University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XVII

Incidents and Pleasures of Session 1876-77

As predicted, many of us students and clubmates met during
vacation in Philadelphia (Centennial), where hours were
spent together pleasantly in seeking new and rehashing old
experiences. Personally I was there at four different periods,
consequently had abundant time for other than mere sightseeing.
During the first—middle of July—my Fraternity's
Annual Convention convened, under the courtesy of the chapter
at the University of Pennsylvania, at the Amateur Drawing
Rooms, where for a week much deliberation and good fellowship
prevailed, as under that roof assembled members from
every section of our country, to establish a closer intimacy,
especially with those residing in and around that great city of
brotherly love.

Two of my young Delaware friends decided to enter the
University that fall—Cooper and Williams—and for the latter,
according to request, he being very quiet and companionable,
I secured the room adjoining mine—that formerly occupied
by Davis. His father was then a member of Congress
—the only one from Delaware, but her full quota—and as
they were in Washington the last of September the son joined
me at the Pennsylvania depot on the 29th, so that he might
not be alone on his maiden trip to Charlottesville.

From the beginning of the session one familiar personage
was missed greatly—Professor Gildersleeve—whose presence,
somehow or another, we innately fancied necessary for the
completeness of the University circle. His pavilion was now
occupied by Dr. Page and his chair by Professor Price, so
nothing remained to disclose the personality except a beautiful
memory of his worth and work—that which he left behind
in the fullest abundance. His successor—much the smaller
physically—came to us with a highly creditable reputation for
erudition and scholarship, that which he notably evidenced in
his inaugural address to the full satisfaction of the many
present.

In the early days there was one initiation into the "Sons
of Confucius," Charles Steele acting as the "Great Recorder."
The ceremony took place on the plot of ground between
the wood and road beyond the baseball grounds, this
side of the cemetery, and was attended by some in oriental
costumes, and many bearing fire-brands, tin-pans, horns, bells,
etc., all manipulated energetically so as to produce a grand
pandemonium. This was the only installation into the Order
I ever witnessed, for which I am thankful, as it was a grave
piece of misconceived fun since it misplaced the innocent dupe
before his college-mates, giving him a prominence—stigma—
which he never could evade or unload, be his after career ever
so creditable and enviable.

The interest and enthusiasm that pervaded our country over
the Tilden and Hayes campaign found a hearty response among
us students, as nearly every one was in full expectation that
their standard bearers—Tilden, Hendricks and Reform—
would come out winners. From the beginning of the session
to election day, Nov. 7th, much discussion of possibilities was
indulged and great eagerness was shown in the political meetings
of Charlottesville and elsewhere. While our studies
were not neglected seriously, we kept in the knowledge of our

party literature, ever mindful of the pending upheaval through
which we were passing. We recognized that the colored element,
including our waiters, with an occasional exception like
Tom Barbour, was dead opposed to our hopes and way of
thinking. But in spite of this and their great numbers we at
all times expressed ourselves boldly and defiantly, as though
they did not exist among us—a fact that tended to inspire and
perpetuate anything other than a kindly feeling towards us.
Nor did this antagonism pass with the election day, as at
once thereafter the validity of the vote of Louisiana, South
Carolina and Florida was challenged, and several weeks
elapsed before the contest was narrowed down to a possible
electoral vote of 185 for Mr. Hayes and 184 for Mr. Tilden,
which in turn was followed by the appointment of an "Electoral
Commission" that did not pass final judgment until
March 2, 1877. During the first fortnight of this period of
uncertainty there was much unrest in the University territory
between the two races. We students would go down town
every night to visit the telegraph and newspaper offices, in
search of the latest and most reliable news, and in open speeches
proclaim to our willing hearers the special reports that had
come direct to each of us from our respective States. It was
in one of these extemporaneous efforts that my friend and
fellow State-man, Cooper, who, always lisping a little, innocently
filled us with laughter when, in defence of Delaware's
attitude towards the South during the Civil War, he gave expression
to that afterwards much quoted sentence of alliteration,
from its numerous words beginning with the letter "s"
—Who did not send a single soldier to subjugate her Southern
sister States.

