Speeches were in order, and the presiding alumnus hove himself out
of his chair, and hammered the table with the rudder of the winning
shell, thoughtfully lifted and provided by the able Assistant Manager.
There were cheers for "Big Bill" Hall, of the '73 crew, more cheers
for Yale, and before the uproar was quiet his great voice rose above
it as he began to speak. Presiding Judge of the Supreme Court of a New
England State when at home, he was all a Yale man come back to his own
upon such occasions as this, and because Yale men loved him they called
him "Big Bill."
"When we get into the big world beyond the campus," he began, "it may
seem to some that this intensity of purpose, this absorption in a
sport, were childish, yet we do not regret those convictions, we are
proud of them, for these same qualities make for manhood in the larger
duties of a wider horizon. And, after all, are the things for which
we are striving in after years any more worth while? Are they always
sweetened and uplifted by so much devotion, unselfishness, loyalty,
and singleness of purpose? Are they thrilled by as fine a spirit of
manliness? We hear it said that the old Yale spirit is losing its
savor, that men are working for themselves rather than for the college,
that they hold in light esteem things that were sacred and vital to
us. I do not believe these criticisms are true.
"The young man I wished most to see is not here to-night. He would
not come to help us celebrate a victory over an ancient and honorable
foe. He believes that he has lost the respect of his comrades and
that he has been proven a failure. For three years he has been a
University oar. This season he could not keep his weight down to the
limit of former years, he found that he could not keep up with the
eight--although he tried as never before--and he was not helping the
crew. The day came when he had to be removed, and he experienced as
bitter disappointment as could befall a young man of spirit and pluck.
The coaches and captain expected that he would throw up training, leave
the Quarters and go home. It was the natural thing to do, because he
was cut to the soul, and it was like attending his own funeral services
to hang around the place.
"Without a word he slipped into the place of a substitute, and did a
substitute's work as long as there was need of it. I venture to say
that he would have scrubbed out the boathouse if it would have been of
service to the crew. Do you know why he took this stand? Not because he
did not care, but because he cared so much. When he offered to help as
a substitute he said:
"'If I can help the Yale shell to go faster by being out of it, I am
glad of it. That is what I am rowing for. And if I can be of any use as
a substitute, why, that is what I am here for, too. It is all for Yale,
isn't it?'
"He did not know that he was overheard. It was not meant to be
overheard. But it expressed his whole attitude, and he stood by it
to the end. You youngsters who licked Harvard to-day deserve all the
praise and rejoicing that comes to you. We are all proud of you, and we
know how hard and well you have worked. But while you are the heroes of
this celebration, _the_ hero did not row with you. His name is 'Jack'
Hastings, the man who was glad to help a Yale crew go faster by getting
out of it.
"And when you hear it said that the Yale spirit is dying out, I want
you to think of that remark. That man absorbed the spirit right here
that made him take that view as a matter of course. It was because he
did not think of anything else to be done under the circumstances that
he epitomized the spirit that will make this old place great as long
as it stands. Endowments and imposing buildings can never breed that
spirit. It grows and blossoms as the fruitage of many generations of
tradition, and when Yale loses it, she is become an empty shell, a
diploma factory, and no longer a nursery of the right kind of manhood
needed in this country.
"Three long cheers for 'Jack' Hastings, who, if he did not help to win
this race, will help to win races long after he is gone from the campus
world; and so long as his words are remembered Yale men on football
field, on track and diamond, and on the dear old Thames will feel their
inspiration. Are you ready?"
The men rose the length of the table and shouted, with napkins waved on
high. Before the last "rah, rah, rah, Hastings, Hastings, Hastings,"
subsided, the Assistant Manager had become red in the face and
exceedingly uneasy. He wrestled with a weighty ethical problem, because
while he had pledged his word not to reveal the secret of Hastings'
presence within sight and sound of this ovation, he realized that to
lead him in would be a crowning and dramatic episode. A compromise was
possible, however, and he slipped around the table and whispered in the
ear of "Big Bill" Hall.
In the gallery the little mother had shrunk farther back into the
shadows, half afraid of this uproar, yet happier than ever before in
her life. She looked at her boy, sitting close beside her, his face
hidden so that she could not see the illuminating joy in it, the dazed
look of unreality, as if he were coming through dreamland. There was
no surprise in her mind. Of course, this triumph was no more than what
was due, and she could have hugged the massive chairman as a person of
excellent discernment. The boy whispered:
"He does not really mean it, Mother. There is some mistake. He has been
out of college so long that he does not know what things mean."
She patted his burning cheek and whispered:
"Why, I knew it all the time. But you would not believe it if your
mother said you were a hero. I wonder how the Head Coach feels now? I
wish I----"
With a quick leap Jack had wrenched himself away and was clattering
down the stairs. He had seen the whispered conference and "Big Bill"
Hall staring up at the gallery, and fearing that he was trapped and
betrayed, he fled into the street and was running for the nearest
corner before the Assistant Manager could pass through the hall to the
foot of the stairs. The conspirator had not promised silence regarding
Hastings' mother, and before she knew what was happening he was by her
side, so quickly that she thought it was Jack returned to her. As she
looked up in alarm, the Assistant Manager had her reluctant hand, and
was insisting upon leading her to the railing of the little gallery.
