual direction,—was grouped
under the one title of experimental engineering, and, in
1913, put in the hands of Jared S. Lapham."
XXXI. Professional Departments—Education
In anticipation of the establishment of a practical
School of Education, at the University of Virginia,
President Alderman drew up a scheme for such a school,
in the light of his own experience and observation, and
of the recorded convictions of numerous teachers of high
reputation in their calling. In all its salient features,
this scheme will be found to have foreshadowed the general
groove which the School of Education at the University
was afterwards to follow. We shall enumerate
here only the outstanding aims of that scheme as specified
by him.
A school of education, he said in substance, should
offer an opportunity for the thorough study of that subject
as one of the most important functions of society; it
should give the training that is necessary for pedagogics
or for school administration; it should develop scientific
methods of testing school work, and demonstrate
the manner of their application; it should become a
centre of educational influence, to which teachers could
resort for instruction and guidance; it should, by lectures,
bulletins, visitations, and the like, instil into the public
mind a just conception of educational progress, and the
general duties of citizenship in all branches of community
service, but especially in that branch which relates to the
public schools. In short, a School of Education attached
to a university should not be simply a chair of education,
like the chair of mathematics, Latin, or English literature,
but rather a professional department, like the department
of law, medicine, or engineering, engaged in
diligently preparing a large company of young men and
women to prosecute scientific educational work so successfully
that the educational process, from the primary
school to the university, should, through them, be reduced
to a perfect cooperative unity.
The need of schools of education in all the State universities
of the South to carry into effect these principles,
thus briefly epitomized by us, had been so clearly perceived
by the General Education Board, that, not long
after its organization, it had begun to use its means and
its influence to encourage their establishment. At the
beginning of the Ninth Period a great gap still existed
between the University of Virginia and the public schools
of the Commonwealth. It was not until the year 1906
was passed that the rapid development of secondary education
began in the State. This movement was due
to create and maintain the secondary school if there
was to be a completely successful linking up of elementary
school, secondary school, and university. Indeed, there
could be no other guarantee for a continuous and progressive
educational process.
How was the proper coordination of the work of
each section of the chain to be permanently assured, and
the cooperation of all firmly kept up? From the beginning,
there seemed to be but two ways to bring all this
about: (1) college and university must adopt requirements
for entrance that would reserve to the secondary
school the function of preparing the student for admission
to the higher institution; (2) the college, whether
independent or departmental, must aid in standardizing
the work of the high school, so as to promote its efficiency.
As the tie between the University of Virginia
and popular education grew closer, through these two
general policies, the need of more carefully drilled
teachers became more insistent, and the call for more
expert supervision more difficult to resist. What could
meet this growing need and supply this increasing demand,
which were crying out in every community? The
normal school could furnish the subordinate teacher; but
what could be looked to with confidence to furnish the
educational leader, without whose expert knowledge the
value of the work of the subordinate teacher must be
sensibly diminished? The answer which time returned
to this vital question was: the formal School of Education.
The functions of such a leader were clearly grasped
even before the actual creation of his class: he was to
assist in persuading the people to add continuously to the
number of the high schools; he was to place the courses
on a scientific footing; and he was to make them thoroughly
efficient in imparting information and training.
It was to be his duty also to foster an intimate connection
between the secondary schools and the University. This
was to be done by his coming into close personal intercourse
with the principals, teachers, and officials of these
schools; and also by creating a system of accrediting
through offering a university course in secondary education
for the benefit of those students who expected to
teach, or to occupy some educational administrative station.
With all these definite ideas as to the true function of
secondary education deeply planted in the minds of the
men who were responsible for the government of the
University of Virginia, the establishment of a School of
Education in that institution was only waiting for the acquisition
of the pecuniary means to support it. The
first suggestion in favor of its introduction was dropped
by Professor E. Reinhold Rogers in the pages of the
Bulletin about 1904. But that suggestion appeared remote
from realization until April, 1905, when President
Alderman, at his inauguration, was able to announce
that Mr. Rockefeller had donated one hundred thousand
dollars to the University, the income of which was to be
spent in maintaining a School of Education, to be known
as the Curry Memorial School, in honor of that great
apostle of public instruction in the South. This gift, supplemented
by an annual appropriation from the General
Education Board, made it possible to create the chair of
education, and also the chair of secondary education.
W. H. Heck was chosen the incumbent of the first, and
Bruce R. Payne, of the second. The purposes of the
general school at that time were declared to be: (1) to
the most important phase of sociology and civics; (2) to
train departmental teachers for secondary schools, and
principals and supervisors for both the elementary and
the secondary; and (3) to found a centre for the advanced
study of educational principles of immediate pertinence
to the conditions existing in Virginia and the other
Southern States.
Apparently, time did not modify this statement of the
functions of the new school. Thus, it was said, in 1910,
five years after that school was created, that it was designed,
in the first place, for the benefit of those persons
whose purpose in life was to teach or to manage public
school affairs,—such persons required instruction and
training in the scientific principles and technique of their
calling. It was designed, in the second place, for those
persons who were anxious to obtain, in general, a discriminating
knowledge of the public school system, of
educational psychology and history, and of educational
methods.
As soon as Professor Payne was transferred to the
University of Virginia from the College of William and
Mary, he was assigned the task of assisting in the campaign,
—which was, at that time, in full sweep,—of persuading
the General Assembly to create a modern high
school system, and afterwards to maintain it with a sufficient
annual appropriation. First, he journeyed up and
down the State speaking earnestly everywhere for the
specific purpose of arousing an emphatic public sentiment
in favor of the enactment of such legislation. In Virginia,
prior to 1906, there was no fixed standard of requirement,
and no uniform regulations of any kind, applicable
to the few high schools that did exist. Such
schools were only to be found in the cities and the towns.
offered a four-year high school course; and this course, as
a rule, was confined to mathematics and the Latin language.
With the expert aid of Superintendent Eggleston,
of the State Board, Professor Payne drafted a bill
for the organization of a practical system of secondary
schools; and also with the backing of that officer,—who
was one of the most energetic and sagacious men who
ever occupied that useful position,—and of the high
school inspectors and the President of the University, he
was able to persuade the legislature to adopt the measure.
As chairman of the University committee on studies,
Professor Payne assisted the State Board of Education
and the State Board of Examiners in framing a course
that was exactly adapted to the needs of the people at
large; and not content with this, he again and again
canvassed the State, in whole or in part, to urge
the different communities to establish more high schools.
In 1905–06, when he became professor of secondary
education at the University of Virginia, there were only
forty-four such schools in the State, with an enrolment of
4900 pupils. In 1912–13,—the session following his
translation to the presidency of the Peabody college
for teachers in Nashville,—there were four hundred
and twelve high schools, with an enrolment of nearly
seven thousand pupils. This growth in the high school
system quickened the spirit of education throughout the
Commonwealth, from the elementary school to the University.
It was the lack of adequate provision for the
training of teachers for the public schools, now so increased
in number, which led, through Superintendent
Glass, of Lynchburg, to the establishment of the School
of Methods at the University of Virginia, which, as we
Payne.
The duties of Professor Payne, from year to year,
during his incumbency of his chair, were as follows: (1)
he helped to increase the efficiency of the high school
teachers and administrators by addresses delivered at
their meetings; (2) he personally inspected the high
schools and suggested practical methods for improving
them; (3) he visited community after community, in
order, by timely arguments, to encourage a larger
popular support for the high schools recently erected;
(4) he distributed, without charge, numerous monographs
relating to high school subjects; (5) he found
out, by actual examination, which high schools were entitled
to be accredited at the University of Virginia; and
(6) he converted the School of Education into a clearinghouse
for information on high schools,—the proper
administration, the right methods of teaching, the wisest
course of instruction, for them.
Professor Heck, during his incumbency of the chair
of education, performed a beneficent work of equal importance.
He had, during several years, occupied the
post of assistant secretary of the General Education
Board, and was familiar with all the great questions involved
in public instruction. During the period of
Professor Payne's incumbency of the allied chair, the
two men, in their intervals of leisure from their regular
classes, would start out separately to traverse different
sections of the State. Thus, in the course of the session
of 1907–08, the two made a systematized effort to reach
every part of Virginia. Payne conferred with the
superintendents, principals, and other officials of the
secondary schools, while Heck delivered addresses on the
special subjects that touched the physical welfare of all
occupied the chair of Professor Payne, Professor Heck
followed a regular schedule in the campaigns which he
undertook. His general theme was hygiene. He
treated this subject from four points of view: (1) the
hygiene of school buildings and equipment; (2) the
hygiene of school management and instruction; (3) the
hygiene of school development; and (4) cooperation of
home and school for the protection of the schoolchild's
health.
During some weeks, Professor Heck passed as many
as five of each six days in the field, delivering frequently
more than one address daily on topics that touched the
sanitary condition of the schools,—such as water,
utensils, cleanliness, janitor service, and ventilation.
One day, he would attend an institute and confer with
the teachers there assembled; the next, he would speak
at a mothers' meeting or to a concourse of children in
a public school-house. Wherever he went, he strove,
with noble energy, to better the status of high school life
by raising the ideals of the pupils in regard to their own
physical and moral welfare alike, and by stimulating the
teachers and the parents to more fruitful activities for
the improvement of the young under their care. The
standards of each community visited, in every department
of its interests, were lifted up by the inspiring
instruction of this trained representative of the University
of Virginia; and through him, its influence reached
far into many quarters, which, otherwise, would not
have felt the power of her solicitous teachings. Each
tour of this youthful apostle, who perished in the very
flower of his usefulness, was said to have been a successful
effort to cooperate with the public schools in bringing
about the right kind of moral atmosphere and the
the benefits of cleanliness, order, industry,
humanity, purity, courtesy, kindness, and mutual
assistance.
"The University," declared President Denny, in
1905–06, "must be an evangel of educational reform.
It must furnish educational experts and conduct educational
campaigns. The public schools must look to the
leadership of specialists. Let our institutions of higher
learning surrender the idea of an educated class in
favor of an educated community. Let them stand for
the diffusion of knowledge among the masses."
There were many ways in which the University of
Virginia was now carrying out this farsighted counsel,
but in none was a more wholesome, more improving, or
more elevating work performed by that institution,
during these early years in the history of its department
of education, than in the field-work of these two distinguished
men, who set a pace which has been faithfully
maintained by their successors.
But their beneficent labors were not limited to public
addresses and inspections, or to thoughtful and expert
advice. A wide province of study was covered by both
of their schools; and that portion of their time which
was not spent in educational excursions was given up to
systematic instruction in their various courses. During
the session of 1905–06, there were five of these courses.
Professor Heck lectured upon the history of education,
which carried him over the whole ground of ancient and
modern times,—India, Egypt, China, Greece, Rome,
Europe in the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, the Reformation,
Modern Germany, France, America,—all
were embraced in the scope of the survey. The theories
of the great educational pioneers were discussed and
as phases of social evolution. In his second
series of lectures, he touched upon the principles of
general education, the modern hypothesis, study, and
practice of physical education, school hygiene, and
secondary school administration. Educational psychology
formed also a section of this course. In his third
series of lectures, the subjects considered were national,
state, and city schools; public finances as bearing on
education, school buildings, and equipment; the employment
and supervision of teachers; the connection between
society and the school-house; and the educational
systems and policies of the South viewed in detail.
Professor Payne dealt with the psychology and philosophy
of education in one course, and in another, with
all the aspects of secondary education. How minute
and practical was his instruction may be inferred from
the following subjects embraced in one course only: (1)
the proper way of organizing and administering high
schools; the methods and sources of high school support;
the graduation and classification of the students and lines
of study; the relation of high school activities to the
needs of social life; (2) the examination of high school
systems in other States, in order to discover the best
plan of legislation for constituting and equipping schools
of secondary learning; (3) the most successful methods
of high school teaching.
It will be perceived from this outline of the instruction
given by the incumbents of the two chairs that, from the
beginning, it was considered indispensable that the
graduates of the School of Education should, not only
be informed about all the practical conditions entering
into modern school administration, but that they should
also have acquired a solid basis of knowledge of such
and physiology.
The lapse of another decade reveals no remarkable
shifting in the ground covered, although, by 1919, the
original two chairs had been organized into a department,
with important additions to its faculty. There
were nine courses offered the members of the undergraduate
classes, and three, the members of the undergraduate
and graduate. Those for the undergraduate
were respectively: the biological foundations of education;
educational hygiene; secondary education; history
of educational systems; applied psychology; methods of
teaching and studying; educational administration and
supervision; educational measurements, surveys, and
tests; and elementary school organization and supervision.
For undergraduates and graduates, the three
courses embraced: the place of the child in society; the
psychology of biography; and school administration.
Training was now provided for three classes of students:
(1) the candidates for the baccalaureate degree in education;
(2) the graduates of other institutions who were
desirous of obtaining the necessary professional knowledge
to qualify them to win the highest certificate issued
by the State Board of Public Instruction; and (3)
students at large who had been able to satisfy the general
entrance requirements of the graduate department
of the University of Virginia, and the special entrance
requirements of the educational courses which they were
pursuing.
In 1916–17, the faculty consisted of Charles G.
Maphis, who had succeeded to the chair formerly
occupied by Bruce R. Payne, and who was also known
as "high school visitor;" Professor Heck, who was still
the incumbent of the chair of education, which he was
who was the incumbent of the chair of psychology
and principles of teaching, with A. G. A. Balz as associate
professor of psychology; and J. L. Manahan, who
had been recently elected to the chair of educational
adminstration. The instruction which this faculty was
giving at the end of the Ninth Period was, in general,
designed to train, in a scientific way, school principals,
supervisors, and superintendents; to carry on scientific
investigations; and to furnish technical help to the entire
educational system of the Commonwealth.
During the session of 1911–12, a model building to
serve as a shelter for the school, as it was at that date,
was guaranteed by the Peabody Educational Board.
This structure was to entail an expenditure of forty
thousand dollars. The edifice was, in time, completed,
and the school received an annual appropriation from
the treasury of the same philanthropic organization.
A tribute to the efficiency of this school was paid in
a statement by the head of the Carnegie Foundation in
1910–11. We have seen that it was largely due to the
first report of this Foundation, in 1906, that the University
of Virginia, in common with other institutions,
adopted those entrance requirements which that Foundation
had made indispensable for all who wished to be
registered in its accepted list. In his letter to President
Alderman, President Pritchett said that the University
of Virginia was put on the Carnegie Foundation for (1)
its past achievements; (2) the eminence of its faculty;
(3) the advancement of its standards of admission; but
especially for (4) the success of its efforts to develop
and improve the secondary schools. "Our executive committee
realizes," he concluded, "that a State university
should relate itself directly to the system of high schools
the University has shown in these matters will result,
not only in greater educational efficiency to the whole
system of schools in Virginia, but that it will likewise
result in furnishing to the University a far better prepared
group of students."
On another occasion, President Pritchett said:
"There is no obligation which in a State supported university
is more clear than that of developing the secondary
school. The only method by which the State can
do this is to ordain for itself requirements of admission,
and to respect the field of the high school and not to
trench upon it. The State university which itself undertakes
to conduct secondary school work is hindering the
development of a true secondary school system. The
university helps the secondary schools best when it sets
up fair standards and enforces them; when it holds the
high schools responsible for good levels, and not when
it undertakes to do the high schools' work for them;
when it gives the secondary school system a wise, sympathetic
scrutiny, and leads it with increasing thoroughness
and efficiency."
It was these conclusions, reached through practical
observation and experience, which the Department of
Education has always sought to reduce to a reality in its
class-work and field-work alike. It was due, in large
measure, to the zealous energy of this department that
the number of young men from the public schools so
steadily augmented in the registration lists of the University.
In April, 1916, President Alderman referred,
in a public address, to the fact that, during the previous
six years, this increase had amounted to fifty per cent.;
and that, in the course of the year of his speech, ninety-one
graduates from these schools were admitted,—
accredited public high schools of Virginia. Twelve
years before, there had been to all intents none. "This
means," he said, in conclusion, "that we have tied the
University by logical ties to the real democratic life of
the State."
XXXII. The Summer School
So far, we have described only those activities of the
School or Department of Education which related to
such fundamental subjects as class instruction, high
school inspection, and school hygiene. We will now
take up two additional activities of equal importance in
their own provinces; namely, the summer school and
the extension lecture.
For a period of nine years, there assembled at the
University, the Virginia Summer School of Methods,
under the general supervision of E. C. Glass and his
associates. During the holding of these successive
sessions, there was no official connection between the
University of Virginia and that school. Indeed, while
this independent status lasted, the school was practically
an ordinary institute; but when it came under the
general control of Professor Payne, as the representative
of the University, it assumed the much more difficult
function of offering additional courses that rose to
the dignity and fullness of those taught in the higher
seats of learning. As long as it was the conventional
School of Methods, the attendance, owing to competition
with other small normal schools, had fallen below three
hundred students. This dwindling prosperity suggested
to the watchful State Superintendent of Public Instruction,
Joseph D. Eggleston, that it would be an advantage
to the public school system should the University reorganize
platform. The old work of equipping teachers for the
elementary schools was not, under his plan, to be discontinued,
but, by the employment of the University's
professors, in cooperation with other distinguished
educators, the ripest instruction could be rendered
practicable for men and women who were already engaged
as teachers, principals, or superintendents of high
schools or colleges, or who aspired to advanced standing
in the courses of the University at the regular session.
The adoption of Superintendent Eggleston's proposal
made the University of Virginia the culminating centre
for the summer term work. At the time that the
summer session was established in 1907, numerous
communities of the State were busy erecting buildings
for their projected high schools; and in order to equip
them for use and to obtain teachers for them, steps had
been taken to collect the funds wanted by means of
county and local taxation. The most knotty difficulty,
however, was to secure a sufficient number of instructors
for their service. We have seen already how influential
this fact became in encouraging the addition of a
school of education to the University. It seemed to be
impracticable for the teachers to go out of Virginia to
acquire, in their few months of leisure, the special training
which they needed; and what training they really
required could only be fully comprehended within their
own State. The summer school at the University, so
soon as its standards were raised, seemed to meet exactly
the demands of their case, for it was not expensive to
reach its precincts; it was not dear to reside there during
the summer season; and instructors could be found there
who knew and could remove their particular deficiencies.
The allurement of the advantages offered was so
students, the attendance, during the next three years, increased
to thirteen hundred and fifty; and the registration
continued to grow larger with the progress of time.
The quality of that registration may be discerned from
an examination of the antecedents of the students enrolled
in 1911,—during that session, there were to be
found in the list three hundred graduates of colleges, four
hundred and seven graduates of high schools, one
hundred and twenty-four bachelors of arts, twenty-one
masters of arts, two doctors of philosophy, eleven college
instructors, and one hundred and forty principals
of schools. Directing the studies of this earnest body
of men and women were fifty-three instructors. Two
years afterwards, there were sixty-eight; and three years
afterwards, seventy-three.
During the summer session of 1906–07, the subjects
embraced in the courses of instruction were English
grammar, rhetoric, and composition; English literature
and American literature; ancient, mediaeval, and modern
history; American history and government; algebra,
plane geometry, nature, botany, biology and physical
geography; physics, chemistry, agriculture, manual training,
first-year Latin and French, second-year German and
French; school administration, methods of teaching, psychology,
and logic. In time, archaeology, astronomy,
domestic economy, drawing, commerce, education, hygiene,
library methods, Spanish language, story telling,
and the art of composition and music, were added to the
round of topics. By 1909, the number of courses had
swelled from sixty-three to one hundred and one. The
demand after this for vocational studies in the public
schools steadily increased,—such studies, for instance,
as those which prepared for agricultural demonstrations,
and the like. The summer school recognized the pertinency
of this popular disposition, and grounded the
teachers in the best methods of serving it. Moreover,
it held numerous rural life conferences, and endeavored
thereby to stimulate interest in all that would raise the
status of that life.
In 1914, the General Assembly increased the State
appropriation from four thousand dollars to ten thousand,
five hundred, on condition that every teacher registering
from Virginia should be admitted without any
charge for tuition. Students who entered from another
State were called upon, in 1914–15, to pay a fee of twelve
dollars. In 1918, the appropriation by the University
for a single summer session amounted to fifteen hundred
dollars, and by the town of Charlottesville, to
five hundred. From all sources, the summer school of
this year received an income of $19,977.50. The expenses
did not exceed $18,618.87, which left a surplus
of $1,357.00. In 1917, however, there had been a deficit
of $936.72.
As already mentioned in a previous chapter, credits
for advanced standing in the regular classes of the University
were allowed for successful work accomplished
during the summer session. An industrious and ambitious
young man could, by the application of three such
sessions, shorten the time for winning his baccalaureate
degree by at least one year. Extraordinary strictness,
however, was shown in scanning the character of this
work. It did not follow that it would always relieve
the candidate of the necessity of meeting satisfactorily
the entrance requirements of the University. The
rules governing his case demanded that no course in the
summer session should be accepted in lieu of these entrance
future class should decide that the summer courses were
equivalent to them; and the same condition was attached
to a grant of advanced standing for certain primary
studies which he had previously covered in the summer
school. And he was allowed still more advanced
standing, if the dean of the college, the faculty committee
on degrees and courses, and the professor in charge
of the subject for which credit was desired, should join
in a similar decision touching the advanced work which
he had accomplished in that school.
In addition to the advantages of instruction given
by professors of great learning and ability, the students
of the summer session enjoyed the use of the laboratories,
museums, and libraries of the University. Rest
rooms were also provided for them. Madison Hall,
with its reading-room, was thrown open to them from
nine in the morning until ten in the evening. Daily addresses
were delivered in Cabell Hall, interspersed with
music, both vocal and instrumental. The gymnasium,
with its swimming pool and baths, was accessible to
them without the payment of a fee. There were vesper
services in the chapel on Sunday; organ recitals in the
public hall; and excursions to Monticello, Natural
Bridge, Luray, and the battle-fields.
But the most picturesque forms of recreation enjoyed
by the students of the summer school were the games and
pageants which were organized for their amusement.
The games were conducted on the Lawn by an expert,
and a large number of teachers took a delighted part
in them. Stories of folk-lore or ancient myths were recited
from the Rotunda steps to attentive audiences
gathered to listen. At other times, folk-dances were
danced on the Lawn in the twilight. In July, 1911, a
three parts, each of which illustrated a dramatic phase
of the history of the Nation. A stage for these tableaux
was found in the south front of the Rotunda. The pageant
which was celebrated in July, 1913, was long remembered
for its highly colored beauty. The cast embraced
as many as two hundred persons, and it required
the area of Lambeth Field to afford the space needed
for the performance. Plays were also acted by regular
companies that possessed an international reputation
for their trained skill,—thus, during one session, the
Cobourn troupe appeared in Richard III, the Tempest,
and the Rivals; and during another, the Clifford Devereux
troupe in She Stoops to Conquer, Scarecrow, and
A Comedy of Errors.
So strong waxed the feeling of unity and fraternity
among the members of the school, that, about 1913,
they entered into an association for its formal and permanent
expression. This organization gave the director
information about prospective students; aided him in
spreading abroad knowledge of the courses of instruction;
and pointed out additional Southern communities
to which the influence of the school might be extended.
There were minor divisions of this central association
in all parts of the country where it was represented by
graduates.
XXXIII. University Extension
Finally, one of the principal aims of the School of
Education has been to use the extension lecture as a
means of spreading the scholastic usefulness of the University
of Virginia. The extension courses of that
institution have been described as the organized and
systematic endeavor to bring some of the advantages of
precincts to people who reside without. It has put
the resources of a great seat of learning, whether
in the form of faculty, libraries, laboratories, and mechanical
shops, at the complete disposal of other communities
and their inhabitants. In other words, it has
brought the University of Virginia to the doors of innumerable
men and women who cannot go to it; it has
been a helping hand and an illuminating torch held out
to every city, every town, every village, and every rural
neighborhood in the State; it has been the connecting
link between every part of the University and the actual
condition of life in the entire Commonwealth.
The most highly developed form of university extension
to be discovered in the United States, at that time,
was the one associated with the principal scholastic institution
of Wisconsin. The latter's staff of experts
reached out to every branch of the social and economic
affairs of that commonwealth. The extension lecture
system was organized, in 1912–13, at the University of
Virginia, on a similar pattern. Professor Heck, of the
School of Education, was appointed the director; and
a course was laid off, with distinct lines of cleavage.
These were as follows: (1) class meetings, given up
to lectures and quizzes, held in the buildings of public
schools and the local Young Men's Christian Associations,
and the like; (2) instruction in technical themes
imparted to persons employed in trades and machineshop
work, and also to salesmen, and so on; (3) preparation
of syllabi for debaters belonging to clubs situated
without the precincts; (4) public lectures on topics
relating to the public service and welfare. Among
these topics were sanitation and preventive medicine;
village surveys and improvements; commission government
and other subjects of a kindred character.
During the first year following the inauguration of the
extension course, twenty-seven members of the Faculty
were enrolled in the list of lecturers. The broadness
and variety of the ground traversed by them are demonstrated
by the nature of their themes. These themes
pertained to some aspect of history, medicine, law,
chemistry, languages, literature, geology, education,
physics, political science, effect of war on race, tree life,
philosophy, the high school as a social institution, literary
haunts in England, the tariff, good roads, soap
bubbles, study of living things, mineral resources of Virginia,
life of the ancient Greeks, and the Solar System.
There was not a department of the University which
was not represented among the speakers. It was asserted
that, during one year, one professor alone, Rev.
W. H. Forrest, had delivered sixty-two lectures and
addresses, and sixty-nine sermons, beyond the precincts,
the larger proportion of which had fallen distinctly
within the category of extension work.
But perhaps the most indefatigable of all the laborers
in this great province was Professor C. Alphonso
Smith. In 1913, beginning January 10, and ending
March 28, he spoke on sixteen occasions, and his itinerary
carried him as far south as Rome, in Georgia, and
as far north as Chambersburg, in Pennsylvania. Between
January 11 and April 2, 1915, he delivered eight
extension lectures; in 1916, beginning January 15, and
ending May 8, thirteen. In the course of these lecture-tours,
he visited, not only large cities, like Washington,
Richmond, and Atlanta, but small centres of population,
like Earlysville, in Albemarle County, Buckingham
Court-House, East Radford, and Bedford City. There
almost equal activity.
In his annual report for 1913–14, Professor Kepner
suggested the arrangement of a programme of extension
work for the general School of Biology and Agriculture.
He proposed that two towns should be selected, in which
a series of thirty lectures and demonstrations should be
given by the instructor in charge, assisted by his students;
that the series should extend to plant and animal
morphology and physiology; and that its aim should be
to supplement the teachings of the public schools and
the State department of agriculture. In 1915–16, he
delivered a course of seven extension lectures along
these clearly defined lines. "We are both taking an
active part," said Professor Lewis, his colleague in
1917–18, "in the campaign of visiting the high
schools in the interest of higher education. We are
also taking an active interest in the development of
work in science in the Virginia high schools. In this
connection, I am serving as president of the science
section of the Virginia Educational Association."
John S. Patton, the librarian of the University,
counseled, sometime before the plan was actually
adopted by the State, that the University should establish,
out of its own collection of books, the travelling
library for the benefit of the public schools of Virginia.
The scheme submitted by him was that packages of
pamphlets, magazine articles, and speeches, relating to
questions to be debated by specific public schools, should
be forwarded to their representatives as often as needed
for use.
Professor Heck was so much encouraged by the success
of the extension courses, that, in 1912–13, he predicted
that the hour was close at hand when the University
whose principal duty would be to deliver lectures in the
country at large,—not simply one here and another
there, as was then the case, but, in succession, a series
in each place, on some theme of supreme importance to
that community; and all without cost to its people, beyond
payment of the travelling expenses of the lecturer,
—which was the rule already in operation.
A step promotive of still greater practical usefulness
was the establishment of a formal bureau of university
extension at a later date. "This bureau," said President
Alderman at the time, "will spread the campus
of this University out to every hamlet in the State, so
that, if the State needs trained science to foster economic
organization in its life, to educate its children, to bring
order out of chaos in its public revenues, to become
aggressive and effective in the application of scientific
knowledge and business organization to the conduct of
the State's affairs, it can hope and expect to find such
aid in its State University." The bureau was under
the general supervision of Director Maphis, assisted by
a committee of twelve professors. Its purpose was proclaimed
at the date of its organization to be to advance
the welfare of the people of Virginia (1) by giving
instructive lectures in different communities; (2) by encouraging
the formation of literary societies in the public
schools through gifts of documents pertinent to debate;
(3) by loaning package libraries to all schools and associations
asking for them; (4) by distributing gratuitously
the Virginia High School Quarterly; (5) by issuing
bulletins that recorded the fruits of the researches
and investigations of the University Faculty; and (6)
by submitting, whenever there were vacancies in the
schools, information about possible teachers.
Before the close of 1918, the mission of the bureau
had expanded far beyond these original limits. What
did its work consist of at the end of the Ninth Period?
First, it scattered a fund of all sorts of general knowledge
by sending out library books and answering questions;
second, it stimulated public discussion and debate
by assisting the High School Literary and Athletic
League; third, it assigned a definite number of professors
annually to deliver lectures beyond the precincts;
fourth, it organized county and State clubs, which were
to make a complete study of social conditions in the
different counties and large community centres; fifth,
it promoted school hygiene and encouraged educational
enterprises; sixth, it brought to the University conferences
on rural life, or sent out University workers to
take a hand in every branch of constructive and demonstrative
civic effort; seventh, it issued bulletins and publications;
and eighth, it initiated courses of study by correspondence
for the benefit of those persons who were
unable to matriculate.
In September, 1916, F. M. Alexander was appointed
to the position of assistant director of the extension
bureau. His duties consisted of the regular routine
office-work; writing articles for various periodicals; delivering
addresses; assisting with suggestions the Virginia
High School Literary and Athletic League; managing
the advertisement of the summer school; collecting
data on correspondence study; establishing the
honor system in each new high school; arranging the
dates for extension lectures; and editing publications.
It was principally due to the active interest and wise
foresight of Professor Archibald Henderson, of the
University of North Carolina, that the plan of exchanging
professorships between the different Southern institutions
had drawn attention to the fact that the University
of Virginia, the University of North Carolina, and
Vanderbilt University, had, during many years, exchanged
baseball, football, and debating teams,—a
policy which had undoubtedly fostered kindly feeling
between these institutions, but which had produced no
real comity, because it was not the most vital form of
intercommunication. There had been lacking withal
some influence that would have brought them together
socially and academically; and this, Professor Henderson
thought could be found in an exchange of distinguished
teachers.
In 1911, there was created an exchange professorship
between the United States and Japan, the object of
which was to cultivate a more cordial intercourse between
the peoples of the two nations. The following universities
shared in this important international arrangement:
Yale, Columbia, Johns Hopkins, Virginia, Illinois,
and Minnesota. It was provided that, during every
alternate session, a professor from some one of the imperial
educational institutions of Japan should deliver
at each of these seats of learning a series of addresses
on the different aspects of Japanese life. On the
alternate years, an American professor from one of the
six American universities mentioned was to visit Japan
to lecture on some feature of American civilization.
The first appointee on this foundation who appeared
at the University of Virginia was Dr. Nitobe, of the
University of Tokyo. He was followed by the distinguished
dean of the agricultural college attached to
Tohoku University.
But of greater international interest still was the
American lectureship which the Emperor William established
in honor of Theodore Roosevelt. This position had
been filled by men of such high reputation in their calling
as Professor Burgess, of Columbia, Professor Hadley,
of Yale, and Professor Wheeler, of the University
of California. Professor C. Alphonso Smith, who had
been recently elected to the Edgar Allan Poe chair of
English in the University of Virginia, was chosen as
their successor. He was appointed by the Prussian
Ministry of Education, on the nomination of the trustees
of Columbia University. "I was the first Southerner to
occupy the position," said Professor Smith afterwards,
"and in my references to Thomas Jefferson and Joel
Chandler Harris, I felt a sort of ambassadorial responsibility
to place in their proper setting two men
of whom the Germans knew little." Smith, who was a
direct descendant of John Kelly, who rebuffed Jefferson's
overture for the purchase of his land for the site of
the University of Virginia, had filled the chair of English
Language in the University of North Carolina,
and had been dean of the graduate department in that
institution. During his tenure of this chair, he had delivered
numerous addresses before clubs, schools, colleges,
universities, State legislatures, and educational conferences.
His absence from his post at the University of Virginia
extended from September, 1910, to the middle of
March, 1911. He was the first of the appointees on
the Roosevelt foundation to confine his utterances to literary
subjects. He chose for his public introductory
lecture "American Literature," and for his seminar
work, for the benefit of special students of English
letters, "Edgar Allan Poe." His inaugural address
was delivered on November 10 (1910), and was attended
them, the Emperor and Empress and the American Ambassador
with his staff. In conversation with Professor
Smith, after the conclusion of the lecture, the Emperor
confessed that he had never read any of the works of
Poe, although he had exhibited a fair knowledge of
American humor and the American short story. "Another
surprise," says Professor Smith, "came when,
after commending to me, in terms of measureless laudation,
Chamberlain's amazing Foundations of the Nineteenth
Century, and after I had asked him what place
Washington and Jefferson occupied in the work, he said,
'I do not recall that either of them was mentioned.'"
" In his study of history," adds Professor Smith, "democracy
and all democratic movements had been ignored,
and so they. were ignored by his favorite historian."
The seminar lectures were delivered in a hall one wall
of which was adorned with a large picture of the University
of Virginia; and the book-marks of the pupils
were copies of a photograph of Poe's room in West
Range. "Everybody in Germany," says Professor
Smith, "placed Poe on a pinnacle." When asked by a
German who was the most famous woman born in
America, he replied that the choice would fall between
Pocahontas and Dolly Madison. "But what is your
answer? "he asked the German. "Why" was the
prompt reply, "I should have said Annabel Lee."
Professor Smith was invited to repeat the series of
lectures,—which related exclusively to American literature,
—at the University of Leipsic, but was compelled,
by the brevity of the time at his disposal, to decline.
Early in February, 1914, a number of lectures in return
were delivered at the University of Virginia by a distinguished
German scholar.
XXXIV. The Library
On the threshold of the session of 1903–04, the
number of volumes in the library was said to be about
fifty thousand, and in 1908–09, about seventy thousand.
Among the most interesting of all these volumes was still
the Hertz collection of classical texts, which, during this
period, was withdrawn from the obscurity and confusion
of their former storage place and accurately classified.
It was found that the majority of these works
were printed in the Latin, Greek, and German tongues;
the minority in numerous other languages; but not one
of them in English. The dates of the editions, in many
cases, went back further in the past than the foundation
of Jamestown; and some of the volumes were in existence
when the Spanish Armada bore down upon the southern
coast of England. One was printed in the year of
Shakspeare's birth; another had come from the Aldine
press of Venice only twenty-three years after the foot
of Columbus first touched the shore of San Salvador;
while a few volumes were the product of the famous
Elzevir Press at Amsterdam, forever consecrated in the
eyes of bibliophiles.
Among the gifts which increased the variety of the
contents of the library during this Period, were several
hundred letters in manuscript written by Joseph C.
Cabell, the coadjutor of Jefferson. They threw a clear
light upon the social and political spirit of his times. In
1909–10, Ambassador Jusserand, representing the French
Government, presented a large number of books descriptive
of French history, letters, art, and archeaology.
A full set of Buffon's splendid volumes on Natural History
was given by Dr. George Tucker Harrison.
Another addition of the first importance was the
twelve thousand volumes which had been bequeathed by
James, having inherited a large fortune, had found his
most congenial occupation in reading and in collecting
books. His taste for literature had been formed in an
older school, and discovered its highest gratification in
the perusal of the classics written in his own language,
embracing all those which had conferred literary fame
on America as well as on the mother country. One by
one, the volumes had been purchased and thoughtfully
digested, until the whole collection seemed to be but
the visible shadow of his inner moral and intellectual life.
It was in the midst of these books that he passed away
suddenly, and around him as he lay dead, so many days
before his decease was known, were scattered the copies
of that quaint Lower Norfolk Antiquary, into which he
had breathed so much of his own original personality, so
redolent of a day when good literature had not yet found
a rival in the high-flown fiction of the modern bestseller.
And this was true in another way of the collection of
nearly four thousand volumes which Dr. Bennet W.
Green left to the library by his last testament. This
collection was made up of more recent titles, but it had
been chosen with extraordinary discernment. It was
particularly rich in works on Virginian and American history,
and on the topic of philology, in which his interest
had been that of a highly discriminating student. Dr.
Green, like Mr. James, was a wealthy bachelor, who had
the disposition of a cultivated recluse, with no other interests
to distract his attention from the pursuit of the
only genuine recreation of his life,—the enjoyment of
books; and in that department, his judgment was at once
solid and refined. No volume bearing upon any of the
subjects which appealed most strongly to his thoughtful
which he gradually formed after his retirement
from the practice of his profession, represented, in the
line of his special leanings, a small library of conspicuous
merit.
The books belonging to Professor Mallet which his
widow presented in 1913 related to the vocational themes
of medicine, physics, and economic geology. One of the
largest gifts ever received by the library was made by Dr.
William P. Morgan, of Baltimore. About one thousand
of these volumes were of a medical turn; but the remaining
three thousand ranged over an extraordinary
variety of topics,—fiction, extending from the author
of Sir Charles Grandison to Zola, ornithology, voyages,
biology, art, and music. There were twenty-three volumes
on the horse alone, and about fifteen hundred on
the campaigns of the War of Secession. "There is not
one title in this collection," wrote Dr. Morgan, "that
has not appealed in some way, and will not again appeal,
to some person. It includes unique books, like Professor
N. P. Smith's manuscript introductory lectures. The
oldest book on microscopy is among them. I have found
a deal of modern medicine and modern thought in the
books of the Ancients. Hippocrates was a successful
practitioner. Lucretius antedated Charles Darwin.
You will find in this collection books of both."
Mrs. James A. Harrison, in 1914, presented a section
of the library which had been left by her deceased husband,
Professor Harrison, one of the most accomplished
and cosmopolitan scholars of his time. Another gift
of value was made by Mrs. Colston, of Cincinnati, a
granddaughter of Andrew Stevenson, a former rector
of the University; in 1915–16, she transferred to the
library her grandfather's books, which included among
carefully picked group of volumes relating to botany and
theology was bequeathed by Rev. Haslett McKim; and
about thirteen hundred medical authorities were received
from the estates of Dr. John S. Wellford, of Richmond,
and Dr. Herbert Nash, of Norfolk. Interesting
gifts of separate books were the Sayings of Jesus, clipped
by Jefferson; the Bible which he used, presented by Mrs.
Burke, of Alexandria; and a copy of Palladio's drawings,
found in Rome, and presented by the American ambassador
to Italy, Thomas Nelson Page.
By 1913–14, the library had increased to eighty thousand
volumes. It had now become the largest in the
South, and the forty-fifth in the entire American list.
Its value had risen in proportion. On the side of the
Romantic and Teutonic languages, its contents bore a
favorable comparison,—in excellence, at least,—with
the collections of the wealthy institutions of the North.
It was peculiarly rich in works relating to Confederate
and Virginian history, and also in such as threw light
upon the various educational, political, and racial problems
of the Southern States. It also possessed many
volumes belonging to the provinces of biology, travels,
geography, English and foreign literature.
The gifts to the library, during the Ninth Period, were
not limited to small or large packages of books,—endowment
funds, either from living persons or by will,
were received in considerable amounts. Richard B.
Tunstall, of Norfolk, in 1907, gave the sum of one thousand
dollars to establish a memorial in honor of his wife,
the memorial to take the shape of a collection of
American and English poetry. The sum of five thousand
was also received under the testament of Judge Lambert
Tree, of Chicago, an alumnus, to be expended at
of New York City, in 1911–12, presented four hundred
dollars for the purchase of books relating to the negro.
