University of Virginia Library

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

Association adopted, of sending out, year after year, a
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

earlier. Could these young men in a body be persuaded,
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

have occurred have been the acts of matriculates in their
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

in urging that all students guilty of destroying property
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

had bound himself to abstain from indulgence and
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;

and that his guilt was only to be taken as demonstrated
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.