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| A view of Thomas Jefferson's "Academical Village." |
As a double graduate of the University of Virginia (both as an undergraduate and law school) I have a strong allegiance to what Thomas Jefferson envisioned as his "academical village" - a village that on the 200th anniversary of its founding has grown beyond Jefferson's wildest dreams and gained the stature that he had so hoped for. Thus, it was with great interest that I read a long article in
The Atlantic that looks at Jefferson's efforts to found the University of Virginia ("UVA") and how in the shorter term it failed to achieve his goals of equaling the North's leading universities and educating a future generation that would do what Jefferson's generation had failed to do: end slavery. There are a number of ironies, not the least of which is that it was slave labor that built UVA - and most colleges in the South - and that many of the university's graduates took up the cause of the Confederacy to protect the institution of slavery. Nonetheless, the article is an interesting read (okay, perhaps not for some Virginia Tech alumni such as one "RL" who knows who he is and seemingly resents UVA with a passion - my reply: an inferiority complex can be such sad thing to witness) and give further insights to the always intriguing and very contradictory Jefferson. Here are article highlights:
Thomas Jefferson had a severe case
of New England envy. Though that region had formed the most consistent bloc of
opposition to him and his political party, almost from the beginning of his
time on the national stage, he admired many things about the place. First and
foremost, he looked with longing toward New England’s system of town meetings,
which gathered citizens together to discuss and make decisions about their
local communities. Jefferson considered this form of participatory democracy
crucial to building and maintaining a healthy republican society.
And
then there was the region’s profusion of educational institutions. Jefferson
admired those as well—even if he did not always agree with what was being
taught there. The hard work of democracy, including well-ordered community
decision making, required an educated populace. That is why he waged a campaign
for a system of publicly supported education in Virginia for many years. The
Revolution and the creation of the United States of America broadened
Jefferson’s vision in many ways, and by his mid-40s, he had taken to insisting that
the job of reforming Virginia—above all, ending slavery, a system in which he
participated—would fall to “the rising generation.” He and his fellows in the
revolutionary generation had done their service by founding a new country. It
was now up to the young people who inherited that legacy to carry the torch and
continue the advancement of what he considered Enlightenment values. But
Jefferson could not totally bow out of the quest to transform the place he was
born and had long thought of as his “country.” Improving
Virginia’s system of education, Jefferson believed, was the foundation upon
which progress would be built, and the foundation had to be laid properly. If
publicly supported primary and secondary schooling was not possible, he would
shift his focus. He filled his time in retirement writing and answering
letters, and playing host to the hordes of visitors who came up the mountain to
see him. But his main mission was planning for a university that would rival
the great universities in the North. In
Thomas Jefferson’s Education, Alan Taylor—the Thomas Jefferson
Foundation Professor of History at the University of Virginia—probes that
ambitious mission in clear prose and with great insight and erudition. He
explains why Jefferson found those educational choices so intolerable, what he
planned to do about the situation, and how his concerns and plans mapped onto a
growing sectional conflict that would eventually lead to the breakup of the
Union that Jefferson had helped create. Taylor
demonstrates that Jefferson, who had begged to enroll at “the College” at age
16, nurtured an ambivalence about William & Mary that eventually hardened
into distaste. His late-in-life accounts of his time there almost invariably
cast the school in a negative light. The campus was full of rowdy and haughty
young men who looked down on the townspeople of Williamsburg and were given to
drink, debauchery, and violence. Jefferson,
elected governor of Virginia in 1779, included improving William & Mary in
his plans for reform. At first, he was optimistic that the college could “train
a new generation of young men better than their elders, who had grown up under
British rule,” Taylor writes. Animated by the new spirit of republicanism and
by Enlightenment values, the young men would see the importance of science, question
orthodoxies—even religious ones—and work for greater participation by white
men of all classes in the governance of Virginia. . . . When his law teacher and friend, George
Wythe, resigned from his post at the college in 1789, Jefferson declared the
place dead to him: “It is over with the college.” Only a new university could
carry out the plans he had for Virginia. Taylor suggests that Jefferson may
have wanted not simply to replace William & Mary, but to destroy it. Jefferson’s sense of urgency about
creating a progressive institution of higher education in Virginia—one free
from religious orthodoxy and steeped in republican principles—grew stronger as
a deep political divide in the country formed along regional lines in the
1790s. The Federalists, who endorsed a strong central government, were largely
from the North. Jefferson’s Republicans, defenders of states’ rights and yeoman
farmers against what they saw as monarchical centralizers and predatory banking
practices, were largely from the South. Northern universities, in Jefferson’s
view, were hotbeds of Federalist influence. He wanted Virginia in the vanguard
of the new American nation.
