Charles Lewis Cocke, Founder of Hollins College

by William Robert Lee Smith

The new student was welcomed into Columbian College and there pursued the courses of study with unabating enthusiasm. Naturally the environment of the national Capital served as a wholesome stimulus to all his faculties. The good habits of his life suffered no deterioration and the fine qualities of his mind went on maturing rapidly. It was during this period that deepening religious impressions resulted in an open confession of faith, and in union with a Baptist church in the city. He was baptized in the Potomac river. Closely following his twentieth birthday came his graduation with the degree of M.A. It is to be regretted that no letters written to his parents during this season have been preserved. Fortunately, two written to his friends do survive. One, sent to his college chum, Mr. A. B. Clark, of Richmond, Virginia, bears date of May 22, 1839:

"I walk at the usual times alone, spending the moments mostly in meditation on serious subjects. My thoughts are more apt to turn this way than formerly. I write two lessons per day in Greek and read but little in other books."

Something far more significant appears in the second letter which was addressed to a kinswoman in the neighborhood of Edgehill. In that he declared a settled purpose, "To devote my life to the higher education of women in the South, which I consider one of our greatest needs. In this decision, my promised wife concurs." What special influences led the college boy to such a majestic consecration, we have no means of discovering. That it is a mark of uncommon maturity and breadth of intelligent conception, there can be no question.

The benignant spirit of Democracy was becoming atmospheric and the intellectual emancipation of woman steadily and slowly pressed to the fore. Ancient prejudices and stupidities were beginning reluctantly to yield. Not one of the elder ages had ever grasped the thought of woman's mental, social and political equality with her brothers. Here and there a lone voice had been lifted in her behalf to fall on deaf ears and unresponsive hearts. The world habit of thought laughed the innovation out of court and the bondage of general ignorance remained unbroken. But the imperial idea of the dignity and worth of the human individual could not be forever submerged. Its persistent pressure loosened the bonds of tradition and began to breach the walls of custom. Modern freedom wrought itself into the minds of men, and thinkers announced the harbinger of a new era. Practice, as usual, lagged behind theory, and one hundred years ago when Charles L. Cocke was born, advantages for the culture of daughters were inferior to those afforded the sons. That this inequality should have impressed the mind of a young collegian, shows uncommon susceptibility to social needs and sacred human rights. A rare young manhood came to expression when he dedicated himself to the new ideal. He did not originate the ideal. It was borne to him in the expansive thought of the time. His shining merit is in the fact that he made the early resolve to be an agent in bringing in the better day for the liberal education of young women.

It was in the Spring of 1840 that his college work closed and he received the degree of Master of Arts. Before the Finals of that session, there was some important correspondence between himself and Doctor Ryland. The good President had startled Charles with the flattering proposition that he should become a member of the Faculty of Richmond College, as assistant teacher in Mathematics and as manager of the dining hall. The college was then trying to combine training in agriculture with the usual curriculum, an experiment that was soon abandoned. The young man was too genuinely modest to fancy himself equipped for so responsible a position. He faced the issue frankly, however, and much influenced by confidence in the judgment of Doctor Ryland, decided to accept. Leaving Columbian College he hastened to witness the closing exercises at Richmond College.

It must have seemed almost comical to see a practically beardless youngster put in charge of some of the vitally important duties of the Institution. There he was, without a touch of egotism of self-consciousness, quiet of manner, and yet with something about him that looked resourceful, unapologetic, and unafraid. You may be sure that the boys looked at him curiously, and asked themselves, "Can he do it?" Of course there were cautious conservatives who doubted the competency of the new incumbent. This tribe is always with us. However, there was ground of assurance in the known confidence of Doctor Ryland, and nothing remained but to wait and see its vindication. No misgivings troubled the Doctor himself. Without bluster or consequential airs, the assistant professor made prompt acquaintance with his tasks, and discharged them with an efficiency that left nothing to be desired. He was on his mettle, conscious of the questioning curiosity centered upon himself. For the first time in his life he stood before the footlights of public observation and expectation. Leadership had thrust its burdens on him early and had imposed its first critical test.

CHARLES LEWIS COCKE AND SUSANNA VIRGINIA PLEASANTS ABOUT 1840

A survey of the affairs of the dining hall convinced him that a change of methods was necessary, and with pure audacity he introduced them. At the opening of the fall session of 1840 he presented the boys with a new bill of fare. To their astonishment he gave them oysters, finding them as cheap as other meats. He gave them raisins and plum pudding for dessert. He scored instant success, and the boys' heartstrings were in his hands. Without incurring increased expense, the new manager secured a new satisfaction with the dining hall. Noiselessly other needed changes were made and the voice of the growler ceased to be heard. At the helm was an officer who knew college boys, and the college spirit was noticeably improved. Like competency appeared in the duties of the class room. He could teach mathematics and he did. Before the Commencement in 1841, Charles L. Cocke was recognized as a distinct contribution to the life of the Institution. Here is a young professor who does not propose to rest content with inadequate facilities and outworn methods. His whole nature cries for improvement and for better ways of doing things. What a boon to many a school and college would such a man be. Good Doctor Ryland's face wore a smile which plainly said, "I told you so." His judgment of capacity and character was sufficiently justified. The young comrade was to him an object of ever-deepening interest and their relations steadily ripened into sincere and loving friendship.

Now, the President knew that his assistant was romantically entangled with an affair of the heart. He also knew the fair young woman who was responsible for that state of things. Miss Susanna V. Pleasants lived five miles north of Richmond in a lovely old Virginia home which bore the Indian name of "Picquenocque." Knowing that a matrimonial alliance was imminent, the Doctor, one day, ventured to ask Charles about the date of the coming event. He warmly approved the match and was exuberant in congratulations. As a matter of fact he was hoping that the marriage would tend to fix his assistant more firmly in Richmond College. This genial intrusion into sacred privacy was not resented, but Charles found it inconvenient to confide. The question was asked in November, and at that very moment the issue to be decided between the sweethearts was whether the ceremony should come off on the last day of December, or the first of January following. That problem enabled the young gentleman to make a complete but truthful evasion. His honest reply was: "I know neither the day, nor the month, nor the year." There the matter ended, and the mystified Doctor relapsed into silence. Later the mighty problem was solved and the marriage was solemnized on the last day of 1840. Doctor Ryland, officiating, beamed on the happy pair and found great merriment in the perfectly true, but dextrously non-committal answer, made just six weeks before. The bride and groom had not quite reached their twenty-first birthdays when they began that remarkable human pilgrimage which was to endure a little more than sixty years. The angels of domestic peace and joy sang benediction all the way. That home life is a glorious memory now, but its lesson is more precious than gold. An astronomer discerned a luminous star. On closer inspection he found it, not single but binary. The twin stars joined their radiance, which came streaming down in one glorious pencil of light. Such a star beams forever in the Hollins firmament.