University of Virginia Library

XIX. Commotions after 1845

When the session of 1845–6 began, the Faculty refused
to permit the students to illuminate the arcades,
as their experience had demonstrated that this was always
the first step to disorder; and that it was certain to

encourage a spirit of contempt for the ordinances, which
would probably not subside during the remainder of the
academic year. But this spirit did not need at this
time any preliminary excitement to cause it to spring
into existence. It was always smouldering ready to
flare up without provocation.

At one o'clock, on the morning of December 15, a
large body of students, blowing horns, ringing hand-bells,
and beating pieces of metal, began a parade under
the arcades; and they did not retire to their rooms until
near dawn. The precincts, in the meanwhile, were kept
in a state of pandemonium. A few weeks afterwards,
a similar crowd, late at night, rolled a large barrel full
of tar on to the Lawn and set it on fire. As the flames
shot up, pistols were fired, crackers exploded, and a
concert of yells raised. The proctor, alarmed for the
safety of the buildings, succeeded in extinguishing the
fire, but he had barely reentered his house when a second
barrel, standing on another part of the Lawn, was touched
off. The students who were responsible for the second
conflagration had blackened their faces with cork, covered
their heads with blanket caps, and turned their
coats inside out. The noises were now repeated with
increased violence, but no injury was done to the property
of the University. On the following night, between
twelve and one o'clock, the same company of
young men began to march around the precincts. Again,
there was a discordant uproar caused by the tooting of
horns, the ringing of hand-bells, and the shrieking of
voices. The disorderly procession passed down the
Lawn on the west side, then up the Lawn on the east
side, and debouching into one of the alleys, moved on
to Charlottesville. It did not halt until the portals of
the Monticello Hotel were reached, and there the rioters

broke out in a still wilder clamor. This lawless conduct
was aggravated by the fact that the investigating
committee appointed by the General Assembly were
asleep in the house, and in addition, the Board of Visitors,
—who had been convening daily at the University,
—were stopping under the same roof. Two students
were recognized and afterwards dismissed for their
share in this disorder. In protest, their companions, on
the nights of January 27 and 28 (1846), repeated the
violent scenes that had occurred on the night of the
21st.

Panicky rumors now spread about the country. General
Robert Wallace, a member of the Virginia Senate,
wrote in trepidation on the 30th to Cabell, "I hasten
to say to you that there is positive news from the University
of a terrible outburst among the students. The
young gentleman who gave this news has left the University
on that account, and states that he expects it
was destroyed last night. Is that noble institution
doomed to destruction"? It was believed by the people
of Richmond for a time that all the pavilions and dormitories
had been burnt by the students enraged by the
punishment of the two among them who had been detected
in the riot.

Again the Faculty shrank from summoning the civil
authority to their assistance. On the 29th, the day
following the worst disorder, Dr. Cabell wrote to his
uncle, Joseph C. Cabell, "We do not contemplate a
resort to that particular remedy which produced so much
excitement last year; namely, an armed guard, nor in
fact a guard at all, but only, if the disorder continues,
to have a few who are strongly suspected arrested and
others summoned; and we will take care to summon
only those whom we know to be badly disposed and mischievous.

We do not desire to resort to a remedy, the
application of which will, in all probability, be attended
with some notoriety, except as a measure of absolute
necessity." Cocke attributed the protracted turbulence
to the abnormal arrangement of the buildings, which
brought the students and professors into such close juxtaposition
that causes for mutual exasperation were certain
to arise from time to time. "The young men found
ready to hand the most extraordinary facilities for giving
annoyance," he said, "and also for escaping undiscovered
after inflicting it. The idle and spiteful could
not resist the temptation to indulge their evil dispositions
when they saw how easily they could evade the
consequences."

On the other hand, the members of the Legislative
committee, who had been awakened by the riotous students
in town, were inclined to lay the chief blame for
the disorders on a presumptive inefficiency in the general
administration. A more rigid enforcement of discipline
by the Board and Faculty was, in their opinion, demanded.
Their spokesman, when presenting the report in the
House, expressed the philosophical opinion that such
disturbances were to be expected in the South, as the
heat of the climate tended to make its people irritable
and excitable in temperament. But he had to acknowledge
that the disorders at the University could not thus
be fully explained. They were, he thought, probably
due principally to the impatience and restiveness of a
high-spirited youth subjected suddenly to the restraints
of law, after having known only the mild bonds of parental
authority. It was possible also, he added, that
many of the young men were unequal in preparation or
capacity to the exacting standards of their classes, and,
in their failure and discouragement, had discovered

a sinister and sullen solace in riots and dissipation.

A lull now fell, but on April 11, 1846, the spirit of
disorder again flared up. On that date, a travelling
circus gave an exhibition in Charlottesville, which drew
to the scene a large number of the students. There
are two accounts of what followed that have survived.
The most probable seems to be this: a menagerie formed
an important part of the property of the showmen, and
the most thrilling incident in the performance was the
ride of one of the keepers in a car to which a lion was
hitched. The route was laid off through several communicating
cages occupied by other wild beasts. A rope
was put out to hold the spectators back, and they were
asked to remain silent and orderly while the driver was
making the dangerous passage. As the car was moving
slowly along, John A. Glover, a student from Alabama,
who was leaning against the rope, threw a lighted cigar
between the bars at the lion in harness. His act jeopardized
the life of the showman, now defenseless amidst
the alarmed and roaring animals; and in a frenzy of
uncontrollable rage, he leaped through the door of the
cage, seized a tent pin, and struck the foolish Glover to
the ground.

