University of Virginia Library

XXV. Offenses

During no period in the history of the University of
Virginia was the spirit of the students so methodcal and
so sober as in the course of the first session that followed
the close of the War. This was attributable,—partly
to the presence of so many matured men, whose education,
whether academic or professional, had been deferred
by the call to arms; and partly to the atmosphere of
seriousness that prevailed in every Southern community
during the critical days of reconstruction. The Faculty,
in their report for the session of 1865–66, stated
that, throughout these first nine months, there hardly
occurred a single incident involving the conduct of the
young men that merited censure; and that they had
shown, almost without exception, a quiet and studious
temper. The gravest delinquency charged against them
was a rare absence from roll-call, for which there was
usually an acceptable excuse. A correspondent of the
Richmond Enquirer, writing in January, 1866, remarked
that "the extent of the good order surpassed belief";
and that it was "without a parallel in the history of the
institution." A student who matriculated at the beginning
of this session has recorded that, throughout its
entire length, he did not witness one act, or overhear one
word, that would have shocked the most delicate sense
of modesty.

During the session of 1866–67, which witnessed the
entrance of many younger men whose dispositions had
not been sobered in the school of the camp and the battlefield,
a spirit of less self-restraint began to reveal itself.
For instance, in April, 1867, a large number of the
smaller trees growing on the Lawn at that time were
either mutilated or completely uprooted. This damage

was done at night by a small band of collegians who
were returning from an excursion to town under the
irresponsible influence of liquor. In the course of the
following year, there was at least one affray within the
precincts in which knives and pistols were used, but without
any serious consequences.

It was in the conflicts between the students and the
recently emancipated negroes that the most turbulence of
action was displayed. In March, 1869, a prominent
collegian was summoned to court for beating a freedman
who had been insolent to him; and three years afterwards,
there was a sudden interruption of a negro ball
by the young men, in which numerous pistols were fired
off, and a forest of sticks wildly flourished,—the commotion
ending, as was probably designed, in the hasty
dispersion of the sable pleasure-seekers. It was, however,
in the course of the electoral contest between Hayes
and Tilden that the most angry passions were aroused.
At that time, the students were in the habit of visiting
the town in a body, at a certain hour, in order to learn the
latest news brought by the telegraph and posted on the
public board of the local newspaper. They always went
fully armed on these occasions to repel an attack.
"More than once," says Dr. Culbreth, "I have seen in
the dim-lit hovel, slightly remote from the roadside, colored
men prostrate on their stomachs on a bed, or
crouched near the window, raised sufficient to permit
the passing of their guns, ready to be discharged upon
the least provocation, in the form of some slight demonstration
from us of the cause we espoused, such as a hurrah
for Tilden, Hendricks, and Reform. I shall never
forget the two or three nights when the students had to
call out the Monticello Guard to escort us back to the
University, for upon reaching the triangle at the brow

of Vinegar Hill, we found hundreds of negroes armed
with deadly weapons, including good sized pieces of macadam
rock,—of which, loads had been dropped for repairs
to the road."

During these early sessions, the police force of Charlottesville
consisted of two men only,—a chief and one
assistant. This chief had been cursed with the loss of
an eye, while the assistant was somewhat sluggish in his
movements, owing to excessive corpulency; and he was
also quite far advanced in years. Both of these men,
aware of their physical infirmities, and also of their numerical
paucity, were not disposed to be too strict or
too firm in dealing with the University boys who swaggered
on the streets. On the contrary, they were very
cautious and discreet, and winked at many offenses that
would have justified the laying on of hands, if not actual
imprisonment. An experience which the fat assistant
had with a party of mischievous students on one occasion,
which may be mentioned as being not entirely abnormal,
demonstrated the shrewd wisdom of this custodian
of the peace. "One night, after a rather late
supper," we are told by Judge R. T. W. Duke, Jr.,
"some of us were rather noisy, and the old man tried
to arrest the crowd. He was seized, put under a drygoods
box, and the boys sat on it, and drummed with
their heels until he surrendered. He was released under
promise of taking a drink, and a complete amnesty for all
our offenses. He submitted to be punished with good
grace and kept his promise."

But a more ignominious punishment than this sometimes
overtook him. On at least one other occasion, he
was led away to Monroe Hill and there thrust into a
coal-box, and the lock of the box turned upon him in
spite of his wheezy protests. The successor of this

famous policeman once attempted to halt a student, who,
in passing down the street, was singing boisterously and
defiantly. "Arrest me, Sir!" exclaimed the young fellow,
pausing in his song, "arrest me! I dare you. I
wish you to understand, sir, that I am a graduate in
international and constitutional law,[17] and beg to inform
you that I am under no law of any nation, commonwealth,
or municipality. Can I be arrested for singing on the
street?" "This," says Judge Duke, who tells the
story, "finished the minion of the law, and the delinquent
went on his way, singing of 'massa in the cold, cold
ground'."