But a far more important bequest of funds than had been
previously made was contained in the will of Dr. B. W.
Green: five-sixths of his estate, valued at one hundred and
fifty thousand dollars, was, by its provisions, to be added
to the endowment of the library.
Between July, 1907, and July, 1908, the library's
total income from all sources was estimated at $4,267.23;
and of this slender sum, $2,691.00 was in the form of
receipts from permanent funds and annual appropriations.
The income from the permanent funds alone was
$2,000 during the sessions of 1911–14, while the general
appropriation, during that year, amounted to
$6,398.00,—which also included the money due for salaries.
Previous to 1912–13, a part of this annual sum
was apportioned to the several professors for the purchase
of books relating to the subjects of their respective
departments; but, in the course of that year, this
rule was tentatively abandoned. In 1914–15, the annual
appropriation to cover all expenses and purchases was
fixed at $9,198.00.
What proportion of the students entered their names
for books? How many volumes were taken out
from year to year? It should be borne in mind that only
the general library is considered in these two inquiries.
There were, by 1910–11, eight departmental collections
housed beyond the precincts of the central collection,
which was still preserved under the dome of the Rotunda,
—there was the astronomical library, stored in the
McCormick Observatory; the biological and botanical,
in the biological laboratory; the engineering, in the mechanical
laboratory; the geological, in the Brooks Museum;
physical laboratory; the law, in Minor Hall; and the
medical, in the basement of the Rotunda. All these
libraries were for consultation under their roofs alone,
and, for that reason, we do not include them in the
estimates of circulation which we are about to give.
Independently of the patronage of the summer school,
the number of volumes withdrawn in 1908–09 was 6,789,
and in 1910–11, 9,060. Between March 1, 1911, and
March 1, 1912, the number reached the higher total
of 10,040; but this, doubtless, included the books which
had been taken out by the students of the summer school.
It was estimated for these twelve months that about one-half
of the young men attending the University made use
of the library in this manner. During the next twelve
months, the total was 10,401; and of this number, 6,494
were debited to the students of the regular session, 1,551
to the students of the summer school, and 1,700 to the
professors and others. The number withdrawn by card-holders
was 613. Between March 1, 1914, and March
1, 1915, the number debited to students of the regular
session was 6,149; of the summer school, 1,093; and to
professors and others, 1,093. About fifty-four per cent.
of the whole number of matriculates obtained books from
the library during these months; and in the course of
1915–16, the percentage rose to seventy-eight, and in
1917–18 to ninety-four. A very full collection of volumes
relating to the World War had been added by this
time to the library; and this, perhaps, explains in part
the larger proportion of borrowers.
In 1906, it was decided that the possible advantage of
throwing open the library at night to readers should be
tested in practice; and down to 1909, this new regulation
continued in force. It was then abandoned, as the attendance
1913–14, the experiment was resumed, and the result
turned out to be more encouraging, although even then
the nightly attendance did not go beyond fifty students.
Previously, it had not reached a higher average than
eight. Throughout the year ending February 1, 1918,
the library was closed in the evening, owing to the necessity
of restricting the budget to the smaller income which
had followed the declaration of war in the preceding
April. By 1915–16, the package system was in active
operation; and the draft on the resources of the library
was further increased by the organization of a league
composed of the high schools of the State, which constantly
called for authorities for use in each of their debates.
In the course of the Ninth Period, numerous additions
were made to the art collections of the library,
and the other public apartments of the University.
Likenesses of distinguished members of the Faculty, who
were either dead, or had recently retired from their
chairs, were given by private individuals. Among the
portraits were those of the elder Rogers, Tuttle, Stone,
Whitehead, Mallet, McGuffey, Coleman, Barringer, J.
A. Broadus, Courtenay, Noah K. Davis, Gildersleeve,
Gilmore, Gessner Harrison, Schele de Vere, Towles,
Venable, Holmes, and Patterson. A bronze bust of
John B. Minor was presented by W. A. Clark, Jr. There
was also a bust of Jefferson, and a bust of Washington,
among the gifts. Of the portraits of the men who had
been associated with the University in some administrative
capacity, the most conspicuous were those of Chapman
Johnson, Wertenbaker, Francis W. Gilmer, Joseph
Bryan, and Armistead C. Gordon. There were also
portraits of alumni,—James L. Gordon, J. Pembroke
McGuire, Norwood, Blackford, and McCabe;
Henry W. Grady, John L. Williams, R. H. McKim, J.
Thompson Brown, J. R. Thompson, Linden Kent, John
W. Daniel and Walter Reed; of distinguished soldiers,—
J. E. B. Stuart, John S. Mosby, and William Smith; of
benefactors of the University,—W. W. Corcoran, Leander
J. McCormick, Edward W. James, A. H. Byrd, and
Samuel W. Austin; and of the famous educator and publicist,
J. L. M. Curry.
Jefferson M. Levy presented a picture in oils of the
Apostle Paul brought before Agrippa, and Thomas F.
Ryan, Church's famous canvas of the Natural Bridge,
also in oils. There was, besides, an oil painting of a
group representing Jefferson, Martha, his daughter, and
Thomas Jefferson Randolph, his grandson. This was
the gift of Mrs. Burke, of Alexandria, a descendant of
the statesman.
XXXV. Student Life—Intellectual Side
In the closing issue of the magazine for the session
of 1905–06, the announcement appeared that, in the
future, that periodical would be under the general guidance
of the School of English. The reason for the
transfer was set forth at some length, and not without a
touch of pathetic protest: "We cannot refrain from a
feeling of sadness," remarked the editors, with obvious
sincerity, "when we consider the causes which have made
such a change necessary. As the athletic teams represent
the prowess of a university, so its magazine brings
before the world its intellectual qualities. The mental
achievements of a great university do not depend on athletics,
and the quality of the degrees is not judged by
football victories. We would urge our college men to
and social glory for the cultivation of higher ideals."
The magazine had, during several preceding sessions,
been showing a succession of deficits. Indeed, such a
formidable debt had been piled up, in consequence of
the steady shrinkage of patronage, that the alternative
was presented to the two literary societies for decision:
should the manner of publication be altered? or should
the periodical be discontinued? The Kent Memorial
School of English now offered to pay off its accumulated
obligations, and assume all financial responsibility
for its management during a period of three years,
provided that the school was allowed an advisory supervision
of its contents from number to number. When
this period ended, the original contracting parties
promptly agreed to continue the same arrangement for
another session.
The magazine was now edited by a board which had
been chosen by the entire body of subscribers, who
numbered several hundred in all. The other officers
consisted of a treasurer and a manager. No student
was eligible to election on this board, unless he had contributed
two acceptable articles to the pages of that
periodical. Of the staff for 1907–08, only one member
belonged to the School of English,—a proof that the
magazine was really the organ of the whole University,
and not of a single department. From 1908–09 to
1917–18, the editor-in-chief seems to have been a student
from Virginia each year. Seventeen natives of that
State occupied the post of associate editor during this interval,
while the remaining fourteen were from other
commonwealths, with Alabama slightly preponderating.
One of these associate editors had matriculated as from
Minnesota and another as from New Mexico.
The contents of the magazine, during the Ninth Period,
ranged, with a wide flight, through the separate
provinces of fiction, poetry, and essay. How multitudinous
for any single year were the ventures in these
different literary areas may be perceived from an enumeration
for 1908–09,—in the pages of the magazine
for that session, there were printed twenty-three compositions
in fiction, thirty-four in verse, and nineteen in essays.
The corresponding numbers for the following session
were eighteen, thirty-five, and fifteen. The confidence
of the authors in the excellence of their productions,
whether imaginative or didactic, is proven by the
frank attachment of their signatures to them. In
1910–11, the number of compositions in fiction were
twenty-eight, in poetry, thirty-six, and in essays, twelve;
in 1911–12, there were twenty-one pieces of fiction,
thirty-five of verse, and about the same number of
essays; in 1912–13, the corresponding figures were nineteen,
forty-four, and thirteen; in 1914–15, twenty-two,
thirty, and eleven. These enumerations were substantially
representative of the whole of the Ninth Period.
It is to be inferred from the preceding grouping of
facts that imaginative literature was, during this period,
the most popular form in which the creative literary instincts
of the students expressed themselves; and that,
of its several varieties, poetry was the one most frequently
chosen. The homely essay seems to have been
kept in the modest background. This kind of writing
had been supreme in the days of the Seventh Period,
1866–95, and had not lost all its primacy even
during the Eighth, 1895–1904; but, under the influence
of the stimulus which the supervision of the Memorial
School of English gave to the production of imaginative
articles, the essay appears, during the Ninth Period,
short-story writer did not entirely succeed in suffocating
the essayist, but, they certainly constrained him to
limit the number of his printed utterances. Excellence
in poetry and fiction demanded more orginality of mind
in a young writer than excellence in normal prose;
and it is possible that these essays of the Ninth Period
are, on the whole, more interesting and more valuable
than the specimens of poetical and fictional invention
preserved between the same covers. All verse, however,
—even that of moderate merit,—possesses, at least
the advantage of being a very good file for giving polish
and precision to style.
There is always an emotion of fascination, if not of
consolation, in discovering what our neighbors think of
us. The editors of the magazine were in an unexcelled
position to find out the precise value set upon
their efforts by their contemporaries,—they had only
to scan the pages of their college exchanges, for, with
the rash confidence of youth, the persons in charge of
these exchanges never shrank from recording, with engaging
candor, their impressions of that periodical. In
one of the numbers of the magazine for the session of
1912–13, the editor-in-chief, with the magnanimity of
conscious superiority, has reprinted some of these impressions.
To one admiring scholastic organ, issued in
far-off Texas, the University of Virginia magazine
seemed to be the "ideal college publication." The
Richmond College Messenger praised it as the "best
of all the exchanges" that came to the table of its sanctum.
The magazine of the University of Oklahoma,
with remarkable generosity, pronounced it to be without
an equal, while the University of Georgia magazine
asserted that its contents always "dispersed the melancholy,
its readers." Still another Southern college editor exclaimed
enthusiastically, in the words of Jaques,
"More, prithee more of it;" and a third cheerfully acknowledged
that he always missed his dinner in his eagerness
to read the contents of his copy so soon as it
arrived.
The tone of the foreign comments, however, was not
always laudatory. The editors suspected a touch of
condescension in the references of some of the Northern
periodicals. The Williams College Literary
Monthly, for instance, while refusing to admit its
Southern contemporary to the "ten foot shelf of the
seven magazines which it liked best," yet acknowledged
that that contemporary possessed "a certain standard
excellence." "It is a literary aristocrat that wears its
traditions grandly," said the magazine of the University
of Minnesota, "but it lacks real substance, and every-day
sturdiness." "Its pages," remarked the Carolinian,
"evidence a spirit of scornful dictatorship that is not
in the least pleasing. It suggests a blase, bored, and
condescending air." The Hollins Institute Monthly
and the Randolph-Macon Female College Tattler
united in expressing their disapproval of its short stories,
and when successfully answered, "took refuge,"
said the editors of the University of Virginia Magazine,
scornfully, "behind a chocolate ice-cream soda."
The editors asserted,—no doubt with a correctness
not open to dispute,—that the magazine faithfully reflected
the literary tastes of its patrons. "Every
article which goes into our pages," they remarked in
1915, "is carefully considered in reference to our subscribers,
whose likes and dislikes have been carefully
studied. Every man who can write is asked to hand
over and over, a story or essay can be converted
into good copy. We try to show the young writer
where he is going wrong from the view-point of the
public. In this way, the magazine has decided educational
value."
It is to be noticed that the editors did not even pretend
that they could improve the bad poetry which
they received. It was only the defective story or essay
which was sought to be recasted. As long as a medal
was awarded for the most meritorious verse, there was
little probability that the poets of the University would
be discouraged by editorial coldness and aloofness in
particular instances. A medal was also still bestowed
for the best short story; and one too for the most admirable
essay. These were granted by the decision of
committees which had no connection with the University.
Each prize could only be carried off by a student; and
he could win that special prize but once. These
medals were appraised at twenty-five dollars.
In 1907–08, a prize of five dollars was offered for
the best negro dialect poem; and in order to allow room
for the exercise of every sort of talent in this form of
production, it was announced that the lines might be
humorous or pathetic or descriptive or narrative as
preferred, or with all these qualities rolled into a complete
unity. As a means of giving more distinction to
the three principal prizes, the first, for the best short
story, was designated the "Edgar Allan Poe"; the second
for the best essay, the "Woodrow Wilson"; and the
third, for the best poem, the "John R. Thompson."
As the dialect prize was only temporary, it was not dignified
by a historic name.
College Topics was very correctly described as the
gather up, from week to week all the items of the social
and athletic life of the academic community. In accord
with a rule adopted in 1917 by the General Athletic Association,
the staff of this periodical was limited to an
editor-in-chief and an assistant editor-in-chief, six associate
editors, a business manager, and an assistant
business manager,—all to continue in office throughout
the session. The editor-in-chief was picked out by the executive
committee of the association from among the
members of the board at large, on the strength of his
record in that position; the assistant editor might be
chosen from among the students as a body; while the
associate editors were always selected from a list of
candidates submitted by the editor-in-chief. The assistant
business manager, who was appointed on personal
application, was advanced in the second year of
his tenure to the office of manager. The editor-in-chief,
his assistant, and the business manager, received sixty-five
per cent, of the annual proceeds of the journal as
the remuneration for their labor in publishing it. The
gradually rising popularity of College Topics seems to
have led to an increase in the size of the editorial
board,—in 1910, there were seated around its table
as many as ten associate editors; in 1912, there were
twelve; but in 1912–15, the number fell back again to
the original ten. By 1913, however, a news editor had
been added, and by 1915, an assignment editor, an
athletic editor, and a reviewing editor. There were
two assistant business managers; and the reportorial
staff had expanded to seventeen. This staff was now
selected after the applicants had been subjected to a
seaching competitive test. A semi-weekly edition was
now issued.
In 1912, the first step was taken to divorce this
journal from the ownership of the General Athletic
Association. There had already been started a movement
among the students to establish a new and independent
newspaper. To forestall this movement, the
following changes in the regulations of College Topics
were adopted: (1) the share in the profits which had,
up to this time, been reserved for the use of the athletic
association, were, thereafter, to be allowed to accumulate
as a sinking fund, under the association's trusteeship,
—a provision which was expected to detach the
journal ultimately from the control of that body; (2)
the editor-in-chief henceforth was to be appointed, not
by the association as before, but by the outgoing board
each April; (3) the assistant editor-in-chief was to
serve as the news editor.
In October, 1907, the first number of the University
of Virginia Record was issued. It was published
monthly, with the exception of July and August. The
object which this new periodical had in view was to
offer for the convenience of the public press and the
alumni, official information touching the general progress
and plans of the University. It was intended to
supplement the Alumni Bulletin by printing facts that
were too small and too transient for the older, more
dignified, and more solid journal to insert in its pages.
The hand-book of the Young Men's Christian Association
contained the calendar for the year, the schedules
of lectures and examinations, the syllables of the college
yells, and the college songs. Madison Hall Notes
was issued every week of the session, and gave a summary
of the religious news.
In a previous chapter, we referred to the journal
issued by the students of the department of law. The
from that time forward, eight numbers were printed
annually. It was the earliest periodical of its kind to
appear in a Southern seat of learning, and took, from
the beginning, rank with the most respected periodicals
of that order published in Northern institutions.
Corks and Curls was, in 1913–14, incorporated for the
first time with a definite capital. In the course of the
first decade of its existence, it had been transformed
from a fraternity publication into a college annual. Its
initial volume was issued in May, 1888, under an editorial
board which is said to have been nominated by
Alfred H. Byrd and J. H. C. Bagby. Byrd was to
become a liberal benefactor of the University in later
years. Bagby was the son of the distinguished Virginian
litterateur, George W. Bagby, and a nephew of John
Hampden Chamberlayne, one of the most famous
journalists of his native State. The impression has always
prevailed that Ernest M. Stires, then a student of
the University, and now the rector of St. Thomas's
Church, in New York City, first suggested the establishment
of this periodical.
The Alumni News began publication during the
Ninth Period. Facts about its origin and scope will
be submitted in a later chapter, when we come to consider
the last phase in the history of the General Alumni
Association.
XXXVI. Student Life—Intellectual Side, Continued
At the beginning of the Ninth Period, 1904–05,
there was in existence at the University of Virginia a
debating and oratorical council representing the two
literary societies, the Washington and the Jefferson.
It comprised five members in all, two of whom belonged
was the professor of public speaking. It was their duty
to arrange, in the names of these organizations, for the
annual contests between the two societies, and also for
the contests between the University and those institutions
of Virginia, the South, and the Middle States, with
which the University had combined under the terms of
special agreements. The two societies were still members
of the Southern Interstate Oratorical Association,
which was composed, at this time, of the Universities
of Texas, Alabama, Sewanee, Vanderbilt, South Carolina,
Kentucky, and Virginia. Previous to 1905, the
representatives of the University of Virginia had won in
only a single contest,—the successful competitor, in
this instance, being Aubrey E. Strode, afterwards a
prominent senator in the General Assembly of Virginia.
The two societies were also members of the Central
Oratorical Association,—to which also belonged the
Universities of Chicago, Ohio, Wesleyan, Cornell,
Columbia, Yale, and Princeton. Two prizes were
awarded to the successful orators of these contests,—
one for an hundred dollars, and the other for fifty. The
Interstate Association was composed of the colleges
of Richmond, Randolph-Macon, Hampden-Sidney,
Roanoke, and Emory and Henry, and the Universities
of Virginia and Washington and Lee.
The method of selecting the representatives of the
two societies for these trials of debating and oratorical
skill was substantially the same in each instance,—the
candidates were chosen by the sifting process of preliminary
tests. Those who were successful thereby
were considered eligible for individual instruction in
daily rehearsals, until the yard-stick of a final competition
should be applied to disclose the possessors of the
a committee of the Faculty sitting as the final judges of
merit. The first step was to choose by debate ten representatives;
this number was reduced to six by a second
debate; and from this number, three were selected.
There were, as we have already stated, three strenuous
oratorical and debating contests each year with representatives
of other institutions. One group of champions
would compete with their opponents of the Southern universities,
either at some one of these seats of learning, or
at the University of Virginia itself; a second group
would meet their interstate rivals at Richmond or
Roanoke; a third group would cross swords with representatives
of the central universities at Chicago or Baltimore.
In these oratorical contests, each speaker was
permitted to select his own theme.
The inter-society debates were also events of interest.
The team of the Jefferson would meet the team of the
Washington, and the one pronounced successful in the tilt
was awarded the Board of Visitors' prize. A committee
of the Faculty served as judges. To the winning society
was granted the privilege of holding the Harrison trophy
during the ensuing year.
In 1915, a departure from the prevailing custom was
ventured upon in inviting members of the Faculty to deliver
addresses before the societies,—in the course of
that session, Professor Hall-Quest spoke at a meeting
of the Jefferson, and Professor Graves at a meeting of
the Washington. Set orations were still delivered at the
joint celebration in June. In 1915, Chief Justice
Clark, of North Carolina, spoke. The chief officer at
each celebration was the president of the Oratorical and
Debaters Council, supported by the final presidents of the
societies, who, in turn, handed over the medals bestowed
debaters. The final celebration was abolished after this
date, on condition that the means for paying the expenses
of the inter-university debates should be supplied
by the University treasury. These debates, under this
new regulation, were arranged by a committee of four,
two of whom were members of the Faculty, and the remaining
two the representatives of the societies.
The disappearance of the joint celebration at the final
exercises was regretted and deprecated by the older
alumni, whose affection for the University had, in no
small degree, been riveted by the charm and distinction
of that occasion in former times. The substitution of
Founder's Day introduced a purely college hour unknown
to these alumni, and without personal interest to
them, in consequence. In 1913, the Washington Society
revived the interesting custom of celebrating the 22nd
of February. Two years later, that body entertained
the members of the Jefferson at a smoker; and later on,
this courtesy was returned by the Jefferson, when the
vivacity of the occasion was increased by a vocal and
instrumental performance of the glee club.
About this date, the Congress of Debating Union was
organized, the membership of which was drawn from the
two societies. Its meetings, which took place monthly,
were conducted in strict harmony with the procedure of
the National House of Representatives. No sooner had
a constitution been adopted than the body divided into
two parties, one of which was represented by the members
of the Jefferson, and the other by the members of
the Washington. A struggle at once began for the
possession of the speakership, in the course of which
every parliamentary device was employed to ensure success
for one side or the other. When this contest came
pass them in the teeth of the opposition of the other
party. The object of the Debating Union was to teach
the members of the two societies the various methods
followed by the deliberative assemblies.
Training in public speaking was also given by Professor
Paul to those who desired it. A special course
of instruction was imparted by him to the members
of the inter-collegiate teams. This course dealt with
the theory and practice of the art in all their varied
phases. It was said, in 1907–08, that three-fourths of
the young men, who had, by competition, won the distinction
of representing the University in the interstate
contests during the anterior two years had been
pupils of Professor Paul.
The Washington and Jefferson Societies were not satisfied
to cultivate powers of debate and oratory among
their own members alone,—they brought before the
State Teachers' Association, at a meeting held in 1913,
definite plans for a speaking league of all the public
and private secondary schools in Virginia. Seventy-five
of them were soon enrolled, under the guidance of
an executive committee composed of the professor of
secondary education at the University and a member of
each of its literary societies. A bulletin was subsequently
issued which contained questions for debate,
and also sufficient material for the preparation of the
necessary arguments. The first discussions, however,
were entirely local. One neighborhood school would
challenge another school in the vicinage, and the winner
in this contest would be entitled to the privilege of
coming to the University to participate in the contest for
the final championship. In May, 1914, the first intersecondary
school debate was inaugurated at the latter
by elimination, the number was reduced to the Buena
Vista High School, represented by two girls, and the
Charlottesville High School, represented by two boys.
The boys went down in defeat before the girls. The
Faculty and students alike were indefatigable in entertaining
the visitors, both old and young,—there was a
movie exhibition, without cost, for their amusement; and
also an excursion to Monticello, in addition to other
forms of open-air diversion.
XXXVII. Student Life—Spiritual Side
In 1908, at least fourteen committees had charge of
the religious work of the Young Men's Christian Association;
and the management of its business affairs was
confided to a picked body of seven members. The
organization, had, by this time, been incorporated. The
old system was somewhat modified, in 1905, by the appointment
of a general secretary and college pastor, who
was to be the main director of the principal functions
of the association, in addition to acting as the assistant
to the different visiting clergymen in the chapel services;
delivering an occasional sermon; and ministering to the
young men. Mr. McIlhaney resigned from this office
at the beginning of 1908, in order to solicit funds for the
erection, just beyond the precincts, of St. Paul's Chapel,
to meet the spiritual needs of the Episcopalians among
the students and the members of the professors' families.[8]
He was succeeded temporarily by H. M. Peck,
who was allowed four assistants; and permanently by
W. W. Brockman, who had filled a similar position in
of the chair of English in Soochow University. During
the session of 1909–10, W. N. Neff was the assistant
secretary, and afterwards the full secretary. The offices
of president, vice-president, and recording secretary,
were reserved for the incumbency of students.
On the threshold of the Ninth Period, 1904–05, the
work of the association was made up of the following
particulars: it mailed, before each session began, a handbook
to each expected new student at his home, and on
his arrival at the University, assisted him in choosing
his boarding-house, and if necessary, found employment
for him that would defray his college expenses; it appointed
a weekly prayer meeting, to which the entire
body of students were invited, and at which many of
them were always present; it enrolled a large number
of the young men in the Bible classes, of which, during
1905, there were twenty, with an average attendance of
eighty-seven; it held missionary conferences and created
facilities for mission study; it established Sunday Schools
in Charlottesville and the surrounding region; it arranged
a lyceum course of instructive lectures, to which,
during some sessions over four hundred tickets were
sold; it issued the Madison Hall Notes; it gave a general
reception for students at the beginning of the college
year; it maintained an excellent reading-room; and
finally, it kept in good condition all the tennis courts
situated on the campus.
By 1908–09, the Bible classes had increased in number
to twenty-eight, and the mission classes to thirteen.
About twenty-six members were now volunteering for
foreign service; and to stimulate the interest in this
branch of Christian endeavor, deputations were frequently
sent to the churches of the large cities. Twenty-five
mission Sunday Schools of the region around Charlottesville.
At the beginning of each session, an evening
was set apart for a mass-meeting in Madison Hall,
at which the matriculates in their first year were instructed
as to the character of the Honor System, and
informed about the traditions of the University.
Special evangelistic assemblies were now held by the
association; and it also encouraged its members to visit
the slums and jails; to study the practical side of the
local negro problem; and to lead in founding young
people's societies. It brought to the University Damrosch's
Orchestra and Ben Greet's Players. And it also
issued a weekly directory and an annual report.
In 1912–13, extraordinary attention was turned to the
enlistment of the students in voluntary Bible study,
—more than one hundred were thus occupied; and they
were enrolled in small groups for the purpose, and
taught by some fellow-student or professor. There
were also six public addresses delivered on Biblical
themes. The association was now providing a full
salary for its representative in the foreign mission field;
namely, Dr. R. V. Taylor, Jr. who was stationed in
China. In 1913–14, there was a students' evening, on
which occasion, a committee arranged, for local talent,
an informal programme, which included songs, readings,
impersonations, and gymnastic feats. A weekly meeting
was held every Tuesday night, in the course of the
autumn, to discuss every aspect of the different college
problems. The most distinguished graduates and athletic
champions were now despatched to the prominent
high schools of the State to speak on such vital topics as
clean athletics, the Honor System, and the like. The
association also decided to establish a free dispensary at
from the University. Dr. Hugh H. Young, of Baltimore,
promised to contribute the sum of two hundred
and fifty dollars to its support annually, for a period of
three years; a nurse was to be employed; and several
medical students were to conduct a weekly clinic. This
dispensary was thrown open, in 1915–16, in connection
with the mountain mission of Rev. George Mayo.
During the session of 1916–17, the labors of the association
still fell under two main divisions. First,—the
work outside the precincts. A religious census was taken
at the beginning of each session for the information and
assistance of the churches in Charlottesville; the denominational
leanings of the young men in college were thus
discovered; and by this means, the association was able to
obtain for these churches Sunday School teachers, leaders
for the young people's societies, singers for the choirs,
exhorters for the prayer meetings, and occasional speakers
for the regular morning or evening services. As
many as eighty-seven students were, during this session,
enlisted in such activities. In addition to these zealous
young men, there was a gospel team,—composed of five
or six students,—which visited the smaller towns of the
State during week-ends and vacations, and discoursed on
general topics of moral significance. Speakers also were
despatched to different places to take part in evangelistic
labor, or to deliver addresses on the Bible, honest politics,
clean athletics, or the Honor System. Night schools
were opened at Simeon, Hickory Hill, and Birdwood,
and also in Charlottesville,—here for the benefit of
foreign working-men. The affairs of the dispensary established
in the Blue Ridge were administered with constantly
increasing usefulness. Two representatives of
the association were now supported in the foreign mission
for the continuance of their labors; and for a period of
three years, starting with 1915, twelve hundred dollars
had been pledged for each twelve months.
Second,—the work of the association within the precincts.
This was still carried on along lines which had
been laid down from the beginning of the Ninth Period.
The chief activity was still group and lecture courses in
Madison Hall.—prominent speakers from abroad, or
members of the Faculty, still delivered, during the
autumn and winter terms, religious addresses at the
weekly meetings. The mission classes,—which were
schools of methods in religious instruction,—were continued
with undiminished zeal; nor was there any relaxation
in the social ministrations of the association.
How many members could that association count on its
roll? Of seven hundred and eighty-five matriculates, in
1907, four hundred and thirty were members; and this
lacked only thirty of being all the professing Christians
among the students. The following table indicates the
relation of the University of Virginia in this particular
to the other prominent American seats of learning at this
time:
| Students | Professed Christians |
Members of Y. M. C. A. |
|
| Yale | 3208 | 1906 | 655 |
| Cornell | 3052 | 2000 | 750 |
| Princeton | 1384 | 950 | 914 |
| Pennsylvania | 3558 | 1779 | 400 |
| Illinois | 2011 | 974 | 974 |
| Michigan | 3700 | 2400 | 2400 |
| Minnesota | 1900 | 900 | 900 |
| West Point | 463 | 201 | 396 |
| Virginia | 785 | 490 | 430 |
In 1912–13, the enrolment of the association was
five hundred and eighty-nine members; in 1913–14, the
continued to increase until the close of this Period.
It was estimated, in 1915–16, that the value of the
property connected with the religious work of the University
amounted to $163,000. The appraisement was
as follows: the grounds, building, and equipment of
Madison Hall, $110,000; the chapel and its equipment,
$35,000; the parsonage, $8,000; and other items in the
list, $10,000. The endowment funds aggregated $86,000.
The income of the association derived from these
endowment funds, contributions, and grants by the Board
of Visitors approximated $12,550.00. There still prevailed
the rule that two dollars of the ten deposited by
each student as a contingent fee was to be reserved
for the support of the religious work of the University,
unless objection to such a disposition of that sum was
expressed in writing by him within one month after his
matriculation.
What was the proportion of students belonging to
religious sects, and to what extent were the different sects
represented? In 1904–05, two hundred and thirteen
were members of the church, and two hundred and eleven
were in general sympathy with some one of the several
denominations. The denominations which led in numbers,
both as to membership and affiliation, during this
session, were the Episcopalian, Presbyterian, and Baptist,
in the order named. Every important religious body to
be found in the American communities, omitting Christian
Science, was represented. Throughout the Ninth
Period, 1904–19, the largest proportion of students belonged
to the Episcopal church, or, through their families,
were affiliated with it,—from one hundred and seventy-four
actual members in 1907–08, the number rose to one
hundred and ninety-five in 1913–14. The next largest
the corresponding numbers for the same sessions were
one hundred and twenty and one hundred and twenty-two.
The third largest membership was attached to the Methodist
church,—the corresponding numbers were eighty-eight
and one hundred and thirty-seven. All these figures
would be very much increased by counting also the number
of students in affiliation with these denominations.
The Baptist membership and affiliation followed the
Methodist at some distance, while the number for each
of the other religious bodies was much smaller.
The percentage of the attendance in the University,
during these sessions, which was allied with some form of
religious worship, in a more or less active way, ranged
from sixty-nine to seventy-five. During the session of
1916–17, the proportion, in actual numbers, stood as follows:
| Members | Affiliated | |
| Episcopal | 264 | 56 |
| Methodist | 175 | 59 |
| Presbyterian | 150 | 44 |
| Baptist | 128 | 44 |
| Disciples | 38 | 4 |
| Hebrew | 18 | 16 |
| Catholic | 37 | 2 |
| Lutherans | 15 | 2 |
| Remainder | 15 | 8 |
In 1917–18, with the exception of thirty-two students,
the entire number enrolled were either actual members of
some sect, or were openly affiliated with some denomination,
—a total of ninety-six and a half per cent. of the
whole registration.
As late as 1915–16, the old plan of inviting distinguished
clergymen to deliver sermons in the chapel was
still in force,—during that session, twenty-nine appeared
before the University congregation; but the popularity
pressure of new local conditions. The presence of an
Episcopal church on the boundary line of the precincts,
the ease with which the edifices of the other denominations,
—Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian, Catholic, and
Lutheran,—situated in Charlottesville, could be reached
by trolley-car, united to draw away the religious audiences
that had formerly filled the pews of the University
chapel. So small grew these audiences, even when famous
clergymen from other communities were announced
to speak, that it became difficult to induce ministers of the
gospel to accept an invitation to occupy that pulpit.
Finally, a state almost of vacuum was arrived at, and the
unbroken succession of clergymen disappeared from this
time forward, along with the former appointed chaplains.
The University had practically reverted to the condition
which prevailed at the start,—dependence was now
placed upon an occasional invited clergyman from a distance,
or a local minister of the gospel, for the ministrations
which only persons of that cloth can give.
But the work of the Young Men's Christian Association
never slackened in zeal, energy, and intelligence, and
its beneficence only increased in power with the passage of
the years. Professor Forrest, of the School of Biblical
History and Literature, estimated that, in a list of one
hundred and thirty-three alumni engaged in religious service
in 1915–16, twelve Christian denominations, with
the Jewish church added, were represented; that seventeen
of these alumni were bishops; that fifty-three were
professors or presidents of theological seminaries or
church colleges; that seventy-five were heads of conspicuous
city congregations; and that forty-two had won distinction
in religious journalism and authorship.
Previous to 1905, two hundred Protestant Episcopal
Baptist, thirty Methodist, ten Lutheran, and thirty-five
ministers of other churches, had been educated
in the University of Virginia. Statistics submitted
in the convention of the Students' Voluntary
Movement for Foreign Missions, held in
Rochester, N. Y., in 1910, revealed that, up to
that time, the University of Virginia had despatched
sixty representatives to the foreign field,—the largest
number sent out by any State university, and a larger
number than had been dedicated to that work by the majority
of the purely denominational seats of learning.
The religious record of the University of Virginia,
during the first one hundred years of its history, is now
completed. In the early part of that long period, it was
harried by idle or malignant aspersions of infidelity,—
aspersions that had no broader or more stable footing
than the fact that the institution, following the wise regulation
of its founder, declined to give the slightest countenance
to the preponderance of any one church, although
recognizing, with respect and dignity, the existence of all
the evangelical sects by the annual appointments to the
chaplaincy, and, afterwards, by the monthly invitations
to the chapel pulpit. Through the whole of that pregnant
interval, the balance between the denominations was
never shaken,—in fact, a perfect impartiality to them all
was shown by the authorities at the very time that veneration
for the religion which they all represented in common,
governed the entire course of the institution, from
decade to decade, without intermission and without divergence.
Some of the noblest men who ever proclaimed the gospel
of Christ and ministered to the spiritual needs of their
fellows, occupied, at one time or another, the office of
duties of faithful disciples of the great exemplar whom
they held up so earnestly to imitation. Indeed, there are
few spots within the confines of the oldest of all the commonwealths
where more eloquent or more comforting
words have fallen from sanctified lips than under the
gothic roof which still stands in the shadow of the Rotunda,
—a lasting monument, in its erection, to the unwearied
devotion and cheerful self-sacrifice of professors
and students alike in the cause of religious principle and
religious aspiration. The whole record of the Young
Men's Christian Association at the University of Virginia
is a record of successful service in every province of benevolent
endeavor, pursued session after session,
and passed on from one wave of young men to
the next, with ever-rising enthusiasm, and ever-growing
breadth of view, and ever-increasing practical
wisdom. That record alone would confer a noble
distinction upon that great institution even if it could
point to no splendid triumphs of scholarship, and to no
long roll of celebrated alumni.
In the interval between the secretaryship of Broadnax and that of
McIlhaney, the office had been occupied in turn by H. J. Gallaudet,
W. M. M. Thomas, and Robert Beale, Jr.
XXXVIII. Student Life—Spiritual Side, Continued
We have seen that, during the Seventh and Eighth
Periods, 1865–1904, there was a recurring apprehension
that, with the stealing in of new influences, it would be impossible
to maintain the Honor System in its original vigor
and purity. By the opening of the Ninth Period, this
feeling had grown to such a degree that it was thought
that prompt and emphatic steps should be taken to give
the new matriculate instruction in the character of the
code, as well as to impress upon him the necessity of its
strict and uninterrupted enforcement. We have already
referred to the rule which the Young Men's Christian
team of trained speakers, drawn from its own membership,
to deliver addresses on the Honor System of the
University before the pupils of those secondary schools,
both public and private, which contributed the most students
to that institution annually. Within the same province
of spiritual education were the speeches on the
same topic pronounced at the mass-meeting of the first-year
matriculates at the beginning of each session.
Why was it that, as time lapsed, there arose this fear
that the Honor System would grow feeble in its appeal in
the very scene of its birth? that this tangible governing
force would lose its authority and slowly perish?
The Honor System reached its pinnacle during the
Seventh Period, 1865–1895. What was supposed to
have been the cause of this flourishing condition? It was
thought that the cause was to be found in the fact that
the community of students was then small; that it was singularly
homogeneous; and that it was also sensitively
alive to every question of personal integrity and honesty.
Would the system continue to prosper when the same
community had trebled, and quadrupled, and quintupled?
Could that community show this great increase without
drawing upon heterogeneous sources of supply, and without
tapping new and promiscuous reservoirs, both Northern
and Southern? And would it be possible to assimilate
this confused and incongruous personal material to a
degree where all would regard the traditions of the University
with loyalty and veneration?
The mass of students matriculating at the beginning of
the Ninth Period, and during the years that followed,
hailed back to a wider territory, and had been brought up
under much more diverse social influences, than was the
case with the attendance even a quarter of a century
or forced, to look upon any college rule or tradition
from the same point of view? Here was a purely spiritual
code of principles, an unwritten. and, in some respects,
not a clearly defined regulation. Could it be
taken in intelligently by this inharmonious assemblage,
which was not only lacking in a common social origin, but
was also largely drawn from corners of the land, remote
in sympathy as well as in distance, and trained in different
seats of scholarship, ranging all the way from the public
high school to the college? As their number increased,
the life of the undergraduate tended to grow more complex
and its interests more conflicting; above all, there
was an augmented disposition to fall into cliques,—a
fact that was hostile to the creation of any general public
sentiment, and also destructive to the self-government
of the students as one body. To make the enforcement
of the system more difficult, the Faculty itself expanded
in membership; it too was recruited from widely separated
communities; and year by year counted fewer and
fewer alumni in its ranks. The contact of the professors
with the students steadily grew less intimate and less sympathetic
than had been once discernible; and however
much respected for learning and fidelity, the influence of
the new teachers was less direct and less powerful.
In spite of all these apparent obstructions to the vigorous
maintenance of the system, there is no evidence
that its hold upon the zealous consideration of the students
as a body has weakened. "During the past twenty
years," said Professor Echols, in 1914, "they have upheld
the system; but eternal vigilance has been absolutely
necessary to its preservation."
It has been noticed that such violations of the code as
first year, who were not yet fully imbued with the spirit
of the older collegians. Professor Lile said in a memorable
address, delivered a few years ago, that, in the
course of the nineteen years which then measured his incumbency
of one of the chairs in the department of law,
only six students of that department, of the two thousand
who had passed under his eye, had been accused of cheating
on examination; and that one of these six had protested
his innocence. "I was the executive of the University
of Virginia for eight years," remarked Professor
Thornton in a speech delivered in New Orleans, in 1916,
"and as such charged with the discipline of the institution.
More than four thousand matriculates came before
me, and there were not a few cases where strict measures
were needed. Among all these, only one man ever
told me a lie, and he came back the next morning and
confessed. I find among the students of my department
now the same respect for truth, the same code of honor.
Greater numbers have called into being more systematic
rules for dealing with violations of the code, but there
seems no relaxation of its sacred bond."
The correctness of this assertion is confirmed by the
eagerness of the influential students to enlarge the scope
of the system. In 1905, the chief officers of the different
classes united in such a recommendation. "The Honor
System," said President Charles M. Fauntleroy, of the
medical department, "really requires that a man shall
conduct himself honorably at all times, whether in or out
of the examination-room." This was also the opinion
expressed by President Samuel B. Woods, of the academic
department, President Burford, of the law, and
President Brant, of the engineering; and the four joined
should be summoned before the Honor Committee and
punished summarily.
There was a feeling of resentment among the students,
in 1909, when the Faculty expelled two young men for
breaking the lamps within the University precincts,—it
was thought by them that the trial and dismissal of these
culprits should have been left to the Honor Committee.
Indeed, they were so sensitive about their right of self-government
that they protested against the resolution
adopted by the Faculty, in 1912, which forbade them
from holding any more soirees on the college grounds.