Our coming and going was always in crowds, most of us
being armed with a reliable, sure-triggered pistol. These
precautions were considered necessary for our own protection,
as the negroes were much more insolent than usual, and lay
in ambush with deadly weapons to resent anything from us
they might regard as insult to their people or political creed.
More than once I have seen in the dim-lit hovels, slightly remote
from the roadside, colored men prostrate upon their
stomachs on a bed or couch pulled near the window raised
sufficient to admit the passing of their guns, ready to be discharged,

simply awaiting the least provocation in the form
of some slight demonstration from us of the cause we espoused,
as hurrahing for Tilden, Hendricks and Reform. I shall
never forget two or three nights when we students had to
call out the "Monticello Guards" to escort us back to the
University, as upon reaching the triangle at the brow of Vinegar
Hill we found awaiting us hundreds of negroes armed with
various kinds of deadly weapons, including good-sized pieces
of macadam-rock, of which loads had been dropped on the
south side of the road for repairing purposes, and over which
they stood high guard. On one of these nights, just as we
were opposite this great crowd, firing began, and, being on
the inside, I leaped over the seven-foot closely boarded fence,
only to grope my way through back yards and by-streets
to the Farish Hotel, where I spent the night out of harm's
way. On the moment I considered "discretion the better
part of valor," and, rather than continue to face a wild, excited
negro mob, with no value of their own or others' lives,
preferred to seek safety where I "might live to fight another
day."

On Sunday night, Nov. 19th, Rev. William M. Dame, of
Alexandria, delivered the first sermon of the session before
the Y. M. C. A., having as a text, "For even hereunto were
ye called: because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an
example, that ye should follow his steps." He was a very acceptable
speaker, said to resemble Gen. Lee, and the large
audience highly appreciated his management of the theme.

Of those who completed their University course the preceding
June, three had been close companions: Davis was to
engage in business—mercantile and banking—with his
father, and feeling the need of a few months' contact with a
business college had sought Eastman's at Poughkeepsie, N. Y.
Wilson, in spite of holding a civil engineering degree, had
entered upon teaching, with the intention of posting up along
certain desirable lines, while Wright had gone abroad to perfect
himself in modern languages. These young men were
sound morally and mentally—delightful associates and sincere
friends—with whom a correspondence continued throughout
the session, indeed, much longer, until the activities of our
business lives, along with newly established relations, precluded
such enjoyment. To show the kindly spirit existing between
us extracts may be taken from their earlier letters:

Yours of the 12th, to hand, and although overrun with duties must
hasten an acknowledgement of reciprocal friendly feeling. So much would
I like to grasp your hand again; so much would I like to talk to and be
with you as in days gone-by. . . . Success to you. Stick to the right
and to principle in all that you do. Ask the blessing of Providence, and
doing the very best you can, rest assured of success. Above all, Dear
Friend, let not the cares of this world and the pressure of worldly duties
keep you from securing an interest in that inheritance prepared for the
Children of Christ. I write to you as to a brother, for I know you will
listen to me kindly. Tell dear old Harding that my love for him is
sincere and warm. Pleasant was our association, and my heart yearns
toward him. Oh, that I could sit with him, as we once did, and drink in
the information and sweetness with which his conversation was replete.
. . . May the blessings of Heaven be upon you. Sincerely and affectionately,

I have to-day been looking over some old notes in my chemistry
notebook, and came across your writing and name, which set me to
thinking about you and wishing to see you, so I have determined to do the
next best thing—write and inquire how everything is going with you?
I would so much like to hear about some of our mutual friends—Davis,
Harding, John Harris, etc. . . . My school pays me about one hundred

dollars per month with a likelihood of more next year, but its demands
do not suit me, so I shall get into something nearer my direct
line. . . . I expect you have frequently used the polariscope or saccharimeter;
if so kindly give me some hints about its use, especially all
you know in determining units of sugar and molasses. Have studied
up the subject and think I understand it, but nevertheless would like to
have your views, as you might have something new. Also tell me a good
book giving details of sugar manufacture. . . . Would like to meet
you in St. Louis next August. You might go there and after joining the
Scientific Association return home free of any railroad expenses. . . .

Write soon to your true friend.

