CHAPTER III.
A HARVARD STUDENT

image of Roger and Huntington Wolcott in 1853

Roger Wolcott at college in 1867.

IT was natural that the sickness and death of Huntington should have borne heavily on the strength of his father and mother. The effect upon Roger was as that upon a tender sapling when its support has been withdrawn. He drooped, and showed such physical and nervous depression as to cause anxiety and compel his parents to take him to Europe. There they remained for more than a year. In England they ran down to the manor house at Tolland, and visited the graves of the ancient Wolcotts, or Walcotts; for in England the latter form

was and Is the more common. Appreciative as they were of their English ancestry, they were steadfast Americans. While in London, Roger's mother gave him a seal ring with the family coat of arms. The seal-maker mentioned that the arms were identical with those of the English Walcotts. A few days later, a member of the Walcott family, a man of distinction, called upon Mr. Wolcott to compare notes upon the subject. Being convinced that the American branch was from his own family, he invited Roger, then a boy of seventeen, to lunch with him, in order to give him copies of the family records. In the course of conversation this gentleman said, " Mr. Wolcott, if you intend to hitch on to the English branch of the family you must change the spelling of your name." "Sir," said Roger, " we do not intend to hitch on to any fam-

ily." "Then," was the answer, "the purpose of this interview Is misunderstood;" and the English representative of the family tore the records in pieces. He had met America in one boy. Roger was sent back the next day by his mother to apologize, and the incident was closed.

Walking in Switzerland confirmed Roger's gaining strength, and study in Paris prepared him for college. As his class from Dixwell's school had entered Harvard during his absence, he joined them in the sophomore year. It is difficult for a young man entering college the second year to make a position for himself in the class. However, his group of old schoolmates received Roger into their club table. He was fond of out-of-door life, a strong walker, and a good horseman. While enthusiastically interested in all athletic events, he took little active part

in the college sports. Of excellent ability, he worked harder as a student than his intimate friends. He read more widely than was the custom of students in those days. His interests were in the languages, history, and literature. He did some work on the only college paper of the time, " The Harvard Advocate," and was one of the active organizers of the O. K., a society which drew into its circle men of literary as well as social tastes. He was elected into the social clubs, and took an active interest in the Hasty Pudding.

He thus gradually and unconsciously increased the circle of his acquaintance and friends.

A feeling of loneliness and his sensitive nature sometimes threw him into moods of deep depression. He then assumed in social life an almost forced manner of

lightness and gayety. His brother's memory was a constant source of inspiration. In his senior year he wrote: " I feel it more every day that every high aspiration, every yearning after nobleness, which I sometimes feel, is to be traced directly to Hunty's influence and example; and that, if there is ever developed in rne any spark of true worth, it will be his memory that kindles it." Of this inner life, however, his classmates knew nothing. To them he was always frank and true, bright and alert, with a sense of humor, unfailing in his courtesy, and always ready to give full credit for the acts and motives of others. At the same time they realized that there was a reserve in his nature, which lent dignity and weight to his bearing.

He therefore rose quietly and steadily to recognition in the class. Standing ninth

in rank, a member in the senior year of the Phi Beta Kappa, and a good speaker, it was natural that when the class came to the elections he should be the only man seriously considered for orator.

In 1870 the Class-Day exercises were held in the First Parish Church, In the front pews sat the members of the class; behind them and in the galleries were the typical Class - Day auditors, - fresh young girls in brilliant dress, solemn dons, proud parents, and distinguished guests. The noble head of General Sherman, a hero of the day, was conspicuous in the throng.

Roger Wolcott arose to make his first public speech. If a young man is real and simple, he speaks out of his inmost convictions at such a time. Such a man was the orator of the day. His hair was black as jet, his face pale, then flushed; his

straight, tall figure stood firm, his voice was clear and strong. As he spoke,, the great heat of the day was forgotten, and the people listened intently. It was not the speech of maturity, but of youth. It was, however, direct, sincere, and strong, and, being a part of his inner life, it rang true. Several times in later years General Sher-man asked his Boston friends," When are we to hear from that young man, Wolcott, who spoke on Class-Day? "

No doubt the sentiment of the day threw a glamour over the scene, Still, even after the lapse of thirty years, the speech has warmth and life, for it reveals some of the ideals of Roger Wolcott in his youth. Harvard Memorial Hall was rising from its foundations; and the nation had just observed one of its first memorial days.

The orator named " enthusiasm of heart and earnestness of mind " as the two requi-

sites of character in the manhood of the times, and said: -

"The head and the heart are peers, and neither can be exalted without debasing the other.... Enthusiasm is of the heart, not of the head. It is a means, not an end. It is a tool given us with which to work, a tool which we shall do well to guard from rust, - a talent which we must not wrap up in a napkin. Enthusiasm is a quality through which a man does with his might whatever his hand and his head find to do. It is because it is so often applied to ignoble uses, because what the heart finds to do might so often better be left undone, that we grow to regard it with suspicion and distrust. . . .

"It is to secure this vital principle, this intentness of resolve and action, that we so often hear of the necessity of infusing young blood into the councils of the old.

