University of Virginia Library

XXII. Administrative Organization

There now remains but one aspect of the constructive
period in the University's history to be presented.
What was the nature of the administrative machinery
which was adopted, either before the lectures began, or
soon thereafter, for the direction and control of its
practical operation? The mainspring of the organization
was the Board of Visitors; the subordinate one, the
Faculty; their instruments, the executive committee of the
Board, the chairman of the Faculty, the proctor, the
patron, the bursar, and the janitor. The Board drafted
all the fundamental laws and instructions; to the Faculty
was delegated a limited power of the same character;
while the executive committee, the chairman, and the
other officers, were simply the responsible agents for carrying
out, within clearly and rigidly defined bounds, the
specific orders which they had received from the authority
above them, or for performing certain duties which had
been imposed upon them by the printed ordinances.[12]

There was nothing novel or original about the general
character of the Board of Visitors: it was essentially a

board of trustees, with all the functions that are usually
exercised by such a public body. A brief enumeration of
these functions was given on a previous page, in the analysis
of the Act of Incorporation passed by the Legislature
in 1819. A concise statement of their tenor as put
in practice in 1825 will now be sufficient. Broadly
speaking, the Board was charged with the oversight and
preservation of the property of the University, in whatever
form it might be; was impowered to diminish or increase
the number of schools; lay off the courses of instruction;
determine all the fees and rents; engage the
professors in the beginning; fill all subsequent vacancies
in the Faculty; remove any offender in that body by a
vote not to fall short of two-thirds of the Visitors; appoint
the different officers, agents, and servants, and
supervise them in a general way in the performance of
their duties. Finally, they were authorized to adopt
such regulations as they considered judicious for the discipline
and control of the students, and the general management
of the University. Severally, or all together,
they were required to make a personal inspection of the
actual working of each school at least once a year; and
as often, a report upon the scholastic and financial condition
of the institution had to be submitted by them to
the General Assembly.

All vacancies in the Board, whether caused by death,
or by resignation, could only be filled by the Governor's
appointment. The Visitors, however, had the right to
elect one of their own number to the office of rector, and
this rector and his associates formed a corporation that
possessed all the powers incident to such a body in the
eye of the law. As the residences of its members would
always be widely dispersed, the need of an executive
committee was perceived from the hour of organization.

We have seen how useful was the share which this committee
had in the building of the University; it was, in
reality, during that period, indispensable; and while its
importance was afterwards sensibly lessened by the
chairmanship of the Faculty, it still performed a necessary
part during the long intervals between the sessions
of the Visitors.

"The zeal of the Board," Madison wrote in November,
1827, to Cocke, "was often tried by the difficulty of
meeting at bad seasons of the year." Indeed, during
such seasons, it was usually impossible to get together a
quorum of the members; but there were often valid reasons
for their absence, apart from the rigorous weather
and the bottomless mud; thus, at the precise date of Madison's
letter, every one of them was kept away by some
form of infirmity or disability: Cabell and Loyall were
detained by their duties in the General Assembly; Breckinridge
was failing in health; and Johnson was buried in
his cases before the courts. Madison himself was steadily
growing so feeble that he declared that he would resign
the rectorship but for his anxiety to avoid taking
any step that might be maliciously interpreted as dictated
by a lack of concern for the institution.[13] Monroe's
interest in it had always been that of a political disciple
of Jefferson, who was disposed to do whatever
would be agreeable to his chief. He, too, when asked to
be present on this occasion, sent back an excuse.

Jefferson, so long as he was alive, remained a member

of the executive committee, and as he was always on the
ground, and Cocke, the other member, could be quickly
summoned, there was no need of calling together the
Board very often. It is probable that the latter body
convened as frequently as they did, because they were
aware that they would enjoy the comforts of his home,
and the charm of his company, while in session. "The
state of my health," he informed Cocke in September,
1825, "renders it perfectly certain that I shall not be
able to attend the next meeting of the Visitors (October
3), yet I think that there is no one but myself to whom
the matters to be acted on are sufficiently known for communication
to them. This adds a reason the more for inducing
the members to meet at Monticello the day before,
which has heretofore been found to facilitate and shorten
our business. If you could be here on Sunday to dinner,
that afternoon and evening, and the morning of Monday,
will suffice for all our business, and the Board will
only have to ride to the University pro forma for attending
the proceedings."