An elaborate report was drafted, and a constitution prepared,
which provided for a complete system of self-government
among the students; but the whole scheme,
when referred to the Honor Committee, was judged by
the members of that body to be premature, and it, therefore,
failed to receive their approval. This effort to extend
the scope of the Honor System was probably thought
by the committee to have reached a metaphysical point
where it smacked of impracticability.
Could the Honor System be made to cover the offenses
of drunkenness, gambling, and dissoluteness? Professor
Graves, in an address to the students in 1915, suggested
that a code of duty should be set up side by side with the
code of honor, which should cause every student who was
guilty of any one of these vices to lose caste with his
associates. The fermenting sentiment on these subjects
seemed to have arrived at the following conclusion: that
it was within the province of the Faculty to inflict punishment
for an act of drunkenness or of gambling, or of dissoluteness;
but that it was only within the province of the
Honor Committee to add to this punishment if the student
afterwards had broken his pledge.
The principles of the Honor Code were also applicable
to athletics. Every candidate for a place on the team
was required to come in person before the committee of
the Faculty, and draw up in writing a statement of the extent
of his previous activities in this sphere; and if he
was found subsequently to have inserted a falsehood, this
delinquency was passed upon by the presidents of the
classes, and his immediate departure from the precincts
demanded and enforced.
An abnormal trial was held in 1907, which, apparently,
was not taken, later on, as a precedent. A student had
been charged by his fellows with cheating on an examination;
and his case, as was customary, was brought before
the class presidents; but when an adverse sentence was
given, he promptly appealed to a special bench composed
of five of the alumni. One of these was the judge of the
Corporation Court of Charlottesville; two were practitioners
at that bar; the fourth was the principal of a boys'
school; and the fifth, a member of the University Faculty.
The trial was conducted in the strictest harmony with the
requirements of judicial dignity; the president of the
culprit's class served as prosecutor; and the accused was
represented by his own counsel. He was able to prove
his guiltlessness of the offense.
Ordinarily, there seems to have been no right of appeal
from the decision of the class presidents. The rule that
prevailed in 1909, was, that, while the trial was in progress,
only the members of the accused's class could attend;
that, although both sides,—the accuser and the
accused,—could be represented by student counsel, no
one was to be permitted to speak besides the accused himself;
should five members of the Honor Committee
vote, in a secret ballot, adversely to his innocence. The
vice-president of his class always participated in the
hearing and the sentence. It was the right of the supposed
culprit to call for a public trial if he desired it; but
this was rarely claimed.
In 1917, the original provisions of the Honor System
were added to in at least one detail,—during that year,
the rule was adopted, that, after an accused student was
convicted, each president should call together all enrolled
in his department in a mass-meeting, in order to announce
the name of the dismissed culprit, and the character and
circumstances of his offense, with a warning that this
communication was not to be repeated beyond the precincts.
If the guilty one had fled from college upon the
first charge, without demanding trial, his name, and the
nature of his act, were to be reported to the president of
his department by the original accusers. Following
such notification, the Honor Committee were expected
to publish and record the facts just as if the case had been
sifted before them.
XXXIX. Student Life—Economic Side
During the Ninth Period, the students who were registered
from Virginia continued to be exempt from tuition
fees in all the academic courses, except the laboratory
one in chemistry. There was a small special fee in certain
branches of natural philosophy, analytical chemistry,
and geology. The matriculation fee, which had
amounted to forty dollars, had been, by this time, cut
down to ten. There was still a small deposit for contingent
expenses; and a still smaller fee for entrance
examinations. By students enrolled from other States,
fees, were still payable; and they were also liable for the
matriculation fees without reduction.
In 1904–05, the fee for one year in six classes of the
law department was one hundred dollars; in more than
six classes, one hundred and fifteen; if less, the fee ranged
from eighty-five for five classes down to twenty-five for
one. In the department of medicine, at this time, the
fees descended, during the four-year course, from one
hundred and ten, in the first year, to sixty in the fourth.
The special fees, at their highest, did not exceed thirty-five
dollars, or at their lowest, fall below ten. In the
department of engineering, the tuition fee for one course
in applied mathematics was twenty-five dollars; in two or
more, fifty. The student following the regular line of
instruction for the degree of engineer was required to
pay a tuition fee of seventy-five dollars in the first year,
sixty-five in the second, sixty in the third, and fifty in the
fourth. The fees for the first year and second year
were increased during the session of 1905–06.
In 1908–09, there were three small fees which had to
be paid in all the departments: (1) the special examination
fee; (2) the delinquent registration fee, which was
demanded of every student who had failed to come forward
for registration during the first three days of the
session, or on the first week day after the expiration of
the Christmas holidays; (3) the re-examination fee, payable
by a student who had fallen below the minimum per
cent. for graduation, but not below seventy-five, and
who had petitioned for another opportunity to test his
knowledge when he should return in the following
September. None of these fees exceeded five dollars in
amount.
The matriculation fee,—which, in 1915–16, amounted
State beside Virginia, ten dollars for the Virginian enrolled
in the academic department, and twenty if enrolled
in the engineering,—entitled the payer to the
use of the general library, the advantages of the gymnasium
and its baths, the instruction of the director of physical
culture, and the attendance of the University physician,
in case of sickness. Two dollars, with the student's
consent, were deducted from the contingent fee for the
advancement of the religious work of the institution, and
the support of the chapel services. The male teachers
and superintendents of public schools were admitted to
the classes, during the last three months of the session,
without the burden of the usual fees; and this exemption,
throughout the nine months, was allowed to all ministers
of the gospel and candidates for holy orders.
The aggregate fees paid by each academic student,
according to his department, in 1915–16, were as follows:
in the college, if a Virginian, twenty dollars; if not
a Virginian, one hundred and thirty-five. These figures
did not include the charges for apparatus and laboratory.
In the department of law the aggregate fees were one
hundred and fifty; of medicine, one hundred and fifty
also; and of engineering, ninety-five, if the student was
a Virginian, and one hundred and fifty-five if he was not.
Students now, as formerly, were permitted to lodge
and obtain their meals within the University precincts,
or at their homes, or in boarding-houses situated without
the bounds, just as they might prefer.
In 1907, the ground was broken for a new dining-hall
at a spot situated at the south end of West Range. It
was expected that this establishment would lead to a reduction
in the board; that it would bring most of the
students together three times daily, and thus create a college
a place for alumni banquets, fraternity dinners, and dinners
in honor of distinguished guests. It was estimated
that the structure would impose an outlay in building of
forty-five to fifty thousand dollars. The plan adopted
at first was to leave the management to a students' committee,
which was to look to certain members of the
Faculty for general advice. Upon this committee was
to rest the responsibility for the catering and for the
maintenance of economy and care in each department.
The monthly charge for board was to be fixed at ten dollars,
—omitting, however, the expense of meats, which
were to be paid for a la carte. There was to be ample
accommodation for three hundred seats at table in the
hall; and the building was expected to be thrown open by
September, 1908. In reality, it was finished by June of
that year.
In the course of the session of 1908–09, two hundred
and twenty-two students ate their meals at the Commons;
but by November, 1909, this number had receded to one
hundred and forty. During 1910–11, there were one
hundred and sixty seated at the tables, and during 1911–
12, one hundred and eighty-three. This was about
twenty-five per cent. of the entire University registration
for that year; but this proportion was not satisfactory, in
spite of the fact that all those students who occupied
rooms in Randall Hall and on East Range were now required
to engage board in the Commons dining-room.
To such tenants, a reduction of their room-rent to one-half
the usual amount was allowed; but if the young men
eating their meals there had obtained their rooms in
other sections of the University dormitories, the cut in
the room-rent was one fourth only. These privileges
would indicate that the expectations from the Commons
was attributed at the time to the existence of three
inimical facts: (1) lack of experience in the managers;
(2) hostility of the boarding-house keepers; and (3)
the suspicious attitude of the many students who considered
the Commons superfluous.
At first, the enterprise was an integral part of the
University economics. The bursar paid the bills, and he
sold the boarders the tickets which were issued monthly.
It was calculated, in 1909, that the cost of the supplies
would amount to $22,687.89, and the operating expenses
to $8,433.32. The income from the main sources apparently
did not exceed $28,946.59.
The first arrangement worked so unsatisfactorily that
it was decided to be best to lease the dining-hall to some
one who would take on himself the responsibility for the
payment and collection of bills, without looking beyond
the boarders for his compensation. It was to assure
him a definite number that the provision was retained
requiring the tenants of certain dormitories to occupy
seats at his table; but this regulation was subsequently
revoked. For his benefit, the monthly charge for board
was advanced from thirteen dollars and fifty cents to
fifteen dollars. The independent system went into
operation in September, 1912; and in the following
spring, a mass-meeting of the boarders was held to
protest against the meanness and shortness of the food
and the poor character of the management under the
Frenchman then in control, who received the remonstrance
with a gesture of fiery defiance. At this time,
the cost of board in private houses ranged from fifteen
dollars to twenty each month; and the food there was
probably superior to that of the Commons, both in quality
and quantity.
In 1904–05, the rent of the dormitories ranged from
twenty-five dollars to forty for the session. Each
student, whether one or two occupied a room, paid nine
dollars for service during the nine months. In 1907–08,
the rent of the dormitories ranged from thirty dollars to
fifty for that length of time. The cost of furnishing an
apartment was now estimated at fifteen dollars, while
the expense of fuel and light amounted, on the average,
to twenty-five for the nine months, and of laundry, to
fourteen.
During 1910–11, certain reductions in the fixed rents
of the dormitories were, as we have seen, granted to those
students who occupied seats at the Commons tables. A
majority of the rooms now had been made more convenient
and comfortable by the introduction of steam-heat
and electricity; and for these, the general charge had been
increased very substantially,—thus all the dormitories
on East Lawn and West Lawn, which possessed this
addition, were now rented for $74.75 apiece; on West
Range, for $71.50; on Dawson's Row, for $72.00; and
on Monroe Hill, for $54.00. These were the full rates.
The reduction in the rents for the boarders at Commons
was fixed at twenty-five per cent.—for instance, the
rooms on East Range were rented to such boarders for
$53.00; the single rooms in Randall's Building for
$35.00; and the double for $40.00. There was a small
advance in the charges for most of the dormitories before
the end of the session 1915–16.
The occupants of all these apartments had to supply
their own furniture at their own expense. The cost of
furnished rooms beyond the precincts at this time ranged
from five dollars to twenty monthly.
XL. Student Life—Economic Side, Continued
What were the total expenses by the session of a student
who had matriculated in the academic, or in any one
of the vocational departments? The amount, as was to
be expected, differed from year to year; and it was also
dependent upon the habits of the individual collegian.
Let us begin with the interval between 1904 and 1907.
Placing the lowest figure for living charges only at
$135.00 and the highest at $270.00, we find that the expenses
of the academic student, during these years, varied
from $265.00 to $400.00; of the law student, from
$320.00 to $455.00; of the medical, from $283.00 to
$423.00; of the engineering, from $265.00 to $425.00;
of the agricultural, from $265.00 to 400.00. In 1908–
09, the figures for the members of the professional
classes were as follows: in the engineering department,
the total expenses for the Virginian ranged from $255.00
to $374.00, and for the non-Virginian, from $303.00 to
$419.00; in the department of law, the total expenses
ranged from $342.00 to $469.00; and in the department
of medicine, from $310.00 to $432.00.
In 1911–12, the total expenses of the Virginian student
in the college and graduate departments varied
from $220.00 to $355.00; of the non-Virginian from
$345.00 to $480.00. In the department of law, the
total expenses of the student, whether Virginian or nonVirginian,
ranged from $375.00 to $520.00, and in the
department of medicine, from $355.00 to $490.00.
There was some divergence between the total expenses
of the Virginian and the non-Virginian in the department
of engineering,—the range of the former was from
$295.00 to $430.00, and of the latter, from $345.00 to
$480.00 During this session, the general average in all
the departments was $368.61, distributed as follows:
for the non-Virginian, $91.85; and incidentals, $20.00.
During 1915–16, about seventy-two students, who had
registered from Virginia, kept their total expenses within
the pale of two hundred and thirty dollars, while fifteen
had made buckle and tongue meet although they had
spent only two hundred. About forty had disbursed approximately
five hundred and fifty dollars. The average
for three hundred and sixteen young men was five hundred
and twenty-five. One student reported a personal
expenditure of three thousand dollars. During this session,
the authoritative statistics demonstrated that the
total expenses of the Virginian in the college department
ranged from $375.00 to $520.00; and in the medical deian,
from $345.00 to $480.00; of the Virginian in the
graduate department, from $220.00 to $355.00, and
of the non-Virginian from $325.00 to $460.00; of the
Virginian in the engineering department, from $290.00 to
$425.00, and of the non-Virginian, from $350.00 to
$485.00. The total expenses of the student, whether
Virginian or non-Virginian in the department of law,
ranged from $375.00 to $520.00; and in the medicine department,
from $355.00 to $490.00.
As these statements of expenses, beginning with
1904–05, were based on careful and accurate investigation,
it is to be inferred that the great body of young
men at the University were economical in their outlay;
and that no forms of pecuniary extravagance found in
practice any encouragement there. After the World War
began, there was noted a rise in the cost of living, but
the fixed charges of the student disclosed little variation.
We have alluded in former volumes to the anxiety exhibited
by the University authorities to extend all the
assistance in their power to deserving students who lacked
of the session. A Faculty Student Self-Help Committee,
organized by President Alderman, and a similar bureau
maintained by the Young Men's Christian Association,
were indefatigable in their attention to this feature of
the students' welfare. In 1904–05, the positions obtained
for them were those of choir-leader, organist,
assistant-librarian, table-waiter, clothes-presser, reader,
stenographer, typewriter, and clerical assistant. Other
positions secured were those of attendant in lecture-room
or laboratory, gardener, clerk in a book-store, and
furnace boy. A considerable number of students found
employment in Charlottesville as teachers, clerks, telegraphers,
and newspaper carriers.
In 1906–07, when seven hundred and eighty-six young
men matriculated, answers were received from three hundred
and forty-seven as to how they had acquired or were
still acquiring, the means to defray their expenses in college.
It seems that sixty were then earning an income
from some form of writing; twenty-nine, from teaching;
seven from clerical, and five from ministerial work;
and eighteen from miscellaneous tasks. About eighty-eight
had procured the necessary funds before entering
the University,—some by teaching, some by clerical
labor, some by engineering jobs, some by employment in
business, and the remainder in more general ways.
Fifty-nine had borrowed the money to meet the charges.
The occupations in which needy students engaged at
the University, during the following session, consisted
of sale and newspaper agencies, field engineering, reporting
for College Topics, tending cows or horses,
packing cigars, copying law notes, composing stories
for magazines, laboring on farms, or taking part in the
Association. Some of the young men of this session, before
matriculating, had earned money as hospital stewards,
distributing druggists, assistants to physicians,
time-keepers, operators in factories, mail-carriers,
deputy collectors of the revenue, chauffeurs, express
agents, sailing masters and osteopaths. The quantity of
money gathered up by them in these ways was estimated
at $23,232; the sums earned by others after matriculation
amounted to $18,600; while the sums borrowed
reached a total of $20,119.
In 1911–12, thirty-five per cent. of the students enrolled
replied to an inquiry as to whether they were defraying
their expenses in whole or in part. Thirty-four
per cent. of those answering were found to be in either
the one or the other category. The proportion was
larger than had formerly been observed,—a difference
probably due to the increase in the number of matriculates
who had received their secondary education in the
public schools. Of the two hundred and seventy-five
replying, about eighty-five had paid their expenses by
means of borrowed money. Most of this latter group
were registered either in the college or in the law department.
The sums thus obtained amounted to
$24,000. About thirty per cent. of those reporting had
met more than one-half of the charges with the proceeds
of employments pursued before enrolment. These
employments had brought in a total of $16,841,
and consisted of such activities as athletics, watch-making,
farming, railroad-work, church-work, engineering
work, journalism, real estate, and the like. The occupations
followed after matriculation were those of
clerks, teachers, library assistants, stenographers, mechanics,
and agents for the Young Men's Christian
Association.
During the session of 1912–13, sixty-two students
earned $8,116 after entering the University; eighty-seven,
before entering, had accumulated the joint sum of
$16,801; and eighty-five had borrowed $5,333 to cover
their necessary expenses. The Faculty's committee on
self-help reported, in 1916, that a large proportion of
the young men who had matriculated during that session,
had, by their own industry, acquired the means to defray
every charge. About eight hundred and sixty-five had
responded to the inquiry, and of this number, fifty-three
per cent. were discovered to be not self-supporting, while
about forty-six per cent. were found to be at least partly
self-supporting. The amount which had been earned before
enrolment was $47,850, and afterwards, in the
course of the nine months, $24,902.
By an act of the General Assembly in 1908,—the bill
having been introduced by Senator A. E. Strode,—a
loan fund was created in the University for the benefit
of needy and deserving Virginian students who desired to
pursue courses in the academic department. In 1909,
an alumnus of Harvard gave the institution the sum of
five thousand dollars, in recognition of the friendship
which had always existed between the two seats of
learning. The interest from this fund was to be loaned
to one or more destitute young men who were anxious to
follow a line of study in some one of the schools of the
University. In 1908–10, sixteen gave their notes for
periods extending from five years to nine months, and
obtained through them loans ranging respectively
from fifty to one hundred dollars. Five years afterwards,
a fund of ten thousand dollars was presented to
Robert E. Lee. The interest to accrue from this fund
was to be reserved for advances to poor students who
were registered in any one of the departments. There
were several additions to these loans funds,—thus in
1914–15, Fairfax Harrison, President of the Southern
Railway, contributed two hundred dollars, and the
Lynchburg Alumni Chapter, the same amount, for their
further enlargement. In 1915, five hundred dollars was
given by the Seven Club, and seven hundred and fifty
by Sarah E. Wright, for the same purpose.
XLI. Student Life—Social Side
Throughout the Ninth Period, 1904–19, the town
of Charlottesville continued to be too limited in popuulation
to swallow up the University socially, or even
from that point of view to influence it to any sensible
extent. The evolution of the University community
had, during this interval, gone forward along lines
peculiar to itself, with as little modification or expansion,
through pressure from the outside, as had been perceptible
during the earlier periods. What was the most
important alteration which the progress of time had
brought to the social life of the students from the operation
of those subtle influences which had arisen from
their own ranks? In former years, as we have seen,
every matriculate stood upon a footing that was not in
the slightest degree affected by the length of his association
with the institution. The collegian who had only
recently been admitted for the first time occupied a
social position equal in every general respect to that of
his contemporary who had returned for his second or
third or even sixth year. All were sons of the University
of Virginia, and as such were not separated by a
length of stay or from class division. One student
might be more industrious and more acquisitive than another,
or more brilliant in intellect or more winning in
manner. These were real distinctions which had always
existed, but, formerly, no artificial ones were superimposed
upon them to make the social gulf between individual
and individual wider than nature had intended.
During the Ninth Period, there arose a hypercritical
attitude among the students who had passed their
initial session, which tended to deprive the first-year
matriculate of that equality of social standing which he
had always possessed in former times. "What is the
justification for the coolness at the University of Virginia
towards new men?" asked an observer in
1905–06. "Why should the old men receive the new
men with so much aloofness? The new man enters a
self-governing student body, and gradually learns what
is desired of him, and learns to conform to it. A man
can wear any hat he chooses; but there are things he
cannot do; and this is enforced by the attitude of the old
men." Possibly, this jealous posture towards the first-year
student had its incitement in that steady increase in
the number of first-year matriculates which became so
noticeable with the progress of the Ninth Period. Unless
some frankly restrictive influence was brought to
bear, would there not be danger that the power of these
swarming first-year men could not be restrained; and
that, in their rawness, they might be inclined to treat
the spirit of the old college social traditions with silent
neglect, if not with open contempt?
But, however much disposed the young men who had
passed their first year might be sternly to teach their supposed
place to those who had recently entered, it was not
group of matriculates in their first session that the
fraternities and societies and clubs were to be recruited.
It was this fact which moderated the superior, if not
supercilious, bearing of the older men, who were anxious
to fill up the gaps which, from year to year, existed
in the ranks of those associations at the beginning of
every autumn. And new associations were being constantly
formed, which made the draft upon the new
students all the more important. "When," asked the
editors of College Topics, in 1905, "will this increase
in the number of the University fraternities stop?" At
this time, about eighteen of the foremost organizations
of that type in the United States were represented at the
University of Virginia. Among those which established
chapters there after 1904 were the Phi Rho Sigma,
Theta Nu Epsilon, Phi Sigma Kappa, Sigma Phi Epsilon
Alpha Chi Rho, Delta Phi, Delta Chi, Theta Chi,
Zeta Beta Tau, and Phi Epsilon Pi.
In our history of anterior periods, we described the
general social character of the fraternities taken as a
body. It will not be necessary to add to this description
in our account of the Ninth Period, as time brought
no salient alterations in their tendencies. There are
other features, however, which have a high degree of interest
of their own. Of the forty-five hundred members
of the academic department enrolled between 1905 and
1917, twenty-one hundred belonged to the associations
which were distinctly fraternal. This proportion represented
less than one-half of the entire number. Of
the twenty-seven hundred and forty-nine young men
registered in the law department, eighteen hundred and
sixty-six had belonged to these associations also. This
indicated that twice as many of the students of that department
not been enrolled. In the department of medicine, there
were seven hundred and ninety-three who had been members,
and four hundred and fifty-three who had not been;
in the engineering department, the corresponding figures
were five hundred and ninety-seven and six hundred
and seventy-five. It was only in this particular department
that the students who had not been members exceeded
in number those who had been. In all the departments,
taken as a whole, there were, during this
long interval, 5358 who had been members, and 4475
who had not been members, of the fraternal associations
of all kinds. In this list, the membership of the
civic clubs, musical clubs, German clubs, athletic clubs,
State, city, and school clubs, and debating societies, has
not been counted.
In 1911, an inter-fraternity agreement was drawn up
which required that no association of that character
should directly or indirectly go so far as to invite a first-year
student to become a member of it until after the
fifteenth of January. When nine o'clock of the evening
of that day had passed, such an invitation could be
delivered; but it must be drafted in writing and accompanied
by the request that the answer should be delayed
forty-eight hours. Eighteen fraternities adopted this
rule; but before a year had gone by, that rule had been
substantially modified,—it was then provided that, between
midnight of October 14 and midnight of October
19, fraternity claims could be discussed with a prospective
member; and that, after that hour of the latter day,
a private invitation in writing could be mailed to him,
but with the information that he could, if he wished,
defer his reply until two o'clock in the afternoon
of October 29. This extremely formal arrangement
had refused to become parties to the agreement,
—a fact which gave them an open field; and secondly,
because the competition which followed was
thought to be more detrimental to the kindly intercourse
of the fraternities than the old custom which permitted
all to seek as they pleased.
In 1908, the Board of Visitors offered to lease a site
on the University grounds to the Kappa Sigma for the
erection of a fraternity-house, and to loan them the sum
of $12,000 for its construction. It was not until March
apparently that this association was ready to accept this
advance,—permission was then also given to the members
of both the Sigma Chi and the Delta Tau Delta to
build. The Kappa Alpha, the Phi Delta Theta, and the
Sigma Chi took possession of new homes after 1908–09.
The house belonging to the Phi Delta Theta was situated
on Rugby Road, while the one belonging to the
Sigma Chi was situated in University Place. The Chi
Phi occupied a bungalow in Madison Lane. The Beta
Theta Pi acquired new quarters on Preston Heights, the
Delta Phi and Sigma Phi Epsilon, in Chancellor Street,
and the Sigma Alpha Epsilon in Fourteenth Street.
The house of the Phi Kappa Sigma, standing in Madison
Lane, had cost nearly nineteen thousand dollars,
while the houses of the Kappa Sigma and the Delta Tau
Delta,—both situated on Carr's Hill,—had each been
erected at an outlay of twenty thousand.
In December, 1912, the proposal to construct a road
around the north-west side of this hill was approved by
the Board, in the expectation that it would create room
for new fraternity homes. The Delta Kappa Epsilon
took advantage of the completion of the work to build
a house for its own members on the line of this new
University Place, and the Pi Kappa Alpha and the
Alpha Tau Omega respectively on Rugby Road. There
were few fraternities in the University which had not, by
1916, either erected, purchased, or rented a spacious
and well situated house either within the precincts or in
the vicinage. This was the result chiefly of a desire on
their part to draw the personal relations of their members
closer together than had been possible when those
members resided in dormitories at a distance from each
other, and came together only occasionally. The new
homes also possessed all the modern conveniences and
comforts. It was thought that the fraternities, in
their enjoyment of all these new advantages, had encouraged
rather than discouraged a more sociable feeling
among the students; nor had their existence fostered
any bad feeling between the members and non-members
of such associations,—indeed, there were too many
members in the aggregate to raise the supposition that a
rigid policy of selection had been followed; and in addition,
it was generally known that there were many
desirable young men in the University who had declined
the invitations to join these associations.
What was the standing of the fraternities in the province
of scholarship? In 1910–11, the highest grade
attained, namely, eighty-one, was attained by the Sigma
Chi; and in 1911–12, the highest, namely, 84.6, was attained
by the Delta Psi. The lowest grade reached by
any fraternity during this session was 69.7. Nine of the
twenty-three fraternities in existence at this time attained
grades that ranged between 84.6 and 80.1, and
thirteen, between 80.1 and 70. One fraternity alone
fell below the last figure. In 1912–13, the highest
grade reached, namely, 84.9, was reached by the Delta
the highest grade attained, namely, 87.6, was attained
by the Kappa Alpha; the lowest grade attained was 76.
In 1914–15, the Delta Chi led with a grade of 86, while
the lowest reached was 74.5. In 1914–15, Zeta Beta
Tau led with a grade of 87.7, followed at the lowest
point by another fraternity with a grade of 75.4.
Twenty of these associations, during this session, attained
grades that ranged between 87.7 and 80.7. The
following table records the grades of students who
were members of the fraternities as compared with the
grades of those who were not members:
| Departments | 1910–11 | 1911–12 | 1913–14 | 1914–15 | 1915–16 |
| College | 67.6 | 73.5 | 78.2 | 80.3 | 78. |
| Graduate | 79.5 | 84.3 | 86.3 | 85.7 | 87.5 |
| Law | 78.8 | 82.9 | 84.3 | 84.6 | 85.2 |
| Medicine | 82.9 | 64.9 | 77.7 | 75.2 | 77. |
| Engineering | 72.6 | 70.7 | 82.5 | 88.4 | 87.8 |
| Departments | 1910–11 | 1911–12 | 1913–14 | 1914–15 | 1915–16 |
| College | 68.5 | 77.2 | 80.1 | 81.4 | 80.6 |
| Graduate | 74.5 | 86. | 84.7 | 87.1 | 87.4 |
| Law | 84.5 | 86.1 | 84.3 | 84.8 | 85.7 |
| Medicine | 82.9 | 83.3 | 76.3 | 77.8 | 84.5 |
| Engineering | 72.7 | 75.3 | 84.8 | 86.8 | 86.4 |
The most conspicuous ribbon societies, during the
Ninth Period, were still the Eli Banana, the Tilka, and
the Zeta. In 1904–05, the Eli Banana counted a membership
of twenty; and that number continued to increase
until, by 1917, it had grown to thirty-three. The
corresponding membership of Tilka was twenty-seven
and twenty-nine, while that of the others did not vary
materially during this interval. A critic of these societies
denoted class." "Whenever an exponent of these
beaumonders is discovered," he continued, "he is placarded
with a cloth decoration. The ribbon societies
include many leaders in college life, especially those
who can scintillate at a pink tea or go through a ten
course dinner without missing the right fork. No
athlete, however great, without a touch of fashion, can
get in. Fame even is not an open sesame."
From this slightly sour comment, it is to be inferred
that the ribbon societies had jealously maintained their
original exclusiveness. The germans were still controlled
by them; and they were predominant in all the
elections for officers of the General Athletic Association.
Their grasping spirit quite naturally aroused a feeling
of bitterness beyond the pale of their own coteries. It
was pointed out, in reproach to them, that, at Yale, the
highest honor was membership in one of the seven societies.
Did these societies content themselves with admitting
to their circle only social favorities? No.
Their members were elected because they were already
captains of the teams, the foremost scholars of the
classes, the successful editors, the most skilful debaters,
—in short, the men whose standing was broadly based
on the reasonable esteem of the entire body of students,
and not on the trivial partiality of a few persons banded
together in secret organizations. At the University of
Virginia, in consequence of the preponderance of these
private associations, the class presidents, the debaters.
the orators, and the editors were described as "mere
incidentals in college." "Why," asked one critic, "has
the assistant managership of our athletic teams been almost
invariably awarded to ribbon men, and the application
of others, better fitted, been turned down? The
in college, the advisory board every year is made up,
almost without exception, of ribbon men."
About 1906, Morgan P. Robinson, in the spirit of a
Roman tribune, warmly advocated the recovery by the
student body of the political honors which really belonged
to them alone; and he also suggested the adoption
of a smaller fee for admission to the athletic games.
The ribbon societies consented to the reduction of the
fee, but seem to have scotched the other purposes of
the movement. The fight was renewed in 1907, but
without success. The ticket that was then defeated had
been nominated by a caucus which represented the students
in general, in opposition to the ambitious interests
of the fraternities and societies. The ribbon societies
especially were stigmatized by their enemies as political
organizations of a distinctly ruthless type.
XLII. Student Life—Social Side, Continued
Besides the associations known specifically as fraternities
and ribbon societies, there were numerous organizations
which had been established for one purpose or
another. Some of these had been founded anterior to
the Ninth Period, and kept up their activities without
any diminution of their former energy. Some comprised
a membership of students only; some, of students
and professors.
The Civic Club was organized in 1909 by students,
with the view of arousing an interest in politics; furnishing
opportunities for the debate of public questions;
investigating social conditions; and encouraging participation
in community affairs. The officers were chosen
from the student corps; but, in 1912, fifteen of the
forty members were recruited from the circle of the
1910; and the question under consideration being female
suffrage, addresses were delivered by Miss Costello, of
England, and Dr. Anna H. Shaw. In 1911, several
members of the club were employed in studying the moral
and spiritual life of the population of the Ragged
Mountains; and the results of their observations were
issued in a printed form, after a searching examination
in the privacy of the club meetings. In 1912, Professor
Thomas W. Page spoke upon the tariff.
The Medical and Biological Journal Club was organized
in 1907 for the conversational discussion of the latest
advances in those two sciences. During the first
year, only members of the instructing staff were eligible;
but, with the session of 1908–09, students were admitted
to the bi-monthly proceedings. Subsequently, this club
was merged in the Philosophical Society, and thereafter
formed its medical and scientific section.
The Philosophical Society had been founded in 1889,
but appears to have fallen into neglect. At the suggestion
of President Alderman, a scientific society bearing
the same name was organized by the professors for the
publication of the details of their scientific researches,
and for the stimulation of scientific inquiry in all the
schools of the University. It was divided into sections:
(1) the natural sciences; (2) the medical sciences; and
(3) the humanistic sciences. Each section was under
the direction of its own officers and committees. The
separate sections met frequently, while the general society
convened only twice each year,—on which occasions,
reports upon the investigations of the different sections
were submitted, and the business of the organization,
as a whole, transacted. The proceedings were permanently
preserved in the form of bulletins. A steady
department in the topics belonging to the humanistic
section. Papers for that section bearing upon such subjects
as the ancestry of Abraham Lincoln, the works of
Joel Chandler Harris, and the Confederate Constitution,
were prepared by young men who were registered in that
department.
The aim of the Journalism Club was to impart to its
members,—all of whom were students,—practical experience
of newspaper composition, without the restraints
of academic routine. Some of these members confined
their writings to University events, while others contributed
frequently to the metropolitan dailies in the
form either of special articles or of feature stories. Lectures
were delivered before the club by journalists of national
distinction.
In 1912, the State clubs were slightingly described by
College Topics "as only shadows"; but most of them still
held their annual meetings, and still elected their customary
officers. Between 1905 and 1916, there were associations
of this character in existence which stood for
Georgia, Alabama, Kentucky, New York, Maryland,
Texas, Mississippi, Tennessee, Florida, Delaware, Louisiana,
North Carolina, South Carolina, Arkansas, California,
New Jersey, and West Virginia. Virginia, as a
whole, was not represented; but sections, like the Southwest,
and counties, like Loudoun and Pittsylvania, were.
The only city clubs of this period seem to have been organized
by students from Washington, Roanoke, Lynchburg,
Petersburg, and Memphis. In the college and
school clubs were enrolled the young men who had come
from seats of learning ranging all the way from Hampden-Sidney
College, College of William and Mary, and
the Virginia Military Institute at the top, to the private
the Episcopal High School Club, in 1914, possessed
a membership of sixty-three, and the Charlottesville
High School, a membership of thirty-three. Some of the
private high schools,—such as the Cluster Springs Academy,
for instance,—could point to an enrolment of only
seven. A territorial league was founded in 1913–14,
with a membership recruited from the different State
and school clubs. Its object was to bring the students
together on a footing of geographical sympathy; to
create a dignified and valuable publicity for the University
as a whole; and to employ all the influence at its command
to increase the number of the State, city, and school
clubs.
The Menorah Club was a Jewish organization, which
strove to encourage ethical living and high thinking
among the students of that faith; and it also cooperated
very earnestly and energetically with the Young Men's
Christian Association in the work done by that association
in every branch of social service. St. Paul's Church
Club was composed of the Episcopal students. Its most
lively dissipation appears to have been a smoker,—on
which occasion, persons of distinction delivered appropriate
addresses. The Calico Club elected only three
officers; namely, the high-keeper of Cupid's bolts, the
grand arbiter of social quality, and "the mighty rusher."
The Bachelor's Club was the antithesis of the Calico
Club, while the Masonic Club was restricted to persons
of Masonic affiliations. The Aero Club was organized,
in 1909, with a list of members chosen from the
body of the Faculty and the students; but apparently
their interest in flying did not extend beyond the invitation
to some expert to speak before them on aeronautics.
in the school of historical, economical, and political science,
for the purpose of acquiring a more thorough knowledge
of current events. The Scarab Club, the Graduate
Club, and the Thirteen Club were organized for reasons
more or less shadowed in their names; and so with the
Skating Club, the German Club, and the Afternoon Tea
Club. There was also the Seven Club.
The Hot Feet held their last celebration, in 1908, in
the gymnasium, and from that hour survived only in a
tune. It reluctantly disbanded under irresistible pressure
from an indignant administrative council, which announced
its decision in words of laconic sternness.
"The existence of the Hot Feet Society," that body declared,
"had been, on the whole, very detrimental to the
University's welfare, and it is, therefore, unanimously
resolved that the existence of the Hot Feet Society, and
of all other organizations which promote disorder in the
University, shall be forbidden."
The Virginia Union,—which was founded in 1916,—
aimed to correlate all the different undergraduate activities
on one common ground; namely, the advancement of
the University's welfare. It stimulated communal enterprise;
it encouraged a perfectly candid discussion of college
questions; and it counseled and actively fostered a
closer social intercourse between student and student.
Its entertainments were given on Saturday night weekly;
and on these occasions, profitable addresses were delivered
by speakers of reputation. The membership of the
Colonnade Club was limited to the circle of the Faculty,
the administrative staff, and the alumni. Its object was
to create opportunities that would bring the teachers
and officers of the University together more intimately,
that would appeal to returning alumni as animated by
the spirit of home.
There were numerous associations in existence at the
University of Virginia, during the Ninth Period, which
were as distinctly scholastic in their purposes as the majority
of the organizations already mentioned were social.
The foremost of these was the Beta Chapter of the Phi
Beta Kappa, which was founded in September, 1907;
but it was not until June, 1908, that the charter was
formally delivered by Professor Grosvenor, president
of the United Chapters, and accepted by Professor
James M. Page, president of the local unit. The election
of a student to membership in this body was a proof
that he was distinguished for superior scholarship, high
character, love of knowledge, and promise of future usefulness.
The number of young men admitted annually
was limited to one-fifth of the graduating class in the
college department; five in the graduate; three in the
medical; five in the department of law; and two in the
department of engineering. The executive committee,—
which was composed of members of the Faculty,—were
not authorized to elect more than forty distinguished
alumni annually.
The Phi Beta Kappa Society was national in character;
the Raven, another organization resting on scholarship,
was local. Its enrolment was recruited from the ranks
of the leaders of thought and learning in the several departments
of the University. The professors were
eligible for admission, but the few persons elected from
beyond the precincts enjoyed only the privileges of
honorary membership. The society convened in the
dormitory on West Range which had once been occupied
by Edgar Allan Poe; and it was keenly interested, and
poet. In 1912, a plan was broached by the society for
collecting a fund with which to mark the grave of his
mother in the yard of St. John's Church in Richmond;
and it is recorded that a concert was given in Madison
Hall, several sessions afterwards, to increase the amount
which had already been contributed for that purpose.
Each ensuing year witnessed valuable additions to the
miscellaneous souvenirs of Poe which had been gathered
up from time to time for the adornment of his former
dormitory.
The club of the law department bore the name of Phi
Delta Phi. Its exhibition of "goating" occurred twice
a year. The first, which took place at three o'clock on a
chosen afternoon in autumn, began with a cavalcade; the
horsemen assembled in front of. Dawson's Row; and having
fallen in, marched off to Lambeth Field, where a
game was to be contested. As they entered the gate in
columns, the old members occupied the front ranks,
while the "goats" brought up the rear mounted ignominiously
on mules. All came to a halt on a spot situated
at the right of the bleachers; from thence, they
advanced around the track, while a lively tune was playing;
and when this part of the programme was finished,
they left the grounds for the main street of Charlottesville.
Down this they proceeded in ranks of twelve;
but returned along the same track to the University in
single file. The second exhibition began on Saturday
night before the inauguration of the Easter gayeties.
The first part was celebrated in Cabell Hall, and consisted
principally of a burlesque upon the peculiarities of
the several law professors; topical songs were also sung
and one act plays performed; and when all these entertainments
had come to an end, the club adjourned for
second initiation of the year, on which occasion, the old
members were dressed in red robes or dominoes, and the
"goats" in fantastic costumes of brilliant colors. The
former on horse-back, the latter on mule-back,—as in
the autumn,—marched off to Lambeth Field, where a
game was about to be played; and in the course of this
game, the "goats" ran a relay race, or hobbled, with
lock-step, around the track. Again mounting, the whole
body made the circuit of the field in single file, and then
departed for town; and after marching the whole length
of the main street, they returned to college in order to
light up the sky with fire-works so soon as night should
fall.
The Phi Rho Sigma, the medical club, held its Easter
"goating" in the afternoon. The old members travelled
to Lambeth Field in a tallyho to attend the game,
while the initiates followed in an ambulance. On the
ground, in the spring of 1908, one of the clubmen having
suddenly shown acute symptoms of an alarming indisposition,
a fellow clubman, clothed in antiseptic dress,
rushed to his aid, and by a dexterous incision, extracted
a rabbit from his patient's stomach instead of the expected
appendix.
The association of the School of Chemistry was the
Kappa Delta Mu, and of the engineering department.
the Engineering Journal Club. The Sigma Delta Chi
was the name borne by the honorary journalistic society.
The Theta Kappa Nu fraternity, a national law organization,
had established a chapter at the University of
Virginia. Its membership, in addition to the professors
of the law department, was drawn from the graduating
class of that department each year,—with a limitation,
however, to the twelve students who had obtained the
must also be aspirants for the degree of bachelor
of laws. The Phi Alpha Delta, also a national law association,
founded a chapter at the University in 1910.
The Delta Sigma Rho, which was organized at Chicago,
in 1906, for the purpose of encouraging public speaking
in the different seats of learning, restricted its membership
to young men who had represented their respective
institutions in an inter-collegiate contest of oratory or
debate, and had actually participated in the collision.