Your much welcomed and appreciated letter received a week ago, and
you cannot imagine how much I enjoyed its reading, for when finished
I felt as though it had been a delightfully long chat. How I long to be
with you all and especially in the Chapter Room. I am so glad our
Fraternity is in such a flourishing condition, and I hope it will never have
to go through a year like that of 1875-76. True we brought her out
with flying colors, but you know the trouble we had. . . . My German
life is an improvement in some ways over that at the University, especially
in rooms and board. Living here, however, is so different from that in
the States, as Irish potatoes and pork seem the prevailing diet—that which
at first came rather rough. But having become accustomed to this, now
I relish a dish of potatoes no less than a German. As a nation I don't
consider them clean or wise in many of their customs. Thus boys and
girls are strictly kept apart, enjoying little in common, as walking, riding,
talking, etc. When engaged it is published and then you may go with
your fiancée unguarded—even kiss her before the "Old Folks." Engagements
here mean marriage and they are seldom broken. I told Mrs.
Lauenstein that her niece was very pretty only to make her horrified, thus
one must be guarded even in paying deserved compliments. . . .
Luneburg is a very old place with attractive environs, and its people,
like those throughout this land, have no respect for Sunday—stores being
open and business never ceasing. They consume much beer, I even indulging
an occasional glass, but the working classes take considerable
rum. Christmas, which I am glad to say is over, has a greater recognition
than with us. It began on Christmas Eve with every household illuminating
their Christmas tree—that which all have, the poor as well as the
rich. And they think there are no trees outside of Germany—but how
mistaken, as even ours are much prettier. Christmas Day was jolly cold
—20 degrees below zero, Reaumur, how much in Fahrenheit I don't know.
Snow lay on the ground, but it was too cold for sleighing. I had three
invitations out, and managed to accept two. New Year's Night I attended
a supper where a number of young ladies were in attendance
with whom I spoke their language to my heart's content. I missed Massie's
good dinner—mine being the same as every day. There were no
fireworks, and although I enjoyed my German Christmas I decidedly
prefer our way of observing it. I had my first experience at a German
ball several nights ago. The ladies came with mamma, papa or brother,
and we gentlemen with beaver in hand met them in the dancing hall.
This beaver must be kept in the hand until beginning to dance—what a
foolish custom. We started with a polonaise—a walk round, in which all,
old and young entered; then came a waltz, at the rate of a mile a minute,

and after going around the room once I had to stop for a breathing
spell. I was so tired and others seemed like me. There were only two
square dances, the rest round. At supper I played escort to a blushing
girl—not eighteen but twenty-eight, after which repast came three waltzes
and the cotillon—our German. The girls cannot compare to ours, as I
did not see one that I called pretty. The nobility here are distinguished
by the prefix Von, and I have had the honor, if it may so be considered,
of dancing and talking with many of that coterie. I am afraid you
fellows are taking too much calico, but hope when the time comes for
studying you will give the former a rest. . . . I trust the performance
of your minstrel troup was good—tell me all about it in your next. I
suppose Fawsett still plays funny for East Range. He is a great fellow.
Give abundant love to all our companions—Harding, Davis, Campbell,
Shawhan, Barringer, Shackelford, Turner, Marshall, John and Tate Harris.
Hope to be able to give you a German letter next time I write.
Answer soon, telling me all the news.

On Sunday night, January 28th, Rev. T. D. Witherspoon
delivered in the Public Hall the Y. M. C. A. sermon from the
text, "But my servant, Caleb, because he had another spirit
with him, and hath followed me faithfully, him will I bring
into the land whereunto he went; and his seed shall possess
it." As on other similar occasions our former chaplain was
received with a hearty welcome, his address being highly
appreciated for its words of wisdom so beautifully expressed.

The early spring-like weather stimulated many students to

indulge in out-of-door sports, especially baseball, of which
during February and March there was much promiscuous
practicing. In the latter month a permanent club was organized
and thereafter the process of weeding and selecting the
best began to take definite shape. On March 31st, we met
defeat at the hands of the Charlottesville team—9 to 6—but
this served well to show our weak points and to impress the
necessity of their correction, as far more important games
were scheduled to follow.