After Jefferson's death, the Visitors, whenever they
assembled at the University, were compelled to find temporary
lodgings in a pavilion,—a rather naked substitute
for the ease and charm of Monticello. In 1828,
two of the pavilions happened to be unoccupied, and at
Madison's suggestion, both were reserved by the proctor
for the accommodation of a very full Board. A few
years later (1833), all the rooms on the upper floor of
pavilion VII, the present Colonnade Club, were permanently
assigned to their use; sufficient furniture was
provided to make these apartments comfortable; and
they were ordered to be kept with scrupulous attention
to health and neatness. The proctor was required to
arrange with the nearest hotel for the supply of all

meals that would be needed by the Visitors, during their
stay, while shelter and fodder for their horses were provided
in the University stables.[14]

The only section of the administrative machinery which
bore the distinctive stamp of Jefferson's democratic
genius was the Faculty, and this only on the side of the
chairmanship. The Board of Visitors and the regular
officers of the institution followed, in their general character
and special functions, the lines customary with
trustees and agents. This was so too with the Faculty
in the larger duties which they discharged, as will be
discerned in a subsequent enumeration. From a broad
point of view, the relation of this body to the Board of
Visitors was simply that of a small wheel within a big
wheel, the small wheel revolving in the same direction as
the big, and absolutely controlled in its motion by its
greater fellow. It has been asserted[15] that, had Jefferson
caught his inspiration from Teutonic, and not
from French sources, he would perhaps have placed the
Faculty upon a coordinate footing with the Board of Visitors;
but this was hardly practicable as the University
was a State and not a private institution. Jefferson was
most solicitous that the Commonwealth's exclusive proprietorship
in it should be patent at every turn; and this
could only have been brought out most clearly by imposing
all the responsibilities of its general government on
one Board, and making that Board answerable to the
State. The complete subordination of the Faculty's

position is fully disclosed in the three great administrative
duties of its members as a body: (1) they enforced
the ordinances of the Visitors; (2) they recommended
such changes in these ordinances as their experience and
observation suggested as advisable; and (3) they
adopted, with the Board's approval and consent, such
by-laws as would enable them to carry out more successfully
the purposes which the fundamental laws had in
view.

The Board always exhibited jealousy of the smallest
attempt on the Faculty's part to infringe upon the sphere
of the larger wheel; and when they bestowed upon that
body the right to enact a particular by-law, they raised
around that right a spiked railing of the clearest and
most specific restrictions. Such, for instance, was the
character of their action in October, 1825, in authorizing
the Faculty to adopt such disciplinary regulations as the
alarming insubordination of the students at that time
called for at once. Imperative as these regulations were
certain to be under the like circumstances always, they
were only to become a part of the institution's permanent
laws, should they be approved by the Board at their next
meeting. A comparison of the respective records of
the Board and Faculty leads to the conclusion that the
Faculty was really in a better position to form a just conception
of what the University's welfare demanded than
the Board, for its members were on the ground; the
affairs of every department were always passing directly
under their vigilant eyes; and their solicitude that the
progress of the institution should not be obstructed, never
slackened. Moreover, they were far more frequently in
consultation, with its consequent clarifying influence on
their outlook. The Board was required by law to come
together only once a year, and its meeting rarely went

beyond two or three annually. On the other hand, the
Faculty held in 1825 alone as many as twenty-seven meetings,
although the session did not begin until March 7;
and in the years that followed, the number was often
even larger. It was through the Faculty that the Board
was able to get all its information; and, in most instances,
it adopted the Faculty's recommendations. It is quite
certain that the Visitors' point of view was, as a rule,
impartial and disinterested, and that their supervision
was generally valuable, and sometimes indispensable; but
many cases arose in which the institution would have been
served to more profit if the practical and discriminating
conclusions of the Faculty could have been the final word
in the decision.

The original provision for the chairmanship was precisely
such as to make the Faculty of the highest use to
the University. It illustrated, in the most conspicuous
way, the deeply discerning thought which Jefferson had
given to the working organization of the institution, and
also his determination to enforce equality of privileges
and responsibilities. By the rules of 1824, each member
of the Faculty was required to act as chairman in rotation;
but his term was not to run beyond the length of one
year. There were, in Jefferson's opinion, two benefits to
spring from this regulation: (1) the personal distinction
which would attend the incumbency of the office would
fall to each professor in turn; and (2) each in turn, also,
would be in a position to acquire that extraordinary
knowledge of the affairs of the University which its executive
guidance and control for one year would be sure
to impart. These advantages to accrue from the occupancy
of the chairmanship would have been fully shared
by all when all had once filled it; and the burden of its
duties could not fall too heavily on any one so long

as a single year was set as the period for their discharge.
The system was such as not only to perfect the Faculty's
information about the University's affairs, but also to
stimulate further their interest in those affairs, and to
plant in the breast of each chairman in succession a competitive
ambition to perform the duties in the most fruitful
manner. Had Jefferson survived, his influence,
which had created this system of rotation, would, doubtless,
have been used to retain it. But, unfortunately, perhaps,
it lasted only two years after his death.