Jefferson’s
pursuit of his educational vision was intensified and complicated by the
heightening tensions over western expansion in the first two decades of the
19th century. Northerners, in the main, thought that any new states entering
the Union should be free states, while Southerners fully expected to move west
with their system of plantation-based slavery fully intact. This conflict posed
a dilemma for Jefferson, whose self-identity and reputation included being
ardently antislavery. . . . Northerners’ charge that Southerners were
“hypocrites who preached democracy, while keeping slaves,” hit the author of
the Declaration of Independence and the master of Monticello particularly hard. The volatile
topic had to be left to some point in the future when the bulk of the
white population could muster the will to do away with it. That outsiders
would deign to tell Virginians what to do about this “domestic” institution was
a bridge too far, even for a well-known critic of slavery. The young men
trained at his university would help prepare their fellow Virginians to do what
needed to be done.
Fearing that a
dynamic North would eventually overtake his home state, which had been the most
populous and powerful in the Union but began to slip in the 19th century,
Jefferson was convinced that he was the perfect model for the new-age
republican citizen needed to preserve its ascendancy.
What
he believed, one day every enlightened person would believe: that republicanism
was inherently good, that organized religion should be viewed with skepticism,
that Jesus was not divine, that slavery was wrong. Given access to education,
people could learn to embrace all these views, thanks to their powers of
rationality and openness to new discoveries. As he explained to a
correspondent, his university would “be based on the illimitable freedom of the
human mind, for here we are not afraid to follow truth wherever it may lead,
nor to tolerate any error so long as reason is left free to combat it.” It
was a Jeffersonian project all the way. He designed the buildings of what he
called the “Academical Village” and determined the curriculum. The idea was
audacious—that a great university could be built in a rural location, drawing
professors from across the United States and Europe. “Mine, after all, may be
an Utopian dream,” he wrote, but it was one that he would “indulge in till I go
to the land of dreams, and sleep there with the dreamers of all past and future
times.” The University of Virginia, which
celebrates its 200th anniversary this year, was controversial from the start.
Was it really needed? Should the state pay money for what was, at base, an
elitist enterprise? Many were also upset that the university embodied what they
saw as Jefferson’s hostility to religion. It employed no professor of religion
or divinity. Where a chapel would normally stand was a rotunda, a showcase of
classical architecture, leading some to refer to the school as Jefferson’s
“infidel” university.
There
was a problem. A revolution had taken place since he had attended college, but
the students who came to Jefferson’s new university were just as violent, lazy,
and contemptuous of their supposed inferiors as his college peers had been.
Jefferson said that the institution would be based on the “illimitable freedom
of the human mind,” but his everyone-should-be-like-me approach did not take
into account the upbringings of the young men who would attend the university.
In Notes on the State of Virginia, he had written of slavery as a school
for “despotism” for white people, and he later blamed slavery for the social
and intellectual backwardness of Virginia. But
the Revolution had left slavery in place. It remained a training ground for
despots. Jefferson apparently believed that taking these young men out of their
homes and placing them away from a town or city, with professors as mentors,
would turn them into open-minded citizens—just what he thought had happened to
him in his college days. In
reality, gathering a group of young despots in one place brought a predictable
outcome: They became obstreperous and used their power to hurt the most
vulnerable people in their midst. Taylor is superb on the mistreatment of the
enslaved who worked at the university. Enslaved people had helped build the
school. Once it opened, they maintained the physical structures—repairing and
cleaning them—and served the professors, some of whom bought or hired their own
slaves from local slave owners. Jefferson forbade the students to do so. But
the young men had internalized the idea that they were “masters” and should be
able to hit or punish black people at will, whether or not those people
“belonged” to them. In
the end, the elite among the generation on which Jefferson pinned so much hope
were as impervious to their professors’ teachings as many of Jefferson’s
classmates had been. The lack of a chapel did not make them religious skeptics.
. . . . nstead of viewing slavery as a necessary evil that would die out, they
came to openly espouse the belief that slavery was a positive good, as the
prices of slaves rose with the nascent increase in cotton production in the
South. In these and other ways, the young men deviated far from the direction
in which Jefferson was certain “progress” inevitably would take them. Only
after many years, and much struggle, did the institution Jefferson created take
its place among the great universities of the nation and of the world. Much had
to be broken to get there: the slaveholders’ Union that existed before 1865;
the institution of slavery; the regime of Jim Crow, which kept black students
out of the school; and the principle of sex-segregated education. Ironically, given
Jefferson’s hopes for a regional resurgence, the transformation of the nation
at large was what helped his state-based dream of educational excellence come
true.
200 years after the University's founding, Virginia is again ascendant; it is once again among the wealthier states; and as of last week, it went "blue" and embraced progressive government and leadership and rejected the racism and religious extremism (in the form of the Virginia GOP) Jefferson so disliked. As for the University itself, it has made much progress in facing its past history entwined with slavery and then Jim Crow and is making sure this less than flattering legacy is not swept under the rug. Jefferson would likely be pleased. As for myself, I count myself lucky to have experienced UVA. Thus I quote - to the horror of Hokie friends such as RL the last part of the 1903 poem, The Honor Men:
If
you live a long time and, keeping the faith in all these things hours by hour, still see that the sun gilds
your path with real gold and that the moon floats in dream silver; Then…Remembering
the purple shadows of the lawn, the majesty of the colonnades, and the dream of
your youth, you may say in your reverence and thankfulness: “I have worn the honors of Honors. I
graduated from Virginia.”
