University of Virginia Library

X. Military Exercises

Jefferson, as President, was not disposed to increase
the strength of the military arm of the Government,—
indeed, his natural bent was to whittle it down to a point
which would leave only the narrowest margin of national
safety. Suspicion of military encroachment was, in those
times, as constantly flaming up in Republican minds as
suspicion of centralizing intrigue,—perhaps because they
were presumed to be in sympathetic collusion. Jefferson,
as we know, had no toleration for anything that
winked at either the form or the spirit of royalty; but
he so far curbed his aversion for swords and muskets
as to think that a military training of some sort could be
made serviceable to the individual and the State alike.
He was not so sure of the supremacy of the civil power
in all emergencies that he could blind himself to the possibility
that the day might come when the only protection
for that power would be the skill which every ablebodied
citizen had acquired in the use of military weapons.
He gave, in the Rockfish Gap Report, the fullest expression
of his matured convictions on the subject of education
in all its various departments; and in the light of
his naturally pacific tendencies, it is worthy of particular
notice that, in this epochal document, he recommended
that the students in the projected university should, in
their hours of recreation, be required to spend some of
their time in obtaining a practical knowledge of manual

exercises, military manoeuvres, and tactics in general. It
was his opinion that such training should be imparted at
an early period of life,—for this was the period of aptness,
docility, and emulation, when lessons of that nature
were, not only the most quickly learned, but also the
longest remembered.

In October, 1824, the Board gave the Faculty the
authority to appoint a military instructor, who, from half
past one to half past three, on every Saturday, should be
required to drill the entire corps of students. The course
which he was to cover was to embrace field evolutions,
manoeuvres and encampments. He was to follow the
strictest military rules in his command,—the roll was to
be regularly called, and every absentee, and every other
delinquent besides, was to be reported to the Faculty, who
were to inflict such punishment as their judgment approved.
The guns to be used were to be numbered by
him; and he was also to distribute them, receive them back,
and carefully preserve them from damage. They were
really to be wooden dummies, with iron locks, half barrels
of tin, and wooden ramrods. As the students, during
the first year, did not exceed one hundred and twenty-three,
only one company was organized at the start, under
the provision of this ordinance. William Matthews, a
resident of Everettsville, in Albemarle county, but formerly
a cadet in the Military Academy at West Point,
was chosen to fill the position of military instructor.

In April, 1826, the original rule that every student
should take part in the drill was modified,—only those
who were willing to volunteer should be enrolled. In
order to ensure a sheltered spot for the company while
training, one of the gymnasia joined as wings to the Rotunda
was reserved for that purpose. This space would
seem to have been too contracted for actual manoeuvres,

except by very small single squads; and it was probably
used chiefly as a lecture-room. Matthews was to be
liable for any damage to it which might occur during the
hours of drill. The instruction was continued throughout
the summer of 1826, for the limits of the session had
not yet been altered. There were serious difficulties
to be overcome in giving it. Fifty-five to sixty students
participated in the exercises, but in Matthews's opinion,
it was impossible to train them properly without real
guns. That these had not been procured was not to be
imputed to him; he had written to Jefferson a few weeks
before the latter's death calling his attention to the pressing
need of muskets to replace the dummy weapons; but
Jefferson had replied that the funds were too low to permit
of a purchase, and that he disapproved of an application
to the State armory for a supply. Matthews, not
to be discouraged, begged Cocke to solicit of the Governor
the number of muskets wanted. "I wish to have
the arms as soon as possible," he said, "as my engagement
with the University will expire shortly, and it is
my wish to instruct the attending classes in manual exercises."
He suggested that the guns should be spiked
before they were withdrawn from their present place of
deposit, as this would prevent their being afterwards
turned to dangerous uses.

Matthews's term came to an end on September I,
and he petitioned the Faculty for reappointment. In a
letter which he wrote to the Board of Visitors in the
course of the same month, he advised that the system of
tactics then employed in the American Army should be
adopted; and that every student in the University,
whether he volunteered or not, should be compelled to
enter his name in the roll. In addition, he recommended
that, when this enlistment had been completed, the whole

number should be divided into four squads, and that
each squad should be required to attend sixty minutes, at
least, every week, to learn the theory of the military
art; and he also suggested that the reveille should be
sounded at sunrise,—a very politic proposal, as such a
rule would foster a disposition to rise early, which the
Faculty was already endeavoring to enforce. Matthews
seemed to think that the call of the roll, at this unwholesome
hour, would be a "preventive to habits of idleness,
dissipation, and improper conduct." There was no intention,
however, of discontinuing the drill on Saturday
afternoon. It was his ambition to obtain the Board's
permission to found a School of Military Art comparable
with the other schools already established in the University,
—a plan which the Faculty seems to have received
at first with favor; but they declined to convert his
existing course of instruction into a permanent school until
the Board should have determined the amount of his
emolument. In the meanwhile, he had procured the endorsement
of the Superintendent of the West Point Military
Academy.