Dr. Emmet, it will be remembered, in writing to his
father in 1824, declared that one word, repeated three
times; namely, "lectures, lectures, lectures," summed up
his daily life. Probably, in the beginning when the overcrowded
courses of instruction had to be relearned to
some degree by the several professors, the burden of
teaching was more irksome and engrossing than at a
later date when these courses had become more familiar
to them. The addition of the heavy responsibilities of
the chairmanship to this burden was indisputably a severe
tax on the professor's powers, and a strong disinclination
to assume them quickly showed itself when the controlling
hand of the first rector was permanently withdrawn.
As early as December, 1827, the Faculty requested that
the tenure of the office should be limited to three months;
and this, perhaps, led the Board, at their next meeting, to
decide that, after the expiration of the term of the chairman
then in office, the appointment should, for the future,
be indefinitely reserved to their own body. It is quite
possible that the superior qualifications of some members
of the Faculty to fulfil its duties, and the very small
qualifications of others, was early perceived by the Visitors,
and this was the chief reason that governed them in
making the change, for the onerousness of the chairmanship

would remain, whether the appointment came from
the Board or the Faculty. The difference between the
capacity of Professor Tucker and the capacity of Professor
Blaettermann, for instance, as presiding officers, was
too obvious to be overlooked.

But whether the chairmanship was filled by the action
of the Board or of the Faculty; whether it was held by
one professor for many years, or by a succession of professors
for one year in rotation, in harmony with the
original plan, the duties and responsibilities of the position
remained the same. The relations of the incumbent
with the other members of the Faculty were not altered.
He was still primus inter pares,—at once the head of the
body and its agent. The whole of the administrative
machinery was not monopolized by him. Each member
of the Faculty continued to feel that he shared in the
University's management; that the piloting of its destinies
lay still partly in his own hands; and that, as one
of its guardians, he must begrudge neither time nor labor
towards increasing its prosperity and enhancing its reputation.
He could only shirk or ignore his obligation by
running contrary to his sense of official duty.

It could not be said of the chairman, whether elected
by the professors or appointed by the Board, what can
be too often correctly asserted of a very able and zealous
president; namely, that he reduced the Faculty to the
status of cyphers, and took their place as the academic
body himself. What were his principal duties under the
original system? He was the spokesman of the Faculty
on both public and private occasions; he saw to the execution
of all laws adopted for the government of the institution;
overlooked the proctor, the hotel-keepers, and
all other subordinate agents; suspended, for a limited
time, all delinquent students, or inflicted on them the

minor punishments; sent out the monthly reports to their
parents; and, finally, impowered them to change their
boarding houses, or to use the public rooms. In relation
to the Faculty itself, he was authorized to convene
that body as often as the welfare of the University imperatively
required; he presided at its meetings, with the
right of voting once as a professor, and a second time, as
the chairman, should there arise a tie; and he brought to
its attention all matters bearing on the fundamental
government of the institution which required a decision.
In its turn, the Faculty could call on him for information
about any subject upon which they had a right to
deliberate.

It was one of his duties to keep a journal, in which all
offenses against discipline were to be recorded for the
information of the Board, at its next annual meeting; and
that body, whenever it wished, could put upon him some
task of an exceptional nature. Thus, under the enactments
of 1831, he was directed to submit, at the end of
every session, what was designated as a Consolidation
Report, which was a summary of all the weekly reports
that had been sent in by the professors during the previous
session. This all-embracing report described the
specific courses of instruction which had been given; how
often, if at all, each professor had failed to lecture or to
examine; how often too to make up his weekly report;
and the number of times each student had been absent
from his classroom. In the performance of this duty,
the chairman was dependent upon the cooperation of the
other members of the Faculty; and to an important degree,
he was also assisted by them in the detection of the
violation of the ordinances by the students. No such
offense could be punished by the Faculty unless he had
first brought their attention to it; but each member was

required to report to him all delinquencies that had fallen
under his own eyes.

In 1828, the dormitories were laid off into as many
districts as there were professors; and as far as practicable,
with an equal population of students. To each
professor, a district was assigned for supervision. It
was his duty to inspect its precincts from time to time; to
enforce a rigid discipline by suppressing all noises and disturbances;
to report the names of the incorrigible; to
listen to special complaints against the proctor and hotel-keepers,
and to protect the students in general in their
right to comforts and conveniences in their dormitories
and boarding-houses. This regulation was adopted under
the influence of the turbulence which then distracted
the University, and was suggested by the desire to lighten
the burden of the chairman, now so hard pressed by novel
additions to his ordinary functions. It turned out, however,
to be a temporary expedient.