She gazed at the upturned faces, and there was a moment of expectant
silence. Then Judge Hall shouted the command: "Three long cheers for
Jack Hastings' mother."
She was trembling now, and the lights and faces below swam in a mist
of tears, as she timidly bowed. Then, as the full realization of the
tribute swept over her like an engulfing wave, she became youthfully
erect, she smiled, and blew kisses with both her slender hands toward
the long table. She was thanking them in behalf of her boy, that was
all, because they too understood. Certain that he must be waiting not
far away, she bowed again, and hurried down the stairs, meeting the
Head Coach in the hall. His face was serious, his manner abashed, as he
said:
"I want to ask whether you will shake hands with me, Mrs. Hastings. I
am proud that you do me the honor. I wish to tell you something more
than you have heard to-night, and I am going to tell it to all the men,
when I return to the room. Your son was too heavy to handle himself as
well as he did last year and the year before. But I believe he would
have rowed in the race if a mistake had not been made. I found out when
it was too late that his rigging, or measurements, in the shell was
not right for him, and it would have made considerable difference if
he could have been shifted in time. It was wholly my fault, and nobody
else was to blame in any way. I can never make it up to him, and my
only consolation is that you have found what I have learned, that he is
a good deal finer man than we thought him, and an honor to Yale beyond
all the rest of us. You must hate me, more than any one else in the
world. I remember how my mother shared my joys and sorrows in the crew."
The mother put out her hand again, and clasped that of the Coach, as
she said simply, but with a catch of emotion in her voice:
"I did hate you to-day. I thought you had broken my boy's heart. Now
I have to thank you. God's ways are not our ways, and I rejoice that
while I have lost a captain of the crew, I have gained a man, every
inch of him, tried in the fire and proven. This is the happiest night
of my life. I would rather have heard the speech of Judge Hall, and the
cheers that followed it, than to have my son in four winning crews and
captain of every one of them. Of course he is a hero. Didn't you know
that?"
The Head Coach started to speak, when the elbow of "Big Bill" Hall
nudged him. The bulk of him filled the passage-way, and his voice
boomed out into the night:
"If you don't bring that boy around to the hotel to see me in the
morning, I will take back all I have said about him, Mrs. Hastings. Now
I know where he gets all his fine qualities."
She blushed and courtesied, and the two men escorted her to the
pavement, as John Hastings slipped from a doorway across the street
and came over to them. His mother's escort, believing that he had been
no nearer the banquet than this, made a rush for him, which he nimbly
dodged, and slipped his mother's arm in his.
"He is mine now," said she. "He has a previous engagement, and,
besides, I don't want him spoiled. Good-night to you. Come along,
Jack, you are not too big to mind your mother, are you?"
The two walked slowly across the Green toward the campus. The communion
of their uplifted souls was perfect, their happiness almost beyond
words. She was first to break this rare, sweet silence, and strangely
enough, she said nothing about the vindication and the triumph. Looking
up into his face she almost whispered:
"Are you caring so much that Cynthia disappointed you to-day, dear boy
of mine? Does it hurt and rankle? I could see it in your eyes to-night.
Do you want to marry her very much? Are you sure of your heart?"
He winced a little and held her arm tighter than before, as he replied:
"Little Mother, it has been my first real love story, as you know.
The thought of her has helped me over many a rough place. Before
to-day she was always so quick to understand. And--and she seemed to
like me better than any other fellow she knew. I was fairly aching
to be worthy of her, to make my place in the world for her. I wasn't
conceited enough to think she loved me. I was only hoping that some
day--Any man has a right to do that, has he not?"
It was not easy for the mother to say what she wished to tell him, but
at length her response was:
"I don't want you to think I am criticising her, or sitting in
judgment, but you must not let her mar your faith and hope and
happiness. I want to help you to guard those precious gifts. You must
not blame her too much. You have been believing that she understood
you, because you would have it that way. She is no older than you,
a girl of twenty, accustomed to a wholly different life from yours.
She was flattered by your attention, for you were a great man in her
eyes. She liked you because no one can help liking you. But it made a
difference when you were a hero knocked off his pedestal. And yet you
expected to find in her sympathy a balm that even your mother could not
give. Poor lad, mothers are handy sometimes, but most boys do not find
it out until their mothers are gone from them."
"I thought I knew her so well," said he, after another silence. "It
looks as if I had amused her and nothing more. But I have found you,
and I have fallen head over heels in love with you, Little Mother, all
over again, and I am going to kiss you right under this electric light."
Even yet she was not sure that she had sounded the depths of the ache
in his heart, but as she looked up at the light in his campus rooms she
said softly:
"Some day you will understand, and will thank God your mother
understood. He giveth you the victory unforeseen."