A chapter of this fraternity was established at the University
of Virginia in 1909.
Skull and Keys and Lambda Pi seem to have been academic
associations. In the course of Easter week, the
members of the former appeared as convicts under
guard; and their custodian was supposed to be always
ready to check an incipient mutiny by firing his gun
among them point blank. The members of Lambda Pi
dressed themselves, on the same occasions, as harlequins,
or as other creatures of equal grotesqueness. During
the early part of the day, they were kept busy imitating
the peculiar call of the cuckoo, while, in the afternoon,
attired as chorus girls in sheath gowns and other startling
costumes, they drove off merrily to Lambeth Field,
in a vehicle conspicuous for its flamboyant adornments.
XLIII. Student Life—Social Side, Continued
The claim was asserted for the musical clubs in 190405
that they offered students without any athletic aptitudes
a chance "to serve the University." The most
conspicuous of these were still the Arcadians. When
first organized, the performances of the Arcadians were
limited to light comedies, which required small casts
only; but subsequently, the musical field was entered,
and the participants. The first opera presented
was the Khan of Kathan, which was followed by the
Conspirators. Both imposed a more onerous charge
than the income of the organization could fully defray.
The next two, the Visiting Girl and La Serena, fell more
lightly on its financial resources. The King of Kong, a
comic opera, was, during a tour of the Virginian cities,
received with encouraging applause. This opera had
been composed by two alumni, and was placed behind the
footlights with a company of University athletes,
scholars, and unfledged scientists; the female parts were
taken by young men in seductive feminine disguises; and
the fidelity of their acting created a good deal of sarcastic
merriment. The fifth opera performed by the club was
entitled Turvyland. This was the composition of a
student of the law department; its first appearance took
place in Cabell Hall; but the expense which it entailed
was so heavy that no money was left to be carried over
to the following year. Such a comedy required the vigilant
service of an expert coach; and the number of actors
indispensable was so great, and the equipment in
costume and scenery so voluminous, that the costs, on
these various scores, ate up all the pecuniary profit. In
consequence, no play was offered in 1910–11.
This fact led to the revival of the Glee Club, an association
which had disbanded in 1905. A mass-meeting
of all the students interested in music was held; a new
vocal and instrumental club organized; and rehearsals
at once began. This club was composed of twenty
members. It gave two concerts in Cabell Hall and four
beyond the precincts. Choruses, quartets, and vocal
and instrumental solos, were skilfully rendered. This
association failed to re-form in 1912–13 and 1913–14, as
director and manager.
In January, 1915, Professor Hall-Quest, who, during
six years, had been in charge of the Princeton Glee Club,
undertook to reorganize the old association and train it
scientifically. A successful performance was given at
Culpeper in 1915. The programme on this occasion
consisted of a musical comedy,—a combination of vocal
and instrumental music and acting. As it was
thought that a dramatic setting was more pleasing to the
average audience than a bare and formal concert, special
scenery, in 1915–16, was procured, and elaborate costumes
purchased, for a comedy of this kind, to be limited
to two acts. There were forty-five participants in the
performances that followed, of whom thirty belonged to
the Glee Club and ten to the Mandolin, with a chorus of
six dressed as women. Though nominally independent,
the two clubs were under the guidance of the same president,
manager, and director.
The editors of the magazine were not satisfied with
the University's possession of a Glee Club and a Mandolin
Club,—they proposed in 1908–09, that a dramatic
club should be organized, of such talent and polyglot
learning that its members could act and declaim with
success the tragedies of Sophocles and the comedies of
Molière, in the original language; and their histrionic
capacity might even be tested by their undertaking the
exacting parts of Hamlet or the Midsummer Night's
Dream. In 1915, there flourished in college a dramatic
club, the principal membership of which had been recruited
from the families of the professors. Only a few
students had been admitted to it. A play entitled The
Wedding was performed by this club in Cabell Hall;
and, in the following year, the Ghost of Jerry Bundler
the atmosphere of the precincts very frequently vibrated
to the blare of a brass band, which had been organized
by the young men; and this band was still in existence in
1911, when it boasted the possession of fifteen instruments.
It had, during this year,—and doubtless
previously too,—been carefully trained by an expert
instructor.
Besides the occasions for diversion which these
numerous clubs and associations created, there were
others which were equally instructive or pleasurable.
From time to time, dramatic companies, like Ben Greet's
Woodland Players, gave performances in the open air on
the Lawn; or a concert by Miss Betty Booker or by John
Powell, or by these two artists together, was given in
Cabell Hall. In the same apartment, in November,
1915, took place the concert of the Russian Choir of
St. Nicholas Cathedral, New York, composed of thirty
members, both men and boys. The Sunday afternoon
organ recitals, which were attended by large audiences,
were influential in cultivating the musical taste of the
community at large. But more distinctly social, and
more spectacular also, were the tableaux presented by the
young ladies of the University or its vicinity. In one,
they were represented as living guitars; and this performance
was interspersed with musical numbers and
torch and gypsy dances. Informal receptions, under the
guise of soirees, were given at frequent intervals by the
members of the various fraternities in their houses; and
here also numerous dances came off.
But the gayest hours of the year for the lovers of this
pastime were the dances which were held on the eve of
the football game at Thanksgiving or the baseball, Easter
week. Many alumni returned to the University on the
of young ladies from neighboring finishing schools left
no room to complain of a dearth of agreeable partners.
In October, 1914, alone, five hundred visitors from
Sweet Briar and Randolph-Macon Women's Colleges
adorned the scene with their presence. Dances were
given by the German Club and the P. K. Society on the
evenings of the Thursday and Friday which preceded the
autumn game. But it was during Easter week that the
saltatory spirit flared up most brilliantly,—early in the
Ninth Period, germans were held, during this animated
interval, by the Eli Banana society, the german club, the
Tilka society, and the Beta Theta Pi fraternity; and after
the performances of the Phi Delta Phi in Cabell Hall,—
in which, as we have seen, local persons and institutions
were satirized,—a hop took place in the gymnasium;
and this was followed in one year at least by a bal
masque, given by the managers of Corks and Curls. In
1912, Easter week was enlivened by a variety of pastimes.
A burlesque "goating," a ball game, an aeroplane
flight, a dance by the german club, a second ball
game, a german by the Eli Bananas, a third ball game, a
german by the Tilkas, a track meet, a german by Beta
Theta Pi, a fourth ball game and a play, constituted a
succession of amusements. A tea at St. Anthony's Hall
in honor of the visiting young ladies and their escorts
was one of the additional features of the hour in 1913.
The social prestige of the Commencement, which,
formerly, had been predominant, had, by this year, been
to all intents, destroyed. It had been proposed five
years before to omit from the final exercises all purely
social events in which ladies had been participating, and
to retain only the plain observances necessary to matters
of routine; but that this consummation had not been fully
the Delta Tau Delta gave in Fayerweather gymnasium
during the closing celebration of that session. Practically
the social incidents of the Commencement were
now limited to an alumni luncheon, the class exercises
around the Jefferson statue on the north front of the
Rotunda, and a reception at the Colonnade Club.
An occasion of interest to the citizens of the academic
village was the College Hour inaugurated by President
Alderman not long after he took his seat. It was held
once a month, and it was established for the following
reasons: (1) the assembling of the University personnel
on a definite day once every thirty days would strengthen
the unity and solidarity of the institution; (2) it would
enable the officers, professors, and students to know each
other more thoroughly by the intimate influences which
it would bring to bear through songs, organ recitals, and
conversation; (3) it would cause teacher and pupil to
meet on a somewhat more winning and sympathetic basis
than was practicable in the atmosphere of the class-room;
(4) it would create an opportunity to single out and discuss
the large social and political problems of our times;
(5) it would give the President an occasion to unfold his
plans and disclose the prospects of the University; and
finally, (6) it would increase the capacity of the students
for cooperative effort.
XLIV. Student Life—Physical Side
Previous to the inauguration of the first President, the
control of the athletic sports of the University rested
nominally in the hands of the student body, but, in reality,
of the General Athletic Association, on the supposition
that every collegian, immediately upon his matriculation,
was ipso facto a member of that organization.
was in reality mere putty in the manipulating fingers
of a few dominating men. This subservience was
universally admitted; but the students at large, impatient
and suspicious though they were, were at a loss to find a
means of throwing off this personal ascendancy over
them. A committee on athletics was annually appointed
by the chairman of the Faculty, but rarely held
a meeting. There was no regulation which defined
eligibility, and no sportsman-like rule which governed
the games. Many of the young men taking part in
them had matriculated only to participate in athletic
contests. Some were professional athletes in disguise
who had registered from every section of the country.
President Alderman, recognizing the disconcerting
features of the situation, promptly decided, with the sympathetic
cooperation of the Faculty, to take steps to remove
all these evils, which were causing such just complaint.
Indeed, the University of Virginia was one of
the first institutions to apply a drastic remedy to conditions
which were damaging the standing of American
sport everywhere. A committee was appointed to make
a searching investigation, and to recommend the measures
to be enforced for carrying out the necessary reform.
This committee consisted of Professor Echols,
its chairman, Professor Minor, and Dr. Lambeth. The
report which they submitted forms one of the most
honorable landmarks in the history of the University of
Virginia.
The committee earnestly counselled that the following
resolutions should be at once passed: (1) that, in the
opinion of the Faculty and students, the only proper
basis of inter-collegiate athletics was that spirit of pure
amateur sport which animates contests between gentlemen
differentiated amateur sports from professionalism was
the spirit which plays the game for sake of the game
itself; (2) that membership in a team should be held
only by actual students,—a rule which would exclude all
who carried about them the odor of professionalism,—
and by young men whose class records demonstrated
their keen interest in their scholastic work; (3) that it
was the part of gentlemen engaged in any amusement,
sport, or game, to remember, at all times, that they were
gentlemen first, and only incidentally, players,—that
they were to follow, not the bastard honor which calls
for victory at whatever price of fraud or brutality, but
the voice of true honor, which prefers an hundred defeats
to victory purchased by chicanery or unfair dealing,
—that the Faculty and students were determined to
discountenence and brand with their disapproval any
intentional violation of the rules of the game by members
of the University teams or any improper advantage
taken by them of their antagonists, and that it was
entirely immaterial whether these were detected by
umpire or referee; (4) that it was to be assumed that
the opponents of these teams were gentlemen equally
with themselves,—that every presumption of honorable
dealing was to be accepted in their favor until the contrary
was conclusively shown,—and that they were to
be looked upon as guests, and as such to be always protected
from rough and inequitable treatment; (5) that
the spectators on the home grounds should show fairness
and courtesy towards opposing players and officials
of the game; and that the more considerate and generous
the behavior of the University teams on such
occasions, the more nearly would their members approach
sportsman.
The committee further counselled that the following
regulations should be put in practical force at once: (1)
that before any student could become a member, or substitute
member, of any athletic team of the University
of Virginia, and take part in any inter-collegiate contest,
he should be required to apply to the committee on
athletics for a formal approval of his petition; and that
this approval should be refused without further inquiry,
if he was not an unconditioned matriculate of
the institution; (2) that the applicant should appear
before the committee and answer on his honor such
questions as its members should consider proper to ask;
and that his athletic experience should be carefully
looked into and recorded; (3) that he should give a
pledge in writing, supported by his word of honor, that
he had never accepted, directly or indirectly, remuneration,
compensatory gift, valuable consideration, or a
promise thereof, for his athletic services; and that he
was, in a strict sense of the term, an amateur player in
collegiate athletic sports; (4) that no student who had
been a member or substitute member of any athletic
team at another college should be permitted to become
a member of a similar athletic team at the University of
Virginia, unless or until he had been residing in that institution
for at least five months; (5) that no professor,
instructor, or officer of the University of Virginia should
be a member of any athletic team organized within its
precincts; (6) that it should be the duty of the president
of the General Athletic Association, the advisory
board of that association, the manager of the team, the
captain of the team, and the director of the gymnasium,
member of an athletic team about to take part in a contest
was open to no suspicion as to the propriety of his
representing the University on that occasion; and without
such clearance, he should not be permitted to participate
in it; (7) that this privilege should be withheld
from all students whose general standing was discreditable;
(8) that, after September 15, 1907, no coach who
was not an alumnus or officer of the institution, should be
employed for the purpose of training or instructing any
of its various teams; and finally, (9) that the Faculty
committee on athletics should be authorized to establish
a maximum period, after which a player in any branch
of athletic sport should be ineligible to a place on the
corresponding team of the University.
In January, 1906, these recommendations were
adopted by the General Faculty, and the new code was
declared to be in operation from that date. The athletic
committee were warned to allow no inter-collegiate game
to be played with any contestants who refused to conform
to these rules. Their enforcement created a revolution
in the history of the athletic teams. At once, a
complete harmony sprang up in the relation of the
Faculty's committee and the students' committee on athletics,
which showed no sign of weakening until 1909–10,
when a radical ticket was announced, upon the platform
that the domination of the Faculty must be checked;
that publicity of athletic affairs must be assured; and
that a professional baseball coach must be employed.
This opposing party succeeded in electing only two members
of the advisory board, which would seem to indicate
that the sympathy, on the whole, ranged on the
side of the then prevailing policy of the existing committees
on athletics.
The committees were empowered to recommend, from
time to time, any new regulation which appeared to them
to be needed. Among the new rules adopted were, (1)
that no collegian should be admitted to any University
team for an inter-collegiate contest unless he had passed
satisfactorily a physical examination by the director of
the gymnasium; and that if he was under twenty-one
years of age, he must first obtain his parents' written
consent to his participating; (2) that each professor was
to report weekly on the class-work of any one or more
of his students who were actual members, or substitute
members, of any athletic team; and if they were declared
to be neglectful of their books, they were to be compelled
to sever their connection with the team; (3) that
no games were to be played except on the grounds of
some institution of learning; and finally, (4) that no
student whatever was to be permitted to become a member
of a team until there had been an interval of five
months since his matriculation.
In 1916–17, the rule was adopted that no collegian
in his first year should be admitted to any of the University
teams. This was an absolutely certain guarantee of
the exclusion of the professional player. All members
of the teaching staff were also shut out as well as all
students who had been members of a University team
for a period of four years.
Two different incidents which took place after the introduction
of the Presidency reveal the strictness with
which the rules were enforced. First. The University
of Virginia had, during some years, refused to enter
into any athletic contest with Georgetown University;
but finally resumed the old relations with that institution,
on condition that its teams should rigidly observe
the following regulations: a student of that University
the University of Virginia, if he had taken any part in
athletics for compensation; or had been a member of a
professional team; or had gone out with a summer team;
or had participated in a game under an assumed name;
or had not attended a course of lectures that occupied at
least nine hours weekly; or had been actively associated
with college sports during four years.
Second. There matriculated at the University of Virginia,
during a certain session of the Ninth Period, a
student who had been dropped from the roll of Columbia
University for deficiencies in his classes; and there was
no reason to infer, from his general record, that he
would show more industrious habits in his new environment.
When he offered himself as a candidate for a
place on one of the teams, his application was turned
down on this ground. It was said, at the time, that
notice was thus given to the student body, as well as
to all young men who were looking forward to admission,
that the acquisition of knowledge and mental discipline
were the fundamental purposes of the University
of Virginia; and that sport was considered by this institution
to be completely subordinate to these purposes.
The following table reveals the respective grades of the
students who were members of the athletic teams, and of
the students who were not members:
| 1909–10 | 1910–11 | 1911–12 | 1912–13 | 1913–14 | 1914–15 | 1915–16 | |
| Football team | 68.6 | 68.6 | 73.7 | 75.7 | 83.2 | 80.9 | 82.5 |
| Baseball team | 74.6 | 74.6 | 74.4 | 78. | 80.7 | 77.4 | 81.7 |
| Basket-ball team | 72.2 | 72.2 | 78.8 | 83. | 79.8 | 79. | 83.9 |
| Track team | 76.5 | 76.5 | 79.8 | 76.6 | 75.6 | 80.5 | 83.2 |
| Relay team | 77.4 | 77.4 | 77.3 | 80.7 | ... | ... | ... |
| Average for all | 74.8 | 74.8 | 75.6 | 78.8 | 81.2 | 79. | 82.8 |
| Non-athletics | 74.5 | 74.8 | 74.8 | 84.7 | 82.3 | 85.1 | 85.1 |
XLV. Student Life—Physical Side, Continued
In our description of athletics in the Eighth Period,
1895–1904, we mentioned the fact that, during the session
of 1898–09, a system of alumni coaches was introduced,
but that, at the end of two years, it was abandoned,
and the former system of alien coaches restored.
It was under the latter system that instructors, drilled
on the grounds of Yale, Harvard, Princeton and Michigan
Universities,—experts like Abbott, Chamberlaine,
De Saulles, Poe, Sandford, and Cole,—were employed
to perfect the skill and harden the power of endurance
of the University of Virginia players. To Hammond
Johnson was assigned, in 1906–07, the somewhat complicated
duty of leadership in re-establishing the alumni
coaching system, and adjusting it to a facile working
footing. The attitude towards the change on the part
of many was one of emphatic disapproval. They said
that a large number of alumni who would make competent
coaches would be prevented from undertaking
the task by narrow means; that a spirit of fickleness
would be encouraged; and that it would be impossible
for such coaches to accumulate the experience of a
Yale or Harvard expert. Besides, there was little in
the history of the re-introduced system, as formerly
associated with the University, that would serve as
guiding posts for present or future management.
Following Johnson, there sprang up, in succession, a
number of capable men,—M. T. Cooke, John H. Neff,
Charles B. Crawford, Kemper Yancey, Speed Elliott,
Rice Warren, and H. H. Varner,—who, in turn, undertook
the principal control, and, with the assistance of
many other alumni, made the system of domestic coaches
so successful that criticism of it was gradually hushed,
the University were rudely broken up by the World War.
But the services of the non-alumnus expert were not entirely
shut out. The advisory committee of the General
Athletic Board specifically requested the Faculty to
amend the regulation prohibiting the use of such services;
and this counsel that body accepted with the following
safeguards,—which also had been suggested by
the association: (1) the supervision of the foreign coach
was to remain with the University alumni; (2) no alien
was to train longer than two weeks during any one session;
and under no circumstances was he to possess the
last decisive word; and (3) he was only to be engaged in
case of an emergency. With these precautionary rules,
it was sanguinely expected that the amateur purity of
University athletics would be protected and handed
down indefinitely. As a matter of fact, it would appear
that it was only in the sport of baseball that these foreigners
were occasionally employed.
The manner in which the system of alumni coaches
worked was thus described by Dr. Lambeth: "From
each passing team," he said, "there is selected for field
coach the most available man who possesses brains,
initiative, and the faculty of cooperation. He opens
the season's preliminary training, and he adjusts individuals
and squads. As development advances, he invites
certain specialists, who have become proficient by
teaching here and elsewhere. On the arrival of the new
coaches,—and the number is to be increased as the season
progresses,—they are informed as to the plays in
use, and the methods of executing them. At the night
meeting of the coaches, every man can talk and vote
on changes and innovations; and what is ruled by the
majority is next day drilled into the team. The field
coaches are being made while the team is being instructed.
Ten years will produce ten coaches of wisdom
and power. The graduate system encourages and requires
Virginia men to think for themselves. Instead
of rubbing out and starting anew each year, we begin
the new season where we ended the last."
The report of the secretary of the General Association
of Colleges for 1910 mentions the fact that, at this time,
nearly seventy of these institutions were in favor of the
selection of coaches from the circle of their respective
faculties, alumni, or undergraduates.
The old charter of the General Athletic Association
having expired before the beginning of the session of
1911–12, a new one was drafted and adopted by the
association and granted by the State Corporation Commission.
Under its provisions, the advisory board consisted
of two members drawn from the Faculty and five
members drawn from the student body. It was the
duty of the executive committee to superintend the association's
affairs; to appoint the coaches, managers, and
employees; to award the V to the most distinguished
champions; to guard jealously the integrity of University
athletics; and to administer the finances of the association.
By the session 1913–14, the influence of gross politics
in the choice of officers of the General Athletic
Association had disappeared. In all former elections,
there had been two antagonistic parties, each supporting
a different policy; but no step, however wise or necessary
in itself, could be taken before the nomination of
a candidate who represented that particular policy.
"The politician in athletics," remarked Dr. Lambeth,
who had been observing the normal species for many
out of his pupa stage in March as a crab. He is a crab
because you can't tell which way he is going, forward
or backward or sideways. He backs and fills, until his
final metamorphosis, which gives him his future characteristics,
and which becomes pronounced in May."
Before the adoption of the new charter, all the students
participated in the elections, and the campaigns invariably
took that violent form picturesquely described as
"whirlwind." Subsequently, the "whirlwind" subsided
to such an innocuous zephyr that, not infrequently,
the names printed upon the ticket were not known to
everybody until the day before the election took place.
Each election was now in the hands of the executive
committee and athletic boards.
About 1904–05, the University of Virginia withdrew
from the Inter-collegiate Association. It seems that
the institutions belonging to this association were now,
with the exception of itself, without graduate students.
"We were unwilling for them," said the spokesman of
the University, "to legislate as to how they should play
other colleges which did have graduate students." In
1915, the General Faculty were unanimously in favor of
the University of Virginia participating in the athletic
conference of Southern State Universities, the object of
which was to stimulate the prosperity of inter-collegiate
sports; to increase their disciplinary value; and to foster
the highest sense of honor and fair play in all the intercollegiate
contests. The conference assembled once a
year, and each member was represented by two delegates.
The financial condition of the General Athletic Association
throughout the Ninth Period was, as a rule,
satisfactory. The report of the treasurer in June, 1910,
amounted to $13,178.33; and after all expenses had been
paid, there remained in the treasury a surplus of
$499.52. At the beginning of 1913, there was a credit in
bank to the extent of $1,440. The income, at this time,
was derived from the regular fee of two dollars, the
special contributions of students, and the gate-money
handed in by the spectators. In 1911–12, the advisory
board was compelled to borrow the funds which were
needed to complete the work on the concrete stadium in
Lambeth Field.
XLVI. Student Life—Physical Side, Continued
In March, 1910, a national committee of seven,—organized
to revise the game of football,—convened in
New York City. Dr. Lambeth represented the University
of Virginia in this body. The following were
the radical innovations which they recommended: (1)
that the game was to be played in four quarters in order
to save the participants from exhaustion,—three rest
periods were assured thereby, instead of one as formerly;
(2) seven men were required to be in the line of scrimmage
continuously when the ball was put in play; (3)
the person who was carrying the ball was not to be
touched or dragged, pushed or pulled by his fellows,
—thus tightening up the mass and enfeebling the impact;
(4) the player making a tackle must have both
feet, or one foot, on the ground, thus cutting out the
flying tackle,—a manoeuvre which was the cause of nine
tenths of the injuries which were inflicted in games of
football.
The Faculty had been inclined to discourage the continuation
of this branch of sport at the University, in
consequence of the death of Archer Christian, a student
melée in one of the contests; but after the adoption of
the new regulations, they gave up all further opposition.
These rules were in force from the beginning of the
session of 1910–11. Until the stadium was completed,
which occurred about 1913, all the important football
matches took place on other grounds. How chivalrously
the University team bore itself in these foreign tours is
demonstrated by the record of the game which was
played in Boston with the Harvard team in 1915.
"Clean exponents of football the Virginia eleven proved
to be," said the Boston Post. "Virginia's spirit was a
true exhibition of Southern hospitality. They helped a
Harvard man off the ground whenever an opportunity
offered, and not the least sign of unsportsmanlike play
was evident. Virginia made a great impression. Time
and again, these men helped foes from the ground,
and showed the best spirit of any team here for years."
In the autumn of 1915, the University team defeated
the team of Yale. When the successful players returned
to Charlottesville, the whole student body met them on
their arrival at the station, and drew them in a tallyho
to the Corner amid Roman shouts of triumph. The
painted score of that victory has not to this day been
effaced from all the railway-bridges in the neighborhood
of the precincts. It has been admiringly asserted that
the football team of 1915 attained the highest reputation
of any organization of that character which was
ever formed by the students of the University,—it travelled
nearly four thousand miles; played five games on
foreign soil; and competing with the most thoroughly
trained teams of the North and South, went down to defeat
but once. In the course of three years, the University
football teams had lost but three games, and
Harvard Universities. Georgetown University, it was
asserted, had won her victory only by enlisting players
who were not thought to be purely amateur, and, in consequence,
the University of Virginia declined to accept a
second challenge from that institution.
The football record of the University of Virginia, embracing
the years from 1904 to 1916 inclusive, was as
follows:
| Year | Won | Lost |
| 1904 | 78 | 54 |
| 1910 | 112 | 37 |
| 1911 | 262 | 30 |
| 1912 | 568 | 256 |
| 1913 | 265 | 28 |
| 1914 | 353 | 38 |
| 1915 | 219 | 25 |
| 1916 | 106 | 172 |
During the spring of 1905,—the first season to follow
the establishment of the Presidency,—B. C. Nalle
was the trainer of the baseball team. In the beginning,
an absence of nine days was annually granted to its members
in which to respond upon the field to the different
challenges which they had received to play beyond the
bounds of the University; and if an acceptable reason
could be submitted, another day was added to this period.
The rule that the team must play either on its own
ground, or on ground belonging to some other institution
of learning, was occasionally revoked; thus the team was
invited in 1908, to play with college alumni residing in
Orange, New Jersey, and the Faculty permitted it to accept.
In April of the ensuing year, the University team
was defeated by the team of Harvard; and in the following
May, by the team of Yale. During the spring of
1910 and of 1911, there were one hundred and sixty-three
twenty-four games played in 1912, the University of Virginia
was successful in fourteen. Challenges were received
during this season from Amherst College, and
from the Universities of Princeton, Cornell, North Carolina,
Georgetown, and Pennsylvania. The game with
Yale ended in a tie.
In the course of 1911, a new policy was adopted.
Prior to that year, the University team had been sent to
all parts of the North at an almost intolerable expense
to the General Athletic Association; but a resolution was
now passed that the furthest point to which that team
should be dispatched, should be the field at Princeton.
The games in return were to be played either at the University
of Virginia, or at some spot as close at hand as
Richmond or Norfolk. It was in the latter city that
the next game with Yale was expected to take place.
About this time, a baseball league was organized by
twenty-two of the fraternities at the University, with the
public announcement that a handsome pennant would be
awarded to every winner. No one who had played as a
professional, or been a member of the University team,
was to be permitted to participate in the games of this
league.
During the spring of 1913, twenty games were played
by the University team, and in thirteen, that team was
victorious; in 1914, seventeen were played and ten were
won. Among the teams defeated were those which represented
the Universities of Princeton, Cornell, North
Carolina, and Georgetown. In 1915, twenty games took
place, and the University team was victorious in fourteen.
It was during this season that the team was defeated
by the teams of the Universities of Princeton, Yale, and
Harvard, although successful in contests with the teams
of Cornell, Michigan, and Brown. The season
of 1916 was made brilliant by numerous triumphs,—of
the twenty-five games played, sixteen were won by the
University team; Yale University was routed; and in a
game with the team of Harvard University, a tie resulted.
In 1905–06, the track organization comprised a captain,
manager, an assistant, coach, trainer, and fifteen
members. During the previous spring, the team had
won at Philadelphia the one mile relay race in the intercollegiate
contest, and at Baltimore an indoor relay race
in a contest with the champions of Johns Hopkins University.
In a second indoor race at Richmond, the team
of the University of Virginia left the team of George
Washington University far behind; but, subsequently,
that team lost in a two mile race with the same opponents.
In 1906, a large number of college teams assembled
in the Horse Show Building at Richmond, and in the
events of this meet the University representatives
took the foremost part.
The season of 1907–08 was, perhaps, the most memorable
in the history of the University team. During the
winter meets at Washington and Baltimore, numerous
points were won by the University runners, jumpers, and
pole vaulters. The two most distinguished participants
were Martin, the jumper and vaulter, and Rector, the
sprinter. Rector had won the reputation of being the
fastest dashman in America. One enthusiastic but discriminating
admirer, describing the powers of this wonderful
athlete, said picturesquely that "his work on the
track, in 1907–08, stood out like the Singer Building in
the mass of concrete and granite in the lower part of
New York." In the autumn of 1906, he ran the hundred
brought this record down to nine and two-fifths seconds.
In the course of this season, he defeated Cartmill, the
inter-collegiate champion sprinter, who had left the English
runners far in the rear during the previous summer.
A few days later, he scored the world's record by making
the one hundred yard dash in ten seconds flat on a board
track; and in May of the same year, he reduced this record
to nine and two-fifths seconds. This run was on
Lambeth Field in a dual meet with the Johns Hopkins
University, and the victory was won on a slow track and
in the teeth of a high wind. But, in July, he was forced
to yield the palm to H. Walker, of South Africa, in a run
on the Olympic grounds.
During the session of 1908–09, meets took place in
Washington, Richmond, and New York, and in all, the
principal seats of learning were represented by their
champions. In each of these meets, the University team
won the one mile relay. Martin, a member of that team,
established and retained the new world's record for the
fifty yard hurdle. By the close of the season, the University
of Virginia had come to rank in this province of
athletics with the four greatest institutions in the Eastern
States; and her team continued to hold this remarkable
position during subsequent years. In one instance,
Rector again scored ten seconds in a hundred yard dash,
and five and two-fifths seconds in a fifty yard dash. In
1910, the team defeated the team of Johns Hopkins on
three successive occasions; and, in 1911, it proved to be
the victor in a field of three competitors at the Southern
Inter-Collegiate meet; and during the same season, it
also vanquished the teams of Georgetown and George
Washington Universities. But it was not so successful
in 1913. During the season of 1914, there were three
but, in 1915, it was beaten by the team of Princeton
University, although it had defeated the team of
Johns Hopkins University.
In 1916, the South Atlantic meet took place. The
track organization of the University of Virginia had been
a member of this association during three years, and the
meets had been held on the Homewood Field at Baltimore
and the Lambeth Field at the University itself. At
the end of the fourth season, the University team was
declared to be the champion team of the South Atlantic
States. Its runners had won seventy-nine and one-sixth
points more than the combined points scored by the
Washington and Lee, Johns Hopkins, Georgetown, and
Catholic Universities, Richmond College, and the Virginia
Polytechnic Institute.
XLVII. Student Life—Physical Side, Continued
About 1910, a strenuous series of swimming races for
the championship of the University took place; these
were held in the pool of the Fayerweather Building; and
two of them extended over respectively forty and one
hundred and twenty yards. The regular gymnasium
contests in April of that year were limited to tests of
skill on the horizontal bars, and in tumbling, wrestling,
and boxing. The editors of College Topics complained,
in 1911, that, during the previous five or six sessions,
all indoor athletics, with the exception of basketball,
had declined in importance; and that it was the infatuation
for basketball which had caused this deplorable condition.
The players of that game. it seems, had been
practicing at all hours: and this fact had interfered with
the prosecution of other athletic exercises under roof.
After a period of cessation lasting for several years,
which had been laboriously instructed by an expert trainer
obtained from Princeton University. The first performance
took place in the Fayerweather Building, and the
second in the Jefferson Theatre, in Charlottesville. On
December 6, of this year, there was an additional exhibition
in Cabell Hall which consisted of somersaults, hand
to hand balancing, high combination tumbling, and swinging
drill. About two sessions later, a triangular meet
was held by the gymnasium team with the teams of the
Naval Academy and Vanderbilt University, and a dual
meet with the team of Washington and Lee University.
Now, as in former years, every student was entitled to
a physical examination by the director; and in accord with
the conclusions of this diagnosis, he received advice as to
what course in the gymnasium he should pursue for his
bodily development. Besides the work of the individual,
there was the work of the classes in light exercises,—
such as marching and running, and the play of dumbbells
and clubs. The steps followed in the instruction were
gradual and progressive. The training in winter related
chiefly to those branches of athletics which called for
great strength and agility. A credit of three hours
towards the academic degree was, in 1917, granted to
all students who had elected physical culture, provided
that they had matriculated previous to the session of
1917–18; but no credit was to be allowed to the same
student for both military science and physical training.
During the session of 1917–18, a course in physical culture
and hygiene was established and a definite credit was
attached to it in the acquisition of the baccalaureate degree.
The basketball team comprised a full complement of
players. Its record between 1905–06 and 1916–17 consisted
These games seem to have been played chiefly with Southern
teams,—indeed, only nine games were contested on
ground situated north of Washington City. In 1916,
the team was declared to be entitled to the award of the
V. There was a spirited exhibition of cross-country running
in the autumn of 1911 over a course extending from
the University to Fry's Springs and the reverse, taking in
one lap around Lambeth Field,—a total distance traversed
of four miles. The opposing runner had been sent
to represent Washington and Lee University. Twelve
months before, there had been twenty-seven entries. The
successful contestant in this trial was H. W. Brigham,
who covered the ground in twenty-one minutes and
twenty-two seconds. The boxing class in April, 1910,
plumed themselves on their competence to such a degree
that they actually visited Lynchburg to give an exhibition
before one of the clubs of that city; and in addition to the
boxing bouts, there were tumbling and wrestling matches
on the same occasion. The University of Virginia was
said to have been the first Southern institution of learning
to organize a pugilistic association.
In the physical preparation of the divers teams and individual
champions for the numerous branches of sport
which we have previously described, no officer of the University
had a more useful share than H. H. Lannigan.
In the course of his early career, he had displayed remarkable
endurance and speed as a runner; had taken
a conspicuous part as a professional in a baseball league;
had trained the great Fitzsimmons for the ring; and
in putting the sixteen pound shot, had never been surpassed
down to 1911. So high became his reputation for
athletic skill that he was appointed the junior director
of physical culture at Cornell. During many years previous
institution had placed teams in the field only to see them
lose in consequence of the superior physical preparation
of their opponents. "In all the Northern colleges,"
said a critic of this shortcoming at the time, "the trainer
has to do with the physical condition of the men, and the
coach with their methods of playing. Our lack of training
is shown when we meet teams like those of the Navy
or Carlisle Indians. For the first half, Virginia plays
them to a standstill, only to lose out in the second. We
cannot finish strong."
In order to remove this weakness, something more
than a general director of the gymnasium was required.
In 1905, Lannigan was appointed associate director, and
his services proving to be invaluable, his temporary nomination
to that office was converted into a permanent tenure.
"With the exception of Dr. Lambeth," said the
editors of College Topics, in 1911, "Lannigan has done
more for athletics at the University of Virginia than any
man ever connected with the department. It was he who
introduced basketball not before practiced here. He put
track work on a different footing. He is the life and
spirit in every branch of athletics. He developed Marbury
and Staunton, Martin and Rector."
An essential accessory to Lambeth Field, where all the
outdoor sports that we have mentioned so far were practiced,
was the new stadium, which was constructed of
solid concrete and extended around three sides of the
open play-ground. In the rear of the seats, there was a
covered colonnade to protect the spectators in case of
rain. The plans of this building were drafted by R. E.
Lee Taylor, of Norfolk. The first unit,—which accommodated
twenty-five hundred people,—was completed in
1911, and the second and third in 1913. The whole
and cost thirty-five thousand dollars.
The lacrosse team was so self-complacent in 1905 that
they challenged the veteran team of Harvard University
to a game on Lambeth Field; but the result did not justify
the confidence indicated in the invitation. Indeed, the
score in favor of the Harvard visitors stood eight to zero.
The club, in reality, had not enjoyed the advantage of
an expert trainer; but, in 1906, with the financial assistance
of the General Athletic Association, the members
were able to employ one.
During the interval between 1904 and 1915, the tennis
club had, from year to year, enrolled a full complement
of players, who, each season, exhibited their skill in a
domestic tournament. This tournament began on October
15, both in singles and doubles. A series of games
with the representatives of other institutions were also
arranged, in annual succession, for both the autumn
and the spring. In October, 1909, the largest and
most spirited event of this kind in the history of the
University came off. On this occasion, there were thirty-four
single entries and fifteen double. At that time, the
courts were sixteen in number. During 1913–14, three
games were played with foreign rivals, in two of which
the champions of the University won. The membership
of the club, as reorganized in 1913, seems to have been
limited to about twenty-seven members. Its activities
now reached a degree of energy never before observed in
the history of tennis at the University of Virginia.
The golf club was placed on a new footing in September,
1905, but its membership continued to fluctuate,
reaching as high a figure as seventy-three in 1914, and
falling as low as thirty-two in 1917. Few years passed
bv without the episode of a golf tournament. In 1914,
Roanoke, and Lexington competed with the representatives
of the University of Virginia.
XLVIII. Buildings
In the course of previous chapters, we have referred
incidentally to the new buildings which were erected for
the use of the various departments, vocational or academic.
The first of these was Minor Hall. This fine
edifice, situated about midway between the south end of
East Range and Dawson's Row, now forms the western
side of the new quadrangle, of which Commons Hall
forms the northern, the mechanical building the eastern,
and the amphitheatre, the southern. It was so planned
and so located as to constitute a part of a comprehensive
scheme for the future structures of the University. Such
a scheme had been drafted by Warren H. Manning, of
Boston, which, without any departures from Jefferson's
conception, provided sites for all the edifices that were
certain to be needed in time. Minor Hall was so placed
that its central line was on the prolongation of the axis
of the engineering building, and its longitudinal axis was
such as to allow of the extension of the engineering building,
and at the same time, to leave space for the presence,
in the interval, of a symmetrical court or amphitheatre.
Such a structure, the gift of Paul Goodloe McIntire, was
erected here in 1921, and was used for the first time during
the centennial exercises. Plans for this amphitheatre
had been drawn by Mr. Manning as early as 1911. It
was then designed for open air concerts, debates, and the
like.
Commons Hall faces the amphitheatre. This structure
conforms to the details of Doric architecture, and, in
its principal lines is strictly in harmony with the style
the eastern side of the precincts,—the gift of John B.
Cobb,—presents a front of imposing height and breadth.
Of almost equal dignity is the educational building, situated
on the western side of the grounds. This too was
begun and finished during the Ninth Period; and so also,
as already mentioned, were Madison Hall, the newest
wing of the Hospital, many of the most spacious fraternity
houses, the stadium, and the alterations in several
existing buildings now used as laboratories.
From some points of view, the handsomest building
erected during this period was the President's House.
Its construction began in 1907, and it was ready for occupancy
in the spring of 1909, after making necessary an
expenditure of $28,837.13. Carr's Hill, on which the
residence was situated, had, in preparation for it, been
laid off in terraces that converted the original scene from
one possessing no charm to one presenting an aspect of
great beauty. "The President's House," we are told by
Dr. Lambeth, "resulted from an effort of Stanford
White to give to the University an example of a lighter,
more airy type of classic form than any left by Mr. Jefferson.
Jefferson's types, from the beginning, were romanized.
Weight, predominating, gave nobility and dignity.
The President's House is more graceful than dignified,
more beautiful than noble, yet the structure
breathes both nobility and dignity."
It was determined, in 1912, to demolish Temperance
Hall, a building lacking in architectural taste, and to
erect a modern structure on its site, at a cost of twelve
thousand dollars. This was to contain sufficient room for
the post-office, and also for several stores. The old
edifice,—which had been built in 1855–56, through the
liberality of General Cocke and other advocates of total
of Visitors when the charter of the Sons of Temperance
had been surrendered. This upshot was in harmony with
the conditions attached to the original agreement with
the University; but in order to keep as near to the initial
object of the building as possible, the Board, so soon as
they acquired it, put it in the possession of the Faculty
committee on religious exercises, with instructions to use
all the profits from the tenants for the promotion of religious
activity within the precincts. Subsequently, they
rescinded this arrangement, and appropriated to that committee
only twelve hundred dollars of the annual rentals.
It was this committee which recommended the destruction
of the old hall. After the completion of the new building,
the rentals seemed to have been paid to the bursar;
who, in turn, transferred them to the treasurer appointed
by the committee on religious exercises. They were
afterwards used by that committee in such manner as
was thought to be most beneficial to the interests of the
students.
