CHAPTER II.
TWO BROTHERS

image of Roger and Huntington Wolcott in 1853

Roger and Huntington Wolcott about 1853.

WHEN Roger Wolcott was born In Boston, July 13, 1847, he came Into a home of singular charm.

His father had a deep love of nature and of out-of-door life. His mother was a woman of beauty and rare culture, a wide reader, familiar with the poets, and at the same time practical and thoughtful of the interests of the household, Huntington Frothingham, the elder son, was born, eighteen months before Roger.

The house in Boston where they passed the winters was on Boylston Street, facing the Common. The home which parents

and children most enjoyed was, however, upon the slope of Blue Hill, about eight miles from Boston. The house stands upon the edge of the woods which cover the hill; from the lawn, the land slopes down to the valley, and to the plain of Readville, through which the Neponset River winds, and in the distance are spread in rich damp green the Canton meadows.

When he was three years old, Roger's mother died. Her oldest sister, Harriet, came to take charge of the household, and later, as his father's second wife, became a mother to the boys.

In early childhood they were taught at home by their mother, or in company with a few of their friends' children. On reaching boyhood they entered the private school of Mr. Dixwell in Boylston Place, Boston, just around the corner from their house.

The two boys were almost inseparable. Together they played their childhood games; together they learned to pray, for It was a religious home. In company with their father they mounted their ponies and galloped over the roads and through the fields. Together they climbed Blue Hill; they picknicked and fished at Ponka-poag Pond, The country folk knew the boys well, and they, catching the democratic spirit of their father, liked all the people.

Bound as they were in common interests and affections, there were sharp contrasts In features and character, Huntington's curly chestnut hair, brown eyes, open face, and well-built frame, his self-confidence and impulsive nature, marked him out as the natural leader. Roger was younger, less confident of himself; his jet-black hair and luminous gray eyes, his

sensitive face and sparer form, revealed a more nervous temperament, one that needed time to develop.

Huntington was the leader not only of his brother but of the school. Trouble with his eyes had kept him back, so that he had the chagrin of being in his younger brother's class; he had, however, the advantage of greater age, which figures high in athletics and the respect of boys. He was frank, generous, courteous, and of sensitive moral organization. Roger was the better scholar, and held his own with other boys in their games; but when Huntington burst through the crowd with the football, Roger was lost in admiration of his brother.

Life ran happily on until 1862. Then the drum-beat in the streets warned the boys that war was in the air. That the youth of the land might be well prepared,

Dixwell's school, like many others, was formed Into a military company, Twice a week they drilled under the supervision of an army officer. Huntington, the recognized leader of the school, was made captain. If to some of the other boys there were elements of play in the inarch and countermarch, it was serious work to the captain. He took command and by his character held command. No other boy could keep discipline as he could.

His father, ever active In public service, had accepted, the position of treasurer of the Massachusetts branch of the Sanitary Commission, The talk at home was therefore full of battles and the wounded, of comforts and clothing for the sick., of the departure of regiments, and the return of the bodies of the dead. The plain of Readville was converted into a great camp, where regiments were drilling, preparing,

and waiting for service at the front. The boys were sent with delicacies from the garden for the men and officers, some of whom were relatives and family friends. Such experiences could not but strike fire in the hearts of Huntington and Roger, for theirs was the martial spirit of their ancestry.

In June, 1862, the transport Daniel Webster., which under the Sanitary Commission had brought from the South some sick and wounded soldiers, was about to return* Although he was only sixteen years old, Huntington succeeded in persuading his father to let him go with the ship and pass a few weeks as a surgeon's assistant, They entered by way of Chesapeake Bay the Pamunkey River, and landed at " White House," about twenty-three miles from Richmond. The enthusiasm for McClellan was then high, and the familiar cry was "On to Richmond!" The

people of the North had not begun to realize the magnitude of the task before them. Living in the midst of the soldiers, riding, as he visited the Massachusetts troops, to within a few miles of Richmond, Huntington got a taste of war, its horrors, its glories, and its great and noble motive. He heard the guns of battle, saw the wounded brought to the rear, and helped to give them relief, Bidding farewell to his former tutor, James Jackson Lowell, who was soon to fall, he returned in the transport, which was filled with wounded soldiers.

