HOLLINS INSTITUTE IN STRUGGLE AND GROWTH
1855-1870
That was a high day, in the summer of 1855, when Hollins Institute flung
its banner to the breeze. A munificent gift, a new regime and a new name
put fresh enthusiasm into the Institution, and the gladness of hope into
the hearts of all its friends. You have noticed how these joyous effects
always flow from new deals and revisions of plans. A better day has
dawned, bright visions float in the brain of Mr. Cocke, and the blue
mountains seem to hail him with congratulation. The human heart would
famish but for these fountains that break out in the midst of weary,
toiling years. Economic conditions are improving in the Southwest. The
Kanawha Canal now connects Richmond with Buchanan, a village just twenty
miles away. The Virginia and Tennessee Railroad has been built (1852),
supplying quick communication with the outside world; and the
macadamized turnpike has been built from Buchanan to the west, passing
within a few hundred yards of the School. The general conditions were
never so cheering, nor was the outlook ever so bright.
Some necessary changes have been made by the Trustees in internal
affairs. The rates of board and tuition are moderately increased, and
Mr. Cocke is put in charge of all departments, with authority to select
his teachers and to fix their salaries. The new Board of Trustees knows
the qualities and capacities of the Principal, and from this time forth
they give him confidence and almost unlimited powers. Charles L. Cocke,
not yet thirty-six years of age, had attained enviable distinction in
the educational ranks of his native State. He will justify the faith of
his friends.
The Hollins gift of $5,000 was put to work. The East Building with
thirty-eight rooms, was projected, and by January, 1857, completed at a
cost of $12,000. Alas, calamity crashed upon the school. In the fall of
1856 typhoid fever broke out and forced a temporary suspension. With
cruel suddenness the epidemic worked a loss of public confidence, and
once more the heart of the Principal was harrowed with discouraging
thoughts. It was given out that bad sanitary conditions had invited the
scourge, but rigid investigation exploded the theory. The fact was that
the disease had been brought to the Institute by one of the pupils.
Slowly the panic yielded and confidence returned, but the experience was
shocking. Quickly the Principal regained his tone of courageous hope and
its wholesome contagion spread far and near. In July, 1857, in a report
to the Trustees, he made this important and assuring statement: "By
affording these superior inducements the school has realized a degree of
prosperity beyond that of any boarding school in the state, and has
given an impulse to female education heretofore unknown. The plan and
policy of our school must be considered the true one. This plan
recognizes the principle that in the present state of society in our
country, _young ladies require the same thorough mental training as that
afforded to young men_, and accordingly, in the arrangement of the
course of studies, and the selection of teachers, and the conferment of
distinctions, we have kept this principle steadily in view. This feature
of the Institution has given to it its prominence and past success, and
other Institutions, originating since our plan was made public, have
almost uniformly adopted it."
"To each man is given a marble to carve for the wall;
A stone that is needed to heighten the beauty of all;
And only his soul has the magic to give it a grace;
And only his hands have the cunning to put it in place."
During the year 1858, the activity of the Trustees secured a good many
subscriptions, and the generous Mrs. Anne Hollins rallied with her own
gift of $2,500. The dark days of 1857 began to be a memory, and the
revival of public confidence and patronage smoothed the brow of care.
It must not be supposed that Mr. Cocke lost interest in the education of
boys when the co-educational system was abandoned in 1852. No man in
Virginia was more enlisted in the education of all the people than he.
There must be a school for the boys in the Virginia Mountains, and in
the later fifties, though sufficiently burdened with local cares, he
turns his attention to this interest. With the valuable assistance of
Dr. George B. Taylor, later an eminent Baptist missionary to Italy, he
was the chief factor in establishing Alleghany College, in Greenbrier
County, one hundred miles northwest of Hollins Institute. This county
was included in the new state of West Virginia, organized in 1861. The
school opened with one hundred young men and ran well for a brief
season, but was suspended at the beginning of the Civil War. The
buildings were occupied by Federal soldiers, and shortly afterwards were
destroyed by fire. All subsequent efforts to revive the college were
unavailing. With characteristic loyalty, Mr. Cocke matriculated his son,
Joseph James Cocke, at the opening of the first session. The brave boy
laid down his books at the first alarm of war and entered the
Confederate army, and in the terrible battles in Northern Virginia, he
was twice dangerously wounded. That boy is now a venerable and honored
citizen of the State of Texas.
Long years after, Mr. Cocke bent his efforts towards the erection of
Alleghany Institute at Roanoke, and had great satisfaction in its
commodious buildings and its promising attendance of boys. In the course
of varying fortunes this enterprise fainted by the way and ceased to be.
One can but fancy that if Mr. Cocke himself could have held the helm in
these two adventures, the story would have been different. The storms
beat and the floods came, but Hollins Institute stands. Her standards
are stirring thought currents and stimulating like enterprises in
Virginia and the nation. For our pioneer in the Southwest, this is
compensation and a crown of glory. Without one thrill of jealousy does
he see the spread of his views and the certainty of large competition.