Involved in the plan for a new building at the Corner
was the plan for two new gateways at the entrance to
the University precincts nearby. The money which was
expended in this addition was presented by Mrs. Charles
H. Senff, on condition that the gateways should be raised
as a memorial of her husband, and also as a permanent
monument to the Honor System, which had so long been
cherished by Faculty and students. Mrs. Senff's gift,—
which amounted to $20,000,—was partly to be laid out
in the improvement of the grounds. An important addition
was made to the rear of the Colonnade Club in the
course of this period in order to afford restful quarters
for visiting alumni. A spacious reception-room was attached,
numerous bed-rooms constructed, and an open air
By the session of 1912–13, the ground in front of Dawson's
Row from House A to House F had been terraced
and a concrete walk laid down parallel with all the
houses. Pillars had also been added to the face of each
building, thus partially metamorphosing the Row,—notable,
during so many years, for its plainness,—into
pleasing examples of Jeffersonian architecture on a small
domestic scale.
A novel contract was signed by the University and Dr.
Richard H. Whitehead, in 1906,—he being, at that time,
the dean of the medical department,—by the provisions
of which he secured the right to build a residence for his
family on land belonging to the institution. The principal
terms of this contract were as follows: the lease
was to continue for a period of fifty years, and the rent
to be paid was not to exceed $250.00, annually during the
life time of Dr. Whitehead or his widow, so long as either
personally occupied the house; if one or the other should
give up the premises under a sub-lease, then the rent
was to be readjusted at the end of every five years, starting
from the original date of the lease; but should the
University authorities prefer to do so, they were to be at
liberty to take back from the vacating lessee or his widow
the remainder of the term of fifty years. At the end of
this period, the University would possess the right to
purchase the residence; and if it should omit or decline to
do so, the persons then representing the Whitehead estate
could either remove the building, or demand the extension
of the old lease for another half-century. The taxes and
cost of repairs were to fall upon the original lessee or his
sub-lessee.
Perhaps, the most beautiful of all the improvements to
the University grounds made in the course of the Ninth
in the long intervening space between East Lawn and
East Range. There were four in all; and the work on
them seems to have been begun during the session of
1905–06 and finished two years afterwards. Previously,
the site of these gardens had been a rough slope
overgrown with gaunt trees and tangled brambles. Terraces
were now formed with level areas, the whole
laid off in geometrical figures, set off by small shrubbery
and perennial plants and interspersed with gravel
walks. The interval between West Lawn and West
Range had, previous to 1908–09, been converted, in
large part, into a dumping ground for unsightly refuse.
Here and there stood a tottering, windowless back-building,
a dilapidated shed, or a pile of bricks, black and
mossy from long exposure. This deserted space was
leveled and graded, and, with its fine trees, became an
attractive section of the University precincts. "The
greatest change noticed in the grounds to my observation,"
said an interested alumnus, who visited the University
in 1913, "was the artistic treatment of the area
between the Lawns and the Ranges. What used to
be the greatest snarl has been changed into really
beautiful gardens; and to walk from either one of the
Lawns to the Ranges, through one of the inside alley
streets, is to walk along a path of harmony."
These gardens have been erroneously called "Chinese"
gardens, perhaps from some vague impression
created by the Chinese balustrades which ornamented
the houses on either Lawn. Their belated introduction
within the boundaries of the eastern slope was entirely
consonant with the wishes of Jefferson, for it was from
this quarter of the campus that the precincts of the University
were first entered, and his anxiety to please the
was gained, was revealed in the elaborate mouldings
that adorned the entablatures at the back of those buildings,
which were the earliest to be seen and examined.
Previous to 1904–05, the atmosphere of the University
structures,—with the exception of the library, the
dormitories, the pavilions on East Lawn, and the group
of buildings designed by Stanford White,—were still
warmed by grates or stoves in winter; but, before the
close of 1917, there was in operation under every roof a
system of steam or hot water heating, supplied by central
or isolated plants. The last to obtain this advantage
were the dormitories situated on Dawson's Row
and Monroe Hill and the residences occupied by Professors
Thornton and Mallet standing on the crest of
that elevation or near its foot. An important extension
of the electric equipment,—which had been in use
during many years,—was finished by 1907.
Among the special gifts of statuary for the embellishment
of the grounds to be noted of the Ninth Period
was the bronze figure of Jefferson, presented by its
creator, the distinguished sculptor, Sir Moses Ezekiel.
Ezekiel was a patriotic native of Virginia; had taken
part in the gallant charge of the cadets at the Battle
of New Market; and, during his long residence in Rome,
had produced numerous works of remarkable merit.
The money that was required for the safe transportation
of the Jefferson and its proper setting after its
arrival at the University, was obtained through the
generosity of Thomas Nelson Page, Joseph Bryan,
George C. Thomas, and others, some of whom were
not alumni of the institution. Mr. Bryan made his
contribution a memorial to a Jewish friend, a brilliant
fellow-student at the University in 1862, who afterwards
soldier. The figure rises from a pedestal
supporting a large bell, around the tip of which is engraved
the inscription still extant upon the one which
sounded the Declaration of Independence at Philadelphia
in 1776. Placed at regular intervals against the
background of this bell were four winged female figures
symbolical of liberty, justice, religious freedom,
and human freedom. The speaking group of blind
Homer, accompanied by his youthful guide, which
now stands in front of the Academic Building, was also
the fruit of another fine conception of Sir Moses
Ezekiel. It was not designed for the University of Virginia
when ordered by John W. Simpson, of New York,
but, at the sculptor's request, it was generously offered
to that institution. The replica of Karl Bitter's statue
of Jefferson,—the original of which was included
among the art treasures of the Louisiana Purchase
Exhibition,—was presented by Charles R. Crane, of
Chicago, while the replica of Houdon's statue of
Washington, which now faces Bitter's Jefferson at the
foot of the Lawn, was the gift of John T. Lupton, of
Chattanooga.
Among the other objects of interest received during
this Period was the great organ which Andrew
Carnegie donated, and which, in the autumn of 1906,
was erected in Cabell Hall. Two patriotic gifts were
the flag poles now rising on the Northern plaza of the
Rotunda, one of which was presented by Thomas F.
Ryan, and the other by Paul Goodloe McIntire. The
flag of Virginia waves from the western pole, and the
flag of the United States from the eastern, while, in
the long shadow of these emblems, as they float in the
wind, stands an old world sundial, which was the gift
above the Confederate memorial tablets on the south
wall of the Rotunda, was presented by the medical
class of 1906.
XLIX. Finances—Endowment Fund
The most vital incident in the financial history of the
University of Virginia, during the Ninth Period, was the
acquisition of a large endowment fund. In the winter of
1903–04, the Washington chapter of the General Alumni
Association held a meeting, and as the national celebration
of the centennial of the Louisiana Purchase
was about to take place, it was decided that the
hour was propitious for the collection of an imposing
sum for the expansion of Jefferson's seat
of learning. The first to suggest this memorable
undertaking was Robert Lee Preston, who was seconded
by Cazenove G. Lee; and in the beginning,
its most indefatigable promoter was Thomas Nelson
Page, whose wife made the first contribution to the fund.
A plan was drawn up for obtaining a million dollars by
gift from the alumni and friends of the University
of Virginia as well as from the admirers of Jefferson
throughout the United States. A committee was appointed,
which comprised, not only Mr. Preston and Mr.
Page, who served as chairman, but also H. A. Herbert,
Samuel Spencer, and Randolph H. McKim. The first
step taken by this committee was to choose an advisory
committee composed of men of national distinction.
Both President Roosevelt and former President Cleveland,
when approached, expressed a keen interest in the
practical success of the project. At the meeting of the
General Alumni Association, held in the following June
(1904), the announcement of that project, and what had
and devoted chapter in Washington, was received
with unanimous commendation. This chapter was
already represented by a board of five trustees.
At the meeting of the General Association in June,
1905, Mr. Preston brought up the question of choosing
a board of trustees from the body of the association
itself, which was not to exceed seven in number, and
which was also to be impowered to hold the endowment
fund. The board of trustees, which, previous to 1905,
had represented the association at large was composed
of Joseph Bryan, Charles Steele, and William A. Clark,
so that there were at this time two boards,—the board
of five appointed by the Washington chapter, and the
board of three appointed by the association as a whole.
The orginal resolution establishing a board of three
trustees was now rescinded, and a new board, composed
of Joseph Bryan, Samuel Spencer, Thomas Nelson Page,
Thomas F. Ryan, A. P. Humphrey, William A. Clark,
and the President of the University ex-officio, was nominated.
This board, which displaced all the previous
boards, was authorized to hold the Jefferson Memorial
Endowment Fund and whatever sums should be presented
to the General Alumni Association.
At the annual meeting of the general body held in June,
1906, a committee composed of President Alderman,
C. J. Faulkner, DeCourcey W. Thom, Eppa Hunton, Jr.,
Homes Conrad, and Armistead C. Gordon, was appointed
to draft an amendment to the charter. This committee,
reporting at the next annual meeting (June, 1907), recommended
that this document should be so framed as to
allow of the more formal creation of an alumni board
of trustees, seven in number, who should hold, manage,
and expend the endowment fund in harmony with the
their rights, powers, duties, privileges, and responsibilities.
This suggestion was adopted by the association.
The deed of trust, dated February 7, was drawn and
recorded in the clerk's office of Albemarle county, in
1908, contemporaneously with the grant by the State
Corporation Commission of the amendment to the charter.
In accord with the authority given by this amendment,
the following seven trustees were now elected:
Joseph Bryan, Thomas Nelson Page, Thomas F. Ryan,
A. P. Humphrey, C. J. Faulkner, W. W. Fuller and the
President of the University ex officio. This board convened
for the first time in Washington, in December,
1908, and organized by the nomination of President
Alderman as its chairman. Before this, however, occurred,
Mr. Bryan had died. In concert with Eppa
Hunton, Jr., he had, under direction of the then existing
board of trustees, been receiving and investing the
endowment fund. Mr. Hunton was, at this time, a member
of the Board of Visitors. William H. White succeeded
Mr. Bryan as trustee, on the declination of the
position by Charles Steele, and Mr. Hunton Thomas F.
Ryan, who was also unable to serve. Mr. Hunton was
appointed the treasurer of the fund.
The members of the new board of trustees were to
remain in office during good behavior, but were to be
removable by the vote of three-fourths of the association
at large. All vacancies arising in their ranks were
to be filled by the board itself. The endowment fund
was to be held intact, and only the income was to be used.
Every person who was in possession of any sum controlled
by the association for the benefit of the University
was directed to deliver it to the treasurer of the board
of trustees. It seems that, ultimately, the subscriptions
were also diverted to the same officer. The board
of trustees was required to assemble at the University
before each annual meeting of the Visitors, and, on that
occasion, they were called upon to determine the expenditures
for the approaching scholastic year, and
also to draft a report to the association which should
show the condition of the principal of the endowment
fund, the amount of the income derived from it for the
past fiscal term, and the purposes for which that income
had been disbursed. By 1909, the Fund had come to be
designated the General Alumni Association Fund of the
University of Virginia.
The first suggestion of the endowment fund, as we
have seen, was broached in the winter of 1903–04.
President Alderman occupied his seat for the first time
in the autumn of 1904, and one of the numerous tasks
of magnitude which confronted him at the very start
was to take up and carry on the struggle of collecting
the precise sum which the General Alumni Association
had announced must be acquired for the University's
benefit. In the midst of the routine duties which he
had to perform from day to day, and of the multitudinous
interests which he had to watch and direct without
intermission, he threw himself, with all the energy
at his command, into the campaign for the completion
of this noble undertaking. His devotion to the task
was the most powerful factor in that splendid quest, and
to him more than to any other single individual was its
ultimate success attributable. By June 13, 1905, sixty
days after his formal inauguration in April, he was able
to report that $228,000 had been contributed to the
amount in view. Of this sum, one hundred thousand had
been presented by Mr. Rockefeller as a memorial to
Alderman, promised to give $500,000 to the fund
so soon as the other $500,000 had been assured. In
November, 1908, there still remained to be obtained of
the latter amount, $250,000. This was the most difficult
feat of all to accomplish, and yet between November
and February, 1908–09, the last dollar of it had
been secured through the untiring activity of the President
of the University. The following were the contributors
who came forward in this short interval, and
made the complete fund a certainty,—Colonel Oliver
W. Payne, who gave $50,000; Archibald Cary, $20,000;
the Christian Woman's Board of Missions of Indianapolis,
$30,000; Thomas F. Ryan, $25,000; C. H.
Senff, $25,000; General Education Board, $50,000;
and Charles Steele and his personal friends, $50,000.
Looking back upon the campaign, President Alderman
said, in a letter, written in March, 1909, when the stress
of the work had passed and victory was won, and yet
the consciousness of the obstacles overcome had not yet
grown dim: "Mr. Carnegie had developed a feeling
that the alumni alone ought to be the contributors to
the fund. This had to be dislodged from his mind, and
in addition $150,000 had to be raised in a few days if
any certainty was to be assured as to the permanent
success of the great enterprise. I was able to accomplish
it because it had to be done."
In the end, the total amount collected to meet the requirements
of Mr. Carnegie's contingent gift of five
hundred thousand dollars was $693,653, which was
almost two hundred thousand dollars in excess of that
conditional sum. On February 19, 1909, President
Alderman announced in person to the assembled members
of the Faculty that the campaign for the endowment
million dollars had been added to the financial resources
of the University. The resolution which that body at
once adopted expressed precisely the emotions which
were felt by every alumnus of the institution: "Deeply
moved by the unselfish and unsparing sacrifice of President
Alderman,—who, at the risk of health, and at the
cost of many an ache of nerve and depression of heart,
has steadfastly pursued the good of our University,—
we assure him of our unstinted appreciation of his labors,
our thrilling joy in his triumph, and our unreserved
loyalty to him as he gives himself up to directing the
new power, that it may eventuate in the greatest good
to all the interests of the University, over which he so
worthily presides."
We have already mentioned incidentally the names of
some of the generously disposed persons who contributed
to the endowment fund. Among the donations which
were accepted by Mr. Carnegie as a portion of the five
hundred thousand dollars to be raised to fulfil the conditions
of his gift, were $22,000 from Mrs. Thomas Nelson
Page, which constituted the Barbour-Page Foundation,
$27,500 from the Christian Woman's Board of
Missions, $20,000 from Archibald Cary, and $19,683.20
from the trustees of the Athletic Club. The following
sums then in the possession of the Board of Visitors,
were also accepted: the gift of John D. Rockefeller,
$100,000; of G. F. Peabody, $10,000; of C. R. Crane,
$5,000; of Charles J. Peabody, $1,000; and of James C.
Carter, $10,000. Through the influence of Charles
Steele, Robert Bacon contributed $10,000; and so did
H. McK. Twombley. Other benefactors were Joseph
Bryan, who gave $10,276; Samuel Spencer, $5,136; Dr.
William C. Rives, $5,000; W. K. Jessup, $1,000; Theodore
$2,210; DeCourcey W. Thom, $1,000; and
Henry L. Higginson, $5,000.
The Carnegie donation was set apart for the endowment
of the following chairs: Edgar Allan Poe School
of English; James Wilson School of Political Economy
and Political Science; James Madison School of Law;
James Monroe School of International Law; Walter
Reed School of Pathology; and the Carnegie School of
Engineering. The report of the treasurer of the fund for
the fiscal year ending July 1, 1911, disclosed the possession
of a principal of $959,658.50, without counting
the $50,000 which had been contributed by the Christian
Woman's Board of Missions, but which remained
under its own control. The total amount of the fund
was, in reality, at this time, $1,009,658.50, from which
an average income of $47,500 was annually derived. In
1914–15, the securities in the hands of the alumni board
of trustees were appraised at $928,980.80, while other
moneys reserved for various uses amounted, during this
fiscal year, to $100,000.00 additional. In June, 1918,
the entire fund held by the trustees had a market value
of $916,938.65; and of this amount, $788,978.01 was
reserved for general purposes, and $127,969.64 for purposes
designated in the original gifts. In the latter category
were included the Barbour-Page Foundation, the
Curry Memorial Fund, and the Isaac Cary and Rives
donations.
L. Finances—General Resources
The history of the endowment fund having been related,
it can now be asked: what were the independent
gifts which the University had, during the same interval,
received, either by bequest or donation? Previous to
its resources was derived from the estate of Edward W.
James, which reached the total sum of $264,656.00 ultimately.
But only one half of the income of this estate,
during the first fifteen years, was, by the terms of the will,
to be appropriated to the use of the institution; the remaining
half was to go, during that period, to the Confederate
Soldiers' Home in Richmond. The whole of
the Austin estate did not fall in until after 1908, owing
to the testamentary imposition of certain life interests on
the income. It amounted to about $430,000 in the
end. The various funds in the actual possession of
the University in 1910–11 were distributed chiefly as
follows:
| General Endowment Fund | 831,827 |
| Curry Memorial School of Education Fund | 97,792 |
| Barbour-Page Literary Fund | 22,256.67 |
| Corcoran Endowment Fund | 100,000 |
| Kent Chair of English Literary Fund | 60,000 |
| Vanderbilt Observatory Fund | 87,000 |
| General Library Endowment Fund | 23,000 |
| John W. Scott Memorial Fund | 5,000 |
| John Y. Mason Fellowship Fund | 7,000 |
| Birely Scholarship Fund | 4,500 |
| Brown Scholarship Fund | 1,500 |
| Cabell Scholarship Fund | 1,200 |
| Sampson Scholarship Fund | 2,000 |
| W. J. Bryan Fund | 250 |
| J. B. Cary Fund | 50,000 |
| Rives Fellowship Fund | 5,000 |
| Austin Estate | 405,347.58 |
| James Estate | 198,467.03 |
| Sinking Fund | 12,865 |
| Loan Fund | 1,000 |
| Fuller Fund | 10,000 |
| Harvard Loan Fund | 5,000 |
| Herndon Fund | 14,246.92 |
| Skinner Fund | 41,988.92 |
| Miller Fund | 100,000 |
During the session of 1912–13, the additions to the
resources of the University in the form of donations and
session of 1913–14, $115,163.12, and during that of
1914–15, $286,790.65. The latter amount consisted
of the portion of Dr. Green's estate which had so far
been received; namely, $126,193.17; the sum of $16,929,
accredited to the Austin estate; a loan fund of
$10,000, given by Colonel Oliver W. Payne; a donation
of $50,000 from John B. Cobb; and another donation
of $50,000, from an anonymous friend of the University.
The two gifts of Mrs. Senff, which were equal to
$20,000, were also included. In 1915, Robert L. Parrish
bequeathed $50,000 to the institution, and the next
year an anonymous gift of $250,000 was announced, and
also a bequest of $7,625, under the will of Miss Frances
Wilson. Mr. Steele also presented $10,000 additional.
In 1918, the donations amounted to $18,135.67.
What was the total value of the property held by the
University in 1912–13, the middle session of the Ninth
Period? It was as follows: in the form of bonds, $1,279,774;
in the form of mortgages, $133,645.33; and
in the form of stocks, $1,000. Its productive real estate
was appraised at $286,518.56. This consisted of the
dormitories, the cottages in Dawson's Row, the President's
House, the heating plant, observatory, pavilions,
fraternity houses, and the colonnade club. The unproductive
real estate,—which comprised the grounds,
campus, and timber lands,—was appraised at $600,000;
the unproductive buildings,—such as Cabell Hall, hospital,
laboratories, gymnasium, dining-halls, law building,
administration building, literary society halls, chapel,
and dispensary,—at $937,694.58; and the general
equipment at $178,077.00. The total valuation of the
property in the University's possession, at this time, was
estimated at $3,416,709.47.
Let us pause here and compare these figures with the
figures for 1906 in order to show the University's growth
in the short interval of half a dozen years. The total
estate of the University, in the latter fiscal year, was appraised
at $2,328,000. The division was as follows:
the general endowment fund, $778,000, and the buildings,
equipment, and lands, $1,550.00. With the exception
of the original edifices, valued at $400,000, the land
valued at $100,000 and the new hospital valued at $70,000,
this great property had been acquired from private
persons in the form of gifts equivalent in value to the
sum of $980,000. Next, let us compare the figures
of 1912–13 with those of 1916–17, the session coming
just before the end of the Ninth Period. "Omitting the
original Jefferson combination," remarked the President
of the University in his report for that year, "of
the twenty-five buildings on our grounds, eighteen were
erected by private gifts, and seven by State appropriations.
Four greatly needed buildings, and certain physical
improvements, costing, in the aggregate, $425,000,
have been erected by private gift; and besides, a million
and a half dollars have been added to the endowment
fund during the past twelve years. The State has only
put into its University, in the way of permanent improvements,
during the century of its existence, $675,000, and
now (January 1918) is able to show for the investment
tangible property values of $1,697,000, and an endowment
of $2,471,000, a total of $4,168,000,—over six
times the amount the State has spent."
What was the indebtedness of the University at the
time that the preceding valuations of its property were
made? Apart from the mortgage safeguarding the loan
negotiated for the complete physical restoration of the
institution after the fire of 1895, there was, in 1904, an
October 15, 1905; and the finance committee was instructed
to sell the securities of the sinking fund, and
with the proceeds pay the whole of it off. On March
10, 1906, the General Assembly authorized the Board
of Visitors to issue bonds for $200,000 to be secured by
a deed of trust. These were to be used to retire the
bonds issued in 1895–96. About six years later, the
total debt of the University, protected by mortgage,
amounted to $202,174.38; and this charge had not been
reduced by 1916–17.
What was the amount of the annual income of the
University during the Ninth Period, and what was the
amount of the annual expenditures? In 1904–05, the
first session of the Period, the income was estimated at
$163,650; the annual expenditures at $176,300. From
what source did this income arise and what were the
purposes for which it was disbursed? The following
were the sources of the income: State appropriation, $50,000;
tuition and other fees, $71,000; interest on endowment
fund, $32,390; and rents, etc., $10,260. The expenditures
were as follows: $103,320 for the salaries of
the professors, instructors, and officers; $12,000 for interest
on the debt and for an addition to the sinking
fund; $31,480 for improvements, repairs, and labor;
$29,500 for advertisements of various sorts, printing,
fellowships, scholarships, and small incidental charges.
By the fiscal year of 1909–10, the total income had increased
to $241,180, and the total expenses to $239,911.00
The following table offers a bird's eye view of
the resources of the University from the fiscal year of
1913 to the end of the Ninth Period, on January 1,
1919.
| Year | From Students |
From Endowments |
From State |
| June 30, 1913 | 84,360.04 | 81,165.39 | 98,200.00 |
| " 1914 | 94,512.37 | 74,596.27 | 114,949.99 |
| " 1915 | 93,378.16 | 81,265.29 | 118,550.01 |
| " 1916 | 96,134.71 | 82,995.43 | 83,333.34 |
| " 1917 | 100,715.41 | 82,386.24 | 90,000.00 |
| " 1918 | 67,132.33 | 81,000.74 | 96,685.62 |
| Year | From Bequests |
From Rents etc. |
Total |
| June 30, 1913 | 19,126.09 | 11,443.37 | 294,294.37 |
| " 1914 | 21,201.75 | 24,276.01 | 329,536.39 |
| " 1915 | 27,257.02 | 23,865.25 | 344,315.79 |
| " 1916 | 26,393.15 | 26,798.67 | 315,155.30 |
| " 1917 | 33,741.79 | 25,833.95 | 332,677.09 |
| " 1918 | 33,319.80 | 27,073.15 | 305,197.64 |
The following table shows the expenditures for the
fiscal years 1913, 1915, and 1918:
| Year | Gen. Admin. |
Business Admin. |
College and Graduate Departments |
Law Department |
| 1913 | 26,306.08 | 4,762.50 | 86,317.75 | 18,630.65 |
| 1915 | 27,518.13 | 4,684.16 | 103,702.59 | 20,745.00 |
| 1918 | 18,659.00 | 31,288.57 | 108,510.05 | 18,407.51 |
| Year | Medical Department |
Engineering Department |
Library | Summer school |
| 1913 | 54,046.05 | 14,217.41 | 6,376.88 | 1,500.00 |
| 1915 | 75,322.50 | 15,443.10 | 9,067.55 | 1,500.00 |
| 1918 | 45,051.57 | 16,316.10 | 6,824.54 | 1,500.00 |
| Year | Bldg. funds | Gymnasium | Sinking Fund |
Miscellaneous |
| 1913 | 29,098.23 | 1,250.68 | 11,498.00 | 7,002.18 |
| 1915 | 46,310.75 | 1,515.00 | 11,605.46 | 12,385.00 |
| 1918 | 43,282.58 | 1,595.56 | ....... | 12,151.69[9] |
LI. The Alumni—General Association
The objects which the General Alumni Association
kept in view throughout the Ninth Period continued, as
formerly, to be: (1) to advance all the material and
moral interests of the University; (2) to encourage unity
and kindliness among the alumni; and (3) to strengthen
the spirit of the local chapters, and to bring them together
in the bonds of a closer organization.
In 1904–05, the threshold of the Period, there were
twenty-six chapters in Virginia, all of which, with the
exception of a half dozen, were situated in the towns
and cities of the Commonwealth. At this time, there
were twenty-eight chapters in existence in the other States.
Indeed, every Southern State besides Virginia, including
Maryland and Missouri, could claim the possession
of one or several,—by 1909, there were eight chapters
in Texas alone, and four in Tennessee. Beyond the
borders of the South, flourishing chapters had been
founded in New York, Philadelphia, Denver, Los
Angeles, and Porto Rico. There were twenty-eight in
Virginia during 1912–13, and thirty-six outside,—
which took in the new chapters established in Wilmington,
Delaware, and Kansas City; but two years later,
the number of the Virginia chapters shrank to twenty-six,
had increased to forty-three. During 1916–17, there
were twenty-seven in Virginia, and forty-eight outside,
—a total of seventy-six. Twenty-five hundred
of the alumni were, in 1909, enrolled in these different
organizations; and in the course of the following
eight years, this enlistment was very much enlarged.
Everyone of the chapters which, in 1904–05, contained
ten active members was entitled to appoint the incumbent
of a scholarship at the University. During this
session, there were forty holders of such scholarships,
of whom twenty-six had been named by the Virginia
chapters, and fourteen by the foreign. No chapter could
fill one position of this kind unless it had remitted to
the treasurer of the General Alumni Association the
fee of five dollars due for the preceding year; and it
could only fill two if it had paid twenty-five dollars in
fees. In 1905–06, the General Assembly reduced the
general charges of the Virginia student to ten dollars,
and this enactment rendered almost valueless the scholarships
belonging to the Virginia chapters. Five years
later, the records disclose that only fifteen of the existing
sixty chapters to be found throughout the United
States had made appointments to these alumni scholarships;
and this fact was the more remarkable as no cost
in filling the position fell upon the individual chapter.
At the annual meeting this year, it was proposed that
every chapter which so wished should have the right to
appoint a scholar at its own expense; but few were willing
to assume the charges thus to be incurred.
Although the amount of the annual dues payable to the
General Alumni Association by each chapter, did not,
during the early years of the Ninth Period, exceed fifty
cents for each of its members, yet the collection of even
needed a moderate income to defray the expenses
of printing, postage, clerical work, and other miscellaneous
details; and it was imperative too that some remuneration
should be allowed the secretary for his time
and labor. It was estimated, in 1909, that the sum of
$1,750 would be required each year; and of this amount,
twelve hundred dollars was to be reserved for the salary
of that officer. A committee, which reported on this
subject to the General Association, recommended that
each member of every chapter should be permitted to
pay five dollars on condition of obtaining a permanent
exemption from further assessment except by his chapter
for its own support. The adoption of this suggestion
created a system of life memberships; but it was left to
the option of each member whether he should apply for
such membership; and before the end of the first year,
one hundred had taken advantage of the rule.
By 1915, the dues of each member of the association
had been fixed at two dollars annually; and this amount
was increased to two dollars and a half in the course of
the ensuing session. Payment of these dues entitled the
member to the following privileges: he could cast a
vote at the alumni meeting; he could participate in the
appointment of alumni scholars; he could call on the
alumni office for information or aid in any university
matter in which he was interested; he could claim a year's
subscription to the Alumni News; and finally, he was to
be admitted to the enjoyment of all the advantages of the
Colonnade Club. In 1916, the central office of the
General Alumni Association derived its income from
the following sources: (I) an appropriation by the
Board of Visitors of fifteen hundred dollars each year
for its support; (2) advertisements in the Alumni News;
by classes, alumni chapters, and the University itself,
for special services independent of the routine work.
Between 1904 and 1916, the office of President of the
General Alumni Association was filled by men of distilnction,
—the number included among others, Samuel
Spencer, Thomas Nelson Page, R. Walton Moore, O.
W. Underwood, and John Sharp Williams. There
were but two treasurers elected in this interval,—
Professor Raleigh C. Minor, and William A. Perkins.
There were numerous vice-presidents,—among them,
George W. Lockwood, R. C. Blackford, Dr. H. H.
Young and Swager Shirley.
The most important office was the secretaryship; and
this was occupied in succession by Professor James M.
Page and Lewis D. Crenshaw. In June, 1914, the former,
who had performed the duties of the position during
ten years, withdrew from it, and was succeeded by
Mr. Crenshaw, who, on the first day of the preceding
January, had been elected recorder for the six months to
end with the last day of the ensuing June. The specific
purpose of his appointment at that time, and for that interval,
was to assure, through his energy and devotion,
the success of a reunion of alumni which was projected
for the finals of that year. The necessity of employing
a permanent and salaried secretary was clearly perceived
as early as 1904–05, for it was only by offering
substantial inducements that a competent man could be
influcnced to give his entire attention to the duties of the
office. We have already alluded to the recommendation
of an alumni committee, in 1909, that a definite sum
should be annually reserved for the requital of such a
secretary; but it was not until Mr. Crenshaw was chosen
recorder that a really practical step was taken to bestow
appointment for the period of six months, he was
promised a monthly salary of one hundred and fifty
dollars, with seventy-five dollars for the same length of
time for routine expenses.
When the term of six months expired in June, Mr.
Crenshaw's services as recorder had proved to be so
valuable that the General Alumni Association determind
to collect four thousand dollars to secure his retention,
and at their annual meeting in June, $2,050 of
this sum was contributed by thirty-three of the members
then present. The Board of Visitors appropriated
$1,500 for the same purpose; and the alumni in general
were asked to subscribe the remainder. The arrangement
was intended to continue until June, 1915, when it
was anticipated that a plan would be drafted for the
permanent support of the office, which, by the action of
the executive committee of the association on July II
had come to combine the different duties of secretary and
treasurer. It was these duties which Mr. Crenshaw was
to undertake. The demand for the creation of the
office in a durable form was in harmony with the experience
of other institutions, the majority of which were,
at this time, employing a permanent alumni secretary.
There was now a national organization of such secretaries;
and their annual conferences had begun as early
as 1913.
The functions of the new secretary may be summarized
as follows: (I) he edited the Alumni News; (2)
he assisted the officers of the local chapters in a general
way; gave early notice of chapter meetings and banquets;
organized new chapters and reorganized old; took part
in the choice of incumbents for the alumni scholarships,
and secured their necessary credentials; (3) he formed
a distinct body; published the class directories; aided in
compiling the class bibliographies; arranged for the entertainment
of alumni at the finals; (4) he indexed all
the alumni by card alphabetically and geographically,
and kept the roll of them up to date; helped the fraternities
in their similar work; assisted in the public propaganda
of the University; and cooperated with the General
Alumni Association in attracting a large attendance for
special events. It was also his duty to draft and mail to
the alumni the annual letter which informed them of the
trend of affairs at the institution during the previous
session; and as he occupied the position of treasurer
as well as that of secretary, it was also his duty to collect
the annual fees. An extraordinary burden of additional
work, too minute to be particularized, fell upon
his back.
At the annual meeting of the Association in June, 1915,
it was decided to confine all alumni work to the office of
the secretary and treasurer, and to keep up that office by
means of modest dues to be paid by the entire body of
membership. The Board of Visitors also appropriated
$1,500 per annum for three years, beginning July
1, 1915, for the continuation of its routine functions.
There had been an early recognition of the fact that
an endowment fund was needed to maintain the secretaryship
in unbroken usefulness, and in 1916–17, a campaign
began to collect the sum of $200,000 for its support.
The purposes which the endowment was expected
to ensure were: (I) to reorganize the chapters, so as to
make them alert and influential for the benefit of the
University; (2) to reorganize the classes; (3) to check
up annually the addresses of the alumni; (4) to prepare
directories for all the alumni classes; (5) to inaugurate
return to their several class reunions that the attendance
at finals would reach at least one thousand persons each
year; (6) to obtain a photograph and biography of each
alumnus; (7) to mail to every alumnus the annual reports
of the secretary, the President, and the bursar, and
all other college literature of the like practical interest;
(8) to take the necessary steps to persuade the best of
the high school graduates to matriculate in the University;
(9) to establish a bureau of appointments, through
which recent graduates or older alumni might find employment;
(10) to make of the University night, during
the Christmas holidays, a brilliant social occasion to which
thousands of alumni would come, and to furnish each
of these gatherings with photographic stereopticon studies
or moving pictures of the University; (11) to establish
a travelling fund to enable the secretary to visit annually
a large number of alumni chapters, and to be present, as
the college representative, at every important chapter
meeting; (12) to develop among the alumni a spirit of
pecuniary liberality towards their alma mater; (13) to
appoint for each year a date on which the alumni could
return for the purpose of watching the institution at
work; and finally, (14) to keep the practical needs of
the University always in the public eye, in order to ensure
a more generous legislative support.
LII. The Alumni—Reunions
A circular letter of the secretary of the association in
1906,—which was addressed to the surviving alumni
of the years 1886, 1891, 1896 and 1901,—deplored
the small attendance that had, by this time, become habitual
at the annual commencement. What was his explanation?
The lack of a systematic class organization.
the finals had no reason to anticipate the sight there of
any of his old college comrades. The familiar scenes,
he knew, would be found unaltered, but the loneliness
would destroy the pleasure of seeing them again. How
was this condition to be changed? By inviting the
alumni to come back in cycles. In this way, each would
have an opportunity, once every five years, to meet at
the University the friends of his own class year. First,
an invitation should be dispatched to the alumni of the
sessions ending in one or six. These should be asked to
return in June, 1906. The alumni of the sessions ending
in two or seven should be asked to return in June, 1907;
and of the sessions ending in three or eight, in 1908;
and so on for an indefinite series of years.
The reasons in explanation of the absence of class
organization at the University were still as vigorous in
their influence as ever. In the first place, there was an
extraordinary number of fraternites and other societies
which tended to concentrate the students' interest upon
separate organizations, and not upon a central one
common to all; and in the second place, there being no
class system, as in curriculum colleges, the young men did
not enter and leave the precincts as members of a distinct
class which had hung together during four years.
The first indication of class consciousness occurred
in 1892, when each department, acting separately,
elected a president; but his term of office did not last
beyond a single session, and his only important function
was to serve as a judge in trials under the Honor System.
The next indication of class consciousness was the permanent
organization of the medical class in 1899, and
of the law class in 1902. But a more meaning step
one permanent body, and elected officers to represent it.
This body was known as the class of 1907; and in imitation
of its example, the graduates of each succeeding
year established a class for their own session.
Previous to the reunion of the general class of 1908 in
1913, there had been a reunion in 1910 of the medical
classes of 1899 and 1905; but the attendance was small;
and the attendance of the general class of 1907, at their
first reunion, was still more insignificant. It was said
that less than ten of its members were present. The
emotion which this fact excited was one of discouragement.
"In the place of the advantages of an organized
class system, like that of Princeton," it was asserted
afterwards, "with its fine loyalty and spirit of camaraderie,
we have had to substitute our cumbrous device of
confusing in one grand class all the graduates of all the
departments of a given year, as well as those men who
are leaving college although not graduating." Nevertheless,
even before the class of 1908 had made their
splendid demonstration in 1913, the possibilities of
loyalty to friendship and alma mater which lurked in
this so called "cumbrous device" had begun to reveal
themselves in beautiful ways. Thus the class of 1907
presented the University with a bronze bust of Washington:
the class of 1910 gave a sundial and two Pompeian
benches; the class of 1911, a bust of Sidney Lanier;
the class of 1912, a sum of money to found a loan
fund; the class of 1913, a class book; and the class of
1916, a marble bench. In 1910, class exercises took
place. The honor men, clothed in cap and gown,
marched, in double file, to the north front of the Rotunda,
and there an original poem was read, and gifts to
the University delivered, a class song sung, and the class
cup and trolling the Good Old Song, the graduates
dispersed.
Before describing the manner in which the reunion of
the class of 1908 was celebrated, let us dwell for a moment
upon the initial steps which were taken to ensure
that unprecedented success. During the commencement
week of 1908, a constitution was drafted by the
class of that year and officers elected. The President
of the class was Thomas V. Williamson and the Vice-president,
Lewis D. Crenshaw. Each member pledged
himself to be present during the finals of 1913, and
agreed to pay an annual fee of one dollar and twenty-five
cents in the interval, chiefly for the purpose of
providing board and lodging at the University on the
expected occasion. The plan of issuing a bulletin for
each year in this interval was also adopted, and by 1911,
two issues had been printed. The old cry of the class
was again practiced with all the wild ardor of the impulsive
years passed under the arcades:
We are the men of nineteen eight."
Mr. Crenshaw was appointed the publicity manager
of the reunion campaign, a position for which his energetic
and sanguine temper and previous study of class
organization excellently fitted him. As a loyal graduate
of the University, he was also anxious to demonstrate
the possibilities of the reunion as a means of quickening
the devotion of the alumni as a body. So soon as
he accepted the new post, he opened an office at the University.
His first practical step was to communicate
with the one hundred and eighty members of the class,
whose names had not as yet been registered,—indeed,
In the end, nearly every member attended the
reunion, so persuasive were his tireless exhortations, and
so powerful were his more substantial inducements.
Some came from communities as far away as Texas,
Arkansas, California, and Panama. The shrewd
principle which animated his appeals was, as he himself
said, "that weary business and professional men do
not come back to hear speeches; that they want to laugh
over old times and meet on the old camping ground the
friends of earlier days; that they want music and the
joy of their young days; that they want to be young
again and drop their cares for a brief period."
His second step was to organize the class of 1913
with a view to the assistance which it could furnish in
entertaining the class of 1908; and his third, to form
the Class Officers' Association, composed of the officers
of the classes of 1908, 1909, 1910, 1911, 1912 and 1913.
This body too was to be turned to full account in promoting
the success of the reunion. In recognition of
all these tireless activities, the Colonnade Club donated
a trophy cup, to be awarded annually to that class which,
in its own membership, should show the largest percentage
of alumni present at the finals. A special edition
of College Topics, descriptive of the approaching
reunion, was published, and seductive literature, in all
forms, crying up the occasion, was dumped by the wheelbarrow
into the post-office and weighed down the current
mails.
The largest section of the returning alumni agreed
to rendezvous in Richmond, and there they were made
receptive for the expected festivities at the University
by a brilliant banquet at the Commonwealth Club. With
a special car to themselves next day, the men, without
train the sailor suits of the class. At the station in
Charlottesville, the chairman of the class and a town
committee received them with imposing formalities. A
procession was quickly formed, and with the class banner
waving gallantly in the van, and a brass band playing
lively airs in the rear, the nautical visitors took up the
march towards the University. As they tramped along,
they broke into the old familiar songs and repeated the
ear-splitting college yell, while the excited and gaping
crowds on the sidewalks greeted them with shouts of
admiration and approval. Arriving at the north front
of the Rotunda, they mounted the steps, rank after
rank, and deploying by way of the colonnade terrace,
halted on the south front of the building. Rallying
around their banner and uncovering their heads, they
sang the Good Old Song, to the tune of Auld Lang Syne,
and the grand notes rolled through the arcades and
echoed from pavilion to pavilion, and dormitory to dormitory:
We'll sing it o'er and o'er
It cheers our hearts and warms our blood
To hear them shout and roar.
