University of Virginia Library

XXVIII. Diversions—Continued

But there were more rational amusements than these
for the recreative hours of the students. As far back as
1867, amateur plays were acted by them. In the course
of that year, a committee requested permission of the
Faculty to perform the Lady of Lyons in the town of
Charlottesville, the net proceeds of which were to be bestowed
on the Albemarle Memorial Association; but
consent was positively refused, on the ground that the
time wasted in preparing for the play would inevitably
lead to a neglect of studies. During the same year,
however, the Faculty offered no opposition to a concert
to be given in the public hall for the benefit of the same
association by amateurs chosen among the collegians.
At a somewhat later period, a band of light-hearted University
minstrels was organized by George D. Fawsett,
afterwards an accomplished actor, and like Yorick, a
man of infinite jest and fancy, even in his youth. There
were some very amusing performances by them in the
townhall without the disapproval of the professors; and
there was also an occasional reproduction there of plays
like the Mikado of Gilbert and Sullivan.

The strictly professional entertainments that took
place in this hall were not of the highest histrionic or
musical quality. The editors of the magazine, in 1873,
remarked rather querulously, but not unjustly, that "no

great orators or singers ever delight our ears and eyes.
The proof of the great want is the immense success of
any small, insignificant, and paltry troup that comes to
town." The aspect of the interior of the old townhall
was enough by itself to discourage any artist of high
pretensions and unusual talents. The walls were dull,
chipped, and battered; the benches rude and hard; the
floor begrimed with dirt; and the audiences noisy. In
the course of the eighth decade, Blind Tom appeared
on its boards; and Brignoli, Janauschek, and the Swiss
Bell Ringers, all popular behind the footlights in their
own times, following at long intervals. The advertised
performance there of Uncle Tom's Cabin by a touring
company, in 1894, brought a fierce protest from a
mass meeting of the students; but on the cool advice of
Colonel Peters and Professor Thornton, their hostility
was limited to a boycott, which reduced the receipts of
the play to a few lonely dollars. Readings from Dickens,
Thackeray, Hood, Poe, Sheridan, and Shakespeare
were given on at least one occasion by Mr. Siddons in
the Washington Hall. Mrs. Scott-Siddons had a similar
entertainment in the town.

In 1878, the students wished to organize an association
for the single purpose of inviting the principal
lecturers of the country to speak in the public hall of the
University; but the majority of the Faculty discountenanced
the suggestion, on the ground that it might open
up an opportunity to indiscreet orators to utter objectional
sentiments about politics and religion; and also
about science, so far as it bore on the origin of man
and the age of the world,—questions which, at this time,
were, owing to the Darwinian theories, constantly under
discussion.

In 1871, the editors of the magazine complained that
the University was lacking in musical clubs, although it
was acknowledged that there was no want of trained
singers and skilful violinists in the ranks of the students.
A glee club was, during this year, organized by the young
men who boarded at the Cabell House. In the course
of the session of 1874–75, there appeared a small band
of troubadours, who amused themselves with serenades,
by moonlight, under the windows of the ladies of the
University and Charlottesville. This was known by the
poetical name of the Claribel. Another club, which was
in existence at this time also, was composed of students
who played on the piccolo, bass viol, violin, guitar, flute,
and hand-organ. It went by the concise name of the
Instrumental Club. It was distinct from the Claribel,
but often cooperated with it in giving serenades and social
entertainments. Subsequently there sprang up several
additional musical associations, such as the West
Range Sextette, the F. K. V. and the Banjo, Mandolin,
and Guitar Club. The latter association could boast of
a complete set of officers, seven performers on the banjo,
four on the mandolin, and twelve on the guitar. This
association seems to have broken up into two clubs in
1893, although they joined in having the same president,
but not the same leader. There was a resolute attempt,
during the session of 1893–4, to place the musical clubs
on a permanent footing. This had been suggested by
the success of their professional visits to Richmond and
other cities. Ultimately, the Glee, Banjo, and Mandolin
Club was organized, with Bernard Moore as its president
and Harrison Randolph as its director. This
club, like its predecessors, obtained the ready permission
of the Faculty to give concerts beyond the confines

of the University; and in several instances, they travelled
as far afield as Nashville, in Tennessee, and Louisville,
in Kentucky.

