In the spring of 1860, Randolph-Macon College in Boydton, Va., could boast of a significant number of achievements: first Methodist college in the South; 165 students in attendance; a new “elective” curriculum; 46 graduates over two years; almost 30 years of continuous operation; a law school and medical department; and a charismatic leader in President William A. Smith.
In addition, founding fathers such as Smith and John Early had been at the center of events in the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, focusing even wider attention on the college. The looming sectional conflict, however, would abruptly change everything, destroying most of what had been built.
Under Smith’s leadership, the college had made steady progress during the 1850s, increasing enrollment and expanding the endowment to $100,000 with the stated goal of educating sons of Virginia and North Carolina Methodist ministers “free of tuition fees.”
Although the endowment actually consisted of handwritten subscription notes rather than liquid cash, it nonetheless represented a significant commitment to the school on the part of supporters.
By the spring of 1861, however, national events were rapidly eclipsing the local drama of Methodist education and politics. On April 12, Rebel forces fired on Fort Sumter, and on April 17, Virginia seceded from the Union.
The college had boasted strong attendance the previous fall, but many young men left the college during the spring term for military service. The commencement service for June was canceled, and just six students received degrees. Current students, faculty and alumni flocked to the Confederate cause.
“When the Civil War came, something like 50 to 60 percent of the eligible Randolph-Macon Alumni from Virginia served in the Confederate army,” wrote college historian James Scanlon. “[The college] was wrecked … by the catastrophe of civil war.”
“The wildest enthusiasm prevailed among the students,” the Rev. W.E. Edwards recalled.
“Bondfires [sic] were kindled; a great torchlight procession was formed; the different professors were visited, and, after the most approved style, called on for speeches. Then the march was continued to Boydton. … Soon students in large numbers left for their homes to prepare for war.”
The college went from a thriving educational enterprise to a shutdown within a matter of weeks. “Under the discouraging circumstances,” Richard Irby, another Randolph-Macon College historian, wrote, “the board determined to suspend the exercises of the college.”
Change of mission
The closing, as it turned out, was only temporary. After the rousing Confederate victory at Bull Run on July 21, 1861, military fever soared to new heights across the South. The board of trustees was swept up in this fervor and reconvened in August 1861 in a patriotic mood. The trustees voted to rescind the previous decision and reopen Randolph-Macon College as a military institution.
A professor of military tactics was elected, and plans even were laid to amend the original college charter. A military uniform was designed, complete with a cadet-gray jacket, white pants and white gloves. The reorganized college, however, graduated just nine students.
Continuing in the spirit of the times, the board also recommended that sizable portions of the college’s money be moved into Confederate bonds, which were offering a higher interest rate than other investments. This turned out, when the tide of the war turned irreversibly against the Confederacy several years later, to have been a costly decision.
The case of G. Staubly serves as a general example of the operational difficulties imposed on the college by the war. Staubly was a professor of modern languages at the college during the attempted reorganization as a military institution in the spring of 1862, but he resigned shortly thereafter to take a position at the Petersburg Female College. While at Petersburg, Staubly fought with the home guard against a Union attack and was killed.
As Smith pointed out to the board in late December, it was nearly impossible to run a college when he couldn’t retain any students or faculty: “The Conscript Act … went into operation, and took nearly half” of the students remaining on campus, he said.
The college was again ordered closed, on Feb. 5, 1863. “The effort to turn Randolph-Macon into another Virginia Military Institute failed,” Mr. Scanlon, the historian, wrote.
Ultimate sacrifice
While the college tottered on the brink of closure, alumni, students and faculty served in all of the major theaters of war, often making the ultimate sacrifice.
Tennent Lomax, class of 1840, rose to the rank of general and was killed at Seven Pines in 1862 while fending off Union Gen. George B. McClellan’s attempt to take Richmond. Maj. Richard W. Leigh, class of 1849, was killed at Murfreesboro, Tenn. W.T. Bailey, class of 1856, was killed at Gettysburg and buried there. There were scores of others.
In Company G of the 18th Virginia Infantry, at least six Randolph-Macon alumni served as officers. Among them was Capt. Richard Irby, an 1844 graduate, college historian, treasurer and board member who was wounded twice at Second Manassas. Also among the six was Richard Ferguson, class of 1858, who was one of the few men to make it inside the stone wall at Gettysburg (where he subsequently was captured) during Pickett’s famous charge .
A certain desperation
In the fall of 1863, the trustees met to consider a recommendation from the Virginia (Methodist) Conference that the college be moved to Lynchburg. Accessibility was a problem, as the nearest railroad depot to Boydton was nine miles away.