Owing to so many diversions and influences the Literary
Societies this session seemed to suffer somewhat in popularity
and attendance, but the same kind of work continued only in
less degree. After the usual amount of campaigning and feverish
excitement the Final Presidents were elected: Jeff.,
April 7th, Mr. Benj. D. Whiteley, Md. Wash., April 28th, Mr.
Frank P. Farish, Va. The contestants for the medal and
oratorical houors were: Jeff.—Messrs. C. A. Culberson, C.
Denny, J. G. Garrison, A. G. Stuart, S. B. Woods; Wash.—
Messrs. J. F. Ellison, V. M. Potter, Junius Rochester, W. W.
Walker. The "Electoral Committee" of the Faculty after
some deliberation made the awards as follows: Jeff.—Medalist,
Mr. A. G. Stuart, Va.; Orator, Mr. C. A. Culberson,
Texas; Wash.—Medalist, Mr. J. F. Ellison, Va.; Orator,
Mr. Junius Rochester, Ky.

College rowing and regattas had become so popular and
universal abroad and at home that our students often lamented
the apparent absence with us of the two great essentials—water
and money—for encouraging the sport. However,
early in the year we were informed that at a meeting
of the New York Alumni Society a very generous minded
alumnus, Mr. Francis R. Rives, had expressed regret over
our students having made no effort in this direction and a
willingness to give material assistane should they ever so
determine. This thought was taken up seriously by us students,
and on March 20th, a committee of five—Messrs.
Lamb, L'Engle, Macfarland, Stuart, Thom—addressed a letter
to Mr. Rives, inquiring if he felt disposed to live up to
his reported offer, stating at the same time that upon careful
investigation they had found on the near-by Rivanna River
sufficient water for a racing course, and that the students

were eager to aid liberally in establishing a rowing club.
Four days thereafter Mr. Rives remitted a check of one thousand
dollars in a letter filled with kind expressions for the
proposed undertaking and the great good that might grow
therefrom. A circular letter was sent shortly afterwards to
all Alumni, stating the object in contemplation, what had already
been accomplished, and asking for their financial cooperation.
On April 17th, at a called meeting in the Jeff.
Hall, a permanent organization of the "Rives Boat Club"
was effected by the election of Mr. A. G. Stuart, President;
Mr. George D. Fawsett, Vice-President; Mr. J. C. Lamb,
Secretary; Mr. W. J. L'Engle, Treasurer. At the same time
a crew of four was selected—Messrs. DeCoursey W. Thom
(Captain), W. J. L'Engle, J. M. Macfarland, Charles Steele
—that went into immediate training, and shortly thereafter a
suitable boat-house was erected on the river's bank, a second
handed scull-racer procured and a new four-oared cedar gig
with sliding seats ordered. A challenge was dispatched to
Washington and Lee crews, expressing the desire that the
contest take place on neutral waters—James River at Lynchburg—but
upon this invitation being declined the Tobacco
City Club of Lynchburg, learning of our new adventure and
ambition for additional honors upon an hitherto untried sea,
extended a similar challenge to us—that which was accepted
for June 30th.

Near the close of session 1871-72, immediately preceding
my entrance to the University, two match games of baseball,
of more than passing interest, were played between Washington
and Lee and our own nines. That of May 8th, took
place on the Military Institute grounds, Lexington, being
won by our boys in the tenth inning, while that of six weeks
later, June 20th, was played on our grounds, out towards the
Cemetery, and resulted in defeat. A year later, spring of 1873,
these games were held in vivid memory, and gracefully accepted
to teach a wholesome lesson—that our nine must be of
worthy material if to serve the good reputation of ourselves
and the University. As my room then was on Dawson's Row,
not far from the grounds, I remember distinctly that considerable
practicing went on during all the pleasant weather of
the early months, myself often participating, and that later
several contests took place with minor teams. But as a matter
of fact we believed ourselves at no time sufficiently trained to
cope successfully with such a nine as we fancied Washington
and Lee possessed, so it was regarded as puerile to think of
giving or accepting challenges in that direction. Indeed, for
several years right here an innocuous desuetude seemed to
take hold of our athletic contingent, militating against the

doing of very much meriting comment—the only event being
that of May 14th, 1875, when the Washington and Lee boys
came over to be defeated by a score of 27 to 21.

Mindful of these results, and regarding themselves in the
spring of 1877 possibly a whit stronger than before, the Washington
and Lee nine issued another challenge to our club,
including its usual contingent of supporters and rooters—the
game to be played at Lexington. This being my last year at
the University, and knowing well the personnel of the team,
accounted for me making a bold effort to realize the hopes of
years—a visit to that historic spot. I feel sure that no student
ever entered the University without considerable knowledge
of at least three towns bearing that name—those of Massachusetts,
Kentucky and Virginia.