As has already been mentioned in the account which
we have given of the fraternities, numerous cotillions
were danced in the Washington Hall. These occasions
were attended, not only by the students, and by the belles
of Charlottesville and the University, but also by many
young ladies who happened to be visiting the families of
the professors, or the citizens of the town. The Board
usually refused to grant the use of the library-room to
the German Club except when the final ball was to take
place; but a splendid leap-year ball was held in this
apartment in April, 1892. The participants came with
their hair powdered, and their figures set off in the costumes
of the colonial and Revolutionary eras. The
large pillars that ran around the galleries were wrapped
in pink bands, and the arches and galleries themselves
were adorned with the same brilliant draperies. Across
the face of the ceiling, there were strung from the upper
railing, wires, from which masses of roses were suspended;
and in the midst of the flowers, there glowed
hundreds of gas-jets, that cast over the spacious room
and its contents a softly tinted radiance. All the ladies
wore pink gowns, with bouquets to match, while the
waistcoats and the inner lining of the coats of the beaux,
were of the same delicate color. The scene, with the
fairy lights and shadows, the brilliant garments of a romantic
and gallant age, the multitude of lovely faces
and manly forms, the animation of the waltz, and the
sound of inspiring music, was one that has rarely been
surpassed even in our own age of beautiful social spectacles.

During the following year, there was held in the public

hall what was always spoken of as the cotton ball.
A broad curtain, dyed orange and blue, hid the platform
from sight. When this was drawn, a tableau of motionless
figures was revealed. At the wave of a wand,
eight sleeping beauties, disguised as enormous cotton
blooms, started from their slumbers, and at the same moment,
an equal number of beaux rose to their feet, and
filing to the floor with their partners began to dance.
Within a brief while, the rest of the company were
joining in the pastime.

During the first years that followed the war, the principal
event was the final ball, which took place in the
library-room. This event, at that time, drew to the
University representatives of all that was socially distinguished
in the ancient commonwealth of Virginia.
Hither came the belles of the different cities, whose
beauty, charm, and wit were, in some cases, celebrated
throughout the Southern States.[21] Here too was to be
seen many a stately matron, who was attending the final
exercises in order to be present at her son's graduation.
As one looked down from the galleries on the moving
and talking crowd below, the eye caught sight of some
famous orator, who had, that morning, addressed the
alumni. It might be John S. Preston, Thomas F. Bayard,
John W. Daniel, Henry W. Grady, George H. Pendleton,
Allen G. Thurman, Henry Watterson, R. M. T.
Hunter, or Father Ryan. The Governor of the State
was the never failing guest of the University on that
occasion. Perhaps, it was the handsome Walker, or the
gallant Kemper, or the scholarly Holliday, or the dashing
Fitzhugh Lee.

The Faculty had forbidden the morning germans in
the library-room because it interfered with the ceremony
in the public hall at the same hour; but this deficiency
only added zest and distinction to the ball at
night. All the tables and chairs were summarily removed
to open up the entire area for the use of the
dancers and promenaders, while the lecture-rooms below
were reserved as withdrawing rooms for the ladies.
The several tiers of galleries and the alcoves on the
floor, were packed with excited spectators, who were
enjoying the brilliance and the animation of the splendid
scene, now lighted up from above by rows of gas-jets
running around the entire front of the galleries. All
the neighboring porticos were filled with seats for the
convenience of those couples who should wish to retire
from the floor during the intervals between the
dances. Wertenbaker, very naturally, was primarily solicitous
for the safety of the books, and he was, therefore,
inclined to grumble about the dangers which the
flaring of so many gas-jets undoubtedly created; but the
Board of Visitors refused to be influenced by his apprehensions.
"As far as the visiting people and the young
men are concerned," they said, "the annual ball is one of
the chief items of attraction of the session, and it is peculiarly
proper that the handsomest hall at our command
should be used for the occasion."