Towards the end of December (1826), Matthews
wrote to Madison, the new rector, to express regret that
the Board should be so dilatory in coming to a decision
upon the proposition of establishing a permanent military
school, although, in anticipation of it, the Faculty,
he said, had permitted him to continue his previous course
of training. He solicited Madison's approval of his
plans; and he again dwelt upon the necessity of procuring
one hundred and fifty muskets and carbines from the
State. These, when not in actual use, might remain in
the proctor's custody. He announced his willingness to
assume the responsibility of cleansing and repairing the
guns. It was his opinion that a School of Military Art

would be influential in protracting the stay at the University
of many students, who would not, with the present
schools only, tarry longer than one year, or a couple of
years at most.

Madison was of a more pacific cast than Jefferson, and
no project to teach military science on an imposing scale
commended itself to his approval. Writing to Cocke
several weeks after the receipt of Matthews's practical
letter, when he had had ample time to consider the proposed
school in all its bearings, he calmly questioned the
utility of military training in general. "Certainly for
physical purposes," he said, "the gymnasium is incomparably
superior. It would be well if the two branches
of instruction could be united in a competent individual."
But as Cocke had served with distinction in the last war,
and was, he knew, in sympathy with a reasonable plan for
military training, Madison did not venture to condemn the
proposal further; on the contrary, he closed his letter by
recommending its adoption, and suggested that a pavilion
should be reserved for the instructor's use, apparently
both as a home and a lecture-room.

Madison and Cocke, in their public capacity as the executive
committee, seem to have been willing to consent
to the erection of the School of Military Art, should the
Faculty's approval be first obtained. A formal school
on a footing with the others was, however, never established;
nor did the future course of instruction take a
broader scope, or assume a status of greater dignity.
This is explained by the fact that the Faculty, on receiving
the committee's communication, although formerly
more favorable, were now satisfied with simply renewing
the limited privileges which Matthews had enjoyed during
the preceding session. The suggestion that all the
students should be required to drill was again rejected;

only those who volunteered were to be enrolled for the
military exercises; and these exercises were not to begin
until the first of April, and were to go on then for only
one hour in the early morning of every Tuesday, Thursday,
and Saturday. Arms were to be obtained from the
State. All these different prescriptions were carried out.
Matthews continued to reside within the precincts, and
was allowed the use of the library on the footing, not,
it is to be noted, of a professor, but of a student. He
was still an instructor during the session of 1827–28.
The company, at this time, was commanded by Captain
John Preston, and among the officers were Philip St.
George Cocke, a son of General Cocke, and afterwards
a graduate of West Point and a General in the Confederate
Army, William Daniel, a famous judge of a later
period, and Patrick Henry Aylett, a descendant of the
orator. No weapons were given out to the squads until
they were on the point of entering the drill; but the officers
were permitted to carry their muskets to their dormitories
for practice.

Matthews had much ground for dejection. "On account
of the uncertainty of my success here," he wrote
Cocke, in July, 1828, "I have thought it would be advisable
for me to abandon the military school unless the
Visitors could assure me a school of one hundred students
at five dollars each. ... The number of students diminishing
yearly is but a poor encouragement for any one. I
am disposed to continue here two or three sessions if I
can do it on better terms than heretofore. I wish to study
natural philosophy, engineering, and the higher branches
of mathematics. If I do not remain here, it is my intention
to make an effort to get attached to the Topographical
Corps of Engineers."

Matthews withdrew from the University before October,

1830, for, during that month, the students assembled
in one of the rooms of the Rotunda, and decided to form
a company, to be instructed by Mr. Ferron, the French
fencing-master, who had probably received a military
training in his native country. The Faculty gave their
consent; but when the students returned at the beginning
of the following session, and reorganized the corps, Captain
John Carr, the proctor, was appointed by the Faculty
to the position of military instructor, and arms were asked
of the State. Carr's relation to the corps appears to have
been altogether nominal,—he was simply its honorary
colonel. He admitted that he had little power to control
its movements, and whatever power he did possess, he
never attempted to exercise. After Matthews's departure,
the military instructions seem to have been confined
to a weekly drill carried out by youthful officers, who, in
some instances, had only the impoverished military knowledge
of self-taught amateurs. The company had now
really sunk to the position of a body that had been organized
chiefly for the amusement of its members; there
was no room open to them for acquiring information
about military science in its larger aspects; but there were
numerous opportunities for showing a lively partizanship
in the election of the officers. The occasion of such an
election was always accompanied by tumult and dissipation.