According to another account, several students insisted
on remaining very near the cage, although repeatedly
warned that it was necessary for them to retire
a few feet. The threats of the proprietors were of
no avail, and finally, they brought an elephant up to
clear the way with his ponderous feet. The collegians
struck the huge beast; its keeper resented the act; and
his fellow-showmen came to his assistance. Large
bludgeons, shod with iron, began to whirl about the
students' heads; their friends rushed to their aid; and
at once there was a mêlée, in which several of the young

men were felled to the earth. Glover received a blow
on the left temple which knocked him unconscious. He
was taken to the Eagle Hotel, and there, after languishing
several hours, died. When news of the affray was
brought to the University, the students there were thrown
into a state of violent resentment, and a large body,
heavily armed, set out in haste for Charlottesville. The
showmen, anticipating their coming, had endeavored in
a hurry to send off their property to escape destruction;
but without success. The students, throwing themselves
upon the tent, slashed it to pieces; the wagons were overturned;
and only the cages containing the fiercer animals
were left untouched. The showmen barely escaped with
their lives by mounting their horses, and flying at the top
of their speed.

After the session of 1846–7 opened, it was noticed
that a spirit of unusual serenity spread through the University
precincts. "We are enjoying great quiet as yet,"
remarked Professor William B. Rogers, with a wise
reserve, in a letter written to his brother on December
6. "The professors have been giving the students a
succession of very pleasant parties, and the utmost good
feeling thus far prevails with nearly all the young men.
The only symptom of mischief that has occurred was
the explosion of a log loaded like a cannon on the Lawn
last night, a little after supper time." But the most
congenial season for disorder was the spring, and in
April, 1847, it broke out again, but fortunately in a less
violent form than was customary. In this instance, a
number of students endeavored to stampede a political
meeting which Shelton F. Leake was addressing in town,
and not being successful to the extent desired, they created
a riot in the street as they were returning to the University.
A few nights later, Professor Minor was the

recipient of a discordant and derisive serenade because
he had ventured to report two cases of intoxication which
he had noticed. Horns and cow-bells were the principal
musical instruments flourished on this occasion, and
they continued to sound as the performers marched off
in disorder, in the direction of the town, under the cover
of the darkness of midnight.

When the session of 1846–7 drew to a close, ten
students notorious for their recklessness were forbidden
to return in September. In the band thus branded was
one whose given name was Dean Swift. Another became
in after life a lawyer and statesman of national
reputation. During the session of 1848–9, not a single
collegian was either suspended or dismissed, and there
was a complete absence of turbulence. Cocke characteristically,
and perhaps correctly, attributed this state of
placidness to the unselfish exertions of the Sons of Temperance
in suppressing, with more or less success, the use
of intoxicating spirits among a very large proportion of
the young men. The session of 1850–51 was marred
by a fierce conflict with the town authorities. Some of
the students had been arrested on the streets for violating
the local ordinances, and when information of their
detention reached the University, the entire body of collegians
set out on a half run to Charlottesville to rescue
them from the grip of the law. A pitched battle with
the now aroused but generally somnolent police and a
hastily summoned posse, began as soon as the confines
of Vinegar Hill were crossed; but it seems to have ended
without a signal victory for either side. Mr. Ficklin,
the mayor, who had rushed to the scene, was struck in
the face with a stone. As his Honor was an old man,
the student who gave the blow had the chivalry afterwards
to reveal his identity and to offer a written apology

for his act. Mr. Ficklin appeared in the lecture-room
of Professor Harrison, where the culprit was present with
the members of his class, and accepted the apology with
old-fashioned formality.

Several students were charged with disorderly conduct
on the night of June 27, 1859, because they had climbed
up to the top of the dome. One of them explained the
occasion of their doing this by testifying that it had been
proposed in his room by several friends that they should
first raise a flag on the apex of the building, and afterwards
sit together comfortably and sociably on the arrow
of the clock. Having disguised themselves, they mounted
through the trap-door, and indifferent to the peril of their
situation, carried out their purpose, remaining on the dome
for an hour. Affrays with deadly weapons were still
so much apprehended as late as 1859, that the Board
of Visitors, by the Faculty's advice, required the students
when admitted to sign a written pledge that they
had given up to the proctor every dirk and pistol in
their possession. The spirit of turbulence had, however,
been steadily waning since 1850. Had the number
of disturbances augmented in proportion to the increase
in the number of students matriculating, the condition
of the University would have disclosed a very
great decline in orderliness. On the contrary, the remarkable
expansion in the attendance seemed to create
a strong sentiment among the young men as a body in
favor of law and peace, and in condemnation of tumult
and violence. This sentiment was confirmed and fostered
by the steady growth of certain moral influences,
which we shall now undertake to describe. We have already
referred to the adoption of the Honor System and
the impression which it made on the conduct of the students
in their scholastic life.