University of Virginia Library

XXXIV. Diversions

The "vicious irregularities,"—to use Jeffersons' indignant
phrase,—of the students, during this formative
period, unquestionably made up the most exciting, and,
perhaps, the most enjoyable, part of their diversions.
These, however, did not consist altogether of ringing the
college bell, firing off pistols and muskets, blowing tinhorns
and split-quills, shouting at the top of their vigorous
young voices, playing games of loo and whist for
stakes, or drinking an uncountable number of glasses of
wine, whiskey-toddy, and mint-sling. There were other
and more legitimate recreations; but as the University
was remote from the large centres of population, the
social life of the students, on the whole, moved along in
a rather sluggish fashion. Its current, in fact, was
rarely enlivened by any pastime except what they themselves
had created for their own entertainment. They
derived but little from the professorial circle within which
their own revolved because there was only an occasional

point of social contact between them; but they owed much
to Jefferson during the sixteen months that he survived
after the institution opened. Indeed, the social life of
the young men, like their intellectual life, harkens back to
the philosopher of Monticello. It was a beautiful and
touching habit of his to invite them in turn to dine with
him on Sunday, the day chosen because they were then
exempt from attendance on lectures. On each occasion,
at least a dozen were asked, and in the course of the session,
—as the number of students, during the first and
second years, was small,—each of them was present under
his roof more than once; and gross and obtuse,
indeed, must have been he who failed to value the privilege!

One of the many remarkable characteristics of the
great Virginians of the Revolutionary Age was the polished
politeness of their manners. It was accompanied
in Washington, as we know, with sternness, and perhaps,
with stiffness, and in Madison, with stateliness, in spite
of his diminutive size. Jefferson impressed Long at
first, as we have seen, as cold in his deportment, but this
was probably due to his transitory disappointment over
the too youthful appearance of this English professor.
No one could unbend with more grace and dignity than
he, or could put forth, without affectation or pretense,
a greater personal charm. Not only was he, through
his mother, sprung from a family that possessed all the
social culture of Colonial Virginia,—the ripest that has
been noted in the long history of the same community,—
but he had been thrown, at the most susceptible era of his
life, with the most accomplished gentleman of those times,
Governor Fauquier, and with the members of the hardly
less courtly circle who passed the fashionable season in
the capital of Williamsburg. It was a school of manners

as well as a school of politics, a school of gentlemen as
well as of statesmen; and in neither particular has it been
since surpassed on the American Continent.

So simple, unassuming, and cordial was Jefferson's
bearing towards his youthful guests, so patently sincere
were his warm words of welcome, so sympathetic and responsive
was his interest in their welfare, that they almost
at once forgot his age and great personal distinction, and
were as much at ease in his presence as if they were dining
under the roof of a near kinsman or an intimate
friend. He knew well the histories of the old families
from which most of them were descended; a grandfather,
a father, or an uncle, perhaps, had been a contemporary
and disciple of his own in the political struggles of the
past; he was familiar with the counties from which they
came, and with the people and varied interests of their
native localities; he was also apprised of the standing of
the most prominent students in their several classes; and
upon all these topics, he would comment in so sprightly a
manner, would intersperse his conversation with so many
of the entertaining experiences of his own career, that
his hearers listened to him with delight and engrossing attention.
"His hospitality and sociability," says Burwell
Stark, recalling one of these visits nearly seventy years
after it occurred, "made us free in his company and endeared
him to all our hearts." It was the memory of
these charming hours under his roof that caused so many
of the young men to step out of their way to receive his
kind salutation as he walked or rode through the University
grounds.

Previous to 1827, lessons in dancing could, with the
Faculty's consent, be taken within the precincts; but the
pupils were not permitted to attend the cotillions which
the teacher gave, at intervals, in Charlottesville. Monsieur

Ferron, the instructor in fencing, applied for the
place of instructor in dancing also. He had been suspected
of using the opportunity created by his connection
with the University to draw off to his private French
school many of the members of Blaettermann's classes;
and on this ground, the Faculty declined to allow him the
use of a dormitory for his dancing pupils; but as there
was reason to think that he would, in consequence, establish
a dancing academy at Charlottesville, which would
afford many students an excuse to visit town, the executive
committee revoked the refusal, and approved the
petition. But, apparently, he did not act on it, for, when,
in 1830, Mr. Bigelow asked permission to teach dancing,
Ferron, fearing a dangerous rival, made haste to say
that he would instruct a class at once. Bigelow was now
giving lessons in music, and wished, in addition, to give
dancing lessons. Ferron seems to have been successful
in his protest, for we learn that, previous to July 2, 1831,
Bigelow confined his instructions within the precincts to
the young ladies of the professors' and officers' families.
He had, however, been engaged in teaching the same art
to such students as were willing to learn in his home without
the bounds.

At the beginning of the session of 1831–2, Ferron
was authorized again to accept pupils in dancing. Its
most popular branch at this time was waltzing, and for
three months' instruction in it, he was paid a fee of six
dollars. A rival of Ferron arose, in 1833, in the person
of Louis Carusi, who asked to be granted the use of a
dormitory in giving his lessons. His charge for an entire
course was the modest sum of twelve dollars. Subsequently,
Carusi met his classes in the middle hotel on
West Range, the modern Jefferson Hall. His instructions,
unlike those of Ferron, were confined to dancing.