To stand in his own place and make good, is the one guiding and
all-controlling purpose of his life.
In 1860, Mrs. Hollins, now a lonely widow, signalized her profound
interest in a new gift of $10,000. This generous and timely act pushed
up the contributions of the Hollins family to the handsome sum of
$17,500. The growing popularity of Hollins sprung the problem of
enlarged facilities and to solve it was the design of this latest
benevolence. It was greeted with boundless gratitude, and the Trustees
deputed one of their members, Mr. Wm. A. Miller, to bear to her their
most cordial thanks. Accompanying this message was an urgent request for
the oil portraits of the two benefactors. In due time the portraits
came, and to this day they adorn the walls of the Main Building, whose
erection was made possible by the recent gift. An architect was
employed, and work was begun on this building in the spring of 1861, on
the very day that Virginia seceded from the Union. The tempest and
blight of the Civil War came down to threaten the life of the
Institution and to almost break the heart of the founder. Expectant hope
had looked for early occupancy, but it was not to be. In one year the
walls were upreared, the roof was on, and then the work stopped. The
contractor quit his job because the war had disorganized labor and the
situation was simply helpless. There stands the unfinished structure,
and there it will stand, a ghastly skeleton for eight long years.
At this beginning of horrors, Mr. Cocke's reputation as a strong man was
established, and the fair name of his school was extended beyond the
limits of the State. Seasoned in old battles and richly schooled in
experience, he stands in his place unterrified. He dares, even amid the
clouds and disasters of war, to send out his adventurous thought, thirty
years to the fore. What ought to be, what may be, the facilities and
achievements of this Institution a generation hence? He is now too well
fortified in his convictions of educational theory and practice, and of
their fitness to the needs of the time, to be affrighted by the spectres
and goblins of ultimate failure.
In 1862, he speaks to his girls and the public in this fashion: "The
organization of this school is unlike all others in Virginia. To some
extent it is denominational, but decidedly anti-sectarian. Its Trustees
perpetuate their own existence. Its funds cannot revert to any other
object. It is responsible to no religious body and its success depends
solely on its merits. It looks to permanent existence and to the good of
the whole commonwealth. Its successes have exceeded the most sanguine
expectations of its friends. It was first to adopt a high standard of
classical education for young women in Virginia; first to place the
English Department under a regular professor; and first in the nation to
adopt the elective system of studies. With the prestige of a history of
twenty years, it may properly and confidently appeal to the general
public to make it an addition to the permanent wealth and moral
elevation of the country. I believe its reputation will spread until it
draws pupils from all over the South." Under the distressful conditions,
is there not something morally grand in this utterance? It was a
prophetic speech, and the daring prediction was more than realized in
the thirty years that followed.
In 1863, one hundred girls filled every room, and seventy-five
applicants were turned away. Oh, for the forty-six student-rooms in that
unfinished hulk! Sequestered snugly in the mountains, no Institution in
the country suffered less from the demoralization of the war. Families
driven from the areas of invasion sent their daughters to the haven of
its seclusion. The faculty of four gentlemen and three ladies had ample
occupation. It was at this juncture that the President dropped the wise
remark that the success of an Institution demands a capable manager as
much as qualified instructors, and that he is harder to find. Of course,
during this period, the depreciated currency and the correspondingly
high cost of living required advance in the rates of the tuition and
board. In 1864, one hundred and twenty-eight students were crowded into
the rooms, and an equal number were turned away. In these days of
inevitable stringency, the fare was far from luxurious, but it was
accepted by teacher and pupil with that cheerfulness which becomes
sensible and considerate people.
That year the school was not immune to the alarms of war. A Federal
raid, led by General Hunter, rushed into the town of Salem, nine miles
distant, and the news spread consternation at Hollins, but without
panic. The President had prepared a paper, stating the defenseless
condition of the college and entreating protection by the General of any
invading force. This paper he kept in his pocket, ready to be sent by
messenger, if from any cause he himself should be prevented from going
to make an oral request. Happily, Hunter came no nearer than Salem, and
the awful suspense was relieved. On that very day, George Newman, the
faithful colored driver, went to Salem with his omnibus, and was waiting
at the depot, when the horsemen in blue came thundering down the street.
He cracked his whip over his trusty four and dashed southward across the
river, amid a shower of bullets. He was going in a course directly
opposite from Hollins, but that was the only avenue of escape. When he
was not heard from for the best part of two days, he was given up for
lost. But late on the second day, who should drive in but this same
George Newman, with an air of triumph and an ecstasy of smiles on his
face! He came bare-headed, having lost his hat in the impetuosity of
that patriotic retreat. The girls hailed him with a storm of acclamation
and instantly took up a collection with which they crowned the hero
with a new straw hat!