We come from old Virginia,
Where all is bright and gay;
Let's all join hands and give a yell
For the dear old Virginia.
Wah hoo wah hoo
Wah hoo wah,
Uni-i-Virginia
Hoo-rah-ray,
Hoo-ray-ray,
Ray ray,
U. V. A.
What though the tide of years may roll,
For alma mater still there'll be
A place in every heart.
In college days, we sang her praise
And so when far away,
In memory, we still shall be
At the dear old U. V. A."
Closing the song with a mighty shout for the class of
1908, the procession again fell in, like seasoned soldiers,
and took up the line of march down the Lawn, and
thence straight to the right to the foot of Monroe Hill.
Between Minor Hall and the middle house of Dawson's
Row, a big tent had been pitched, with its hospitable flaps
thrown wide apart; and under its protecting white folds,
the men broke ranks, having, as they entered, blown a
final blast of trumpets. Addresses by representatives
of various classes followed. Next morning (June 16),
the Lawn and Ranges were swarming with a very motley
host of invaders,—there were swarthy buccaneers, in
the garb of the cut-throats who used to plunder the
Spanish Main, and jolly tars, in white jackets and
trousers, who could not be distinguished from the sailors
who manned the American battleships; here and there a
picturesque matador or picador would be elbowed by
what seemed to be a group of curious bumpkins, fresh
from the hay-fields, while many militant suffragettes
were to be seen flaunting red printed sheets inscribed
with the legend: "Votes for Vimmen, A-men."
At three o'clock in the afternoon, a great procession,
with outriders on cavorting horses, was formed to attend
the game between the "frenzied farmers" of 1913, and
the "sacrilegious seamen" of 1908, which was to be
played on Lambeth Field. This event had already been
widely announced in a flamboyant poster. The route
and zigzaged through the grounds. First came the band
playing the liveliest ragtime airs, and behind them
walked the members of the several classes in separate
bodies,—the class of 1913, dressed as Mexicans; the
class of 1907, as Zouaves; the class of 1909, as Alpine
climbers; and the class of 1913, as farmers. The
sailor class of 1908 laboriously pulled along a battleship
float bristling with dummy guns. After deploying
around the field, the several detachments halted in its
centre, and then the mock ceremony of presenting works
of art to the University began. The first delivered
was fashioned in the most fantastic cubist style, and
according to the grave announcement, had been executed
by the great Sir Ezekiel Moses himself; and the same
paternity was attributed to the heroic statue of Jefferson,
which was next delivered, with equal formality. This
was made up of boxes, crates, and kegs, and held a
horn in one hand and a wooden sword in the other.
At the second stoppage of the procession, a bull fight
was found to be going on. The furious animal at first
successfully resisted a host of matadors and picadors, but
was finally struck down; and on that instant, there
emerged from its hide, a distinguished physician of Norfolk,
who had belonged to the class of 1903. Next
ensued an engagement between the dreadnought, manned
by the crew of 1908, and the pirate ship Blow and Fire,
manned by the crew of 1912. While this determined
battle was being fought out, the farmers of 1913 were
grouping their squealing pigs and cackling poultry, and
building their hayricks, along the front line of the
stadium. A mule, with a bunch of lighted firecrackers
tied to his tail, and bestridden by two clowns who belonged
to the class of 1900, suddenly burst into the
The occasion, so full of loud noise, gay color,
and rough merriment, closed with a game of baseball,
in which the antagonists were the classmen of 1908 and
1913.
During the entire interval of the reunion, the Big
Tent was a scene of almost continuous fun and uproar,
and if there was ever a pause, it was filled up with the
music of the band or the piano. A tribunal was set up and
an alumnus tried for undertaking, without license or
patent, to manufacture hair-brushes from the "threadlike
bristles" of his moustache. There was also a club
organized for the purpose of seeing the sun rise above
the Southwest Mountains; but eighteen of the members
were soon dropped because they had gone to bed by four
o'clock in the morning. The principal rule of this club
called for a dervish dance as the dawn began to break.
Among the cups presented in the course of the
exercises which were held on the Rotunda steps
was one given to the alumnus who had travelled the
longest distance to be present at the reunion. He had
traversed the length of 3,898 miles. Another had journeyed
3,640, and a third, 3,600. A fourth received
a bonus because his jaunt had extended through eight
dry States. The trophy cup which was given by the
Colonnade Club was awarded to the class of 1908.
The reunion ended with a mighty barbecue in the grove
of Sunnyside,—the home of William R. Duke.
"Can you forget," said Dr. William Dold, in describing
the scene, "the red-hot Brunswick stew, followed by
the early draughts of nut-brown ale? Do you recall
with what interest we stood by the pots and watched
the roasting of the lambs and shoats, smelling the savory
odors that filled the woods? Above all, do you
Riding home with an Oxford man, he made the remark
that it was one of the most unique and interesting affairs
that he had ever attended." Mr. Duke, the genial and
hospitable host of the hour, received a loving cup from
the class of 1908 as a souvenir of their gratitude for
his kindness.
An event of a romantic and pathetic character took
place during the exercises of the commencement of
1912,—at the suggestion of President Alderman, an
invitation to attend a reunion at the University at that
time was sent to every alumnus still surviving, who had
entered the service of the Confederacy. One committee
was appointed to look up their several addresses and their
military records; another, to despatch the invitations to
them and to provide for their entertainment. One
hundred and seventeen were discovered; and it was
found that, among them, were one brigadier-general, one
colonel, two lieutenant-colonels, three majors, twenty-five
captains, and eighteen lieutenants, six adjutants,
fourteen sergeants, two surgeons, seven assistant
surgeons, three corporals, and thirty-five privates. Only
about eighty were able to attend the formal exercises,
which had been set for the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth
of June.
On the first day so appointed, these veterans assembled,
and organized themselves into an association; and
this was followed by a dinner, which the University gave
in their honor. Judge George L. Christian responded
in their name on that occasion. "Ever since this little
band of Confederates," he said, "landed at the institution,
they have met with unstinted attention. Nothing
could have been more marked than the evidence of veneration,
respect, kindness, and courtesy, of the students
another old soldier, who was also present, "have I seen
such fervor and enthusiasm since the historic days when
the student company left the University for Harper's
Ferry in April of 1861." Among those to whom medals
were awarded was a veteran of eighty years who had
lost his sight. As he was led to the rostrum by his
grandson, a child, in order to receive his medal, the
sympathy of the great audience expressed itself in prolonged
applause. "Never have I looked upon a more
appealing and dramatic scene," comments the old soldier
already quoted. And the same electric emotion
was aroused by the toastmaster at the final banquet,
Armistead C. Gordon, when he read to the same appreciative
audience the stirring lines of his battle-poem, The
Garden of Death.
The success of the reunion in 1913 led to increased
energy in organizing the classes which had not yet been
enrolled. By 1914, the Secretary was able to report
that, in the number brought together, were the classes of
1864, 1874, 1879, 1884, 1889, 1894, 1903, and 1904, and
the classes of 1906 to 1914 inclusive. The classes of 1915
and 1916 were afterwards organized in turn. Accurate
rosters of all the other classes ending in six or one had
been compiled by him with the view to their reunion at
the finals of 1916. The permanent formation of each
one of these classes was accomplished during this reunion,
and plans were drawn up for the next like event in the
future. To promote a desire to return to the reunion of
1914, Crenshaw began, on March 12, the printing of the
Big Tent, in which he pressed upon the members of the
classes expected, with all the persuasive resources at his
command, a campaign of Back to Virginia. This periodical
appeared up to the finals of that year once every
In 1915, the Orange and Blue Paper was issued
as a substitute for the Big Tent. This too was discontinued
in 1916. The class of 1917 was fully organized
by December, 1916; but its elaborate programme
was completely upset by the entrance of the United
States into the World War, in the course of the following
April.
LIII. The Alumni—Colonnade Club
Before the inauguration of President Alderman the
Faculty was a small body, and in consequence, their
social intercourse was then more intimate and more constant
than would have been possible had the membership
been large and less homogeneous. As the number of
professors was increased to fill the new or the expanded
chairs, the desirability of some social centre common to
them all became more apparent; and under the influence
of this fact, a faculty club was organized in 1907 and
pavilion VII rented for its use from the Board of Visitors,
at an annual charge of one hundred and fifty dollars.
The roll of resident members, at first, did not exceed
seventy names. The only purpose of the association
at this time was acknowledged to be to foster cordial
and friendly relations, and to encourage an active cooperation,
among the teachers and the members of the
administrative staff of the University.
But there was one man who had the practical shrewdness
and the breadth of vision to see that the club could
be made to subserve a far more useful end than the contracted
one then in view. This was Bruce Moore, the
secretary, who was not an alumnus. It had been seriously
proposed to abolish the remnant of those
features which had once made the finals so attractive
could be offered to revive the interest of the alumni
in this occasion, and thus stimulate their loyalty to the
University itself? Mr. Moore, with just foresight,
thought that the club could be turned into a means of
accomplishing this beneficent object. He now went indefatigably
to work, with the hearty encouragement and
assistance of the club, to increase its non-resident
membership in order to secure the money necessary to
defray the expense of offering new attractions to influence
the alumni to revisit the precincts. In short, he
strove to do for the alumni of the University of Virginia
what the Graduates' Club at Yale and the Calumet
Club at Harvard had done for the sons of those institutions.
—the creation of a centre within the bounds where
all the alumni could meet on common ground.
It was said, in 1909–10, that the success of the club,
under Mr. Moore's general management, was chiefly
instrumental in preserving some of the flavor of the old
social character of the Finals. The alumni began to
return in numbers that had not been noted since the first
years following the close of the War of Secession. At
the commencement of 1908–09, at least one hundred registered
their names on the books of the club, and at the
commencement of 1909–10, two hundred and fifty. Its
membership, had, by this time, increased to nearly one
thousand. In 1910, it issued a volume which contained
the names of the living alumni, and it also lent its aid
in obtaining all the information about their careers that
could be collected. It assisted too in the formation of
local alumni chapters, and in keeping them in contact
with the University. It sent, at its own expense, a representative
of the General Alumni Association to the
Conference held at the Ohio State University in February,
of alumni secretaries. It also offered, as already mentioned,
a reunion cup to nourish the spirit of the organized
classes,—which it was so important to strengthen
and extend,—and also to influence classes which had not
yet been organized to come together at once to compete
for the trophy.
Another means which the club adopted to accomplish
the same object was the establishment of the Alumni
News in March, 1913. This periodical was designed
to supply the alumni with information about all the departments
of the institution, and the varied interests of
the student body, and also to create a medium of conveying
to the Faculty the opinions of the alumni
about university problems. It was issued once a
fortnight, and sent, without charge, to every nonresident
member of the club. Its editor was Russell
Bradford, who was to take up the work of the club in
succession to Mr. Moore, after an interval in which
Paul B. Barringer, Jr., had filled the office.
But the principal advantage offered by the club to the
non-resident members was that it would assure them,
during their visits to the University, all the conveniences
of a home. It had been clearly recognized by Mr.
Moore that the problem of inducing the alumni to
return periodically was, in no small degree, the problem
of housing them properly. The club afforded a practical
solution of this difficulty. But it was not long
before it was perceived that the increased enrolment
would ultimately make indispensable an addition to the
building then standing. Previous to 1905, the sum of
nearly three thousand dollars had been collected by the
General Alumni Association for the purpose of erecting
an alumni hall; and the General Athletic Association had
dollars in contributions for the construction of an athletic
building. In the course of that year, the two
organizations agreed to pool their respective funds, and
if possible, to augment the amount by sixty thousand
dollars in order to assure one large building which would
give ample room for the members of both bodies combined.
The original alumni fund was, prior to 1905,
held in trust by Colonel Carter, the proctor, and the
original athletic fund, by Dr. Lambeth. When the two
were united, Dr. Lambeth and Judge R. T. W. Duke,
Jr., were chosen the joint trustees.
At the annual meeting of the General Alumni Association,
in June, 1910, it was suggested that the two
organizations should abandon the plan of erecting a
single edifice for their common use. The members of
the General Alumni Association were now, as a body,
anxious to build a separate structure for their own occupation,
and its executive committee, aware of this fact,
at their session in January, 1911, appointed a committee
to canvass for subscriptions. This committee reported in
June the acquisition of $2,088, with promises of $288.00
more. As there was already four thousand dollars in
hand, the total sum that had now become available was
about six thousand dollars. The executive committee,
when they met in January, as previously mentioned, had
also urged the separation of the double trust fund; and
had further recommended that the projected alumni hall
should be attached to the Colonnade Club, in the form of
an annex. The General Athletic Association having
accepted the proposal to divide the funds, the General
Alumni Association decided to use their own share in
creating the annex as advised by their executive committee.
A special committee was appointed to consider
to confer on that subject with the President of
the University and the President of the Colonnade Club.
At the meeting of the Association in June, 1912, acceptable
plans for the structure were submitted by the
firm of Ferguson, Carlow, and Taylor, architects of
Norfolk. At this time, there was a fund of $6,442.00
in bank. In the spring of 1913, the new building was
pushed rapidly forward towards completion; it contained
a billiard room, a pool room, a lounging room, and eight
chambers. There was space for a garden in the rear.
The moneys used in constructing the annex consisted of
$3,132 obtained from the two original trustees; $4,000
appropriated by the club; and $2,554.33 contributed by
the alumni and held by a third trustee,—a total of $9,686.03.
The Board of Visitors advanced the sum of
$1,500, and the Club an additional $500.00. The entire
cost, including the outlay for heat and light fixtures,
was in the neighborhood of twelve thousand dollars.
LIV. The Alumni—Distinguished Sons
Among the members of the National Congress in
1906, there were nineteen who had been educated at
Yale University; eighteen, at the University of Michigan;
and eleven, at Harvard University. On the other
hand, twenty-one were accredited to the University of
Virginia. In the Sixty-First Congress (1910–11), Yale
University could point to fifteen of her graduates;
Harvard University to sixteen; the University of Virginia
again to twenty-one. In the Senate, during this session,
the latter institution could count seven of her
alumni. It was represented in the National Government,
during the administration of 1913–21, by the following
officials: the President, Woodrow Wilson; the AttorneyGeneral,
Court, J. C. McReynolds; Counsellor of the State Department,
John Bassett Moore; Comptroller of the Currency,
John Skelton Williams; ambassadors to foreign
courts, C. P. Bryan, Thomas Nelson Page, and Joseph
E. Willard; minister, Hampson Gary; surgeon general
of the National Public Health Service, Rupert Blue.
Nine members of the Senate, during this administration,
were able to claim her as their alma mater.
Besides Virginia, States as wide apart in situation as
Kentucky and Texas, Delaware and Mississippi, Illinois,
Alabama, and Arkansas, were represented in that
body by her graduates. At least eighteen of her alumni,
coming from communities as remote from each other
as New York and Texas, Indiana and North Carolina,
occupied seats in the Lower House of Congress.
During the administration of President Cleveland, the
Democratic tariff bill was formulated by William L.
Wilson, an alumnus; and when a similar bill had to
be taken up during the administration of President Wilson,
it was Oscar W. Underwood, another alumnus,
who drafted it. At this time, Henry D. Flood, also an
alumnus, was Chairman of the House Committee on
Foreign Affairs, and William A. Jones, of the Committee
on the Philippines; Senator Martin was the leader of
the Democratic Party in the Senate; and Thomas P.
Clarke was the President pro tempore of that body.
The importance of the graduates of the University
of Virginia in the judiciary of the Commonwealth, in the
Ninth Period, is indicated by the appointments of the
General Assembly, during the session of 1913–14,—
Joseph L. Kelly was then elected a member of the Court
of Appeals; and eight other alumni were raised to seats
on the circuit bench. At one time, in the course of this
Medical Corps and Medical Reserve Corps, a
number only exceeded in the case of the graduates of the
University of Pennsylvania, George Washington University,
and Jefferson Medical College, enrolled in those
professional bodies. E. O. Lovett, an alumnus, was
elected to the Presidency of the great scientific institution
established by the philanthropist, Rice, at Houston,
Texas. In 1913, there were at least twenty-one of
the alumni employed in the East as missionaries, religious
and medical, or as teachers and editors,—indeed, it was
correctly said that the University of Virginia had dispatched
a larger number of its graduates to the foreign
fields than any State institution in the entire country;
and there were few denominational colleges even which
could rightly claim more representatives in that great
province. It was estimated that, by 1916, about five
hundred of the alumni had been ordained for the ministry;
and seventeen of these, during the Ninth Period
alone, were bishops of their several sects. The three
most influential denominational journals of the South
were edited by graduates of the University,—the
Southern Churchman, by Meade F. Clark; the Religiou
Herald, by A. E. Dickenson; and the Christian Advocate,
by J. J. Lafferty.
The Ninth Period was marked by a more lively interest
in the fame of Edgar Allan Poe as the greatest literary
alumnus of the University. It was during this
Period that a bronze tablet, the gift of Miss Bangs, of
the National Cathedral School in Washington, was
erected over the door of his room, No. 13, West Range.
Besides the name of the master, and the date of his
birth, it bore the felicitous inscription, Domus parva
magni poetae.
The interval between the sixteenth and the twenty-third
of January, 1909, was given over to a commemoration
of the poet's career. The occasion began on
Saturday, the 16th, in Jefferson Hall, which was situated
only a few steps from the dormitory which he
had once occupied. The essays then read related to the
events of his sojourn at the University, while a sermon,
bearing upon his general life and character, was delivered
in the chapel on the following morning. The
Raven Society had charge of the celebration which was
held on Monday evening in Cabell Hall. At that meeting,
an original poem was read by Professor J. Southhall
Wilson, of the College of William and Mary, followed
by an interpretation of Poe's verse by Professor
Willoughby Read. Illuminating personal recollections
of the man and the artist were told by Dr. Herbert
M. Nash of Norfolk, who had heard him deliver
a deeply interesting lecture in that city not long before
his death. Another vivid feature was the lantern
studies of the University buildings and terraces as they
appeared at the time of his matriculation. Papers, having
for their subjects different aspects of his masterpieces,
were read on the following days by Alcee Fortier,
Georg Edward and several other professors of distinction.
Among the subsequent exercises was the presentation
of sixty-seven medals to individuals and institutions,
who or which had been conspicuously instrumental
in heightening the popular appreciation of the
poet's genius. During the progress of the proceedings
from day to day, his former dormitory was thrown
open for inspection. An effort had been previously made
to furnish it with articles that would restore it to the
condition which distinguished it during his occupancy.
obtained, besides other pieces of furniture of that date,
while a real raven, stuffed, looked down from a coign of
the room.
The Ninth Period witnessed more literary productiveness
among the alumni than had characterized any
period since the close of the War of Secession. The
range of the works extended over broad and varied
ground. In the ecclesiastical field, Professor Crawford
H. Toy's Introduction to the History of Religion
was a contribution of the ripest scholarship to a subject
of which he was admitted to be a master. Professor
Thomas L. Watson's Mineral Resources of Virginia
and Professor Jordan's Histology were thorough
scientific treatises. Professor Raleigh C. Minor's Republic
of Nations was a thoughtful presentation and
analysis of all the arguments that could be advanced
in favor of a League of Nations. In the province of
belles-lettres, there were two works of merit,—Professor
C. Alphonso Smith's What Literature has Done for
Me, a volume of unusual suggestiveness, and Rabbi
Calisch's The Jew in English Literature, which incorporated
the fruits of the author's wide reading. The Letters
of Edgar Allan Poe to Sarah Helen Whitman, edited
by Professor James A. Harrison, threw a new romantic
light on the private life of the poet. Professor Trent,
as the head of the board of editors which arranged for
the publication of the monumental Cambridge History
of American Literature, and in part composed it, increased
the great reputation for literary skill and critical
acumen which he had long before acquired.
The principal novels written by the alumni during the
Ninth Period were Robin Aroon and Ommirandy, by
Armistead C. Gordon, and John Marvel, Assistant, by
poetical delicacy, the highly colored scenes and characters
of Colonial Virginia, while Ommirandy presented the
humorous and pathetic aspects of the later plantation
life, with perfect knowledge and tender sympathy. John
Marvel was a forceful description of the different sides
of the modern social life of the North and West. The
principal collection of poetry was also the achievement
of Mr. Gordon. The small volume For Truth and
Freedom, which he issued, contained, among other verse,
the lofty stanzas read at the inauguration of the Academic
Building.[10]
Two volumes of reminiscences were published during
the Ninth Period; namely Dr. Richard McIlwaine's
Memories of Threescore Years and Ten, and Dr. David
M. R. Culbreth's Recollections of Student Life and
Professors, a volume which has preserved, with remarkable
vividness, the characteristics and personalities of
the University of Virginia in the seventies. One of
the most admirable county histories ever written by a
native of the State was the production of an alumnus
of this Period,—the History of Orange County, by W.
W. Scott, a book which has touched upon every side of
the annals of that community with the learning of an
antiquarian and the spirit of a patriot. A volume of
wider scope, The Old Dominion, Her Making and Her
Manners, by Thomas Nelson Page, described, with
sympathy and insight, the influences which have moulded
the social life of the Commonwealth at large. Stuart's
Cavalry in the Gettysburg Campaign, by Colonel John
S. Mosby, the Life of General Turner Ashby, by Clarence
Thomas, the Soul of Lee, by Randolph H. McKim,
and Robert E. Lee, Southerner, by Thomas Nelson Page,
history; and of equal importance as a contribution to
Confederate political history was the Life of Jefferson
Davis, by Armistead C. Gordon. The biography of
J. L. M. Curry, jointly written by President Alderman
and Mr. Gordon, and the Life of O. Henry, by Professor
C. Alphonso Smith, sympathetically depicted the
careers of two Southerners who were conspicuously active
in different provinces, and who, by their genius, raised
the reputation of their native region. But, perhaps,
the most remarkable of all the biographical works of
this period was the Benjamin Franklin, Self-Revealed,
by William Cabell Bruce. Its wealth of information,
its humorous and philosophical insight into the character
of its subject, its breadth of view, its thoroughly
digested matter, its perfectly balanced arrangement, and
the pungency, affluence, and vigor of its style, made so
strong an impression that its author was awarded by
Columbia University the Pulitzer prize for the most
finished and patriotic biography issued during the year
of its publication.
The inscription on the face of this building "Ye shall know the truth,
and the truth shall make you free" was first suggested by Mr. Gordon.
LV. The World-War—The First University Measures
Before the United States declared war, the University
of Virginia was participating, so far as foreigners were
permitted to do, in many of the numerous provinces of
the belligerency in Europe. All the principal American
seats of learning organized an ambulance service for the
Red Cross, and the University of Virginia was one of
the first to purchase and equip a field ambulance for the
same purpose. A thousand dollars were subscribed
towards that end by persons associated with the University
community. Among the alumni who found their
way to the fighting line at this early stage of military
Courtney Campbell, and James Drake. Dr. Vivian
Slaughter was a second lieutenant in the London Fusiliers,
William A. Fleet, a lieutenant in the Grenadier
Guards, and Wynne Cameron, a private soldier in the
British army operating in Mesopotamia. In the various
medical units dispatched to France were Doctors Robert
Bryan, George Benet, W. D. Anderson, Jr., Charles
T. Porter, and M. Blanchard. R. K. Gooch resigned
his appointment as Rhodes Scholar to enter the service
of the American Ambulance Hospital at Neuilly, and
John Ray was also employed in the same service.
At the general meeting of the Faculty in October, 1916,
the question was brought up for discussion whether or
not the University should introduce a system of military
instruction and training among the students. The
committee which was named to report upon its advisability
earnestly recommended the establishment within
the limits of one or more units of the Reserved Officers
Training Corps, in harmony with the regulations of the
War Department issued during the previous September.
But it was not until March 15, 1917, that this proposal
was approved by the General Faculty. Eight days
afterwards, the Board of Visitors convened, and having
decided to carry out the recommendations of the original
committee, instructed the rector, Mr. Gordon, and the
President, to make application to the War Department
for a Federal officer who would undertake the functions
of a professor or assistant professor of military science
and tactics. The Board were scrupulous to put on record
that it was not their purpose to incorporate for good in
the life of the institution a department of military science,
thus conferring on it the character of a military
school. Rather, they said, they were impelled to take
of the urgent requirements of the country in a
definite national crisis. "We hereby solemnly pledge
to Woodrow Wilson, President of the United States,"
they added, "the loyal cooperation of his alma mater
in the defense of that liberty, honor, and independence,
which George Washington and Thomas Jefferson did
so much to establish and maintain."
The General Faculty assembled on March 27. "If
war is declared," said the President of the University
on that occasion, "there will be great need of men
with academic training to serve as officers. This institution
should take a leading place among other institutions
of a similar grade in this country towards the
formation of units for a Reserve Officers' Corps."
The dean of every department was instructed to appoint
a committee of its professors to consider how to
make the resources of that department most useful to
the Nation. But a more important agency was the
Council or Committee on National Service appointed
at a somewhat later date. Its general function was
to bring about such an adjustment in the current life of
the University as the military situation called for. Of
this committee, the President was the chairman, and
Professor Echols, the vice-chairman. It held its first
session on April 1. Military committees were then
chosen for all the departments out of the membership
of the minor faculties, and shelter was provided for
military storage. It was decided to recommend to the
Board of Visitors that a military course should be introduced
into the circle of the studies that would be entitled
to credit for degrees; and also that the Federal
officer should be admitted to a seat at the Faculty
table.
Lieut.-Colonel James A. Cole, U. S. A., retired, had
been appointed as the military instructor. He was a
graduate of the United States Military Academy; had
won distinction in the Indian, Spanish, and Philippine
Wars; and at the time of his withdrawal from the active
list, was attached to the Sixth Cavalry, and was entitled
to wear three foreign service badges. Arriving at the
University during Easter Week, he took up the performance
of his duties at once, and prosecuted them
with such skill and energy that very soon the corps of his
pupils,—who included four-fifths of all the students,
and over one-half of the Faculty,—was in so advanced
a stage of training as to allow of its being divided into
regular companies, under the command of those of the
young men who had been drilled in military schools or
in the National Guard. Before three weeks had passed,
these companies were able to go through the manoeuvres
without a hitch, and even without an appearance of
serious awkwardness. By April 19, about eight hundred
students had been enrolled. They came upon the
field in all sorts of dress,—golf costumes, tennis suits,
summer flannels, military school uniforms, and Plattsburg
khaki. Colonel Cole lectured once a week on
military science. This course, however, was optional.
A special committee, appointed by the University
Council on National Service, submitted a report which
laid down the general policy to be pursued by the institution
so long as the war should last: (1) all the resources,
in the way of men and equipment, which it
possessed, should be put at the disposal of the National
Government; (2) its regular functions and activities
should not be interrupted; (3) the students under twenty-one
years of age,—who were not eligible to commissions
in the Federal Military and Naval forces,—
Virginia, and if physically fit, prepare themselves for
the front by acquiring the military training offered on
the campus; (4) the departments of engineering and
medicine, and the hospital also, should be used for the
national benefit; (5) all college athletics should be suspended;
and (6) leave of absence should be granted to
all members of the Faculty and officers of administration
whose offer of their services should be accepted
by the government at Washington.
By the end of the session of 1916–17, when the
United States had been involved in the war only during
two months, about three hundred and thirty-four
alumni of the University of Virginia were taking an
active part in the hostilities, in one way or another.
Sixty-eight of these were enrolled in the ambulance
unit, and the remainder in the other military sections.
Seven hundred and eighty-four students and twenty-four
professors were registered in the Reserve Officers' Training
Corps, while about forty-six of the graduates were
stationed in the widely dispersed camps.
Before the session of 1917–18 began, there was organized
an impressive series of new college studies for
the benefit of the matriculates who expected ultimately
to enter the Federal service. They embraced meteorology,
oceanography, elements of electrical engineering,
telephony, telegraphy and signaling, navigation, field
astronomy, automobiles, timber characteristics and uses,
practical Spanish, political geography, photography,
international law and diplomacy, engineering, geology,
plane surveying, topographical drawing and military
service and tactics. Professors Rodman, Mitchell,
Hancock, Newcomb, and Colonel Cole were the instructors
in these varied courses.
LVI. The World War—Pacifism Suppressed
At this critical hour, when the institution was bending
every pound of energy to assist in the prosecution of the
War, and when so many of its sons were performing
their full duty with alacrity in every department of the
service, there occurred an incident which caused an indignant
shock to the minds of the University authorities
and the alumni in general. Professor Whipple, of
the School of Journalism, was invited in November,
1917, to deliver an address before the Current Event
Club of the Sweet Briar Female College. He chose
as his topic, The Meaning of Pacifism; and before a
word of it was spoken, he sent a summary of its contents
to numerous newspapers throughout Virginia, with the
request that it should be published at least in part.
The substance of the address was printed in several
of the Virginia papers; and as soon as President Alderman
read it as thus published, he issued a formal statement.
"Officially and personally," he declared, "I repudiate
the reported utterances of Professor Whipple
as unpatriotic and calculated to give aid and comfort to
the enemies of the Republic in a grave moment of national
peril." All the members of the Faculty who
were then in residence joined in a protest, which was
drafted only two days after the address was delivered.
"We consider such sentiments," they said, "disloyal to
our national policy and deserving condemnation by all
patriotic citizens." "The offense," they added, "was
aggravated by the circumstance that copies were supplied
to the public press of Virginia, with the intention
of disseminating these disloyal opinions among the people,
—opinions the more readily made current when uttered
by a professor of the State University." "Professor
Whipple," they continued, "had distorted and abused
pronounced his views "to be discreditable to a teacher of
an institution which had consistently sought, since the
inception of the war, to instil into her sons,—graduate
and undergraduate,—the spirit of loyalty to the Government,
and the determination to present an undivided
front to the enemy."
In anticipation of the meeting of the Board of Visitors,
President Alderman, in order to express the feeling
of himself, the Faculty, and the alumni, drew up a
statement for their consideration, in which he vigorously
characterized Professor Whipple's utterance, "as a document
of disloyalty; a counsel of national dishonor; a
frank incitement to inactivity in the presence of aggression;
a condemnation of God in national leadership; a
plan for the impairment of the Nation's spirit and courage
in the face of grave national peril; a disparagement
of those who were willing to die to win a peace based
on freedom rather than to accept, without struggle, a
peace based on servitude."
The Board of Visitors having convened, and having
heard and weighed Professor Whipple's defense of his
conduct, which he delivered in person, adopted President
Alderman's recommendation that his appointment
as adjunct instructor of journalism should be rescinded;
and that his chair should be pronounced vacant. Their
action was accompanied by words which demonstrated
their abhorrence of the pacifist sentiments which had
been expressed in that teacher's ill-timed speech. The
principal of the Sweet Briar College very emphatically
denied that she had been in sympathy with such unpatriotic
views. "I gave myself no concern," she wrote
the President of the University, on November 22,
"about any effect that the address might have outside,
publicity, as the happenings here are given to the papers
always through us. The papers this morning were a disagreeable
surprise, and I felt that the Professor took advantage
of the invitation sent entirely through the
students,—indeed, the nature of his theme was not
known to the Faculty."
LVII. The World War—Effect on Attendance
In the statement which President Alderman submitted
to the General Assembly in January, 1918, he estimated
the loss in young men in the college department at one
hundred and forty-four; in the graduate, at forty-four;
in the law, at one hundred and forty-four; in the medical,
at ten; in the engineering, at twenty-nine,—a total
of three hundred and seventy-one, or thirty-five per cent.
By January, 1918, the enrolment had shrunk from one
thousand and sixty-four students to seven hundred.
At a meeting of the Board of Visitors, held on April
5, 1918, a special committee was appointed to make all
the arrangements required for the establishment at the
University of a branch of the projected United States
Army School for truck-drivers. Professor Newcomb
was put in general charge of this task, with instructions
to provide spacious and comfortable accommodations
for six hundred privates, seven officers, and forty instructors
in field and shop. The barracks were ultimately
erected; and they were occupied continuously
from May 15 to November 15. Fifteen members of the
engineering department were picked out to be instructed
in shop-work, and twenty-five from the College at large,
in road-building. A separate school was set up for their
benefit, in which Professor Hancock superintended the
machine and shop work and Professor Hyde, the road
work-shop division and forty in the machine-shop division.
Eighty were enrolled in the class of engineering
drawing; forty in the class of automobile repairs; forty
in the class of electric wiring; sixteen in that of automobile
construction; and sixty-one in that of wireless
telegraphy.
What was the history of the regular departments
during the session of 1917–18? The following table
will disclose how the attendance of first-year students,
during that session, compared with the like attendance
during the five preceding years:
| 1912–13 | 1913–14 | 1914–15 | 1915–16 | 1916–17 | 1917–18 | |
| College Department | 197 | 206 | 243 | 274 | 287 | 225 |
| Graduate Department | 10 | 16 | 10 | 11 | 16 | 4 |
| Law Department | 75 | 81 | 58 | 44 | 61 | 18 |
| Medical Department | 18 | 15 | 17 | 12 | 9 | 21 |
| Engineering Department | 35 | 34 | 37 | 56 | 51 | 48 |
| Total | 324 | 344 | 357 | 385 | 418 | 313 |
It will be perceived, by an examination of the preceding
figures, that the graduate and law departments,
owing to the maturity of their students, showed, by
1917–18, a remarkable shrinkage in their attendance.
The total enrolment for the law department that session
was ninety-nine; and of this number, about twenty withdrew
before the close of the last term. A part of the
course, because of the absence of Professor Dobie in service,
was dropped. In consequence of the increased interest
in the French tongue, the classes in the School of
Romanic Languages were able to retain their numerical
strength, but those in geology fell off nearly one-third.
This school was actively employed in investigations relating
to industrial preparedness. The attendance in
the School of Biology and Agriculture began with fifty-seven
this school, was a consulting biologist of the United
States Bureau of Mines; and in cooperation with Professor
Kepner, carried on a series of experiments for the
detection of gas. The Schools of Latin and Greek suffered
little loss in students, while the Schools of English
and English Literature, not only retained their popularity,
but even added to it by lectures on war poetry, and
the other literary aspects of the conflict.
Almost the only lectures delivered by Professor Mitchell
were those which related to navigation and field
astronomy. In the School of Economics, the loss in
undergraduate courses amounted to one-fourth, and in
graduate, to one-half or even to two-thirds. The School
of Forestry sensibly increased in importance,—Professor
Jones was one of the three enlisting officers appointed
for the regiments composed of foresters and
lumbermen; and he was also in charge of all the forest
patrolmen of Virginia. There were one hundred and ten
students in the department of engineering. This represented
a shrinkage of nearly one-fifth in number. But
of all the professional departments, the medical probably
had the most serious obstructions to impede its
work, although its attendance grew rather than fell
away: (1) the cost of material for use in the laboratories
was almost prohibitive in exorbitancy; and (2)
the class of young men who had formerly served as assistants
were drawn off to the war, and no substitutes
were to be obtained. The library, for want of the necessary
funds, was constrained to shut its doors at night,
and to limit its purchases of new books; but its usefulness
was not otherwise impaired.
It was the impression of careful observers that the
general effect of the war influences had, so far, been to
and diminishing the assiduity of the students.
The average standing in 1917–18, however, seems to
have been at least higher than in 1916–17,—it was 85 in
1914–15; 64.1 in 1916–17; and 76.4 in 1917–18. The
average standing of the degree men was slightly more
creditable,—in 1916–17, it was 86; and in 1917–18, it
was 79.3. The shrinkage in the numerical strength of
the teaching staff was too small to afford an explanation
for this decline. In 1916–17, there were actively employed
with their classes twenty-three full professors,
four associate professors, thirteen adjunct professors,
sixteen instructors, thirteen permanent assistants, and
three student assistants,—a total corps of eighty-two.
In 1917–18, on the other hand, there were present for
duty twenty-four professors, three associate professors,
thirteen adjunct professors, twelve instructors, eleven
permanent assistants and eight student assistants,—a
total corps of sixty-nine.
LVIII. The World War—Students' Army Training Corps
We have seen that the University of Virginia, when
the United States entered the war, possessed a Reserve
Officers' Training Corps, which had been equipped and
instructed in the infantry drill at the expense of the Government.
In August, 1917, the draft age was suddenly
lowered in order to meet the exigencies of the new programme,
which called for an armed force of four million
men. It was found that one hundred thousand
officers would be needed just as soon as they could be
made available. Experience had demonstrated that the
body of drafted men would only be able to furnish a
very small proportion of these officers; and the volunteer
to decline in number, owing to the exhaustion of the
source of supply. The next best material were the young
men who had recently matriculated in the colleges, or
were preparing to do so. The different seats of learning
possessed facilities for training at least one hundred
and seventy-five thousand men, and the National Government
wisely decided to use these advantages, which
were already in existence.
The arrangement that was made with the University
of Virginia,—which was common to all,—required that
it should furnish such instruction as the War Department
should approve or prescribe; house the young men
in a sanitary manner; supply meat of the quantity and
quality demanded in the standard army ration; provide
grounds suitable for military instruction and adapted to
the drill, and also offices for the military administration
of the unit; and cooperate closely with the War Department.
The Government, on its part, agreed to provide
for the military training of the young men; to furnish uniforms
and equipment for their use; to supply the cots,
blankets, and bed-sacks which they would need; and to
pay the sum of one dollar and fifty-two cents a day for
each student-soldier on active duty.
From these terms, it will be perceived that the War
Department's object was to induct men into the army,
as required by the selected draft law, and at the same
time, to permit them to remain in college for military
and educational instruction, until it should be expedient
to remove them elsewhere. But the main purpose was,
of course, to convert the matriculates into soldiers; their
conversion into scholars was,—very properly under the
circumstances,—a secondary purpose. In short, it was
aimed to develop in them those personal qualities which
officer's success; and, in addition, to impart to them simultaneously
the noblest patriotic ideals, and the ability
to defend these ideals on the field of battle. The University
of Virginia, like all its fellow institutions, was to
become a reservoir for the supply of good material for
competent officers and skilled mechanics, and also a
medium for the elimination of bad material before its
training had brought about serious expense to the Government.
As fast as one group of young men would be
drawn from the precincts into active service, their places
would be taken by a new quota, obtained either by voluntary
induction, or by the involuntary draft.
The rule of assortment and assignment adopted by the
War Department was substantially as follows: selected
young men, physically qualified and over eighteen years
of age, who had received only a grammar school education,
were, in general, to enter special training detachments
in order to be taught along mechanical lines of
military value. Should any of them prove themselves
to be good material for officers, they were to be transferred
to a unit established in some college; and they were
to remain members of that unit until fitted to enter a
central officers' training camp. On the other hand,
young men who had enjoyed a high school education
were to be permitted at once to enter college for advanced
training as officers and technical experts; and those
among them who should exhibit promise under this
training were to be retained there until qualified for admission
to a central officers' training camp, or for entrance
at once into active service as technical experts.
Those who should fail to develop any aptitude were to
be sent either to a non-commissioned officers' school or to
the nearest department brigade.
