In September, 1769, accompanied by Enoch, an older brother, Nathan Hale entered the Freshman class at Yale. His personal traits easily won the hearts of his classmates, while his quick understanding, his high scholarship, and his loyalty to the college standards made him as popular among tutors and professors as among his classmates. It is pleasant to know that, from the time we first learn of him until we see him standing beside the fatal tree, he appears to have won all hearts worth winning. But Nathan Hale had yet another gift that would surely endear him to college students of to-day as much as it doubtless did to his own classmates. He was a powerful athlete. So great was his skill in this line that, to successive generations of Yale men, the "broad jump" made by Nathan Hale remained unequaled. It is said to have taken place on what is now called "The Green" in New Haven, not far from the Old State House; Hale could, it is said, lay one hand on the top of a six-foot fence and easily vault over it; and, though this astonishing feat is reported as occurring while he was a teacher, he used to delight his companions by showing them how to stand in a hogshead with his hands on his hips, leap over the first hogshead, land in a second, leap from that into a third, and from that out on to the ground,—all this before he was twenty. Imagine the delight of the "other fellows" standing around to watch Hale go through his various stunts in athletics! It almost makes one feel as if one had been a student and shared in the cheering when Hale did these things, so easy to himself, so difficult to the onlookers. Then fancy the talk at the supper tables, when the candles burned brightly and the eatables tasted twice as good because "old Hale" had won laurels for "old Yale" that afternoon by some "splendid" deed, as This much for the athletic life of Hale in his student days. It was only natural to such a man that whatever he was—friend, student, teacher, or soldier—he should carry zest and earnestness to all his work, even as he carried his manliness, his courtesy, and his unquenchable spirit. Let us now turn to the record of his years of successful work at Yale. It has been said that whatever he did, he did with all his might, and his brain work was as notable in its results as were the strength and agility of his body. In those early days the college bell rang for prayers, as the beginning of the day's work, at half past four in summer and an hour later in winter; and there are men still living who remember, in later years and at later hours, the wild rushes half-dressed students used to make, adjusting what they could of their hastily donned clothing on their race to morning chapel. Hale, however, as well as his companions a hundred and forty years ago, were accustomed to early rising, and able to fill every hour of their long days with work or play. The course of study then was much shorter than it is now, but if lack Science as we now know it had not entered into the college course, but the little then known, and the other studies considered essential, comparatively limited as they must have been, were taught so thoroughly that the men who carried away a college diploma carried a sure guarantee that they had been carefully taught whatever was then considered essential to a college education. Although it is true that science was then in comparative infancy, it is also true that it was deeply absorbing to young Hale. Some of his most valued books were scientific, and, aside from the studies he was obliged to pursue, he eagerly absorbed educational theories and the best literary works then available. As a college student, he stood high; as a thinker and as one interested in the finest pursuits of his period, he ranked equally high. Before he was nineteen he had won the permanent friendship and ardent admiration of a man who was then his tutor, Timothy Dwight, later the renowned president of Yale College, and Another warm friend, a classmate, destined to be notable in future years, was James Hillhouse, later United States Senator, the first man to leave the stamp of beauty on his native city, New Haven, in the wonderful elms of his planting. In addition to these two noted men, many of Hale's warmest friendships were formed at college among the leading men of his own and of other classes. At least two or three of these were his companions in arms, to whom we may refer later. Of his scholarship, one sure test remains. At graduation, of the thirty-six men in his class, he ranked among the first thirteen. In one other important line Nathan Hale made a notable mark in college, namely, in his intense interest in Linonia. This society had been founded in 1753 "to promote in addition to the regular course of academic study, literary stimulus and rhetorical improvement to the undergraduates," and to create friendly relations among its members. The organization lived a long and honorable life, and did a most helpful work among its members. Nathan Hale was the first in his class to become its Chancellor, later styled President. He was for some time also its scribe, and many of his entries During his college course his name occurs in the reports of almost every meeting of the society. At one time he delivered "a very interesting narration"; at another, "an eloquent extemporaneous address." On various occasions he is said to have taken part in some of the plays that were frequently acted, and to have proposed questions for discussion. Besides taking part in the society and college exercises, he enjoyed frequent correspondence with a number of his classmates on themes of taste and criticism and of grammar and philology. As incoming Chancellor at the end of the college year of 1772, Hale responded in behalf of Linonia to the parting address from one of the graduating class. Hale's farewell address to the Linonians of the class of 1772 is preserved to Yale College on the society records. In reading it one must remember that the speech was made by a boy of seventeen. The dignity of the address, the assured ease with which he speaks, the sense of the Yale bond, as strong then as it ever has been, all show the only boyish thing about the speaker, namely, his sense A few paragraphs quoted from various parts of the quaintly courteous speech will illustrate alike the youth and the maturity of the speaker. He said: "The high opinion we ought to maintain of the ability of these worthy Gentlemen" [the retiring members of the Society] "as well as the regard they express for Linonia and her Sons, tends very much to increase our desire for their longer continuance. Under whatsoever character we consider them, we have the greatest reason to regret their departure. As our patrons, we have shared their utmost care and vigilance in supporting Linonia's cause, and protecting her from the malice of her insulting foes. As our benefactors, we have partaken of their liberality, not only in their rich and valuable donations to our library, but, what is still more, their amiable company and conversation." ["This is a fine portrait of Hale painted by himself," says a friend of Hale to-day.] "But as our friends, what inexpressible happiness have we experienced in their disinterested love and cordial affection! We have lived together not as fellow students and members of the same college, but as brothers and children of the same family; not as superiors and inferiors, but