University of Virginia Library

I. The Spirit of the Faculty

If the civilization of the Southern States, under a system
of slave labor, is tested by economic standards alone,
it was undeniably less successful than the civilization of
the Northern States, under a system of free labor. The
physical aspect of the Southern country was not one which
indicated that its natural resources had been wisely used,
—it was, as a whole, in reality, covered with forest,
broken here and there by spacious clearings for plantations;
and these estates had a permanent drift towards
further enlargement, without bringing a proportionate
area under tillage. With the exception of New Orleans,
there were no very populous cities,—the towns, and even
the villages, sprang up, with wide reaches of hill, and
valley, and plain between them. The number of factories
was too small to be counted. In short, the South was an
agricultural region alone; and its single economic interest
of importance was pursued in so dispersed a fashion
that a very great part of its surface had not passed beyond
the wild condition of the frontier.

But, if the communities of that region, under the system
of slavery, can be justly reproached with a failure to
make use of their material advantages to the degree that
was rightly expected of them, there was one department
of production which was not open to this accusation.
The Southern States could, without the smallest presumption,

claim that the members of their ruling class, in vigor
of character, in firmness and clearness of purpose, in sheer
ability to lead and to govern, had no superiors,—perhaps
no equals,—on the American continent. It was not the
hogshead of tobacco, or the bale of cotton, or the bushel
of wheat, or the barrel of maize, that made up the real
contribution of those States to the civilization of that day.
It was rather that imposing body of citizens who, trained
by a combination of influences to command and set the
example, gave their own tone to the society of the South,
instilled their own ideals into its whole structure, moulded
and guided its political destinies, and stood forth, before
the eyes of the world, as its truest exponents and most
loyal spokesmen. These were the men whose ranks furnished
all the higher officers of the Confederate armies;
and it was also they, or their sons, who,—loftily placed
socially as they were,—formed no unimportant section of
the regular line. It was the members of this class, educated
to leadership under the social and economic system
of the plantation, and made still more virile and unflinching
by the dangers and hardships of the war, who rescued
their native soil from the ruin that accompanied reconstruction.
The two training schools,—each so different
in nature from the other, and yet both so searching in their
tests of character,—had fitted them to cope successfully
with the appalling conditions that followed the collapse
of their cause. There was no great department of life
in the Southern States, after the close of hostilities, which
was not confronted with actual or threatened destruction;
and it was only extraordinary manliness of spirit, seasoned
by harsh experience, and expressing itself in an invincible
determination to subdue and direct circumstances, that
enabled them in time to restore their communities to stability
and prosperity.

The University of Virginia had always been a mirror
which faithfully reflected the varied influences that had
given such a salient individuality to the Southern people.
And never was this fact more perceptible, or more impressive,
than after the end of the war, when the South
was in the first unsettled stage of an involuntary peace.
With the exception of Schele, Boeck, and McGuffey,—the
last, one of the most stalwart and masterful figures in
that entire company,—the members of its Faculty were
Southerners or Englishmen by birth. But Mallet and
Holmes, as well as McGuffey and Schele, had been so
long associated with the governing forces of Southern
life that they were not to be distinguished in the smallest
degree, either in sentiment or sympathy, from their
colleagues of Southern nativity; namely, Cabell, Gildersleeve,
Davis, Smith, Minor, Maupin, Venable, Southall,
Howard and Peters.

These men were not simply teachers after the normal
type. They were true representatives of that Southern
citizenship which was so firmly and courageously facing
the stern realities of reconstruction. At least three
among them,—Venable, Peters, and Gildersleeve,—had
been seasoned soldiers in the field. Venable had served
on the staff of General Lee, and was regarded by that
great commander as one of his most trustworthy officers.
Peters had been the colonel of a regiment under
Early in the arduous campaign in the Valley, which
terminated so unfortunately, in consequence of the
shrinkage in the Confederate resources. Gildersleeve
had been maimed for life in battle, during the same excursion,
while discharging the duties of aid on the staff
of General Gordon. Mallet, by his profound knowledge
of chemistry, had contributed, in an extraordinary
degree, to the efficiency of the ordnance department.

Davis and Cabell had shown equal skill and fidelity in the
military hospitals. Peters, Venable, and Mallet were
not members of the Faculty at the close of the war,
but they were elected to professorships so soon afterwards
that they became as influential in restoring the
University to prosperity as those of their colleagues who
had never disrupted their connection with the institution.
Holcombe, who had been an eloquent member of the
Confederate Congress, and Bledsoe, an assistant secretary
of war, failed to be restored to their former chairs,
apparently only because they took no prompt steps to
assert their right. Coleman, as we have seen, had died
of wounds received on the field of battle.

Something more than mere abstruse learning, something
besides pedagogic skill, was called for in a Faculty
that had to grapple with the perplexing problems of the
University at that depressing hour. Knowledge of the
languages, of science, of medicine, of law, of engineering,
was not sufficient for the conquest of all those
crowding difficulties; nor was distinguished service in the
professorial chair through a protracted series of peaceful
years. Firmness and loftiness of character that commanded
the respect of all men; shrewd intelligence that
could direct the most intricate business affairs; a power
of diplomacy that could disarm the antagonism that
still lingered about legislative halls, in spite of the burden
of common sorrows and the memory of common glories;
the ability to persuade and conciliate, which reconciled
and permanently secured the support of conflicting interests;
the deep-seated, the farsighted patriotism which
looked upon all their efforts as designed as much for the
restoration of their stricken land as of their beloved institution,
—such were some of the qualities, such was the
spirit which has conferred a special distinction upon the

Faculty of the Period of Reconstruction, who successfully
undertook to revive every function of the University,
and to set in motion all the benignant influences
that were essential to its continued existence and future
prosperity.

They were to demonstrate even more conspicuously
than the Faculty of 1895 the fact that the men who occupy
chairs in a higher seat of learning, can, in an emergency,
show not only the justest comprehension of the
best methods of surmounting practical obstacles, but the
promptest energy in carrying those methods into action.
The difficulties created by the upshot of the great war
were more serious than those which followed the destruction
by the great fire, but the manner in which
both groups were overcome reflected honor upon the
practical capacity of the professors who had to contend
with them and settle them. Nor was the credit which is
to be awarded these men, whether they belonged to 1865
or to 1895, the smaller, because, in both instances, they
were sustained by the cooperation of able and zealous
Boards of Visitors.