On another occasion, about eleven o'clock at night,—
it was in February, 1877,—a band of fifty students
assembled on the Lawn in front of the Rotunda, and after
many blasts upon their horns, set out for town in a procession.
All were clothed in startling garments. Some
were enveloped in flowing shrouds, some in nightgowns,
some in the flamboyant finery left over from a college
minstrel concert. As they drew near to the borders
of Vinegar Hill, a squad of the town policemen were
visible in the dim light of the flickering town-lamps, apparently
firmly prepared to bar all further advance by
the liberal use of their cudgels. But, in reality, they
were too nervously apprehensive to trust to these weapons
alone. As the procession came on with a heavy
military tramp, the policemen first blew their whistles
to summon assistance, and then waved their sticks; but
as the enemy was not in the smallest degree intimidated
by this movement, they fell back, with some confusion,
down the slope of the street to await reinforcements.

A detachment soon arrived to support them; but this too,
after halting for a few minutes, prudently, though slowly,
retreated. A second detachment marched up in haste,
and with this addition, the body of the defenders felt
themselves strong enough to hold their ground, but this
expectation quickly proved delusive. A determined assault
upon their ranks drove them as far down Main
Street as the railway station.

Here they reformed, and as the collegians were now
somewhat scattered, a few of the latter were soon arrested.
This fact seemed to arouse the valor of the
students to a furious pitch, and a battle with sticks began
that would have filled with fervent joy the breast of
old Homer or the most pugnacious citizen of Kilkenny.
For a time, the young men remained in the ascendant,
but they were ultimately compelled to begin a strategic
retirement on Vinegar Hill, and their retreat was conducted
with such a firm and determined spirit that the
town constabulary thought it wisest to follow them at
a respectful distance. At the top of the hill,—the scene
of many a heroic deed in University annals—they
pushed forward and attacked the students again. A
second mêlée now occurred, and the young men, probably
by this time thinned in their ranks, were driven back,
and eight of their number captured and rushed off to
the town-jail. Their trial was held before the mayor
on the following day, and the entire body of students in
the University marched to Charlottesville to be present
as it. But so great a number could not find admission
to the interior of the court-house, and many of those
who were left on the outside obtained some alleviation
for their disappointment first in a dog fight, and afterwards
in violent fisticuffs with negroes, who had ventured
to approach too near to the court-house door.

This conflict seems to have made a deep impression
on the nerves of Charlottesville's authorities. Whenever
thereafter a dramatic or musical performance took
place in the town-hall,—which always attracted to the
spot a large number of students,—the side passageways
were patrolled by extra constables, who watched every
movement of the boys with suspicion. "The touch of
a student's foot on the floor, or the sound of a student's
voice," complained the editors of the magazine at this
time, "caused them to seize him with threats of expulsion
and arrest."

The most interesting of all the contemporary guardians
of the peace was the trumpeter who was stationed
on the road between Charlottesville and the University,
with stern instructions to sound a note that would arouse
the shrouded dead just so soon as the van of the University
marauders should come in sight on their way to
the dark and bloody ground of Vinegar Hill. In order
to test the courage of this local Roderick Dhu, a party
of fun-loving collegians purchased an enormous horn, and
concealing themselves at night in a corner situated within
short distance of the town herald's post, blew a blast,
which was said to have been loud enough to be heard as
far as Monticello. The town trumpeter responded with
an outburst equally as blatant, and then quickly retired,
accompanying each nervous and hasty strategic backstep
with another defiant blast on his instrument. Not
many minutes passed before the entire fighting force of
Charlottesville, such as it was, hurried up to his support,
only to find that the alarm had been premature, for,
in the darkness, the laughing mischief-makers had managed
to escape without being discovered.