My first geography, as with many others, pictured and
described the Natural Bridge as one of the greatest curiosities
of nature in the world, giving as it did the name of the county
of Virginia in which it was located—Rockbridge—whose chief
town, Lexington, named after the one in Massachusetts, was
the seat of the county as well as of Washington College and
the Virginia Military Institute. To the preface of my physical
geography was signed not only M. F. Maury, but also
Lexington, Virginia, in consequence of which the names became
indelibly impressed at an early age. At the approaching
time to enter college every thoughtful youth in those days
secured various catalogues, by whose comparison he hoped to
form a preference, if that had not already been determined
by some other cause or circumstance. Unfortunately the
North and South still were divided widely in sentiment, and
young men sought their educational training according to
environment and feelings, so that the southern inclined students
became more or less acquainted on paper with the workings
of the Lexington institutions. Personally I had a trite
family episode and youthful experience that fixed Lexington
strongly in my mind. An only remaining single aunt, Frances
(Fanny) Reynolds, was married Oct. 4, 1870, to Mr. William
L. Clough, a gentleman then about forty, who had seen three
years of active Confederate service. During those days in
Delaware all wedding trips were directed northward—no one
considering the South a desirable territory for a pleasurable

honeymoon—but this wise couple planned from the first to be
exceptional, to do not as others—by spending three weeks in
southern travel. My uncle Luther (her eldest brother) and
wife came from Baltimore to attend the wedding festivities
and remained thereafter a few days to visit, according to custom,
other brothers, sisters and friends, and when ready to
turn homeward I, much to my delight, was invited to share the
vacant carriage seat—that to which my parents readily consented,
thinking the absence of two weeks from school not
serious, as upon my return an industrious effort would make
the necessary amends.

We left my parents' farm, Robinson's Plantation, early
Sunday morning, Oct. 9th,—a day bright and beautiful with
roads in prime condition and horses seemingly inspired to cover
quickly the forty miles separating our destination, Oxford,
Maryland, near where on a fertile farm resided another uncle,
Thomas G. Reynolds, with whom we were to spend the night,
and where, as planned, we arrived at 3 o'ck, that afternoon.
Next day about noon we boarded the steamer Kent, team and
all, for Baltimore, reaching there shortly after dark.

The newspapers day by day gave accounts of Gen. Lee's
indisposition, while those of Thursday, 13th, were in mourning
lines and contained little else than that pertaining to the great
Commander, whose character, deeds, motives, ambitions, disappointments,
religious tendencies, manly probity and example
they not only discussed and commended, but caused them to
be by all the leading subjects of conversation. In fact the Civil
War period and its experiences had a revivification, being made
to exist as in the yesterday; buildings, large and small, throughout
the city were draped profusely in black, entwining frequently
in modest relief the Union and Confederate emblems—
indeed making Baltimore Street appear almost its entire length
a veritable palled avenue; business seemingly took a partial
rest, and people went their accustomed ways not with usual
energy and rush but in a spirit of sober meditation and humility.
On Saturday all activity ceased, causing one to imagine
the funeral taking place in our midst, and I was so impressed
with passing events as to retain the papers of that
week, which to this day are well preserved. None was issued
then on Sunday, so a short extract from Monday's Gazette

(17th.), the first following the burial at Lexington, may serve
to convey the expressed sentiment of the place and time:
"Never in the history of Baltimore has there been an exhibition
of more earnest grief than has been inspired by the death of
General Robert Edmond Lee. As soon on Saturday morning
—the day of his funeral at Lexington—as the action of the
two Branches of the City Council was known, the flags on
the public buildings and shipping were hoisted at half-mast,
and, before noon, many of the principal houses on Baltimore,
Charles, Hanover and other streets were appropriately draped
in mourning, evincing the sorrow and grief which the death
of that noble patriot and Christian gentleman had spread
throughout the length and breadth of the city. Those who
shared with him the perils and privations of war walked the
streets with heads bowed down and countenances saddened
by the loss of one who had so often led them to victory and
had spoken to them words of consolation after they had fallen.
At noon the bells of the city tolled solemnly, indicating that
the mortal remains of General Lee were about to be consigned
to mother earth. Throughout the entire day there was a gloom
over the faces of men, and strong men wept that one so great
and good has been called from earth, where his noble character
and exalted virtues made him the beloved of all."