As he took up his studies in the autumn and commanded the company of Dixwell's boys, there were manifest a seriousness of purpose and an inner strength which were maturing his character. Soon the deep conviction that it was his duty to enlist was made known to his parents. He was

but seventeen years old: they could not think of letting him go. He pledged his brother Roger, however, not to oppose his desire. The fire burned within him; a year passed, and again he urged his sense of duty. The pressure became so strong that at last his parents agreed that, if he would wait one year more, and if the war was not then at an end, they would give their consent. Huntington was impulsive, but, more than that, he was a youth of will and deep conviction. While he acceded to his parents' wish and gave himself to his studies and music, he could not keep silence. " Dear mother," he wrote, when she was away from home, " I shall feel dishonored all my life; you must let me go." As the year came toward its close, and the birthday approached which would make him nineteen and at the same time bring the decision, Huntington, obedient

as he was, became more serious and impatient. A month before his birthday, when his parents were In New York, he received the offer of a commission in a black regiment. His mother, not. yet aware of the offer, wrote him, pressing the argument that the war was near its end, that he was young, and that he could serve his country later. " After the war is over, we shall need wise men, pure patriots in the councils of the country, and high-minded statesmen, men of large culture, refinement of taste, Christian integrity and virtue, more than the soldier." As she was writing thus, her boy was mailing her a letter urging permission to accept the commission, and ending, " Dear mother, you must let me go, I feel so about it. I think it would be sweet to die for my country."

With parents patriotic and wise, and a

boy of such spirit, there could be but one result.

He received from Governor Andrew a commission as second lieutenant in the Second Regiment of Cavalry, Massachusetts Volunteers. For the last time Huntington came to school and commanded the company of boys. They were still boys, and he, though young in years, had suddenly sprung into manhood. The uniform enhanced his beauty and strong though graceful form. The school gave him his sword ; the belt was buckled over the red sash; and Lieutenant Wolcott, modest, simple, and true, went forth in the spirit of his fathers, as did thousands of youth in those years of the nation's stress. His last words to Roger were : " Keep jolly, and be all you can to father and mother."

He was first sent to the camp at Read-

ville. In a few days the order came for him to join without delay his regiment, which was with Sheridan in the Shenandoah Valley. He went to Winchester: Sheridan had left. Soon learning the position of his regiment, he reached the camp of General Gibbs, and was assigned to Company I of the Second Massachusetts Cavalry, Within a week he, with his regiment, was in the midst of the conflict with Early's forces in the Shenandoah, and took part in the brilliant battles which resulted in the surrender of General Lee and closed the war. At the request of General Gibbs, he was appointed by the President an aide-de-camp upon his staff. Two letters from his general reveal the temper of the youth. After the battle of Five Forks, General Gibbs wrote to his own mother, Mrs. Gibbs, a letter which he had no reason to think that others would ever

see. "We have just passed through one of the most terrible and decisive battles of the war. We have turned Lee's right and captured seven thousand prisoners and nine pieces of artillery. . . . Out of five hundred men, I have lost fifteen officers and seventy-five men. . . . Huntington Wolcott, who was acting on my staff, behaved nobly, like a Wolcott; went into the thick of the fight, and brought down a lot of prisoners. He is just as earnest and ardent as ever, in action as well as expression."

On May 9th, 1865, he wrote from the headquarters of the First Cavalry Division to Huntington's father: "I consider his pluck as most extraordinary - and he has been so fortunate as to have joined In the most eventful campaign of the war - the one that sealed the fate of the hated Confederacy. He has passed through it un-

scathed. From frequent and close observation of his conduct, I have noticed particularly his gallantry at Dlnwiddie Court House, Five Forks, Clover Hill, April 9th, and on various other occasions, and have often refused him permission to 'go in' when his ambition prompted him, but duty did not require him to do so.

"A favorite with my staff, and congenial to all with whom he is brought in contact, he is full of 'snap' when he thinks things are not going right.

" He has had a terribly tough baptism In military service, but has come out of it with increased vigor and vitality of both body and mind."

Soon followed the grand review of the army at Washington. For two days the line of veterans, with toughened bodies,tanned skins, faded uniforms, and tattered

flags, marched in review. Huntington's father was there; but he was not the only one to mark the beauty of the boy. Perhaps his short service made his uniform brighter than the others; his face was fresher and more youthful; at all events, he caught attention. Others noted and wrote of "the radiant beauty of young Wolcott."

Thus passed the war and its glory. There was little else to be done except to be mustered out and come home. Even when Huntington was in the great procession, typhoid fever had begun its work. "Within a few days he was very ill. The one hope of life seemed to be in his escape from the malarial air of the Potomac to the northern climate. He was borne quickly home. As he was laid upon his bed beneath the shadow of Blue Hill, and breathed the odor of the pines, and heard

familiar voices, he revived; but the disease did not release its hold, " My darling Roger; Roger,, my love to the boys," were his whispered words.

On the 9th of June, 1865, another Wolcott, patriot and soldier, a chivalrous boy, passed on.

Again the schoolboys met, and in his home in Boston gathered around the bier of Huntington, their friend and leader.

His mother had well said, " After the war is over, we shall need wise men, pure patriots in the councils of the country, and high-minded statesmen." Huntington, to whom she wrote, had passed on. Roger was left.

Roger Wolcott Home

Table of Contents

CHAPTER II.TWO BROTHERS

CHAPTER II.
TWO BROTHERS