University of Virginia Library

XXXVIII. Publications

In the remote situation of the University, accessible
to the world at large, in these early times, only by a
sluggish and muddy stage, the arrival of the post must
have caused pleasurable excitement in the lives of the
students. There was then no daily mail to make the
letter pouch a familiar and commonplace object. From
some quarters of the compass, the mail coach came in
only twice a week, and while there must have been more
frequent deliveries from Richmond and the eastern
region, this was certainly not so until the railway had
been extended to Louisa county. Previous to the spring
of 1826, the student had to call at the post-office in
Charlottesville to obtain his letters; but after this date,
through the influence of William C. Rives, the representative
of the district in Congress, a branch of that office
was established at the University. A dormitory was reserved
as the place for the distribution of letters,[38] and

apparently the librarian, for the time being, served
as ex officio postmaster. William Wertenbaker, who
played several parts simultaneously, or in succession, in
the University community,—librarian, assistant proctor,
secretary of the Faculty, and hotel-keeper,—was also,
during many years, the postmaster of the institution.
In 1832, William Brockenbrough was the librarian, and
automatically upon him, during that year, also fell the
duties of the postmastership.

The stamp had not come into use. The charge for
posting letters was fixed by their weight. The ordinary
fee seems to have been twelve and a half cents for a moderate
distance; but to a point as far as New York, twenty-seven
and a half. The postage on a pamphlet of small
size ranged all the way from seven and a half cents to
fifteen. With prices for forwarding mail so excessive,
it is not probable that the students were much in the
habit of writing letters, however pleased to receive them.
There were numerous orders on the proctor, however, in
payment of bills for postage sent in by the postmaster.
The fact that there was a system of credit would seem to
indicate that this official was not too much burthened by
his duties.

Only a few of the students subscribed to newspapers.
This, no doubt, had the approval of the Faculty, who
deprecated, as we shall see, all heated political feeling
within the precincts of the University. The ledgers of
the shopkeepers show that there were many of the young
men who purchased books for their private reading.
These volumes faithfully reflected the predominant tastes
of the times. Byron was the most popular author of the
age, and not the less so with young men than with old.
The scornful spirit of revolt which inflamed that great
poet throughout life, the romantic incidents of his career,

his cynical citizenship of the world, his virility, audacity,
solitariness,—each so fresh in the public mind, because
he was still, or had been so recently, an actor upon the
stage,—cast a glamour over the susceptibilities of all
those who turned to his verses for recreation. Five
copies of this moody and fiery writer were bought at
the University for every one purchased of other authors
of equal or higher merit. Even Shakespeare and Milton
paled their ineffectual fires in the rays of his refulgent
sun. In comparison with him, Pope was in a state almost
of eclipse, although the Essay on Man and the Rape
of the Lock were sometimes obtained from the local
shopkeeper.

Second only to Byron in the eyes of these youthful
purchasers stood Thomas Campbell, and for the same
reason in part: his manly, vigorous, and martial poems
appealed with singular force to the young Southerner's
unbounded admiration for splendid deeds of bravery.
Then came Thomas Moore, whose love songs, in spite
of their artificial and fashionable glitter,—or, perhaps,
for that very reason,—were known to many of the students
by heart. Don Quixote, Gil Blas, and Tom Jones,
—renowned masterpieces of manners and sentiment,—
were the favorite novels. It is astonishing to discover
that none of the stories of Scott are to be found in the
sales accounts; but Sterne had his group of worshippers:
many copies of Tristram Shandy and the Sentimental
Journey, but not of the Sermons, were bought; so were
Thomson's Seasons, Rasselas, and the tales of Miss
Edgeworth. Such imposing works as Gibbon's Decline
and Fall and Plutarch's Lives are included in the lists
of sales; so was the Spectator, which retained in Virginia
down to the middle of the nineteenth century the

popularity which it had enjoyed in the Colonial Age.[39]

Two small purchases of books by students in 1833,
throw light on individual tastes at that time. The list
of J. J. Hill embraced Peregrine Pickle, Vivian Gray,
Robertson's Histories of Scotland and America, the
Essays of Locke, the Tatler and the Guardian; the list of
John W. Eppes, Roderick Random, the Poems of Garth,
Collins, and Gray, the works of Voltaire, and Cuvier's
Animal Kingdom. These volumes were bought, not for
study, but for transient entertainment only.

By 1840, several new literary planets had swum into
the collegiate ken. Bulwer, the man of the world, had
now become the popular novelist and playwright, and
copies of Night and Morning and The Lady of Lyons are
noted among the students' purchases; Marryat's seatales
too were favorites with the same youthful buyers;
and even attenuated Mrs. Hemans was not neglected
by them. Not infrequently, they are found turning away
from books like these,—which were valuable for amusement's
sake alone,—and taking up those possessing only
the merit of utility; such was the formidable collection
known as the Family Library published in twenty volumes;
and such too the ponderous Library of Useful
Knowledge. The purchase of a complete set of British
Poets disclosed less alienation from genuine literature.
As a rhyming dictionary was sometimes bought, it is to be

inferred that some of the young men diverted themselves
with experiments in versification.