From these provisions, it is to be seen that each student-soldier
was to be allowed the fullest opportunity
to obtain just that kind of training which was precisely
adapted to his natural abilities. There were, in each
institution of learning so utilized, two sections
among the young men: one was the collegiate section;
the other, the vocational,—such, for instance, as the
school of chauffeurs established at the University of Virginia
at an early date. The members of the collegiate
section were transferred every three months in age
groups. The student twenty years old went first; the one,
nineteen years old, went next; the one, eighteen years old,
followed last. Members of the vocational section remained
under instruction during the three months, and
were then assigned to those departments of the service
which called for technical experts. In the curriculum
of the Students' Army Training Corps, the number of
hours to be devoted to practical and theoretical military
lessons and physical exercises was limited to eleven
a week, while the number allowed for allied subjects,—
which included the time required for lectures, recitations,
laboratory instruction, and preparation for that instruction,
—was not to exceed forty-two a week. These
allied subjects consisted of English, the French and German
languages, mathematics, physics, physiology, chemistry,
biology, geology, geography, topography, map-making,
meteorology, astronomy, hygiene, sanitation, descriptive
geometry, military law, and government.
The University of Virginia was included in the list
of institutions which were allowed a naval section, but
its quota in that division was restricted to fifty men.
These men were inducted by temporary officers. The
entire military unit was organized with Colonel Cole in
command, while subordinate in authority to him were
The automobile training station was, at
this time, under the command of Captain A. T. Budgell.
There were five first-lieutenants and four second subject
to his orders. As provided for by the War Department,
the general ceremony of induction took place
on October 1 (1918). The total number of young men
registered, on that occasion, was one thousand and sixteen,
the great majority of whom were brought into the
army of the United States as simple privates. The following
table shows the most important numerical facts
relating to the membership of the Students' Army Training
Corps at the beginning of the session of 1918–19:
| College | Medical Department |
Engineering Department |
Total | |
| Inducted | 476 | 76 | 134 | 686 |
| Enrolled | 61 | ... | 11 | 72 |
| Naval Unit | 32 | ... | 19 | 51 |
| Naval Reserve Force | 8 | 4 | 3 | 15 |
These statistics reveal that nearly three-fourths of
the entire number of matriculates in the college department
were enlisted in the Corps. About five hundred and
ninety-eight first-year students were registered on the
occasion of the induction, which was nearly double the
number of the first-year students who had entered the
University at the beginning of the previous session; and
this fact was the more significant when it is recalled that
the law and graduate departments were eliminated when
the Students' Army Training Corps was organized; and
that a large proportion of the matriculates of 1917–18,
—who would have otherwise returned,—had been
ordered into active service. The explanation of this increase
lay in the incentive which now existed for every
young man of draft age, who had obtained a high school
to hold a commission in the army or navy.
The records disclose that the largest section of the
Students' Army Training Corps at the University of Virginia
were the sons of farmers. The sons of merchants
were nearly equal to them in number; and, after the sons
of merchants, came, in the following gradations, the
sons of lawyers, of physicians, of clergymen, of real
estate agents, of bankers, of railway employees, of clerks,
of teachers, and of brokers. The greatest proportion of
the soldier-students in their first year had been educated
in the public schools, either of Virginia or of the other
commonwealths. Indeed, three hundred and forty of
the entire five hundred and ninety-eight had been thus instructed.
The private school had sent one hundred and
forty-six only; the several colleges but seventy-four.
In a former chapter, a brief allusion was made to the
effect which the war conditions prevailing before the
establishment of the Students' Army Training Corps had
had upon the scholarship of the young men. It was
thought,—as we have already stated,—that their power
of application showed a decline during that earlier period,
although some improvement was perceptible in the course
of the session of 1917–18. All the existing testimony
seems to demonstrate that, from an academic point of
view, the work of the Students' Army Training Corps
was still more unsatisfactory. Indeed, there was no
leisure allowed, and no facilities provided, for the maintenance
of the old spirit of academic acquisitiveness.
"The most ardent student," it was said, "learned nothing
except in the hours spent in the lecture-room and the
laboratory. The less earnest student learned nothing on
any occasion. Then came the armistice, and after that,
academic chaos!"
It was the opinion of Professor James M. Page, the
dean of the College department, that the end of the war
arrived too soon after the enrolment of the corps to
leave sufficient time for the proper organization of the
new system. This seems to have been substantially the
conclusion of the President of the University also. In
an address delivered on Founder's Day, in 1919, he said,
"The experiment,—though there adhered in it boundless
possibilities for investigation, test, and discovery, in
intensive training for leadership,—had no chance for fruition
or practical success. Every possible misfortune
befell it; and it was practically nullified before it was
born. I have only praise both for the men who conceived
the idea, and for those who were intrusted with
the details of undertaking; and it shall live in our memory
as an honest effort of high-minded and courageous
soldiers and teachers to perform a sort of educational
miracle in martial defense."
LIX. The World War,—Bureau and
Ambulance Unit
So far, our attention has been confined to the war
history of the University strictly within the precincts.
We will now proceed to relate the history of the institution
in connection with the activities which took place
beyond those narrow limits. We will first give an account
of the organizations with which it was associated
in this outside work; and will then consider the achievements
of the alumni in actual service.
The Inter-Collegiate Intelligence Bureau was created
at the suggestion of William McClellan, of the University
of Pennsylvania. Lewis D. Crenshaw received the
appointment of local adjutant for the University of Virginia,
and with the assistance of Professor William H.
successful in making a military census of the great majority
of the alumni. Responses for information regarding
themselves were obtained from about twenty-five hundred;
and these facts were reported to the Bureau for
permanent record.
An organization of another character was the University
of Virginia Ambulance Section. Among the first
calls sent out by the Inter-Collegiate Intelligence Bureau
was one for the recruiting of ambulance companies, which
were to be enrolled in the United States Army Ambulance
Service. It seems that, in May, 1917, the Surgeon-General
of the War Department had requested the Bureau
to furnish fourteen hundred men for the performance
of ambulance duty in France. These men were to become
members of the Medical Enlisted Reserve Corps,
as required under the provisions of the National Defense
Act of June, 1916. It was anticipated that this body
would arrive in France by June, 1917. The unit
assigned to the University of Virginia was to comprise
thirty-six men, whose ages were not to fall below eighteen
years or to rise above forty-five. Application was
early made for permission to furnish two units; and consent
having been obtained, the University, through the
alumni office, was successful, in spite of many obstacles,
in assembling, by May 23, the two companies thus authorized.
It was said of these two units,—which were the
University's first organized contribution to the service
of the Nation,—that they distinguished themselves, not
only by their devotion to all the tasks assigned them,
but also by their exceptional courage under the heaviest
fire. Many were wounded and many gassed; and they
were awarded numerous commissions and decorations
for their conduct.
Another practical step taken by the University of Virginia,
a few months later, was the establishment of a
bureau in Paris. The American University Bureau,
whose purpose was to be of assistance to all alumni in
the military arm, had already been organized in that
city, and it was due to the energetic initiative of Lewis
D. Crenshaw that his own alma mater was able to cooperate
with it. By an untiring personal campaign,
and the distribution of many thousand printed circulars,
he succeeded in collecting about nine thousand dollars
for the support of the proposed bureau, without counting
the one thousand reserved for travelling expenses and for
different items of equipment. He was appointed the
director of the bureau, and granted a leave of absence
from his duties as alumni secretary and editor of the
Alumni News. Professor Bardin was chosen to fill these
two offices temporarily, and Miss Nina Stout, an assistant,
was put in charge of the alumni files. Accompanied
by numerous trunks, weighted down with stationery and
the like miscellaneous material, and a large assortment
of cigarettes, Crenshaw set sail on November 30 (1917)
from "a port in America," to use his own description,
"in the good boat Ça ne fait rien, and landed ten days
later 'somewhere in France.'"
The University of Virginia Bureau found shelter in
the same building as the American University Bureau.
The walls of its four rooms were soon adorned with pictures
that reminded the visitors of Jefferson's academic
village, and the entire suite was furnished with many
of the comfortable appliances of a small club-house.
The apartment of the larger bureau nearby supplied a
restaurant, a general reading-room, baths, and an abundant
canteen; and there was also to be discovered in its
files the name of every American University man enrolled
proximity to these advantages, the University of Virginia
Bureau possessed special allurements of its own.
Hither came the alumni of that University, and of other
Southern institutions, to enjoy the hospitality which was
whole-heartedly held out to them, to the utmost limit
of the resources of the establishment; and besides these
visitors, there were numerous foreigners who were interested
in the likenesses, on the walls, of Thomas Jefferson,
Woodrow Wilson, and Edgar Allan Poe, or in the
classic architecture of the University. "My aim," said
Mr. Crenshaw at the time, "is to make the bureau a
home for the Virginia alumni, where they can step across
the threshold into Old Virginia. When a couple of travel-stained
boys come rolling through from the front, and
start getting the dirt off in time to meet two other of
their friends,—whom I happen to know are in town,—
one of the main reasons for the existence of the bureau
is served. It is the personal side all the way through,
which no other organization over here can give. I
could cite instance after instance of brothers, cousins, and
intimate friends, who have got in touch with each other
over here through the mails, or face to face, through the
mediation of the Virginia Bureau. It is almost uncanny
the way Tom from Flanders, or Dick from Alsace, or
Henry from Southern France, will land here the same
day,—all attracted by the old orange and blue banner,—
and fall on each other's necks, in a regular grizzly bear."[11]
The Paris editions of the Herald, Tribune, and London
Mail were spread out on the reading table; and so
were the lighter French publications. Useful maps of
hand, was the file, not only of all the alumni of the University
of Virginia then stationed in Europe, but also of
all those in America who were preparing for service
abroad. The list of the living alumni of every age was
also accessible.
One of the important functions of the bureau was to
forward the letters addressed in its care to the young
alumni at the front, whose precise whereabouts were not
known to the writers. So soon as the bureau received
information that some one of them had been wounded,
its aid was offered him in whatever manner would best
assure his comfort, while to the stricken alumni lying
in the wards of the local hospitals, cigarettes, chocolates,
socks, toothpowder, and magazines, were sent in as
large quantities as its limited resources would allow.
The bureau also acted as the purchasing agent of the
alumni in the trenches. "The demands," said Mr. Crenshaw,
"ranged from trigonometry to five readable
French novels; from kodak films to aviators' goggles;
and from a French Easter rabbit, toy for a little Alsace
kid, to a bottle of something that would cure pustules.
Every day brought its requests; and very often these
requests were for theatre, hotel, or train reservations."
Another useful purpose which the bureau served was
that, for many of these young men, it afforded the practical
facilities of a bank; money was deposited with the
director to be transferred to some one at home in America;
and he also became the custodian of all sorts of
articles, large and small, which the alumni departing
for the front wished to leave behind for safe-keeping.
In addition, he was the fountain of information to all
who were on furlough in Paris about the operas, museums,
restaurants, and stores of the city. The bureau
Year's Day, 1918, there was an abundant dinner, in
which a large turkey, stuffed with marrons in the French
style,—a toothsome object in those narrow times,—
occupied the place of honor on the table. The anniversary
of General Lee's birthday was also celebrated
with great distinction. In the following April, a tablet
of marble and bronze was, with the participation of the
bureau, attached to the house in which Jefferson had
lived between 1785 and 1789, while minister to France.
Mr. Crenshaw's assistant was Madame Des Noyers, whose kindness
to the young soldiers visiting the bureau was often a subject of grateful
reference in their letters to the superintendent of the bureau, after their
return to the trenches.
LX. The World War—Base Hospital No. 41
One of the most vital and successful of all the services
which the University of Virginia performed in the prosecution
of the war in France was the establishment of
Base Hospital No. 41 in Paris. It had, at one time, been
hoped that the institution would be able to organize
such a hospital through its own medical faculty alone,
but it was quickly perceived that this could only be done
by closing the doors of the medical department. It was
then hoped that such a hospital could be founded by enlisting
the medical staff from the ranks of its alumni.
After interviews with Dr. W. D. Anderson,—who had
recently come back from France,—and the President of
the University, Dr. W. H. Goodwin, the associate professor
of surgery, and Lewis D. Crenshaw, who had
been instrumental in organizing the two ambulance units,
visited Washington for the purpose of consulting with
Colonel Kean, the Director General of Medical Relief
of the Red Cross. He approved of the selection of the
staff from the alumni, on condition that the enrolled
personnel should satisfy all the prerequisites laid down
for the medical enlisted reserve corps; and that the
nurses too should hold the diplomas of a training school
not less than fifty patients a day.
The typical base hospital called for twenty-four medical
officers commissioned in the Medical Officers' Reserve
Corps, one chaplain, fifty primary nurses, fifteen reserve
nurses, and one hundred and fifty-three men, of ages
ranging between eighteen and forty. Fifteen civilian
employees were also required. An organization committee
composed of President Alderman, Professor
Hough, Professor Flippin, Professor Goodwin, Miss
Cowling,—the superintendent of the University training
school,—and Lewis D. Crenshaw, was authorized to
assemble this force for the projected Base Hospital No.
41. Miss Cowling enrolled sixty-five graduate nurses,
with nine additional in reserve. In order to secure the
men, an application was first made to all alumni of the
classes from 1908 to 1916, exclusive of former medical
and engineering students; but the choice was not restricted
to this circle, or even to the alumni of the University of
Virginia, for, as already stated, there were needed experts
in an extraordinary variety of trades,—assistants
in laboratory, dispensary, and operating-room, bakers,
carpenters, cobblers, electricians, interpreters, machinists,
metal-workers, orderlies, pharmacists, photographers,
plumbers, stenographers, telegraph and telephone
operators, watch-menders, waiters, and barbers.
To avoid the delay that would be caused by rejection
for physical deficiencies, about three hundred and fifty
of the applicants were accepted,—from which number,
the desired one hundred and fifty-two sound men were
subsequently to be chosen; but before this could be
effected, the order arrived from Washington that the personnel
were not to be formally enlisted without further
instructions, and moreover, it was announced that the
The Director General of Medical Relief also required
that the medical staff should be increased to thirty, the
number of nurses to one hundred, and the total of the
personnel to two hundred, just as soon as the right to
enlist was restored. But these directions were afterwards
recalled, as well as the earlier order to enlarge
the capacity of the hospital to one thousand beds.
The confusion resulting from this fickle and halting
course of action could not be removed by the repeated
visits which Professor Goodwin made to Washington.
At last, all further effort seemed to be rendered hopeless
by the announcement that the Government could not
then furnish the necessary supplies; and that, unless
Base Hospital No. 41 could procure them at its own expense,
it would not be called into service at once. It
was estimated that forty thousand dollars was the smallest
sum that would be required for the purchase of the
indispensable equipment. How was this to be obtained?
Everything was in a completed state for an early start
if the money could only be got. All the physicians had
joined the Medical Officers' Reserve Corps, and all the
nurses, the Red Cross, in anticipation of certain and
early employment in France. Staff and personnel were
only waiting for the word of command to enter upon the
first stage of their undertaking.
At a joint meeting of the respective representatives
of the branches of the Red Cross in Norfolk and Richmond
and the base hospitals Nos. 41 and 54, forty thousand
dollars was promised by the Richmond and Norfolk
chapters; and the amount to be thus secured was increased
to $53,500 by the separate guarantee of the chapters of
Portsmouth and Lynchburg; but this generous action
seems to have been rendered practically nugatory by the
use of such funds for the equipment of base hospitals
at all. At this critical moment, it was announced that
the Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks had collected
from its own members one million dollars to be expended
for war relief. It happened that the Exalted
Ruler of this great organization was Frederick Harper,
of Lynchburg, a loyal and distinguished alumnus of the
University of Virginia. It occurred to Dr. Goodwin
that, through the personal intervention of Mr. Harper,
Base Hospital No. 41 might be successfully financed; and
this expectation soon proved to be well grounded. The
Elks' War Relief Commission, at Mr. Harper's solicitation,
promised to appropriate sixty thousand dollars for
that purpose, and even more, should it be required.
Dr. Goodwin and Mr. Fanning, the secretary of the
Order of Elks, met in Washington and arranged with
the purchasing department of the American Red Cross
for the acquisition of the necessary equipment. This
equipment embraced all the materials essential to a complete
outfit for kitchen, mess, and laundry on a great
scale; for the commensurate office, ward, and operating
rooms; and for the living-rooms of doctors, nurses,
and enlisted men. There were also needed many sets of
surgical instruments and x-ray apparatus, and also numerous
ambulance trucks, bicycles, and touring cars.
Electric fixtures, drugs, surgical dressings, splints, and
orthopedic appliances also were called for in large quantities;
and an ice-plant too must be provided.
When the medical staff of Base Hospital No. 41 had
been first chosen, Dr. Hugh Nelson, of the University
Faculty, who was a captain in rank, was appointed chief;
but he was afterwards ordered to Camp Lee; and while
constrained him to withdraw from the staff of Base Hospital
No. 41. The corps of officers, as finally made up,
consisted of Major W. H. Goodwin, director, Major
Lomax Gwathmey, chief of the surgical section; Major
Charles S. Venable, quartermaster; and nine others who
held the commission of captain, and one, Rev. Beverly
D. Tucker, Jr., that of chaplain. There were also twelve
first-lieutenants, most of whom belonged to the surgical
division; there were, in addition, two connected with the
laboratory section and two with the dental; and there
was, besides, one expert in the use of the Roentgen ray.
Some of these officers had been pursuing special courses
in medicine or surgery, in anticipation of their duties in
the hospital service,—of this number, were Major
Gwathmey, Major Venable, and Captain Minor C. Lile.
Among the one hundred nurses under the leadership of
Miss Cowling were dieticians, anaesthetists, assistant
training school superintendents, and assistants in the
operating room.
We have seen that the right to enlist the personnel of
one hundred and fifty-two men,—afterwards increased
to two hundred,—had been suspended, for a time, by
order from the War Department. On August 30
(1917), this order was withdrawn, and during the following
month, the men were assembled, physically examined,
and enrolled as privates. They were then temporarily
dismissed. It was not until February 20,
(1918) that they,—then residing in their widely dispersed
homes,—were summoned by telegraph to return
to the University for mobilization. Instructions had
been brought from Washington by Lieutenant H. T.
Jackson, whom Major Goodwin had chosen as his assistant,
got together, should set out for Camp Sevier, in South
Carolina.
The first roll was called in the shadow of the University
hospital, and all,—although some resided as far
apart as Seattle and Tampa,—answered to their names.
The drill took place on Lambeth Field; and the exercises
with the bicycles were carried out in the region surrounding
Charlottesville. Daily lectures were also delivered
on the various subjects which would fall under observation
in the active service. The members of the hospital
contingent were sheltered in the local hotels and the
dormitories of East Range; and the meals of a large
number were provided by the kitchen of Commons Hall.
On the 5th of March, they entrained for Camp Sevier.
After their arrival there, they were, for a time, put in
quarantine, in accord with regulations to which all new
comers had to submit. At first, they were housed in a
long row of canvas tents, where their beds consisted of
canvas cots padded with straw-stuffed sacks, while plain
wooden boxes served as their tables, chairs, and wardrobes.
Their principal amusement now seems to have
been to exchange flights of arrows of wit with the tenants
of an enclosure nearby in which troops soon to depart
were always stationed. This enclosure was known as the
bull pen. Its occupants, at this time, showed, by taunts
and gibes, their contempt for the raw "rookies" over the
way, who, still unequipped, were compelled to wear their
old civilian clothes, and to remain,—in appearance at
least,—entirely alien to their real professional character.
To prepare them to combat exposure to disease, the
members of the unit were subjected to inoculations for
typhoid and small-pox. In this interval of waiting, they
did a great amount of rough work,—swept the roads,
any better," sadly says Bernard P. Chamberlain, one of
the members of the unit, to whom we are indebted for an
interesting diary of these events. "We worked our
heads off nearly. People stopped to watch us, their
looks showing admiration and surprise."
Near the end of April, the contingent was assigned to
duty in Camp Sevier itself. Here the hospital work
began. There were various wards in the camp hospital,
—one for prisoners, one for lunatics, others for sufferers
from different maladies. Down to this time, the medical
officers of the unit had not reported for duty, since
they were engaged elsewhere, as already stated, in pursuing
special preparatory lines of research. Lieut.Colonel
Julian Cabell had now taken over the command.
The unit, having been ordered to Camp Mills, on Long
Island, was safely established there by June 19. Here
Major Goodwin, who had been promoted to the rank of
Lieutenant-Colonel, was assigned to the position of head
of the surgical branch. This camp was situated only
four hundred yards from aviation field No. 1, and the
members of the unit were awakened the morning following
their arrival by the buzzing sound of aeroplanes
flying overhead. The duties consisted of day drills and
night guard; but these were cut down as far as possible
so as to give the men much leisure to enjoy the amusements
of New York City.
LXI. The World War—Base Hospital
No 41, Continued
On July 6, the unit embarked on the Scotian for
Europe. There were thirty-nine officers and one hundred
an ninety-eight men on board. The nurses' corps,
which mobilized in New York, departed by a boat which
the convoy, besides the Scotian; and all were escorted by
a battle cruiser, which steamed well to the head. For
some distance, the ships were accompanied by a small
dirigible, a large biplane, and five sub-chasers of the mosquito
fleet. A few days before, a German U-boat had
been reported to be prowling off the coast of New England,
and there was a chance of its bobbing up in the
water nearby at any moment now so long as the shores of
America remained on the horizon. Every vessel in the
convoy carried depth bombs; and an unceasing watch
was kept up during the twenty-four hours. On the
third day of the voyage, a target resembling a periscope
was dropped some distance forward in the waves, with
orders to every one of the gunners of the fleet to fire at it.
The route was altered constantly. First, the ships made
for the south, but afterwards swerved so far towards the
northeast that the north star seemed to be shining in the
vault of Heaven just above the masthead. There was no
difficulty, during that interval, in reading on deck until ten
o'clock at night.
The members of the unit wore their life preservers
throughout the day, and slept with them under their
bunks. During two nights, no one was permitted to take
off any portion of his clothes except his shoes; at the
most unexpected moments, all were summoned to abandon
the ship; and there were also daily drills for boat-fire.
At one stage of the voyage, the fleet passed through a
large quantity of drifting wreckage; but no other evidence
of the enemy's former presence was to be seen. The hours
were enlivened by prize fights and other strenuous tests
of physical strength and skill. And on one occasion,
there was a spectacular swimming match. A gun was
fired on one of the ships, and simultaneously a man
his face towards the rear of the convoy. Mounting to
the hurricane deck of a second vessel, he again leapt
into the ocean as the second gun went off; and after thus
changing boats several times, he finally halted on the flagship,
where he received, in solemn ceremony, the croix
de mer.
On the approach to the British coast, the voyagers
were met by a small cloud of destroyers. Afterwards,
the ships entered the Clyde; and as they slowly advanced
up that narrow stream, the men aboard greeted the
Scotchmen on the shore with cries of "hoot mon." From
every house, the Stars and Stripes were floating in the
wind.
By July 19, the hospital unit had arrived at Southampton,
and leaving that port for Havre, amid the moving
strain of My Old Kentucky Home, they reached Paris
on July 25, after spending a few days in a rest camp near
the sea, where each batch of twelve men were compelled
to sleep in a single tent eleven feet in diameter. Army
trucks transported the unit to L'Ecole de la Legion
d'Honneur at St. Denis, which was situated about five
miles from the Place de l'Opera in Paris. As they rumbled
through the teeming streets en route, they were
greeted with a continuous roar of welcome from the
populace, and were received at their destination with
graceful and gentle formality by the principal and the
other ladies in charge of the school, which had previously
been devoted to the education of the daughters of the
most distinguished families in France.
The Abbey of St. Denis was said to have been
founded by the first Dagobert, and a portion of the
original structure had been burned down during an incursion
of Norman pirates. It was restored, in a very
thirteenth centuries, and, in part, renovated in the eighteenth.
All that remained of the mediaeval chapel and
circular monastery was now used as a recreation hall.
The modern chapel had been, at one time, the hall of
the guards; and it was here that the coffins of the French
monarchs rested before their final deposit in the vaults
of the abbey. The southern end of the main building
still displayed the Benedictine shield, on which was inscribed
the one word Pax, surrounded by a wreath of
thorns.
The unit had been in occupation of these historic
edifices ten days before they received word that their
equipment had been unloaded in France. In the meanwhile,
the first steps had been taken to convert the contiguous
buildings into one great hospital. Apartments
were arranged on the first floor as administrative offices,
dining halls, kitchens, and storage quarters, while on the
second, the space was reserved for wards, operating
rooms, laboratories, shock-rooms, x-ray rooms, and
rooms for sterilizers. At the east end of the main structure,
apartments were assigned to the dental experts and
the experts on the eye, ear, and nose; and here too were
placed additional laboratories. Although the hospital
was designed for a thousand beds only, it was called upon,
before the end of the war, to take in three thousand.
Two of the hallways were converted into wards; and
more space still was got by transferring the medical supplies
to a separate roof. Fifty-two marquise tents were
erected, each for the housing of thirty-seven patients;
and the same number of patients respectively were cared
for in the thirteen double Beaseneau tents which were
afterwards put up. The chapel and the old receiving
ward were also turned into apartments for the wounded,
larger quantity of food.
When the armistice was declared, Base Hospital No.
41 was ministering to the acute needs of twenty-nine hundred
patients. The first convoy rolled in at midnight on
August 16. There occurred at this moment a beautiful
scene which those who witnessed it will never cease to
remember. The kind and pious ladies of the school
were standing near the main entrance, and as each of
the litters was slowly borne in, one of the group,—all
of whom knew only a few words of English,—would lean
over each wounded man, and in her soft French accent
whisper the one word, "welcome." By the end of the
first week, there were seven hundred wounded soldiers
concentrated in the wards. Between September 6 and
30, about two thousand in all were admitted,—General
Foch's counter offensive was now at its height,—and
occasionally, a convoy would embrace as many as four
hundred patients. The five wards in the building accommodated
about six hundred; the fifty tents, twenty-two
hundred more; and the chapel, a considerable additional
number.
Down to October 7, Base Hospital No. 41 served as an
evacuation hospital only; it received patients directly
from the front, to whom only first aid had already been
given; and these men were sent on to a second hospital
so soon as they were sufficiently improved to travel.
The Base Hospital No. 41 was, therefore, filled with
wounded whose condition demanded immediate surgical
attention. These had passed first into the receiving
ward, where they were washed and dressed; and, afterwards,
they had been distributed in the supplementary
wards, according to the state of their wounds. Many
of the convalescent soldiers served as orderlies, stretcher-bearers,
assistance, all the work which had to be done in the
buildings could never have been performed.
An epidemic of influenza broke out in October, which,
by disabling one-fourth of the officers, nurses, and enlisted
men, reduced the effective force to two hundred
and thirty. These served throughout the twenty-four
hours at a time when two thousand patients were in the
hospital, and a complement of seven hundred were expected.
About ten thousand meals had to be daily provided.
Although between August 16 and January 17,
1918–19, about forty-eight hundred cases were treated,
—of which, thirty-five hundred were surgical,—there
were only sixty-eight deaths, of which, twenty-seven
resulted from pneumonia that followed influenza. Only
thirty-nine of the surgical cases were lost. Although
there were ten such establishments situated in Paris,
it is estimated that Base Hospital No. 41 received
one-fourth of all the wounded who were brought to
the city from the front. "A few air raids," says a
member of the unit, "one a very spectacular daylight
raid, the flashing and the booming of the guns on the
Chateau Thierry line, and an occasional shell from Big
Bertha, were the only things that made us realize that
the greatest war of all time was in progress, except for
our own men coming in from the trenches. We saw
after all the more pitiable and the more trying side of
war, with the glory and excitement of battle replaced
by the grim battle of life and death that we fought with
these men that made our victory possible."
Previous to October (1918), the Protestant services
held in the hospital were conducted by Rev. R. F. Blackford,
a member of the unit, who made the daily round of
the wards; and after that date, Rev. Beverly D. Tucker,
to those of his own faith, while a devoted priest
of the Abbey of St. Denis served as the spiritual adviser
and consoler of the Catholics. For the diversion of
the tenants of the hospital, concerts and other musical
entertainments were given by the representatives of the
Young Men's Christian Association, and by the Knights
of Columbus; and also, for their enjoyment, the first
violinist of Paris played, with his most exquisite skill,
before them, and the Fifth Regiment band of New
York, in its turn, followed that kindly example. The
Brotherhood of St. Andrew had organized a local chapter
in the hospital, with Bernard P. Chamberlain as secretary;
and at the meetings of the members, interesting
short addresses were delivered and musical programmes
offered. The Red Cross converted the theatre of the
school into a recreation hall; and here, picture-shows
and dramatic plays were presented.
In the course of the last months, basket-ball games
were contested on the concrete tennis-court during the
day, and even at night, under electric lamps. There
were also tests of skill in boxing and wrestling. Football
games out of doors and baseball within took place;
and a field-meet was even arranged, but its events were
forestalled by the dispersion of the convalescents. A
few copies of a journal known as Between Convoys were
issued. At Christmas, the corps of the Base Hospital
contributed eleven hundred and twenty-eight francs for
the support of two French children, whose father had
been killed in battle, and who had been adopted by the
unit. Their names were Yvonne and Georges Lefevre.
In a letter addressed to the Board of Visitors, in
May, 1919, the Surgeon-General of the Army referred
to the work of the corps as "the invaluable service
No. 41"; and he eulogized as a "glorious heritage of
splendid achievement" the record of duty performed
which its members would hand down to posterity. "The
chief of the medical service," he added, "is very appreciative
of the cooperative spirit shown by every medical
officer of the Hospital, and at no time, has he ever
heard one complaint of any work assigned him." "Most
of these officers," a witness has stated, "had held previous
appointments in hospitals as internes, but these
same men bowed their heads over dressings hours every
day, day after day, and were happy doing their utmost
for the soldiers. The soldiers will never forget the
nurses of Base Hospital No. 41 because their kindness
and gentle care of the wounded began when the patient
entered the receiving ward, and continued through the
operating-room and various wards. At no time was a
nurse ever too tired to adjust a pillow, or in other ways
make a patient more comfortable and help him on to
recovery by cheerful words."
LXII. The World War—Service and Honors
It is estimated that there were in the service of the
Government, during the war, approximately two thousand,
seven hundred and ten men who had been educated
at the University of Virginia. The assignment
of these was as follows: in the infantry, there were
nine hundred and forty-six; in the medical corps, three
hundred and ninety-three; in the regular artillery, sixty-five;
in the quartermaster's department, thirty-one; in
the cavalry, twenty-two; in the signal corps, eight; in the
tank corps, four; in the ordnance, eleven; in the marine
corps, forty-three; in the navy, two hundred and forty-seven;
in the ambulance corps, eighty-four; in the British
the Young Men's Christian Association's War Service,
twenty-seven; in the Red Cross, thirteen; and in the
Salvation Army's War Service, one. About three hundred
and ninety-three were unclassified.
The records reveal that, on March 31, 1918, there
were eighteen colonels and lieutenant-colonels in the
medical corps who were alumni of the institution; and
in addition, there were twenty-nine majors in the medical
corps, marine corps, and the regular army, combined.
There were fifteen captains and twenty-five first-lieutenants
in the medical corps, and four captains and five
first-lieutenants in the marine. There were eighty-one
captains in the regular army, and also two hundred and
twenty-nine first-lieutenants, with six in the foreign service.
There were eight first-lieutenants in the navy.
There were two second-lieutenants in the marine corps,
seventy in the army, and one in the navy. There were
fifty-five sergeants, corporals, ensigns, and paymasters,
in the army and navy together; and there were also four
alumni, who, at this time, were serving as chaplains.
Major Hugh A. Bayne was judge-advocate in the reserve
corps attached to the first contingent that went out
with General Pershing; and Major Alexander N. Starke
was the principal medical officer of the army which expelled
the Germans from the St. Mihiel salient. Dr.
Robert Bryan was the director of the Whitney Hospital
at Neuilly and the medical adviser of the Roumanian
Commission. Major Stuart McGuire was the director
of Base Hospital No. 45, and Major Hugh H. Young,
of the Johns Hopkins Biological Unit. Colonel Jefferson
R. Kean was the Director General of the Medical
Relief of Red Cross, which was in command of the
United States ambulance service in France.
Many of the professors had an honorable share in the
prosecution of the war beyond the confines of the campus.
We have referred to the part which Professors
Goodwin, Venable, and Hugh Nelson played in the medical
service. Professor Pott was detailed to the United
States Reserve Camp Division; Professor Hyde to naval
aviation; Professors Kerr and Dobie to the military arm;
Professor Rogers to the war bureau at Washington.
Other professors who participated, in one form or another,
outside of the institution, were Thomas Walker
Page, John C. Manahan, C. M. Sparrow, J. C. Bardin,
C. P. Olivier, and C. W. Paul. H. H. Lannigan served
as one of the physical trainers for a section of the aviation
corps.
How many citations of the sons of the University were
there in the course of the World War? The following
statement shows, not only their number, but also their
special characters.[12]
Beginning with the French decorations,
there were fifty-one alumni who received the croix
de guerre; fifteen, the fourrargère croix de guerre; five,
the medaille militaire; three, the fourrargere medaille
militaire; twelve, the Legion d' Honneur; and ten, the
French sanitary decoration. Two were cited in the orders
of French G. H. Q., four in the French divisional
orders; and two in the French unit orders. In the
United States army, fourteen received the distinguished
service cross and ten the distinguished service medal,
while twenty-three were cited in orders of general headquarters;
seven, in general army orders; forty-two, in
divisional orders; six, in unit orders; and three in
In the English service, two alumni received the distinguished
service order and five the military cross, while
five also were cited in general orders. One was awarded
the Order of St. Michael and St. George. In the Italian
service, four received the war cross; one the Order of
the Crown of Italy; and one the distinguished service
medal. The Belgian decorations granted were the
Order of Leopold of Belgium to six, and the Distinguished
Flying Cross of Flanders to one. One alumnus
received the Grand Commander Order of Avis, a Portuguese
decoration; one the Order of St. Anna, a Servian;
and one, the Medal of Military Merit, a Grecian.
One was also decorated as Chevalier of the Order of
the Saviour.
For the names of the alumni embraced in the lists of citations and
decorations that follow, the reader is referred to the Alumni Bulletin
for 1922, and also to the monograph on the University of Virginia in the
World War, prepared by John S. Patton. Our space is too limited to
allow us to insert this very voluminous roster.
LXIII. The World War—James R. McConnell
The spirit which animates the participants in a war
cannot be adequately presented by simply offering a plain
statement of crosses won, or rank attained, or numbers
engaged. We must closely scrutinize the careers of individual
soldiers if we wish to get a correct impression of
the courage, the fortitude, the staunchness, the patriotism
of the mass.
Was the conflict on the European theatre, in which
the alumni of the University of Virginia took part, more
appealing to our sympathies, or more compelling in its
claims to spiritual consideration, than that earlier struggle
in which freedom, country, and hearthstone were the
sacred objects that all those youthful paladins and
martyrs described by us in a previous volume, sought
to protect and preserve? The World War,—in an indirect
sense at least,—was also a war of defense, although
South the intimacy and poignancy of those four years in
which the attack was aimed against the very threshold,
the very roof-tree, of every Southern home, as well as
against the general principles upon which every Southern
community rested. In this contest, the retention of
everything economic or political, personal or civic, then
existing, was at stake. The fight was upon the native
soil, and often under the very eaves of the home.
The sound of the guns echoed through every forest,
across every harvest-field, over the roofs of every village.
It was everywhere; and it never ceased until the
South, having exhausted her last resource, lay completely
prostrate.
In reality, the resistance to the German onrush and
the resistance to the Federal invasion, by the young
alumni of the University of Virginia, in their respective
generations, had much in common; but much more yet
that was essentially different. The personal issue was
less piercing in the former case than in the latter; indeed,
the issue for the young soldiers in the World War was
an impersonal one; and, for this reason, their participation
in that conflict assumed an almost purely spiritual
aspect. It was not in defense of their own country so
much that they were fighting as for the salvation of mankind
as a whole. It was as if some great crusade had
drawn these young men to the other side of the world,—
just as the followers of Godfrey de Bouillon had been
drawn to Palestine,—in order to press forward a cause
which had lost entirely its limitation to one land and to
one people, and been merged in a cause that reached out
to all lands and to all peoples.
It was this spiritual point of view,—which was the
logical result of the character of the World War,—that
young alumni of the University who perished in the
course of that conflict. It is only possible to describe
the careers of a few of these youthful heroes in the contracted
space at our disposal. We shall consider as our
first representative of them all, the youthful warrior who
was the earliest of the alumni to die, and who, in his unselfish
consecration, sunny temper, unfailing courage, and
love of daring adventure, may, like the others whom we
shall name in later chapters, be rightly regarded as the
epitome of all his glorious young comrades.
James R. McConnell, although of Carolinian blood,
was a native of Chicago. His home there was situated
within a few doors of the home of one of the earliest
pioneers in aviation, who was in the habit of studying
the wings and flight of birds, and testing the results of
his observations with primitive machines in a vacant lot
just under the boy's window. It was, perhaps, the recollection
of these spectacles which impelled McConnell to
become the founder of an aero club after his admission
to the University of Virginia, in 1907. While here, he
was the chief editor of Corks and Curls, and was also
crowned, amid florid ceremonies, the King of the Hot
Feet. It was the memory of this royal honor that led
him to paint a red foot on the side of his plane in France.
On one occasion, finding on the streets of Charlottesville
an Italian, who was accompanied by a performing bear,
he brought the two to the precincts, and endeavored to
arrange a wrestling match between bruin and a member
of his fraternity, who weighed two hundred pounds.
He purchased a pair of bagpipes, and employed a Scotchman
to teach him the art of playing on that instrument.
It happened that a soiree was held in Dawson's Row
after one of the examinations in law. McConnell, entering
in Highland kilts, began at once marching up and down,
blowing the droning pipes with all his vigor the while,
until, finally, like another Pied Piper, he drew the whole
crowd behind him out of doors; and they continued to
follow the buzzing strains until the grounds of the University
had been traversed, amid a mighty hullabaloo of
music, shrieks, catcalls, and yells. The house of his
fraternity was known as The Castle; and here he rarely
failed to give a tea to his friends in the afternoon.
In the autumn of 1914, he offered his services to
the Allies,—one of the very first Americans to volunteer.
At this time, he was engaged in business in North Carolina.
"One day in January, 1915," says a friend, "I
saw Jim McConnell in front of the court-house at Carthage
(N. C.). 'Well,' said he, 'I am all fixed up, and
am leaving on Wednesday.' 'Where for?' I asked.
'I've got a job to drive an ambulance in France,' was
his quiet reply." In a letter to another friend, written
in the following April, he remarked, "I am sitting in a
little cafe in Nancy, sipping a glass of beer. Tomorrow,
I am going to the front with our squad and twelve ambulances.
After working in Paris for two very interesting
and instructive months, I got out in an old and
picked squad,—the first really to go to the front. We
are now a part of the army to all intents, and a French
sergeant is attached to us. I am having a glorious experience."
Not long before leaving the capital on this
occasion, he had seen the first Zeppelin pass high above
the roofs. "It glowed," he said, "like a silver whale
against the night sky. A searchlight caught it. Suddenly,
great balls of fire began to hurtle up towards her,
the fusee shells rising from the Trocadero like great
Roman candles touched off."
While McConnell was stationed at the front with the
ambulance squad, the Germans began bombarding a railway
not far from his position. "There was a sickening
whistle," he wrote in description of the scene, "as the
shell hurtled toward us, and then the detonation! After
only two shells had come in, there was a call for ambulances.
The French drivers would not go out. Two
of us volunteered. The crowd watched us from the
tower of an old castle as we descended the hill. I got
my car across the sidings, but could not reach the main
line of the railway. A shell whizzed through the air
and planked down back of me. I went into the house
for the wounded. Another shell came, and the men surrounding
the poor fellow, who was lying in blood on a
mattress, huddled against the wall. Another shell landed
in front of my car, but did not go off. We ran down
between the tracks, turned, and followed back on the
other side of the house, where I got my man. It was
quite exciting."
After this episode, McConnell was constantly under
fire, and at Pont-a-Mousson was awarded the croix de
guerre for conspicuous bravery.