Memorial meetings were held in every southern city and
town, where resolutions of respect and sorrow were adopted,
and appropriate eulogies pronounced by judges, jurists, generals,
and others who knew and loved the illustrious dead,
while to Lexington hundreds journeyed to take part in the
funeral obsequies—Richmond appealing in vain for his body
to rest finally in her favorite Hollywood.

Enough when it is said that each and every phase of honor
paid the great man had a full corresponding space in the
papers, which from careful reading inclined my mind to associate
with General Lee a certain divinity and infallibility, and
to his resting place, Lexington, an unusual degree of interest
and respect. In entering the University two years later it
was not likely that any of this sentiment had abated, but on the
contrary that it had either remained constant or become
strengthened. One thing certain—I had not been at the University
many months before recognizing that our student-body

knew of and appreciated thoroughly the deserved popularity of
Washington and Lee University and the Virginia Military
Institute—considering them ideally located at Lexington, in
the beautiful "Valley of Virginia," to whose fame and upbuilding
they had been prominent factors. I also observed that
from both of those institutions students every year came to
us, if not for higher, at least for specific training, and while
these were loyal to their newer seat of learning they possessed
sufficient manhood to not forget or seriously disparage the
older, where possibly most of them first saw the true light
of an education—a sentiment that went far towards strengthening
an already good reputation. I remember one or two in
their comparisons inclined to make our University suffer,
with what justice I was unable to determine intelligently, but
there was never any contention concerning the relative merits
or standing of the various institutions in the State. All
contributed students to the University, and as the converse
was not true we somehow intuitively accepted our institution
to be the universally recognized head, as Mr. Jefferson designed,
of the State's educational system, and like of old, "all
roads lead to Rome," so all schools in Virginia were more or
less preparatory to her University. As a fact, we had too serious
troubles of our own to waste time and thought upon
that subject, being convinced that every institution, large and
small, high and low, played equally an important part in the
great system, that there was no intentional overlapping or absorbing
the province or functions of one another, that each
endeavored to do effective work in preparing men for the
greater walk of life, and that whether they alone, or in conjunction
with the University, produced "shining lights," all
were willing to claim with pride the creditable product as a
common inheritance. We had the impression somehow that
after West Point the Virginia Military Institute—the West
Point of the South—was the best military school in this country,
and that in Virginia next to the University came Washington
and Lee, and here the matter rested defying and needing
no controversy.

Many facts existed about Lexington and its literati of which
most of us were ignorant: I do not recall a familiarity then
with its somewhat classic nom de plume, "Athens of the Old