The first periodical associated with the history of the
University was suggested by Dunglison, and was issued
under the patronage of the Faculty. It bore the pedantically
ambitious name of Virginia Literary Museum and
Journal of Belles-Lettres, Arts, Sciences, Etc. The
Etc. was perhaps intended to cover the remaining provinces
of knowledge, which were too numerous to be
specifically mentioned in a title. The periodical was
usually spoken of as the Museum; and this was a very
pertinent designation in the light of the extraordinary
variety of its contents. Its purpose was stated to be to
"communicate the truth of science to the miscellaneous
reader, and encourage a taste for polite literature"; but
it had also a subordinate and a more practical object:
"It will keep," wrote Dunglison to Madison in February,
1829, "the University of Virginia perpetually before the
public, and it will diminish the expenses of the institution
by printing in its pages matter that is now issued
in an independent form."

Dunglison, who seems to have been of a utilitarian turn
of mind, with little esteem for the quality of imagination,
favored the admission only of articles full of solid information.
"We had better discontinue the Museum,"
he solemnly said, "than suffer its pages to contain anything
which will detract from the reputation of the University
or its professors." When Tucker, a man of
humor and imagination as well as of facts, suggested
that a story would be occasionally needed to lighten those
pages up, Dunglison replied rather loftily that there was,
in the composition of tales, as a rule, none of the requisites
that equip a man to serve as a teacher in a literary
institution; but he modified this oracular expression so

far as to add that, "if the tale carried a useful lesson,
its objectionableness would be removed." Fortunately
for the literary character of the periodical, his ponderous
literary judgment was not the only one relied upon.
All the professors were looked to for contributions, and
the wide field which they were expected to cover indicates
the just confidence felt in their ability and learning
alike. All the branches of science were to be traversed,
but in such a skillful way as to make the articles of interest
to the popular mind. Local history was not to be
neglected: information about every State of the South,—
its origin, progress, laws, manners, and dialect,—was
to be gathered up for the enlightenment of the Museum's
readers. A separate department was to be reserved for
the University of Virginia, the transactions of its Visitors,
its ordinances, its courses of instruction, the distinctions
won by its young men in the examinations, its list of professors
and students. The Museum was to receive and
transmit hints on the subject of collegiate discipline and
government; but all discussions of partizan politics, theological
dogmas, or sectarian controversies, were to be
avoided with unfailing circumspection.

It was anticipated that the University's association
with Jefferson's principles would give the new periodical
a high standing from the earliest number. It had not
been issued so soon as the institution opened for several
reasons: (1) the instructors had been laboriously occupied,
during several years, in collecting and assorting information
for additional courses of lectures; and (2)
coming as they did from a distance, they were unable to
judge at first as to what would be acceptable to the public
taste in their new theatre of action, or be best adapted
to the public needs. It was expected that the Museum
would materially diminish the professors' sense of seclusion

from the world at large springing from their remote
situation; and that it would also create an engine for successfully
combating the vindictive hostility which was so
constantly assailing the University.

There was a combination of facts which led the Faculty
to decide finally in favor of a weekly rather than a
quarterly journal: (1) there were already three reviews
issued quarterly in the United States, and from the pages
of these all literary intelligence and all short articles
were excluded, because this type of periodical, it was said,
was established to appeal "to reflective persons, and not
to the young, the thoughtless, and the gay." In a weekly
publication, on the other hand, all sorts of contributions
could be consistently printed; miscellaneous facts, briefly
related; poetry, sketches, creations of the imagination,—
no matter what the character of the article, it could be
inserted without impropriety. Reason, Fancy, Feeling,
—there was room for them all in such a periodical. In
short, its pages were to be as open to the "sportive effusions
of fancy and wit as to the most erudite disquisitions
of scholarship, or the profoundest researches of philosophy."
Hammered into shape upon this anvil the
Museum was expected to partake at once of the character
of a magazine, of a newspaper, and of a review, and
all this compacted between the same two covers.
"Whether we fail or succeed in our main purpose," concluded
the editors, "we will at least add to the stock of
harmless pleasure."

Did the numbers of the Museum, so far as they were
issued, accomplish the primary object of the magazine;
namely, the interpretation of the University? The periodical
undoubtedly succeeded in its literary purpose; its
pages were filled with an extraordinary variety of matter,
—reviews, fiction, poetry, accounts of travel,

scientific articles, notes of philology, and miscellaneous
odds and ends, all presented in such polished literary
form as to entertain the reader, whether the information
was solid or not. The tales by Bonnycastle, like the
Story of the Blue Ridge, the poems by Dabney Carr
Terrell, the friend of Gilmer and Ticknor, and the
former student of Geneva, and the translations from
the German,—these have a distinct literary excellence of
their own. The articles on scientific subjects are thoughtful
and learned; and there is a quaint flavor and a pungent
humor in very many of the less ambitious contributions.