On November 12, 1831, one hundred muskets were
received, in correspondence with the number of men enrolled.
The company, from the time it was furnished
with firearms, was a noisy participant in the various
patriotic celebrations which enlivened each year, the foremost
of which occurred on July 4, February 22, and April
13. On February 22, 1832, the captain obtained permission
for his corps to parade on the Lawn and deliver

several rounds of feu de joie, and afterwards, to march
to Charlottesville to serve as an escort for Alexander
Rives, who was to deliver an oration in the Episcopal
Church. A salvo was fired at the conclusion of the
speech, and the company then returned in the same formal
order to the University. Criticism of the organization
increased in emphasis, as its more or less frivolous conduct,
in the absence of a trained instructor, became more
manifest. First, the expensiveness of the membership
was censured,—the epaulets of the officers, it was said,
cost eight dollars; and their smallest outlay, during a
single year, amounted to sixteen dollars. But a second
objection rested upon a more reasonable ground than
this,—not only were the fusillades on the Lawn disturbing
to the peace of the precincts, but a bullet or two had
been known to be fired; and the natural alarm which this
had caused, was further aggravated by the rebellious
spirit, which, in those times, so frequently burst out like
a flame among the students. The rollicking entertainments
periodically given by the company encouraged the
taste for drinking already prevailing in the University,
while the ambitious blare of the young soldiers' wind instruments
was so crude and inexpert as to irritate the sensitive
nerves of the professors, and seriously distract the
attention of the young men engaged with their studies in
dormitory or lecture-room. The captain claimed no
power to control his men except during the drill,—so soon
as the corps stopped to rest his authority ceased, and the
youthful volunteers were free to indulge in any form of
pleasantry, however annoying to others, which their impish
wits might suggest.

The ordinance requiring a military teacher for the
University still remained unrepealed, and in December,
1832, the company asked permission to appoint their own

captain, Thomas L. Preston, to this responsible post.
The Faculty admitted their inability to secure, at this time,
an instructor of a higher competence than an intelligent
student, and as Preston was a young man of uncommon
force and distinction of character, and some experience
of military discipline, they finally assented to his selection.
The arms which had been loaned by the State
were delivered to him on condition, (1) that they were
to be surrendered whenever the Faculty demanded it;
(2) that they were only to be used in the military exercises;
(3) that no ordinances were to be violated during
the drill; and (4) that no firing was to take place
within the precincts. As the company had been assigned
a parade ground of its own, the fusillades were to be
restricted to that area.

By July, 1833, the corps had become so disorderly in its
general conduct that an irritated public feeling demanded
its disbandment. When an application for its reorganization
was made the ensuing October, Dr. Emmet urged
that a positive refusal should be returned; but it was
again permitted to form,—with definite restrictions, however,
upon its independence of action. A sentiment was
now springing up in favor of putting in practice again
the original enactment that authorized expert military
instruction in the University. Captain Partridge, of Vermont,
a thoroughly competent officer, was, in response to
this sentiment, employed to give such instruction; but,
unfortunately, on the same limited and hampered footing
as the one which Matthews had occupied,—that is to
say, his pupils must be volunteers, and he must look to
them alone for his remuneration, a slim reliance which
foreshadowed the early ending of the course of lectures
on military subjects which he agreed to deliver. His
connection with the University apparently continued only

through a single term, for at the beginning of the following
session (1835), Penci, the fencing master, asked
permission to organize a military company, which he
offered to drill; and the Faculty consented on condition
that he should give his services gratuitously, and conform
strictly to the ordinances. This arrangement was perhaps
unsatisfactory, for his instruction was discontinued
at the end of the session. In October, 1836, the corps
was reorganized, and it was this body that was guilty of
the most indefensible outrage against order which was
recorded even in those years of riot and rebellion. To
this lawless outbreak, we shall refer at a later stage in our
narrative. Its conduct on that occasion very naturally
brought the students' military company into a discredit
which lasted for many years.