But the final ball was not the only brilliant episode of
the commencement week. Each of the debating societies
held its closing celebration on a separate night.
This celebration, whether it was of the Jefferson or the
Washington Society, drew to the illuminated hall and
Lawn an even larger concourse of eager people than the
final ball, for the public was now admitted to the precincts
without discrimination as to person or costume.

The following description of the ceremonies of the Jefferson
Society at the end of the session of 1873–4 has
been preserved, and it is worthy of quotation in full as
smacking so sharply of the social flavor of those distant
times. "The air was balmy, the night, beautiful," says
the writer of this reminiscence. "From the far outskirts
of Charlottesville, from all the adjacent neighborhoods,
came father and mother, came daughter and son,
came belle and beau, came home-folks and visitors on
foot, on horseback, in buggies, in carriages, any way,
every way. From McKennieville, and Michieville,
from Booneville, and Andersonville, from Morea, from
the University hotels, from the professors' houses, came
folks from afar and folks from anear, came young folks
and old folks, high folks and low folks, rich folks and
poor folks, people in white and people in black, people in
pink and people in blue. The whole hall was filled with
a grand array, in which beaux in broadcloth and belles
in silk preponderated. We got up in the gallery and
looked down upon the scene, over which the one thousand
gas-jets played fitfully, and we sat enwrapt,
charmed, fascinated, thrown into interminable palpitation,
as our eye ran from fair forms to fair faces, and
back again from fair faces to fair forms. Fans fluttered,
beaux whispered, fair ones smiled; the young were
happy, the old seemed kindled anew with the spirit of
years long gone. Afar and anear, throughout the hall,
all was mirth and merriment. At half past eight
o'clock the band began to tune up in the orchestra.
There was a momentary lull, and then the tramp of the
marshals and committeemen was heard at the door, and
soon, along the aisles, they came, escorting the professors,
the Board of Visitors, and other distinguished persons.
The ceremonies having closed and the band
played, the audience was dismissed to the Lawn. The
Rotunda porch, the long arcades, the triangle, the musicstand
in the middle of the Lawn, were all aglow with the
innumerable Chinese lanterns of all colors artistically arranged.
The night is still beautiful. Around and
around, the promenaders go. Tall ones and small ones,
blondes and brunettes, hanging on low arms, looking up
into dark eyes, looking down into light ones, talking and
laughing, walking and standing, sitting down or stooping,
sitting out under trees, talking of watermelons, dances
and love; talking of ma and pa, the children, and love;
talking about sleigh rides and boating and love; talking
about music, camp-meetings, and love."[22]

This reference to love-making on these occasions was
very much to the point, for there was no other place in
Virginia where so many matches had their beginning.
It was an earthly paradise of youthful lovers.

In June, 1884, the Faculty, in their report to the Board,
recommended that the custom which had sprung up of
holding the morning as well as the evening germans of the
commencement in the library-room, should no longer be
tolerated; and the reason which they gave was that these
entertainments, coming as they did in the most brilliant
part of the year, shut out, during many hours, the body of

the students and visiting strangers from the most beautiful
apartment in all the buildings. The Board assented
to the propriety of this view, and the privilege was withdrawn.
This proved ultimately to be a heavy blow to
the social distinction of the closing week,—not many
years passed before Easter flowered into the gayest season
of the session. The erection of the gymnasium provided
a spacious apartment for the students' balls and
germans; but the brilliance of the former dances in the
library-room has not so far been duplicated under another
roof; nor is it likely to be so long as the final exercises
fail to draw to the University a throng of distinguished
alumni and general visitors resembling the one
that gathered within those stately precincts during the
commencements of an earlier period.