University of Virginia Library

II. The Presidency—Suggested After 1825

Although Jefferson himself had been constrained to
acknowledge that the disorders among the students in
1824 were due to the lax system of government which
he had devised for their control, there is no reason to
suppose that he ever for a moment expected that the
appointment of a President would prevent the recurrence
of such turbulence because it would strengthen the
hand of the University's police power. It is true that
he favored the adoption of sterner regulations, and
the exercise of more vigilant supervision, but, in his
judgment, the existing chairman of the Faculty would
be quite as competent as the proposed President in discharging
these more vigorous executive functions.

Chapman Johnson, as we have already mentioned,
did not share this opinion. Above all, General Cocke,
who, like Johnson, was a man of affairs, and accustomed
to think sturdily for himself, even when he stood in the
very presence of the sage, had arrived at a different
conclusion. "My observation at the University and
daily reflection," he said to Cabell in the month of
February, 1826, "more and more convince me that we
shall never have an efficient government there without
a Head. I believe that the majority of the professors
are convinced of it." And in the following July, only a
few days after the news of Jefferson's death had reached
him, he wrote to the same colleague on the Board, "I
hear that there is a suspension of the lectures at the
University by some of the professors for a fortnight,
and by some for a month. This is a specimen of our

No Head Government." The session, at this time, was
so arranged as to extend through the entire summer,
and the discontinuance of any of the recitations was
contrary to the expressed provisions of the enactments.

But neither Chapman Johnson nor General Cocke, in
spite of their great ability and wide personal influence,
was able to shake the stability of that administrative
machinery which Jefferson had created. The original
rule requiring rotation in the chairmanship might be
abrogated, but the chairmanship itself, consecrated by
the reputation of its creator, and clothed with that
conservative glamour which comes into existence with
the progress of time, stood firmly amid all the fluctuations
in the pecuniary fortunes of the institution, and
amid all those wild commotions which so often destroyed
its peace. On rare occasions, when a feeling of desperation
would sweep over the Visitors, in consequence
of these disturbances, some one among them would
vehemently suggest the panacea of a new executive
office, with far more radical powers. "The Board,"
exclaimed Andrew Stevenson, in June, 1841, "must do
something about the Presidency. We can't get along
without a President. The more I have reflected on the
subject, the more thoroughly I am convinced of its importance.
The experiment should be made, and the
sooner the better." These were almost precisely the
words which the equally impatient and the equally
practical Cocke had used, under the same provocation;
and it may be taken for granted that he had not changed
his opinion.

Four years later, when the University had only
recently been convulsed by a riot of extraordinary
violence, the dissatisfaction with the existing system of
government caused a reversion to the thought of the

Presidency as a possible means of assuring a condition
of perfect quietude, without these discreditable interludes
of disorder. In June, 1845, in anticipation of the annual
meeting of the Board of Visitors, Professor William
B. Rogers informed his brother Henry by letter that
new schemes of administration would probably be
broached when the members of that body assembled in
July. The one that was most frequently talked of, and
apparently the one that was most popular, he said, was
the conversion of the chairmanship into a permanent
office, or what was to amount to the same thing, into
the Presidency. "Every one has his nostrum for the
college evils," he remarked rather drily and wearily,
"and this seems to be in great favor just now." Only
a few members of the Faculty, however, thought that
the creation of this office would remove that "want of
uniformity of administration" which was supposed to
be at the bottom of the malign conditions within the
precincts now causing so much uneasiness.

The Richmond Whig, which, as we have seen, had
so often acidly criticised the management of the
University's affairs in the past, threw the weight of its
influence in the scale of establishing the Presidency.
"The advantages of the office," it said, "were obvious.
The Visitors, aware that the incumbent will hold his
office for an indefinite period, will select no one but one
whose talents, probity, and capacity for controlling and
directing youth have been tested by experience. The
President, by remaining long in his position, will acquire
a thorough knowledge of the disposition and nature of
young men, and the laws necessary for their discipline."

That this reasoned opinion was shared by the Board
of Visitors was clearly indicated by the instructions
which they gave to their executive committee on the

occasion of the meeting in July,—this committee was
requested to draw up a report upon the advisability of
bestowing upon the professor who should be chosen for
the new chair of history and literature all the powers
usually vested in the office of President. It is possible
that this action was taken by the Board under the influence
of a suggestion which had been recently made by
the Society of Alumni at their annual meeting. On that
occasion, the latter had, by formal resolution, declared
themselves in favor of conferring on some member of
the Faculty, of proven qualifications, all the executive
powers of the institution, and then reelecting him, from
year to year, as long as he should continue to show the
necessary ability, assiduity, and fidelity. They recommended
that he should be entitled the "President of
the University."