Professor John W. Mallet, LL.D., F.R.S., at forty-five
1832—

See page 404

FACING 344

Dominion," with its educational jewels and economic settings;
or to any extent with the forceful and significant writings in
prose and verse of Margaret J. Preston, the estimable wife of
the distinguished Military Institute professor, John T. L. Preston,
and the sister of the first Mrs. "Stonewall" Jackson,
both ladies being daughters of Dr. George Junkin, President
of Washington College, 1846-1861, the immediate predecessor
of General Lee. Nor did we know much of Gen. Francis
H. Smith, Superintendent of the Military Institute since 1840,
except to consider him a great man, and to bear the same name
as our beloved Professor of Natural Philosophy, the middle
letter, however, of the one representing Henney, of the other
Henry; nor of General R. E. Rhodes, the noted professor in
the Military Institute with "Stonewall" Jackson, both sacrificing
lives in the Confederate service; nor of Matthew Fontaine
Maury, save through his geographies which were then
reaping deserved popularity and praise; nor of General G. W.
Custis Lee, a man of such distinguished parts that Mr. Davis
would have placed him in command of the Army of Northern
Virginia in the event of accident to its great commander—except
that he was President of Washington and Lee University,
the successor and son of General Robert E. Lee; nor of Rev.
William S. White, for years a resident of Albemarle County,
where he contributed successfully to the proper development
of youths committed to his charge, ministered with self-sacrificing
Christian spirit, as did the "Good Shepherd of old," to
the betterment of his country mission, acted twice as chaplain
to our University, presided over the Presbyterian Church in
Charlottesville, and then, shifting his field of labor to the
Church of similar faith in Lexington, became the religious
companion and adviser of "Stonewall" Jackson, preaching
his funeral, performing the final solemn rights at the Lexington
church and cemetery, and assisting in similar services
over General Lee at the College chapel; nor of Rev. William
N. Pendleton, the founder of the Episcopal High School, Alexandria,
since 1853 rector of Grace Episcopal Church, Lexington—where
General Lee held membership and worshiped—
during the Civil War a Confederate Brigadier-General, and
with three exceptions in every battle fought by the Army of
Northern Virginia from first Manassas to Appomattox, where
with Generals John B. Gordon and James Longstreet he was
appointed to negotiate the terms of surrender, after which he
returned to his Lexington Church, became the social and
spiritual companion of General Lee throughout his later years,
reading at his funeral the Episcopal service—the only sermon
of the occasion—and two years later officiated at the final ceremony
of Commodore Maury; nor of Professors Nelson,
Joynes, Kirkpatrick, Humphries, White, Johnston and Tucker,
save to accept them as standing high at and from home—
faithful teachers of Washington and Lee. Even though some
of these and other detailed facts came to many of us late in our
University career, or not until that had closed, yet none while
there, and that from the very beginning, failed to realize a few
manifestations of the "fortune of fate" against our University.
Of this from our selfish standpoint two notable examples
created in our disingenuous youthful minds a certain degree
of covetousness, pardonable if not laudable, against the Lexington
institutions—the one for her Lee, the other for her
Jackson. Indeed, I do not believe there were many of us who
failed to appreciate as unfortunate the Board of Visitors letting
escape when presented the proffered opportunities of connecting
those great men with our University—certainly as "a tide
in the affairs of men, omitted." Jackson made no secret of
his ambition when he affirmed: "I desire to be transferred
to my State University, as I regard it the duty of every man
to seek the highest cultivation of his powers, and the widest
sphere of activity within his reach."

The untimely death of our gifted professor of mathematics,
Edward H. Courtenay, at the University, December 21, 1853,
opened, as Jackson thought, a possible vista to his cherished
promotion. Professor Alexander L. Nelson, for the past fifty
years chief of the mathematical department at Washington
and Lee University, then one of our promising Alumni, was
selected to take charge temporarily of Professor Courtenay's
course for the remainder of the session, June 1854, when the
Board of Visitors would elect a permanent successor. The
applicants were numerous, and among them Jackson, then
thirty years of age, whose application was accompanied with
many letters from persons of distinction testifying to his competent
scholarship, energy, devotion to duty, courage, etc.

Upon entering the Faculty of the Military Institute, July, 1851,
Jackson declared to a friend: "I know war is my true vocation,
and my constant desire in life will ever be the career of
the soldier, and I am only accepting this scholastic occupation
during peace in order to enjoy a continued practical acquaintance
with the art of the artillerist." When it became known
that he wished to be associated permanently with the University,
this same friend said to him: "Have you not departed
here from what you told me, upon coming to this Military
School, was the purpose of your life?" Whereupon this reply
came: "I avow that my views have changed; while I still
believe I am adapted specially to the soldier's life, yet my convictions
concerning war as a pathway to distinction have
greatly been modified, and I would now by no means accept a
commission in any war the Government might wage, irrespective
of its morality. If my country was assailed in such a way
as to justify an appeal to defensive war in God's sight, I should
desire to return to military life; but unless this happens I will
continue a simple citizen." Jackson's hopes for the University
professorship were not realized—the appointment falling to
Albert Taylor Bledsoe, professor of mathematics in the University
of Mississippi—but he repined not the least the failure,
rather sanctified the slight disappointment to the better training
of a liberal and manly character. Professor Bledsoe only
taught seven years at the University, and although the possessor
of a powerful intellect, abstract and concrete knowledge,
mathematical and otherwise, his mind was more philosophical
than practical, so that the latter side of instruction did not
appeal to him strongly—that which was just the opposite with
Jackson. Mindful of how events have shaped themselves
there is little doubt but that Jackson would have given the
University an inheritance of greater value—an asset of permanent
endurance and perpetual good.