Mrs. Cocke, in these times of nervous excitement, was perfectly sure of
her own demeanor in case of irruption by the enemy. She would stand
defiant in the doorway and forbid all entrance. The family tell a story
which the dear mother never denied. One day her son Charley, a lad of
ten years, with some of the servants, was coming back to the stables
with the horses which had been hidden in the woods of Carvin's creek, to
escape the hands of the enemy. The youngsters came galloping down the
road, when some excitable person imagining it a charge of Yankee
cavalry, raised the alarm, and then followed the worst panic Hollins
ever knew. Mrs. Cocke, quietly busy in the pantry, hearing the shrieks,
following an irresistible impulse, left the pantry door wide open and
vanished to some place, she was never quite sure where.
It was Mr. Cocke's custom in those days to send a group of girls in the
omnibus to the Sunday morning service of one of the churches in Salem.
Such was the economic stress of the period that a handsome new hat in
the school produced a sensation. Fortune crowned one of the students
with a beautiful headgear. She wore it to church, and generously, on the
following Sunday put the treasure on the head of a comrade who was
going up to worship. So the ornament became a regular attendant at the
Salem services. Gathered at the church doors were the Salem boys, of
course, and they soon became merrily interested in the new hat. One day
after service, the girls found in the omnibus a note, inquiring: "Who
does that hat belong to?" The owner lives, today, in Blacksburg, Va.
Those trips to Salem ceased long ago, and now in the Hollins Chapel,
regular Sunday evening services are conducted by chaplain pastors from
the various denominations.
In the spring of 1865, pneumonia became epidemic in the school, taking
off six of the pupils and two more in their homes. This disaster caused
a suspension one month before the close of the regular term.
With the fall of the Confederacy, Mr. Cocke had again to face a
condition that seemed the mockery of his hopes. Everywhere were economic
prostration, social disorganization, and pinching poverty. Shall Hollins
keep up the fight? Will the sun of Austerlitz ever rise on her long and
varying battles? What young Institution ever threaded its way through a
wilderness so gloomy or by pits and precipices so dangerous? Hollins
will go on, walking by faith, and its doors shall not be closed, even
for the part of a session. That is the mind of the President. He and
his faculty, though exhausted in means, will face the destitution and
never give up the ship. The session of 1865-6 ran on with forty-five
students. Rates had to be increased, and even with that, the college
would have been compelled to close but for a timely loan from Colonel
Tayloe to buy food. This noble friend and President of the Board of
Trustees had been a comfort to Mr. Cocke from the beginning, and will
continue so for thirty years more. Our great leader did not talk about
his troubles, being always master of himself. Once he made this brief
pathetic admission to his Trustees: "I am so burdened that I do not feel
fit for my work." What can move us to tears like a strong man's grief?
And there stands the ghastly figure of the unfinished Main Building,
mocking his struggles and dreams. For five years now, pine boards have
been nailed up to cover the windows, and not even a porch relieves the
monotony of its ugliness. Two alternatives were before him: first,
reduce the faculty, which is a most deplorable thing to do; second, go
on as we are, but that is bankruptcy and ruin. Hear him: "I will go on;
I will trust in God and the people." He insisted to his Trustees: "We
must not descend to the character of a neighborhood school." Their
sympathies were with him, but they felt unable to cope with the iron
stringencies of the time. He did go on, never lowering a standard or
abating the passionate cry for more room and better equipment. How he
ever pulled through this slough of despond, he himself could not
possibly tell. Of one thing he was in no doubt and it was this, that in
the long night of anguish, there was a precious mystery of heavenly aid.
[Illustration: HOLLINS INSTITUTE
[Main Building Completed 1869. East Building Completed 1856]]
One of the encouraging incidents of this season, was the fact that one
of the finest young scholars in Virginia accepted a call to the
Institute. When Professor Joseph A. Turner, in 1866, consented to become
a member of the faculty, it meant that a finely accomplished man had
confidence in the character and destiny of the College, and that
certified confidence was a tonic to the President's soul. But Hollins is
still in the depths. There is no bracing of firm rock under her feet.
All the officials know that the whole property is in peril of a public
sale. How did the School go on? You must find answer in the
resourcefulness and adamantine will of one great man. Hollins did go on,
and complimentary testimonials from leading scholars in the State began
to be written and spoken. Mr. Cocke was cheered at the generous
recognition and said: "We must lift our standards a little higher than
ever before. Our school should be second to none in the State and we
must reach out for more distant patrons." The tide begins to rise, and
on the horizon there are gleaming hints of a better day. In 1868, Mr.
Cocke secured a loan of $10,000, and by the end of 1869, that nightmare
of the Main Building was transformed into a handsome and completed
edifice. The passing of this melancholy incubus made a new epoch in his
life. It was the cutting of chains from his feet, and the addition of
wings wherewith to fly. The new structure greatly increased the
accommodations, and now begins active propaganda in the South,
acquainting the people with Hollins Institute. Newly risen, like a star
above tempest and cloud, she will shed benignant light on the homes and
daughters of the land. May she go on shining forever!