Dr. James L. Cabell, writing to his uncle, Joseph C.
Cabell, in January, 1846, about six months afterwards,
suggested that James M. Mason, then conspicuous in
political life, and destined to become more prominent
still during the period of the Confederacy, should be
chosen for the office, if the Board should decide to create
it. R. M. T. Hunter, who was a colleague of Mason
in Congress, having heard that the future incumbent of
the projected chair of history and literature was also to
discharge the duties of President, and was to be known
by that title, recommended Caleb Cushing, the distinguished
publicist of Massachusetts, for both positions.
"Whether he would take the chair without the Presidency,
I know not," he said to a member of the Board.
"You propose Mason, and I most cordially concur.
If he would take the place, he would make the best
President I know of."

While these exchanges of views and recommendations

were going on, Professor William B. Rogers had been
inquiring privately of his brother Henry, then residing
in Boston, as to how far the experience of Harvard
College touching its Presidency would justify the
University of Virginia in imitating that institution by
creating the same office for its own administration.
What were the advantages of that form of government?
What were the disadvantages? Such were the principal
questions which Henry Rogers asked of President
Quincy. "I deem the functions of the President," was
the reply, "of the utmost relief to the Faculty of
Harvard. He has no duties as instructor, but his great
business is to overlook the conduct of the young men,
and, by timely interference, suppress bad habits, detect
delinquencies, and administer reproof and punishment in
all instances in which he could do so apart from the
Faculty."

It will be recalled, that, after the riot of 1845, a
legislative committee, appointed during the first following
session of the General Assembly, visited the University
of Virginia in order to report upon the causes of the
late turbulence, and to suggest some means of preventing
its recurrence. In replying to a question
asked by this committee, the Visitors, very much disheartened,
acknowledged that there was some fundamental
defect in the institution's existing plan of government;
and that the only possible remedy for this defect which
they could think of was the appointment of a President
—a permanent executive,—who could be held responsible
for the strict discipline of the students, and for the
proper management of every other department of the
University's affairs. "His character," they said, "by
the singleness and elevation of his position, would be
identified with the character and good order of the institution."

Their recommendation won the approval of
the committee. Mr. Alexander was the spokesman,
and in the address which he delivered in the House of
Delegates on the committee's return to Richmond, he
counseled the early election of a President, as the only
officer who was likely to command respect for the University's
laws and enforce a lasting state of peace. What
kind of a man must he be? He must possess great
moral excellence, fine literary culture, and urbane and
conciliatory manners. A person of this character, asserted
Mr. Alexander, would, as President, be in a freer
position to inspire awe and compel submission in cases
of disorder than he would be as chairman of the Faculty,
for the time and energies of the latter,—as was
well known,—were chiefly taken up with discharging the
ordinary routine duties of his post. The change would,
it is true, be in the nature of an experiment, but it was an
experiment that had proved successful in other colleges.

The General Assembly must, at first, have been favorable
to the adoption of the change proposed, for Professor
George Tucker, who happened, at this time, to
be in Richmond,—perhaps in the character of a witness,
—informed Professor Gessner Harrison by letter that
the appointment of a President would soon be authorized;
and that the new office would be invested with
powers larger, not only than those of the chairmanship,
but also of the Faculty itself as a body.

Why was it that an innovation which was so generally
acknowledged to be desirable failed so signally so
long to become a part of the University's organic law?
There were two reasons for the falling down of the proposal.
First, the original suggestion had been made,
not for the purpose of increasing the purely material
prosperity of the institution,—which was the influence

that brought about the adoption of the change in 1904,
—but because it was thought to be the most effective
means of putting an end to the constantly recurring
turbulence among the students. There was always a
hope that each disorderly incident would be the last,
—at least on an important scale; and so long as this
expectation remained, the disposition was to put off the
subversion of the existing system, which, in its operation
in other provinces, had turned out to be so successful.
In the second place, there was ground for apprehending
that the addition of the Presidency to the other offices
would impose a burden of expense on the institution
which it would be unable to carry with ease. It was
anticipated that no competent person could be engaged
who would be willing to serve for an annual salary
smaller than twenty-five hundred dollars, which would
swallow up exactly one-sixth of the yearly revenue
to be granted by the General Assembly. Besides, at this
time, that body was requiring the University to give,
not only free tuition, but free board, to thirty-two State
students, at an annual cost to its treasury of thirty-five
hundred dollars. Pile the charges of the proposed
Presidency upon this gratuitous outlay, and the State
annuity would be practically cut down nearly one-half
of its total amount.

The Faculty, as a whole,—as might have been predicted,
—had little patience or sympathy with the advocates
of the suggested alteration, if, for no other reason,
because it would certainly diminish the authority and,
thereby, the importance of that body. Professor John B.
Minor, who, as we have seen, favored an addition to the
powers of the Faculty at the expense of the powers of the
Board of Visitors, voiced the conviction of his colleagues
when he said that the "benefits of the Jeffersonian

system of college government preponderated over the
disadvantages." And why? "It makes," he continued,
"the institution less dependent on a single man, generates
a more lively interest in its fortunes amongst all the
members of the Faculty, each of whom feels a due
share of responsibility for its success; and by exercising
all more or less in administration, fits them, to a greater
or less degree, for its duties."