rather as equals and companions. The only thing which hath given them the preËminence is their superior knowledge in those arts and sciences which are here cultivated, and their greater skill and prudence in the management of such important affairs as those which concern the good order and regularity of this Society. Under the prudent conduct of these our once worthy patrons, but now parting friends, things have been so wisely regulated, as that while we have been entertained with all the pleasures of familiar conversation, we have been no less profited by our improvements in useful knowledge and literature." Hale's direct address to the parting members is as follows: "Kind and generous Sirs, it is with the greatest reluctance that we are now all obliged to bid adieu to you, our dearest friends. Fain would we ask you longer to tarry—but it is otherwise determined, and we must comply. Accept then our sincerest thanks, as some poor return for your "May Providence protect you in all your ways, and may you have prosperity in all your undertakings! May you live long and happily, and at last die satisfied with the pleasures of this world, and go hence to that world where joys shall never cease, and pleasures never end! Dear Gentlemen, farewell!" Not only in speeches but also in deeds Hale proved his love for Linonia. He is said to have contributed some of his own books to the library of the Society, and to have coÖperated with Timothy Dwight and James Hillhouse in promoting its growth. In time the library owned more than thirteen thousand volumes. These three Linonians were always considered its real founders, and were so honored at the Society's centennial anniversary on July 27, 1853. Timothy Dwight, the first of that name to be As may easily be inferred, the Hale boys, Enoch and Nathan, were not forgotten by their home friends while making honorable records in college, and forming pleasant friendships outside the college walls—then the happy lot of all the best men in college—among the cultured families of what was then a small New England city. An instance of the friendships Nathan made in New Haven is shown by the words of Æneas Munson, M.D., formerly of that city. When an aged man he spoke in the warmest terms of Hale's fine qualities as he observed them when he was a boy in his father's house, and he treasured a letter to his father from Hale in 1774 which will be given farther on. Of home letters, happily a few from their father in Coventry to his two sons in college are still preserved; these prove, as no words of any stranger could, his constant and practical interest in all that concerned them. They show us how an upright father tried to influence his boys' religious characters while distant from them, and at the same time they show the economies which even well-to-do fathers then had to exercise in providing for their sons while at college. The first letter also shows that Nathan must have entered college when fourteen years and three months old, having been born in June, 1755, and entering college in September, 1769. We here give the first letter, with all its quaint old spelling, and after it two others written during successive years. We may smile at their old-time expressions, but we must own to a sincere admiration for the kind and thoughtful father, so interested in his boys, and
Some students of to-day in college with elder brothers might protest vigorously at the idea of new suits provided for two boys of different sizes In their home, as time went by, they found the two new members of the family, their stepmother's daughters, Nathan to find in Alice Adams, the youngest, some of the happiest inspirations of his manly young life. It is pleasant to linger a moment and try to realize the pride Deacon Hale must have felt in his boys, and their delight in being once more home with him and with all the family circle. We can fancy them as they sat around that generous board—none the less generous, we are sure, because of the home-coming of the "Yale boys." Deacon Hale was a man of remarkable energy—"a driver," in other words. As a rule, in the busiest season of the year he would finish his meal before the family were half through theirs, rise, return thanks, and be off to the field, leaving the others to resume their seats around the table. Alice One amusing incident was long in circulation and laughed over by many who did not know the energetic haymaker by name. As it really happened to Deacon Hale, it is worth telling as an example of the energy that has characterized his descendants. One haying season Deacon Hale hired a tall, brawny countryman, of uncommon strength, to help him house his crop. While in the field he took upon himself the task of "packing" the load, the hired man's duty being to pitch it on to the cart. The man began his work too slowly to suit Deacon Hale, who soon called out, "More hay!" This call he repeated three or four times, as cock after cock of hay was still somewhat lazily pitched up to him. Finally his tardy helper, becoming sensible that his easy way of working was being rebuked, set himself to work with a will equal to the Deacon's, and at last pitched the hay up so rapidly that his employer was unable to "pack" it properly upon the cart. Very soon, therefore, to the dismay of both men, the whole load slipped off in one great mass on to the ground, carrying the Deacon along with it! "What do you want now, Deacon?" shouted the Hercules by his side with a satisfied grin. "More hay!" instantly replied the discomfited Deacon, nimbly scrambling back to his place on the cart. Despite this little accident at the beginning of the afternoon, it is safe to state that a generous storage of hay took place before sunset. But happy as were these college days and home-comings, and rich as were the harvests gleaned in them, the four years in college halls sped swiftly, and in 1773 Enoch Hale and Nathan turned their faces toward the future; the one to a long life and faithful Christian service, the other toward the briefest of mortal days, but to a service whose memory will not end till his college walls shall have crumbled, and the names of all its heroic sons faded from the earth. For even though stones may crumble, influence lives on. It has already been said that at graduation Nathan Hale stood among the first thirteen in a class of thirty-six. On Commencement Day, September 3, 1773, he took part in a forensic debate on the question, "Whether the Education of Daughters be not, without any just reason, more neglected than that of Sons." In "Memories of a Hundred Years" Dr. Edward Everett Hale says: "As early as 1772 there appears at Yale College the first question ever de In the debate first mentioned, the others taking part in it were Benjamin Tallmadge, Ezra Samson, and William Robinson. Some account of Major Tallmadge's after life is given in later pages. Samson was, for a time, a clergyman, and then became an editor, first in Hudson, New York, and then of the Courant, at Hartford, Connecticut. William Robinson was a direct descendant of Pastor John Robinson of Leyden. He studied for the ministry and was ordained in 1780 at Southington, Connecticut. In the winter of that year—which was one of the coldest and most severe on record—he walked the whole distance from Windsor to Southington, about thirty miles, on snowshoes, to be installed as pastor, an office he held for forty-one years. |