Though many trustees were not completely happy about the idea, the board (with Smith’s help) began to study the idea of relocation in the spring of 1864. Nothing was accomplished until after the war.
After Robert E. Lee’s surrender at Appomattox in April 1865, the college was occupied by Union soldiers for four months, during which time the buildings suffered some physical damage.
The prewar prosperity had never seemed further out of reach, and when the doors finally reopened in August 1865, Smith, the college president, was the only faculty member present. Barely 50 students attended during the year.
Discussion of a possible relocation continued at board meetings. Opponents often were passionate in their objections and argued that it would worsen the suffering of the local community. Those in favor of relocation also were determined.
According to records from the times, debate over a relocation site centered on Richmond, Petersburg, Lynchburg “or any other place” as a suitable location and revealed a certain desperation. Though it wasn’t yet apparent to everyone, many were convinced that the college would wither and die if it stayed at Boydton.
Downward spiral
Matters only worsened in 1866. Enrollment remained low, and many of the younger students were “prep” students rather than true collegians. (The official entering age was 14.)
Smith, though actively engaged during the wartime events, considered himself too old by this time to deal effectively with the myriad problems the college faced. He tendered a final resignation, and after some shuffling, the board hired a layman and Confederate veteran, Thomas Carter Johnson, as president.
Even before he set foot on campus, Johnson — the first alumnus of the college to serve as president — was directed to begin fundraising immediately. Later, he was sent to major cities all over the country to solicit support. He had very little success, and Randolph-Macon’s downward spiral continued.
By 1868, many on the board had decided that Johnson had not been the right man to replace Smith. Trustee Alexander G. Brown wrote bluntly, “He is an earnest worker, but utterly a failure as college president.” In a desperate move to save the college, the board petitioned former Confederate President Jefferson Davis to take over its administration.
Talk of relocation continued, though many board members (primarily the local “Mecklenburg” faction, named after the county in which Boydton was located) could not bring themselves to commit. When Davis refused the presidency, the issue could no longer be ignored.
Goodbye to Boydton
Earlier in 1868, Thomas Johnson, as president, had contacted the Richmond, Fredericksburg and Potomac Railroad Co. to see what incentives the company might offer if the college moved to Ashland. Ashland, formerly known as Slash Cottage, had been home to Robinson’s Health Resort, a race track and several less advertised attractions. In the midst of the late-spring turmoil at Randolph-Macon College, Ashland moved into the center of the controversy.
Four board members bought the Ashland Hotel and offered it to the college. The board met, equivocated and then abruptly accepted terms that also included the railroad incentives (land, easy transportation access, several buildings, etc.). The logistics of the move were arranged haphazardly, and books, desks and other equipment headed north. Left behind were a large bell, college papers and perhaps a trunk of what were presumed to be worthless bonds.
The Mecklenburg faction immediately raised an uproar, appealing to a Prince Edward County court for an injunction to block the move, which was granted readily. Those supporting the move trumped the court’s authority, appealing to the occupation commander of the 1st Military District (Virginia), Union Gen. George Stoneman Jr. Stoneman, who took a moderate view on Southern reconstruction, saw no reason to block the move of the college and gave his permission.
On July 30, 1868, Johnson and the entire faculty resigned. All items not removed to Ashland and remaining at Boydton were sold at auction along with the original college property. The former Randolph-Macon College buildings were soon put to use by the Boydton Institute, a school for blacks that operated into the middle of the next century.
A new day
On Oct. 1, 1868, Randolph-Macon College reopened its doors in Ashland, Va. More legal battles remained to be fought, but the history of the college had turned irrevocably in a new direction.
According to historian Scanlon, the effect of the Civil War on Randolph-Macon was profound. The college literally picked up and moved to a location where it could more easily attract students from Baltimore, Northern Virginia and elsewhere on the East Coast. “It very nearly constituted a new institution.”
?Fighting chaplain’ an alum
John C. Granbery, who gave the valedictory address for the class of 1848, was one of many “fighting chaplains” who joined the Confederate cause during the Civil War.
Nearly half of the more than 1,000 chaplains who served the Confederate armies were Methodist by denomination, and a significant number of them had connections to Randolph-Macon College at Boydton.
Granbery was wounded in action and later taken prisoner. His distinguished record also includes serving as chaplain to the University of Virginia, as bishop for the Methodist Church South, and as president of the Board of Trustees of Randolph-Macon College.
• Jack Trammell works at Randolph-Macon College as director of Disability Support Services and is completing his doctorate at Virginia Commonwealth University. Randolph-Macon College Historian James Scanlon contributed to this article.
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