But the life of the ambulance driver did not satisfy
the cravings of those characteristics which he is said
to have possessed even as a student; namely, "hatred of
the humdrum, an abhorrence of the commonplace, and a
passion for the picturesque." It was to the newest
method of fighting that his aspiring, dare-devil spirit involuntarily
turned,—he determined, without hesitation,
to train for the aviation corps. It was in this branch
of service that he could most certainly anticipate hand-to-hand
combat, which he longed for as the quickest means
of winning personal distinction for himself. But below
this thirst for adventure there lay a profound sympathy
"I was convinced," he said, "that the United States
ought to aid in the struggle against Germany. It was,
therefore, plainly up to me to do more than drive an ambulance.
The more I saw of the splendor of the fight
which the French were making, the more I began to feel
like an embusque, or what the British call a slacker; so
I made up my mind to go into aviation."
After the required course of training, he entered the
American Escadrille, which ultimately assumed the name
of the Lafayette, as the Administration at Washington
protested against the use of the word "American."
Its insignia was the head of a Sioux Indian in full war
paint, whilst its uniform was cut and colored like a diver's
suit. Some of the members of the Escadrille,—for instance,
Chouteau Johnson, of New York, Laurence Rumsey,
of Buffalo, Clyde Balsley, of El Paso,—substituted
for khaki the horizon blue uniform of the French flying
corps. The biplane in use was the Nieuport, which was
the smallest, the trimmest, the fastest rising, the fastest
moving machine in the French service. It could fly at
the rate of one hundred and ten miles an hour. The
occupant could fire his machine gun with one hand, while,
with the other hand and his feet, he could operate the
plane. The Nieuport pilots were always spoken of by
the French as the "aces of the air." They were not
required to answer roll-calls; and each had, at his command, two mechanics and one orderly.
The Lafayette Escadrille was sent first to Luxeuil,
where a large British contingent was stationed. In the
beginning, they were received with coldness; but this very
soon thawed into a whole-hearted comradeship. "We
didn't know what you Yanks would be like," said one of
the Englishmen afterwards. "We thought you might
I'll swear you are a bloody human lot." The Alsace
sector, where the Escadrille were now patrolling, was
infested with German planes engaged in reconnaissances,
which very often brought them above the Allied lines.
It was the duty of the Escadrille to shoot down these observers
if possible, or at least, to prevent their passing
over the heads of the Allied troops. "Having obtained
the proper position," said McConnell, in describing his
own experience, "one turns down or up, whichever the
case may be, and when within fifty yards, opens up with
a machine-gun. As one is passing at a terrific rate, there
is no time for many shots, so, unless wounded, or one's
machine is injured, one tries it again and again, until
there is nothing doing, or the other fellow drops. The
planes also acted as torpedo boats in convoying bombardment
machinery."
In his first excursion, McConnell seated himself in his
plane at six o'clock in the morning. As it floated upward
and away between the boundless heavens above and the
vast plain below, the diminutive Nieuport gradually
dwindled to the size of a gadfly. The air soon became
murky, and the clouds began rolling up, and in a short
time, his companions' machines were hidden from his
view. Rising to a height of seven thousand feet,—a
position far above the sea of vapor,—he discovered the
peaks of the Alps glittering in the distance beneath the
rays of the sun, like a row of gigantic icebergs adrift.
Gradually, the masses of mist below broke up into great
wreaths, leaving crevasses, through which could be descried
the chequered lowlands spreading eastward to the
banks of the ribbon-like Rhine. And then one by one,—
first as mere specks against the sky,—the machines of
his comrades came in sight. "Suddenly," said he, "two
with the same disconcerting abruptness, similar balls began
to dot the sky above, below, and on all sides of us.
We were being shot at with shrapnel. The roar of my
engine drowned the noise of the explosions. Strangely
enough, my feelings were wholly impersonal. It was bitterly
cold, and even in my fur-lined combination, I was
shivering. Looking downward, I saw what I, at first,
took for a round shimmering sheet of water. It was
simply the effect of the sunlight on the congealing fog."
From Luxeuil, the Escadrille was ordered to Verdun.
There, every sign pointed to their nearness to a mighty
battle, for now plainly visible were unending convoys of
motor-trucks, great streams of troops, and fleets of ambulances.
It was the duty of the pilots of the Nieuports
to guard the observation and range-finding machines,
which were always hovering above the line of trenches,
like flocks of white gulls. "Sailing high above these
machines," said McConnell, "we felt like an old hen
protecting her chickens." As the enemy's bombardment
of the forts went on, shells appeared fairly to rain upon
the plain; a smoky pall soon settled over that part where
the firing was hottest; and from its folds enormous projectiles
would burst out, and as they flew by the planes,
the air would seem to rock like the waters of a tumultuous
sea. Again and again, the Nieuports would dart upon
their aerial opponents far behind the hostile lines. In
one of these impulsive raids, McConnell drove at four
machines in succession, and his own Nieuport, after the
last combat was ended, was perforated like a sieve. It
had been shot through and through with machine-gun
bullets. He himself had been severely hit in the head;
but so soon as his wound had been bandaged, he mounted
into the air again and continued to fly and to fight.
From these devastated scenes in Eastern France, the
Escadrille was withdrawn to the banks of the Somme.
At Verdun, the explosions of the guns far below had been
drowned by the noise of the engines, but the peals of the
artillery in the new position reached the ears of the pilots
in a heavy volume. "From the field," said McConnell,
afterwards, "we could see the line of sausage-shaped
observation balloons, which delineated the front, and beyond
them, the high flying airplanes, darting like swallows
in the shrapnel puffs of anti-aircraft fire. The
roar of motors that were being tested was punctuated by
the staccato barking of machine-guns; and at intervals,
the hollow whistling sound of a fast plane diving to
earth was added to the symphony of war notes."
The day before McConnell was killed, he had a narrow
escape from death. A band of American aviators, who
were members of the Lafayette Escadrille, flew, on that
occasion, to a distance of twenty-six miles behind the
hostile lines. The enemy were now in slow retreat.
The Nieuports were moving on a low altitude, and the
German machine-guns took advantage of this fact to
open fire on the fleet. "I could see the luminous bullets,"
said McConnell, on his return to headquarters, "passing
me like a jet of water sparkling in the sunlight." Two
German planes, which had approached him, had been
able to signal to their aircraft batteries below, the exact
range of his machine, and then had darted away out of
danger; but by skilful manoeuvring, he succeeded in escaping
from the outburst of the shrapnel. This fighting
occurred in the vicinity of Ham.
On the fatal day in March (1917), having received
orders to protect the observation-machines flying over the
Allies' advancing troops, McConnell, with two comrades,
each in a separate Nieuport, mounted up into the air; but
behind. McConnell and Genet flew on, and up to ten
o'clock, continued their reconnoissance by circling above
the region of Ham. At that hour, McConnell suddenly
drove his machine straight for St. Quentin. Genet followed,
but at a greater height. While they were moving
backwards and forwards, behind the hostile lines in that
vicinity, two German aeroplanes, one ahead of the other,
and both high above the two Americans, flew slowly forward,
like two great condors, with the apparent intention
of diving abruptly upon their opponents. Genet ascended
in order to secure a position of advantage over
the nearest of these machines, and as he did so, the clouds
shut out the now distant plane of McConnell. In the
meanwhile, his own immediate foe had rushed at Genet,
and fired a rapid succession of shots, one of which struck
him in the cheek, and the other broke his stanchion. But
in spite of this crippled condition, he was able to glide
down safely to the ground.
McConnell was not again seen alive; but the duel in
which he was killed had been witnessed by a group of
French cavalry patrolling far below. The enemy having
successfully manoeuvred to get on either side of him,
finally riddled his body and machine with bullets. A
Nieuport stamped with his number was afterwards found
in the environs of a little village from which the Germans
had just retired. The mangled body was hardly
recognizable, and the plane itself had been completely
smashed. McConnell was buried on the spot where
his remains were discovered. One who visited that spot
a few months later, wrote, "We stopped at a little
mound beside the way. At the foot was his battered
machine-gun, while, on either side, were pieces of his
aeroplane, including a blade from the propeller. Forget-me-nots
American and French flags were waving, on the wooden
cross that marks the grave. There is no fear that the
site will be disturbed. The place is sacred, for that
is a hero's grave."
There was found among McConnell's effects a letter
which had been written by him in anticipation of just
such a fate as overtook him. "Good luck to the rest
of you," was its concluding message to his comrades,
"Vive la France." "My death," he added, "is of no
importance. Make it as easy as possible for yourselves."
In a graphic little volume which recorded his
recollections of "flying for France," he made but one
reference to this sombre subject. "At the close of a
day," the sentences ran, "when the aviators began to go
to bed, a few would be inclined to stay behind. Then
the talk became more personal and more sincere. Only
on such intimate occasions, I think, have I ever heard
death discussed. Certainly we were not indifferent to
it." When his mother, broken in health, urged him to
obtain his release from the French army, he replied,
"If I knew I was to be killed within a minute, and I
was absolutely free to leave untouched, I would not do
so." Such was the dauntless spirit which animated the
soul of this youthful hero! What was death to such a
man as this but another stirring adventure to be faced
with perfect serenity, and, perhaps, even with an emotion
of positive joy? Of not one enrolled in that gallant
company could it be more truly said than of him, that
"To save mankind; himself he scorned to save."
In September, 1917, the National Government appropriated
two cannon, with carriages and balls, as an
erected in Carthage, N. C., where he had lived before
departing for France. But a far more original and
imposing memorial was the statue by Gutzon Borglum,
which, in 1919, was raised on the grounds of the University
of Virginia. This is said to have been the first
endeavor of a sculptor to poise the flying warrior at the
aerial height at which all his victories were won, and
where, only too often, like this intrepid young soldier,
he perished.[13]
It was due to the suggestion of President Alderman, and the generosity
of W. W. Fuller and John B. Cobb, that this statue was erected.
LXIV. The World War—Youthful Martyrs
Among the other alumni who were killed in the World
War, it is difficult to choose without appearing to be invidiously
partial; but the space at our disposal will not
allow of our paying them all the encomium which they
all deserve. A tribute that will embrace the entire number
must be left to some future historian, who shall write
a special volume descriptive, like Johnson's Confederate
Memorial, of every one who perished in the service.
It is only possible for us here to refer briefly to a few
who seem to us, in spirit and action, to represent very
faithfully the noble disposition which, under all circumstances,
they and their youthful comrades displayed in
the great cause for which they sacrificed their lives.
William Alexander Fleet was a descendant of the rebel,
Sir Thomas Wyatt, who marshalled a Protestant army
against Bloody Queen Mary, and also the nephew of
another rebel, so called, James Alexander Seddon, the
Confederate Secretary of War. His ancestry of his
own name went back to Captain Henry Fleet, who played
an adventurous part in the history of Jamestown.
In 1904, he was chosen as a Rhodes Scholar,—the
first to be appointed to that position from Virginia.
"He was our first real Rhodes Scholar," said the head
of Magdalen College after his death. "No man was
more generally known or liked in his generation.
America could have had no better representative to start
her traditions here. He both gave and received in the
richest measure."
On his return to America, Fleet became at first a
preceptor at Princeton, and afterwards, an officer of the
Culver Military Academy. When he saw England
plunging deeper and deeper into the World War, he exhibited
an almost passionate desire to prove his gratitude
for all the intellectual and social advantages which he had
enjoyed during his stay at Oxford, by assisting that country
in some way, however small. His original plan
was to join the British Red Cross; but on arriving in
England, he found that all his college-mates were in
the army proper, and he promptly decided to go to
them.
"They gave me such a good time at Oxford," he
wrote, in explanation of his action, "and were such good
fellows, that, now that they are fighting and dying, I
must fight with them." He was commissioned a second
lieutenant in the Grenadier Guards in January, 1917, and
in the following August arrived in France with his regiment,
which almost at once began to take part in the
desperate battles then being fought in Flanders. He
was gassed at Langemarck in September. After recovering,
he returned to his place in his regiment, participated
in the continuous encounters of the spring of
1918, and in the end, perished near Arras, when a German
bomb fell upon his tent, at the moment occupied by
four other officers and himself. Only a few months before
Sir Charles Lyall.
"He always did his duty most loyally, and with the
most conscientious care," testified Lord Gort, his commander,
after his death. "Anything I asked him to do
was accomplished by him with a total disregard to his
own personal safety; and he always set a most magnificent
example to us all." "He has fallen with his
British comrades," said his old headmaster at Oxford,
"and I feel sure, that, notwithstanding all his hearty
enjoyment of life and the great happiness of his marriage,
could he have chosen again, he would never have
done or wished otherwise." And his old instructor at
the Culver Military Academy said, "We who knew and
loved him, remember him not for his fine mental and
physical endowment. Rather, we recall his unusual
qualities of heart, his unselfish, clean, and wholesome
life. The call of war has been answered by some from
ambition, and by some from inborn love of change or of
conflict. To Captain Fleet, the call of war was the
call of duty. His interests were all of peace, the peace
of sustained effort. The three words, peace, service,
sacrifice, now seem to describe the man we have known
and loved."
The name of William Alexander Fleet enjoys the
noble distinction that it is inscribed upon the memorial
tablets which shine upon the walls of three famous and
widely separated seats of learning: Oxford, Princeton,
and the University of Virginia. He was one of the two
hundred and five members of Magdalen College who
perished in the World War, and the legend engraved
above the roll of their glorious names, in one of the most
beautiful buildings in the world, has a poignantly
pathetic meaning as bearing upon his unselfish motives
than this: that a man lay down his life for his friends."
Vivian Slaughter was sprung directly from fighting
stock,—three of his ancestors of his own name, a father,
son, and grandson, participated in the Battle of Great
Bridge, of the Revolution. His grandfather served as
surgeon in all the encounters that swayed backwards
and forwards along the banks of the Rapidan during
the War of Secession, while his father was one of seven
brothers who were marshalled in the Confederate armies.
That father had been sent off to school to remove him
from the temptation of running away to join the Confederate
ranks; but this turned out to be ineffective,—
he became a member of the Orange Artillery, and as an
officer fought in every campaign from the Peninsular to
Early's dash down the Valley.
Even as a child, Vivian Slaughter was keenly interested
in books. There was one sentence in Pilgrim's Progress
which he was often heard to repeat, drawn to do so,
perhaps, under the influence of the foreshadowed fate
which was to overtake him, as it has overtaken so many
other soldiers, "And so he passed over the river, and
all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side."
"These early years," says one who knew him then,
"were full of the glorious visions of a happy childhood,
with its joyous twilight hours, when stories were told
in the starlight and firelight of home."
Deciding to adopt the calling of medicine, Slaughter,
after leaving the University of Virginia, spent several
years in Vienna and Berlin. He returned home in 1914;
but instead of pursuing his profession, he was so much
wrought up by his sympathy for the Servians that he
decided to go back to Europe and join the American
Red Cross, as the only practical means in his power of
after passing twelve months in the Balkans, he came to
the same conclusion as McConnell in the like situation;
namely, that his eagerness to aid the Allied Cause would
be better satisfied by a share in actual warfare. In July,
1916, he was gazetted as a second lieutenant in the
Twentieth London Regiment, which apparently, at that
time, was posted in Saloniki. He accompanied this regiment
first to Egypt, and then to France, and was a participant
in every one of the numerous actions in which that
gallant force was engaged in these different regions.
He was about to resign and enter the American army,
which was now encamped in Europe, when he was killed.
His battalion had been held up, for a short while, near
Marconing by a nest of German machine guns. At the
head of two platoons, he hurried forward to sweep away
the obstruction and fell at the moment of success. The
history of this last scene confirms the truth of the tribute
which his commander paid to his memory: "Though
perfectly unassuming, whatever job was given him to do
was always done; and he was so much beloved by his
men that they would follow him anywhere." His body
found its last repose in the British cemetery at Grande
Rapide, where it lies surrounded by the bodies of his
brave English comrades, who perished in the same great
series of battles.
Robert H. Wood, Jr., of Charlottesville, had made up
his mind to matriculate as a medical student at the
University of Virginia; but just so soon as the first military
training began, he apparently had no thought, as
was said of him at the time, "but to put his whole life
at the disposal of his country." He promptly reported
at Fort Meyer, but failed to be admitted because his age
would be still short of his majority in the year when he
in his arm,—resulting from a fracture received during
a game of baseball,—and also to some infirmity of
the hip, he was turned down, when, on two occasions, he
volunteered to serve in the University of Virginia contingent.
His father suggested that, perhaps, the Government
would prefer him to continue his medical studies
as a preparation for the duties of the Medical Corps in
the future; but his only reply to this was, "No, I am
determined to get in now."
Very soon afterwards he enlisted; and having been
ordered to the Georgia Technological School at Atlanta,
he pursued the work of his classes there so ardently and
so successfully that he graduated as one of the five honor
men who were permitted to complete the special course
in the United States, France, or Italy, just as they should
elect. He decided in favor of France. The only complaint
which he was heard to make of the training which
he received there was that it dragged on too slowly to
satisfy his eager temper. He aspired to enter the aviation
corps, and was harassed by the thought that the
weakness of his hip might stand in the way of his appointment.
But he obtained his commission in May,
1918, and was then licensed as a pilot in the observation
corps. "He was not one of those," wrote a close comrade
after his death, "who joined the army merely to
wear a uniform, or to escape the draft. He came in for
the honor of his home. The United States had been
outraged. His memory will be an ideal which we will
strive to reach, and which will bind us more firmly together
for the common purpose, which is to inflict such
a blow on the demon who started this reign of suffering
as will always prevent its recurring."
Farrell D. Minor, Jr., also was a scion of an honorable
his parents resided in Texas. He was a graduate of
the University Law School, and while a member of that
school had won the reputation of being a model student,
not only in his power of successful application, but also
in the high principles which always governed his conduct.
He obtained his commission as second lieutenant at the
earliest moment possible after the United States entered
the War. "What would you have done," he was asked,
"had you failed to pass the examination?" "I would
have enlisted at once as a private," was the reply.
He volunteered to join the famous Rainbow Division,
then awaiting embarkation at Camp Mills; it was with
this division that he served in France; and he was with
it when the Germans made their last desperate offensive
east of Rheims at midnight of July 4, 1918. His
platoon participated, three weeks later, along with his
battalion and regiment, in the great encounter at Red
Cross Farm, which will go down in history as one of the
most glorious, and not the least sanguinary, in the second
Battle of the Marne. This regiment came out of that
awful conflict with only five hundred and eighty-five
effective men in an original enrolment of three thousand;
nine officers had been killed outright, and forty wounded;
and one half of his own company had perished in a
shorter interval than forty minutes. He himself fell.
A corporal who saw him rigidly straighten himself up
as if hit by a bullet, and then suddenly collapse, ran forward
to assist him. "Don't worry about me," was the
reply of the stricken soldier to the eager offer of help.
"Go and do the best you can with the men." The advance
which he had been heading had been over an open
wheat field; and there had been no support from the artillery
because the heavy rains had made the terrain impassable.
was to be occupied at all costs, and occupied it was.
Minor had still strength enough to allow of his removal
to the hospital. While lying desperately
wounded, he treated his attendants with such unfailing
consideration that it seems as if they, and not he, were
entitled to special solicitude and service. "He was
surely one of the finest men here," remarked one of these
attendants after his death. "I was on night duty in his
ward, and he was one of the kind that would always say,
when he asked for anything, 'When you have the time.'
All the patients who could walk came to his side more
than once through the day to inquire, and those who
could not, never failed to ask after him or call to him a
pleasant greeting." "When the time comes to go on
the line," he had written his parents after his arrival in
France, "I will be quite satisfied, and you can rest assured
that I will do my best and give to the limit."
"And he did live up to the confidence that we had in
him," said his stricken but justly proud father after his
death. "His parents rest in the confident assurance that
not on the line only, but in the camp, on the march, in
the trenches, in No Man's Land, in the hospital, everywhere,
he did his best, and gave to the limit."
Randolph Mason, the son of a Confederate veteran,
was attached to the 148th Machine Gun Battalion as
second lieutenant. After his arrival in France, he was
offered an official position that would have withdrawn
him entirely from exposure to fire. "No," said he emphatically,
in declining; "no, I have come here for active
service." In his first engagement, he exhibited such
perfect equanimity that his captain declared that his
bearing had been, not that of a raw soldier, but of one
already seasoned by a long experience of danger. It
he held his men steady in the most perilous
situations. From July 7 to July 23, he took part in the
terrific conflict in the Bois de Belleau. During three
days of this interval, his platoon was cut off altogether
from food and water, and were unable to sleep, in consequence
of the unbroken bombardment. All this while,
he, at the head of his soldiers, was reconnoitering from
time to time in the face of the fire, and was constantly
leading out volunteers to pick up the wounded. Death
overtook him when he had gone forward alone to observe
the enemy's movements. "I found him shortly afterwards,"
said his captain, "and I folded his hands and
laid him out for his long rest." He was buried near the
spot where he was killed, which was situated in a
beautiful grove overlooking the ground that he and his
men had assisted in capturing only a few hours before.
Over his grave, his platoon, pausing in the fight, placed
a wooden cross, rudely put together, and then sadly returned
to their guns. Said one of these comrades after
his death, "His cheerfulness was the salvation of us all,
for even the strongest of us was breaking under the
strain." And another said, "I do not think a native son
of France could have been more willing to die for her
than he was. He loved her and her people almost as
much as he did his native soil; and often I have heard
him remark that no man can have a better epitaph than
'Mort pour Ia patrie.' He has made the supreme sacrifice,
and we who knew him in France know that he was
proud and happy to make it. We who are left are the
better for having known him. A true soldier and a
splendid officer, he died a soldier's death."
"God bless you," he wrote his father. "Pray for me
to be a good soldier in this good cause." That prayer
blood that had confronted the hosts of the North, with
unfaltering courage and staunchness, did not fail when, in
Randolph Mason, in the next generation, it was called
upon to aid in resisting the invasion of another soil,
which was as dear to him as the one which his father had
defended. The Southern soldier of the War of Secession
had blossomed out into the soldier of the War of all
Mankind.
LXV. The World War—Youthful Martyrs, continued
It was not the lot of all who gave up their lives for
their country and mankind, to die on the field of action,
or even in a foreign land, but the final sacrifice of those
who perished in the course of their training under their
native skies is not the less worthy of being eternally
cherished by their alma mater. Here too we have only
space to bring forward the names of a few who, in their
character and conduct, appear to us to have reflected
faithfully the spirit of all those youthful soldiers, who,
before passing away, did their full duty, but were not
destined to hear the guns roar beyond the Atlantic:
Victor Sharp Metcalf, son of Professor John Calvin
Metcalf, of the University of Virginia, was one of those
gallant Americans, who, although they failed, from no
fault of their own, to join the ranks in Flanders or the
Argonne, just as truly offered up their lives for their
country's benefit as if they too had been struck down
by bullet or shell. All the years of his pathetically short
career were passed in an academic atmosphere,—he was
born on a college campus, and resided within or near
college precincts almost to the close of his existence.
His heritage was a heritage of literary culture; he never
knew the time when he was not surrounded by books;
friends; but this did not dull the edge of his taste for
sports in the open air. Aside from athletics, the form
of college activity which pleased him most keenly was
the amateur stage. Young as he was at the hour of his
death, he had had the opportunity to see and listen to the
most famous American and European actors in classic
and modern plays, and was familiar with all the masterpieces
of dramatic literature. In his own histrionic performances,
it was noticed that his preference leaned to
comedy; and his natural gayety, his sense of humor, and
his quick wit, enabled him to interpret, with peculiar
fidelity, the spirit of mirthful scenes in many rôles.
Dramatic composition, verse-making, and short story-writing
were the natural outlet for the principal bent
of his literary powers.
The World War altered the current of his thought
and purpose. From the hour that the United States
entered the conflict, his mind returned again and again,
with the force of an instinctive impulse, to the question
of his own duty; and he volunteered so soon as he had
finished the academic tasks which had been set for him.
"Into this new life," said one who had known him from
childhood, "he threw himself with his accustomed dash
and energy. Then, with tragic suddenness, came the
fateful darkened days of disease. There was a short,
brave struggle, and his bright dreams were ended. But
the fine spirit which animated him, and others like him,
in their country's service, does not perish with their
dreams. If his practical achievement was small, his
spiritual accomplishment was great. The fulfilment of
a worthy purpose, which death temporarily interrupts,
must be credited eternally to the aspiring soul. He lived
gladly, willed greatly, and aspired much. The promise
brief day."
In the autumn of 1915, John Dunn, Jr. of Richmond,
entered the University of Virginia, and here, during his
first year, his hours were devoted equally to study and
outdoor pastimes. The shadow of the war fell more
heavily over his second session, diverting his thoughts,
and the thoughts of his comrades, with ever growing
seriousness, to the great conflagration that was then destroying
Europe. The following summer (1917), when
he was still a mere youth in years, found his mind in a
state of increasing uncertainty as to what course duty
called upon him to adopt,—he became more and more
abstracted in his bearing, more and more restless in his
movements. But by the time that the month of January,
1918, arrived, he had made up his mind to enter the
war just as soon as it was practical for him to do so. "I
wish to be over there when spring breaks, in the crush
of the last drive," he wrote his parents.
He was keen to be enrolled in the aviation service,
but the American branch was now overcrowded, and the
facilities for instruction and practice were limited. It
would be necessary to wait, during several months, for
the reception of an order to begin; and this fact
prompted him to solicit admission to the Royal Training
Corps stationed at Toronto, a city which he knew well
through his summer travels. "It is the same cause as
ours," he said, "and England needs men." "Canada
has been combed for fliers," he wrote after his enlistment,
"and is prepared to turn them out as rapidly as
they can be trained. I made no mistake when I came
here." The restless desire which had so harassed his
spirit seemed at last to be soothed. His longing was
gratified, now that the path was clear of all obstruction.
the chasing around that I have done," he wrote to his
parents, "a calm has fallen over my real self that has
not been mine for many a month." He was still within
two years of his majority,—a youth of nineteen only,—
when he entered the British service. There was nothing
now lacking to complete his happiness. "I sleep as
soundly in my pine board bunk as I ever did in the four
poster at home," he gayly tells his mother; "for the
first time in four years, I now feel properly attired."
The young soldier passed the first three weeks in an
intensive drill, and was then ordered to Camp Borden
for lessons in wireless and gunnery; and another week
there found him fully versed in the details of a course
which usually required a month to master. At the end
of a fortnight, he was registered in the University of
Toronto as a student of military aeronautics. By this
time, he had acquired so much knowledge of his new
vocation, and had shown the possession of so many fine
personal qualities, that, young as he was, he was put in
command of a squad of ten men. It was while he was
thus employed, and daily anticipating an order for his
transfer to active service in France, that he was stricken
with scarlet fever and died. Only a few weeks before
he had celebrated his twentieth birthday. He was
buried within the precincts of Old Blandford Church at
Petersburg, his body wrapped in the folds of the
American and British flags.
In the far Muskaka, on the soil of Canada,—where
he had passed so many summers, happy in the diversions
of canoeing, and fishing, and hunting,—the people of
the little community, who had watched him spring up to
manhood, placed a window in the village church in his
the figure of a youthful warrior.
Adair Pleasants Archer could trace his ancestry
directly back to Pocahontas, and also to General Adair,
one of the heroic pioneers of the dark and bloody ground
of Kentucky, and afterwards a governor and senator of
that State, and a distinguished officer in numerous wars.
Eager as young Archer was to adopt, as his permanent
vocation, some branch of the fine arts,—for which
and literature he had shown an extraordinary aptitude
from youth,—yet so soon as the black shadow of war
began to drift across his country, he enlisted in the
Officers' Reserve Corps. "Not to have done so," he
wrote at the time, "would have been to ally myself with
those hated pacifists." By the middle of August, 1917,
he was stationed at Camp Lee. Even here, under circumstances
apparently so hostile, his artistic and literary
bent came to the surface in a highly characteristic way,
—he was appointed the editor of the Trench and
Camp; and was detailed to establish a community theatre,
which he had been first to suggest. The play of
Henry the Fifth, substantially curtailed, was the first
one to be performed; and in the course of this, he was
not only the stage manager, but also the personifier of
the king. "Where can I find words fitly to describe
that gallant figure in the steel gray armor?" says one
who saw him on that occasion, "the brilliant face showing
in the open oval of his head of mail; the color and
pose as he went through the act; the ardent ringing voice,
so convincing you that this was Henry as the Master
might have dreamed him."
Temporarily relieved of his duties at Camp Lee, in
consequence of ill health, he returned to his home in
thoughtful lectures on the drama, and on the production
of plays; and he also formed a small theatre league composed
of the local artists, musicians, teachers, and
scholars. This was in the spring of 1918. "It was
a pleasure to attend those weekly meetings," says a member.
"Adair was the youngest person present, but he
dominated all,—not obtrusively or consciously, but
through the sheer force of individuality." "He not
only dominated the student group," said another, "but
he took the chief hand with the actors." While engaged
in the preparation of a play for a public performance
by the league, he had been writing a scenario and
musical arrangement for a ballet, which was afterwards
given in Boston.
Returning to Camp Lee, after an interval spent at
Camp Devens, he soon won the reputation of being
the most respected member of his company. His surviving
comrades have many moving stories to tell of
his gay temper, debonair bearing, and energetic spirit,
during these last crowded months. He was now serving
as a sergeant with a development battalion; his duties
were on a level with those of a second lieutenant
and consisted of drilling the men and lecturing to them;
but while faithfully engaged in these somewhat monotonous
tasks, he was put in charge of two organizations that
were to be employed in making experiments in recreation.
Before he could begin this new work, so congenial to his
tastes, or receive the promotion which his poor physical
health had deferred so long, he was carried off in the
terrible epidemic of influenza which was then prevailing.
Thus passed away a youthful genius, who, had he lived
to full maturity, would have reflected the distinction of
an accomplished writer and composer on his alma mater.
poetical figure in the shining ranks of those alumni of the
University of Virginia who laid down their lives for the
benefit of mankind in the World War. Percy Mackaye
dedicated a poem to his memory, and Amelie Rives wrote
a threnody in his honor; and thus he died deeply lamented
by those who, by kindred sympathies and talents, were
best able to gauge the character and extent of his powers,
and estimate the loss inflicted upon art and literature by
his untimely death.
LXVI. Conclusion
The history of the University of Virginia during the
first one hundred years of its existence is now finished.
The story, in all its multitudinous aspects, has been told.
To some it may appear that the narrative has traversed
too wide a field and harvested too abundant a mass of
detail; but, in opposition to this impression, it should be
remembered that the record of the institution has not
been viewed by us as though it were simply the record of
a seat of learning standing by itself, and, therefore, to be
studied without regard to its larger relations beyond its
own precincts. Rather, we have always borne in mind
that the University of Virginia, in its remote past and
in its middle past alike, and in the living present also,
has been a mirror of the governing characteristics of the
Southern people, whether moral or intellectual, social or
political. We have only to gaze steadfastly and discriminatingly
at the picture lurking in that mirror to discover
there the faithful reflection, in general outline, of
the history of the Southern States,—that illustrious
group of commonwealths, which, in their annals, offer
events more glorious and more tragic, and qualities more
highly individualized, than are to be observed in the
other means of gauging the spirit of those States, and
the general conditions, which, from generation to generation,
ahve prevailed within their borders, we would not
be entirely lacking in light upon these subjects so long
as we possessed the story of the University of Virginia.
The gay, the impulsive, the chivalric, the sterner side of
the Southern temperament; the high sense of honor;
the uncalculating patriotism; the readiness for self-sacrifice;
the fine devotion to ideals; the esteem for intellectual
ability; the admiration for oratory; the respect
for public service; the appreciation of classic literature;
the love of personal freedom; the inborn conservatism;
the will to overcome all obstacles, if necessary,—there
is not one of these traits of the Southern people, as a
whole, that is not perceptible in the history of this seat
of learning as it passes through the nine great periods
of its career during these first one hundred years.
Here was a University, which, up to a recent date,
could only count its students by the hundred, and the
members of its Faculty by the dozen,—why was it so
representative of that great region known as the South?
Because it was the epitome, the microcosm, of all those
communities, which have always been so homogeneous
in their white population, so unified in their economic
interests, and so identical in their social, moral, and intellectual
characteristics. The history of the University
of Virginia reminds us of that Genevan toy of magnifying
oval glass which, though one can hold it in the
hollow of the right hand, contains, at its centre, a reproduction
in miniature of a great city, or even of the map of
an entire kingdom. There is no limit to the details encompassed
within those bounds, although too small apparently
to give space for the tip of the little finger. And
into its depths, and there you will find, not simply the
story of a seat of classical and scientific culture, but the
story of a whole people, who have stamped their qualities
upon the history of the foremost of modern republics.
The picture at the heart of this scholastic framework
seems to reach out until it takes in millions of individuals
and thousands of square miles. The history
of the University of Virginia expands until it embraces
the history of the South; and the history of the South
contracts until it merges in the history of the University
of Virginia.
The great power for good which the University of
Virginia has exercised, during these first one hundred
years, is too subtle, too far spread, and too voluminous,
to be gauged to the farthest limits. A partial roster
of its eminent alumni will give at least an approximate
impression of the scope of its influence,—one President
of the United States; six members of the Federal Cabinet;
five of the Confederate; nine ministers and ambassadors
to foreign courts; two justices of the United
States Supreme Bench; thirteen members of the Federal
circuit and district benches; twenty chief-justices of the
State supreme courts; seventy-nine associate justices of
these courts; thirty-four United States senators; one
hundred and fifty-two representatives in the lower House
of Congress, and an uncounted number of members of
the State legislatures; fifteen bishops of the Protestant
Episcopal Church; two of the Methodist Episcopal, and
one of the Reformed Episcopal; thirty-nine presidents of
universities and colleges; one hundred and eighty-eight
professors and fifteen famous headmasters; fifty-two
officers of a rank above that of lieutenant, in the navy;
and in the army, during the World War alone, ninety-six
Federal public health service; and also three surgeongenerals.
Two thousand, five hundred, and seventy-one of the
matriculates of the University of Virginia left the precincts
after winning degrees. About four thousand of
these were graduates of the three great professional departments
of law, medicine, and engineering alone. An
army of twenty-two thousand, six hundred young men
have been trained within her bounds; and there is not
a single pursuit in life which has not been advanced in
usefulness and distinction by their talents, their industry,
and their integrity.
"The story of a great seat of learning," said Randolph
H. McKim, one of the most loyal of these alumni,
"is not in the census of its professors, its courses, its
students; not in its buildings, its laboratories, its apparatus,
its library, its equipment; but in the kind of men
it turns out. We honor the University of Virginia above
all the other American institutions because she has best
fulfilled the highest function of a university—the development
and training of a noble type of manhood. We
love her because she helped to make us self-respecting
men; because she taught us the dignity of hard work;
because she made us understand that her honors and
rewards were reserved for real scholarship; because she
taught us to despise shams; because she refused us diplomas
which we did not deserve; because she set truth
and integrity above academic honors; above all, because
she trusted and so made us men." "Young men are
trained at the University of Virginia to their professions,"
said Dr. Calisch, the distinguished Rabbi of Richmond,
"but they are also trained to a keener realization
of not only the use but the privilege of knowledge,—to
the test of life's trade, yet back of the test is the hand,
and back of the hand, is the heart, and within the body
is the soul."
In looking back upon the history of the University of
Virginia, it is seen that that institution has, from the
beginning, in spite of the originality of its elective system,
been always faithful to the scholastic tradition; and
while it has, from period to period, changed in ways
of importance, as called for by the altered conditions of
the times, it has not varied in its respect for the standards
of genuine scholarship, in its tests of upright conduct,
and in its spirit of patriotism. The principles
of non-sectarianism, of student self-government, of personal
honor and freedom, of merit as the only basis
of degrees, of liberty in the choice of studies, of thoroughness
in their pursuit,—all remain, in its administration,
as inviolate today as during the early years of its existence.
At the same time, the old attitude of collegiate
aloofness has been modified under the influence of a
more complex frame-work of society. It has been correctly
asserted that there is not a single creative, constructive
force at work in the Southern States in our
own day,—whether it is in the province of religion, or
of education, or of public health, or in any other field,—
to which the University of Virginia is not earnestly endeavoring
to respond through the services of its President
and Faculty.
In following out this policy, the University of Virginia
has been seeking to expand in obedience to the imperative
call of our own era, without any real subversion of those
great ideals embodied in the traditions which have descended
to it from the past. As long as the ornate entablatures
and stately columns of its buildings shall stand
and the grandeur of the Grecian and Roman Ages; as
long as the splendid record of its great alumni shall survive
to inspire each successive generation with a thirst for
achievement in every province of life; as long as the
story of its learned, devoted, and unselfish teachers shall
be told; as long, indeed, as the spiritual presence of the
Master Builder himself shall pervade the atmosphere of
those beautiful precincts, the pride of his last years and
the token of his immortality,—just so long as all these
lofty memories and beneficent influences shall last—
and when can they die?—the ideals which have conferred
so much distinction on the University of Virginia
can never be forgotten or neglected. It is this noble
heritage of scholastic and personal accomplishment,
coupled with a quick responsiveness to the lessons of each
age as it passes, which assures for that institution a practical
infinity of existence.
There is no other seat of learning of equal importance
in the United States which has been called upon to face
and overcome the consequences of so many depressing
events. The wild riots of its students in its early history
seriously threatened its very existence, but, in the end,
they were permanently put down. It saw all the young
matriculates of 1861 drawn away to the battle-field, but
it refused to turn the key upon its lecture-halls. During
the first decades following the close of the War of
Secession, there were recurring intervals when it languished
for lack of means, but it never consented to lower
its standards in order to replenish its treasury. Its main
building was destroyed by fire, but, undismayed, it not
only restored what had been lost, but added an imposing
group to the circle of the original structures. Through
all these sombre periods, when there was so much reason
its loyalty to the principles of its foundation, confident
that, in the end, its own magnetic needle of courage,
and firmness, and fidelity, would guide it safely through
storm and darkness to the harbor of happier and more
prosperous times. Nor was this constancy of the University
of Virginia to its inherited ideals confined to
scholarship, and personal honor, and political concepts,
and religious dogmas. During the War between the
States and the World War alike, its record demonstrated
the staunchness and ardor of its patriotism. In no great
emergency, national or sectional, has it shown itself to
be reluctant or dilatory. It has been summoned more
than once to play a part on the stage of national and
world events, and it has never failed to play that part in
a way which was worthy of the great memories that
cluster about its lofty Rotunda, its peaceful arcades, its
beautiful lawns, and its classic pavilions.
Throughout every stage of the first one hundred
years of its existence, the University of Virginia has
never swerved in loyalty to the wise teachings of the
Fathers of the Republic. The conception of national
liberty and personal freedom which has been held by the
Anglo-Saxon peoples in all lands where they have established
their homes is the conception which it too has
always entertained. It upholds,—and we believe will
continue to uphold,—the general principles of our race,
whether they are applicable to government, or society, or
morality. Above all, it has been true,—and we believe
will continue to be true,—to the particular principles
which its immortal founder proclaimed: absolute freedom
of the mind in its outlook upon all things; justice
that considers neither wealth, nor class, nor sect; unselfish
service to the community in every province of
country which knows no reservation of energy and no
limit of sacrifice. During the last one hundred years,
the majestic shade of that founder has seemed to brood
above his beautiful academic village ever solicitous to
warn, to guide, and to inspire; and his great spirit will
continue thus to brood as long as those noble buildings,
the offspring of his genius and his loving care, shall stand,
to illustrate, in the course of future ages, the exquisite
refinement of his taste, the practical grasp of his intellect,
the absolute correctness of his foresight, and the
incomparable grandeur of his conceptions for advancing
the welfare of mankind.
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OF VIRGINIA History of the University of Virginia, 1819-1919; | |