A magazine edited by men who had come from other
parts of the world was not likely to possess much local
raciness, or reflect the natural bent of local genius. The
Museum, in spirit and contents, was as much a child of
Boston or London as of Virginia, but from a literary
point of view, it was all the more cosmopolitan for this
very detachment. The very universality of its appeal
was probably the main cause of its early death. There
was no elbow-room at this time for another purely literary
magazine like itself. As its course was confined to
the old channels, it lacked the saliency and the originality
necessary to win a large clientele of its own from the
ranks of its already flourishing rivals in Old England,
New York, and New England. With the issue of June
9, 1830, it was discontinued. The reasons given by the
editors for this abrupt ending, were: (1) that the professors'
articles were not supplemented by contributions
from independent pens, and that they were too overburdened
already to give up more of their hours to supply
this fatal deficiency; and (2) that no journal could expect
a wide circulation that refused to use the highly
flavoured sauce of politics in its pages.

The magazine had obtained subscribers enough to remove
all danger of personal loss, but not a sufficient number
to ensure a substantial margin of profit. There being
no duty on the importation of English periodicals,
the Museum, like all other American periodicals, found
it very arduous to compete successfully with them; and
moreover, the remoteness of the University was so great
that material which might have been copied into its pages
from new books had already been anticipated by Northern
magazines for the benefit of their readers. The editors
further asserted that they had to contend with a
grave difficulty in the fact that they resided a mile and
a half from their press, for this, they said, obliged them
to submit to the mortification of seeing every number, and
almost every page, deformed by false syntax and faulty
orthography, or by those far more annoying blunders
which alter the sense in a way not detected by the reader.
It is to be inferred from this complaint that the editors
thought themselves too busy to examine their proofs in
person, and that, in consequence, they relied upon their
printers for that indispensable but irksome labor. This
unhappy state of mind was aggravated by the frequency
with which the Museum was issued; had that periodical
been a monthly, the distance to Charlottesville would
hardly have justified their failure to correct the mistakes
in the printing; but even as a weekly, there was no reason
why the dispatch of the proofs to them could not
have been effected through a messenger with perfect
ease and regularity. This slim excuse for discontinuance
would seem to argue that the editors had begun to grow
tired of their rather complicated enterprise.

It was but natural that the young men should have
balked at accepting the Museum as the mouthpiece of
their own literary tastes and aspirations. As early as

1831, they issued the prospectus of a college magazine,
on which they had bestowed the poetical name of the
Chameleon. The mere suggestion of such a project had
excited nervous apprehension among members of the
Board, even before they had seen a copy of this preliminary
notice. Cabell wrote to his nephew, James L.
Cabell, now a student at the University, to inquire as to
the ulterior object of this proposed excursion into the
province of literature, and he seemed to look upon it as
at heart a new kind of rebellion. The boys had made a
rush in a novel quarter, and he was evidently timorous as
to its real significance. Dr Patterson, on the other hand,
outspokenly favored the venture, on the ground that it
would encourage those trials in English composition
which had always been so much neglected in the University.
The editors, who were among the most successful
and exemplary students in attendance, solemnly promised
that they would walk with such wariness between the pitfalls
of Religion and Politics as to tumble into neither;
and they also removed all fear of their burning too much
oil over the preparation of original articles by announcing
that they would obtain most of the contents of the
Chameleon from the pages of other magazines,—presumably
from those published in cultured Boston and
London.[40]

The first number appeared on April 22. "As it is
established," Patterson wrote in a soothing spirit to
Cabell the same month, "we must try to make the most

of it." He was of the opinion that this initial issue
was, from a literary point of view, very creditable to the
good taste of the students. Unfortunately, the editors,
in their prospectus, had stated that a restrained discussion
of the propriety of all new ordinances was one of
the purposes contemplated in its publication. This compelled
Patterson, even after the printing of the first number,
—which seems to have been free from criticism,—to
allay Cabell's apprehensions again by assuring him that
the committee of young men in charge could be relied
upon to shut out all papers that exhibited or even hinted
at insubordination.

The Collegian, a magazine projected by the students,
was issued for the first time in October, 1838. Its editors,
like those of the Chameleon, seemed to have been
confronted at the start by the opposition of the Faculty,
who thought that the periodical would "impede the
performance of duty and the purposes of a liberal education."
The editors, on the other hand, were convinced
that it "would chasten the taste of the students; increase
their knowledge; develope the resources of their minds;
divert them from the excesses of dissipation; foster a vigorous
literary spirit; promote skill in literary composition;
and enlist the dormant talent of the University."
It is debatable whether the Collegian rose to so high a
platform as this, however loyally and assiduously the
ideal may have been kept in view. The contents range
from the trivial moralizing essay to the ambitious disquisition
on science or literature; from light amatory
verses, in rather halting measures, to elaborate tales
of affrighting incidents,—the whole interspersed with
sensible, informing articles, in excellent literary shape.
This magazine survived to 1842. It terminated with its
fourth volume, thus adding a third suspension to the two

that had preceded it. There was less justification for its
failure to survive than there was for the Museum's, for
it did not pretend to appeal to any readers beyond the
University precincts, and, therefore, had more claim on
local support. As we shall see, it was soon succeeded by
a periodical of the same character.