Ferron derived an income, not only from teaching the
combined arts of dancing, fencing, and boxing, but also,
through his wife, from needlework, since Madame Ferron,
probably a Frenchwoman, was a skillful and industrious
seamstress, and as such was constantly patronized
by the students when supplying themselves with underclothing.
Carusi failed to give full satisfaction, for, in
1834, many of his pupils, disappointed with his lessons,
applied to the Faculty for permission to engage a teacher
who would furnish the necessary music as well as correct
their movements at the weekly assembly which they were
then planning to hold. This permission was granted on
condition that each set of lessons should terminate at the
end of two hours.

In September, 1835, at the beginning of a new session,
three persons,—Xaupi, Carusi and Enoch C. Breeden,—
sent in their several petitions for the position of dancing-master
within the precincts. Carusi's was denied because
it was thought that his engagements in Charlottesville
were incompatible with the full performance of his duties
at the University. Breeden was appointed to the place;
but two years afterwards, Carusi came forward again as
a candidate, and the Faculty decided to license them both,
provided that they would consent to give lessons beyond
the bounds in private houses approved by the chairman.
Every student was left at liberty to attend the class of
whichever of the two he should prefer. Carusi was authorized
to give twenty-four lessons for the sum of ten
dollars. Breeden's term lasted eight weeks. A third
instructor also was licensed to teach at a private house at
this time. His fee was ten dollars for thirty-six lessons.
In 1840, Robert Williams was added to the number of
the dancing-masters at the University. All these instructors
gave, each session, what were known as practising

balls, which resembled the ordinary party, with the exception
that the young men present were all members of
the class of a particular teacher, and were unquestionably
less expert in the art of dancing than persons who had
enjoyed a longer experience on the floor. Each member
was privileged to invite a young lady, and there was the
usual provision for an abundant supply of spirits. Occasionally
too an obstreperous drunken student was present.
In 1833, such a one was guilty of uttering grossly
profane language in the hearing of the ladies who were
taking part in a ball of Carusi's pupils, and when Carusi
interposed, he received a blow which led to a scene of
great confusion.

The practising balls were not, in all their details, on an
equal footing with the balls so frequently given by the
boarders of the several University hotels. As early as
1828, these hotel balls had begun, and so heavy was the
expense entailed in supplying the wine, supper, and
musicians, that the chairman counseled the Faculty to impose
rules that would limit their cost, and this advice was
promptly adopted by that body. When, in October of
this year, permission was asked by the students who took
their meals at Mrs. Gray's to issue invitations to a party,
it was granted only on condition that the dancers should
disperse before midnight, and that the expense to each
student participating should not exceed one dollar and a
half. We obtain a glimpse of the scene at this ball
through a letter written, a few days after it occurred, by
Robert Hubard, of the distinguished family of that name
so long and so honorably associated with Buckingham
county. "The party," he says, "was given in one of
the hotels which was unoccupied. Mrs. Gray assisted
the committee of arrangements, and we had a very nice
supper for the ladies and gentlemen; music by Jesse

Scott and son. A great many ladies were invited, and it
was said that there were more ladies at our party than
ever were at any University party. I suppose that there
were thirty or thirty-five ladies, perhaps forty. Each
boarder invited one friend, and we had forty-five or fifty
men. There were two or three pretty girls present,—
Miss Miller, Miss Tucker, (the oldest of the three), and
Miss Eliza Gray. The great beauty, with her red head,
Mrs. Bonnycastle, was there, and Mrs. Blaettermann;
likewise, Mary Byrd Emmet. ... Nearly all the professors
were there,—Mr. Lomax, Mr. Bonnycastle, Dr.
Blaettermann, Dr. Patterson, the new professor, Dr.
Johnson, and Dr. Harrison; so you see we had the
collected wisdom of the institution. The party was
highly agreeable, all appearing to be enjoying themselves,
either in dancing or in conversation. The students were
under no restraint because the Faculty were present, as
they, the Faculty, gave themselves no airs. Dr. Emmet
was the only one of them who danced; he danced once or
twice and tolerably well to boot. Mary Byrd was
dressed elegantly and danced a good deal with the students.
I was introduced to her as I took it for granted
she had forgotten me. As we were standing up in a
reel, I had no opportunity to have any chat. I appeared
that night in my new olive coat and looked tolerable decent
for once in my life. Whatever you may say against
the colour, it is very much admired at this place. I
will have you understand that my own personal beauty
is sufficient to make my coat look well."

There were several details of particular interest comprised
in this letter: (1) during the first years at least,
the professors and their wives were present at the hotel
balls, although they seem to have, as a body, taken only
a conversational part in them; (2) the reel as well as the

waltz was danced; (3) the students were now permitted
to wear their most elegant suits in order to increase their
attractiveness in the eyes of the belles; and (4) the
musicians were two colored men, who continued to enjoy
for many years the patronage of local fashion.