Apart from these conflicts with the town police, there
seems to have been only an occasional departure from

tranquil conduct on the part of the students. During
the session of 1878–79, with one exception,—and this
of no special importance,—there was the most exemplary
observance of all the ordinances. "The conduct
of the young men as a body," said the Faculty, "was
characterized by remarkable propriety, and by great regularity
in the pursuit of their studies." During the following
four sessions, the most serious offense was a too
liberal patronage,—at long intervals, however,—of the
town bar-rooms. Such derelictions seem to have been
principally confined to the first hours that followed a
general examination or to the finals. In June, 1885,
five honor men were suspended, and their diplomas
withheld, because they had been guilty of this offense;
but they were readmitted to their normal rights as soon
as they had given a pledge of good behavior. How rigid
the Faculty were in their attitude towards intoxication
was demonstrated by their dismissal, for this reason, of
one of the foremost students of the law department, in
1895, and their refusal to permit him to receive his
diploma at the closing exercises. It was not until Professor
Minor firmly protested against the severity of this
sentence that it was modified. Again and again, in their
annual reports to the Board of Visitors, during the last
years of the Seventh Period, 1865–1895, the same body
comment, with warm approval, on the students' punctuality
in attending lectures and examinations, and also
on their orderliness, diligence, truthfulness, and unfailing
regard for honor. It was said, during these years, that
it was only in the dining-rooms that the young men would
sometimes push their exuberant spirits too far and indulge
in rough horseplay. "Going into dinner once
late," we are told by an alumnus of this time (1887), "I
heard a hubbub of stamping, yelling, whistling, and beating
of plates and glasses. Not thinking that they were
greeting me, I smiled at the confusion, and at once the
noise increased. In other words, I was grinned. Bread
was thrown about quite freely."

There was, in 1884, a violent suspicion that a duel
was to be fought by two prominent students, one of
whom, in recent years, has risen to extraordinary distinction
in the political affairs of the nation. Steps were
taken by the Faculty to interpose, and the plan of exchanging
shots, if it was ever seriously adopted, was
effectively nipped before it could be carried out.

The Faculty displayed a kindly and conciliatory spirit
towards the students, in 1888, in proposing that two committees
should be appointed for a frank conference whenever
differences between them should arise,—one to
represent the Faculty, the other, the students; the students'
committee to consist of three members, one of
whom was to be drawn from the law class, one from
the medical, and one from the remainder of the collegiate
body. All three of them must have been associated
with the University during a period of three years at
least. It was hoped, that, by this method of cooperation,
the ties that already bound the young men and the authorities
together, could be rendered still more intimate
and helpful; and that the spirit of order and sobriety
now prevailing could be the more easily sustained.

Another influence that encouraged good habits
throughout these times arose from the persistent labors
of the Council of Friends of Temperance, which was organized
during the session of 1868–69 under the presidency
of Professor Minor. This zealous association
had sprung up in Virginia after the close of the war, and
had spread throughout the Southern States, to the gradual
exclusion of its rival, the Sons of Temperance, which

had come into existence as far back in the past as 1842.
Its purposes were proclaimed to be: (1) to shield its
members from the evil of drunkenness; (2) to prompt
them to offer assistance to each other in case of sickness;
and (3) to improve their characters as men. During the
first three months following October 1, 1868, not less
than sixty students enrolled their names in its minute
book. Encouraged by this remarkable accession so
soon after the Council was established, Professor Minor,
William Wertenbaker, and seven other earnest supporters
of the cause, "flung to the breeze," as they themselves
described it, a banner with the shining motto,
"Faith, Temperance, and Charity." The officers of
the Council were, as we have seen, farsighted enough to
combine regular debates with the normal work of the
body. By furnishing orators and medalists to the commencement
exercises, they increased the dignity of the
organization in the eyes of the University; and by the
bestowal of a scholarship in the academic department,
they created an additional incentive for the students to
join its ranks.

A few years afterwards, the Council determined to
surrender its charter and disband in order that another
society, to be known as the University Temperance Union
might occupy the place which it would vacate. It was
expected that this new organization would be more successful
than its defunct predecessor, because, from the
start, it would be able to throw off entirely that ban of
secrecy on its proceedings which was thought to have so
gravely hampered the efficiency of the Friends. The
public at large were now invited to be present at the meetings.
The new membership was distributed under three
heads,—the honorary, the active, and the registered.
The registered member signed the pledge, but was relieved

of the duty to show himself at roll-call, or to take
part in the debates. He was, moreover, not subject to
the payment of fines or fees. On the other hand, the
active member was required to attend with regularity,
to participate in the discussions, and to settle all indebtedness,
in the form of fees and fines, with promptness;
but, as a compensation for all these obligations, he alone
was to be eligible as a candidate for the different honors
and prizes which the Union annually awarded.

Temperance Hall had now fallen into the possession
of the University, and was under the eye of the superintendent
of the buildings and grounds. The Faculty had
recommended at one time its transfer to the impoverished
Young Men's Christian Association in order that
the rents of the various apartments might be appropriated
for its benefit. There was an impression too that
the Faculty's assumption of control over the hall would
bring about a more successful performance of the original
purposes of the trust established many years before
by General Cocke and his associates.