The increasing burden of years seems to drag heavily upon the heart, and to threaten constantly to stifle its beatings. Men are too often petrified by the slow-dropping mists of experience laden with disappointment and failure, and ever the heart hardens first. Listlessness and indifference take the place of earnestness and vigor. That baleful apathy which Ruskin calls the greatest mystery of life, settles down upon the soul, deadening and destroying. The man forgets his youth's ideal, lowers his aspirations to the attainment of mediocrity, and sinks, often with scarce a struggle, to the dead level which is so marked a characteristic of the time. He who escapes this danger is the man in whose breast the sacred flame still glows, who pursues the nobler aims of his riper years with the same exuberance of vitality, with the same abandonment of self, with

which, as a child, he gave chase to the butterfly fancies of the hour. . .

"All honor to the intellect in its proper sphere. To depreciate its dignity would be presumption indeed. It is through his intellect that man is but little lower than the angels; but It is by his heart that he partakes of the nature of God, . . .

"When once our faith in other men's virtue is lost, it is no wonder if we make no advance in virtue ourselves. . . . There must be that within us which claims kindred with the nobility of others, or the magnet of their influence will be to us no more than a piece of bent iron. Distrust of the motives of others is often tantamount to a confession of the insincerity of one's own. Cynicism, like the mistletoe, saps the very life of that on which it fastens, . . .

"But it is when our self-interest allures

us from our original path, when we let slip from our memory Harvard's grand old motto, 'Veritas,' and wander farther from the Influence of that force which can alone through life draw us onward and upward, it is then that the heart only can set us right. . . .

"Young as we are, we have lived in grand and stirring times, Scarce one of us but has felt the blood tingle with a sensation never before experienced when, at the drum-beat, as if by enchantment, the hero stood forth in the person of father, brother, friend. Who does not remember the hurried parting, the anxious days of doubt, the joyous return ? Or perchance to some of us a treasured sword or musket and a proud though heart-rending memory may alone remain as talismans of blessed influence for our future lives.

" Strange indeed would it be if we

allowed ourselves to forget the force of their glorious example. And yet can we deny that there Is a widespread danger throughout the country that this will be the case ? Money has again become a rival with honor for the foremost place in the nation's regard. Oblivion of the past is deemed the only security of the present. . .

"Why has the nation set apart a day in the sunny springtime to deck with flowers and garlands the graves of our fallen soldiers throughout the land? Is it with the thought of honoring the dead that this is done? I think not. Earthly flowers, however fair, laid upon cold marble or senseless sod, can hardly be thought to bestow much of honor on those upon whose brows the hand of God has placed the immortal wreath. It is, as I think., that in the stillness of the cemetery we may hear with

more distinctness than in the busy turmoil of our daily lives that 'voice that cometh from behind' - from the grave of the buried past, from the spirits of the noble dead, saying, 'This is the way, walk ye in it;' the way of devotion to country and to principle., the way of hardship and self-sacrifice, the way of life through death.

"It is for a kindred purpose that in yonder old playground the foundations have been laid of a stately structure to stand a lasting memorial to the sons of this university who gave their lives to insure their country's salvation. Is it for their sake that the trowel and hammer are so busily plied where once the click of the bat and the shout of the players startled the echoes from the neighboring chapel? Let us not deceive ourselves. It is for us, for the hundreds who yearly pass from these gates, to carry the ideas which they have

here acquired to their distant homes. The influence of association is strong, and well may the heart beat with a quicker pulse and the soul be thrilled with nobler sentiments within walls hallowed by such sacred memories.

"If at any time indifference and an almost pardonable disgust tempt us to leave undone the little which individual effort may do to rescue our national politics from corruption, must not the thought flash into our minds of the heroism here commemorated? We perhaps may find it irksome even to cast a vote for what we believe to be our country's good.

" 'But these, our brothers, fought for her, At life's dear peril wrought for her, So loved her that they died for her.'

"Nothing can insure the success of the great experiment which is here trying, nothing can enable us to preserve our

national existence, save the Intelligence, Integrity, and loyalty of the educated classes. The dangers which threaten us are great' and constant. If Intelligence stands aloof we are lost. No educated man is justified in shrinking from the responsibility which is thrust upon him, nor is it possible for any American citizen to wash his hands of his country. There is no such thing as neutrality in citizenship. He who is not with his country is against her. The absence of a vote from the side of Intelligence adds a new sinew to the arm of Ignorance, which is ever raised menacingly against the nations honor and security.

"Our duty then to our country is positive and grave. If we discharge it with the full-hearted loyalty displayed by those who have gone before us, we may rest assured that no laurel which we can bind about the brows of our alma mater will she

wear with more pride than that won in maintaining the dignity and honor of the republic. On the other hand, if we neglect this duty, in so doing we disregard the example of the past, the demand of the present, and the entreaty of the future, . . . "So live that when in after years your hand once more grasps the hand of friend, he may see the soul of the boy looking forth from the eyes of the man; that he may feel that you are still the same - not changed, but grown."

On Commencement Day he had a part and gave an oration entitled "The Early Franciscans." Then with his classmates he received his degree from the hands of the young president, Charles W. Eliot, who for the first time presided at the Commencement exercises.

At this time Harvard was still a college.

The great leadership of the new president had hardly been felt. The choice of studies was small? and the many lines of Interest which now stimulate the students and turn their thoughts toward congenial pursuits did not exist, Except for the informal talk of a few teachers there was no appeal to the young men to enter public life and very little to kindle their interest in the great national questions of the day. Perhaps the strongest stimulus in this direction given to the students in those days was an address, not of an American citizen, but of Tom Hughes, who, when a guest of James Russell Lowell, spoke to a mass meeting in old Massachusetts Hall. He expressed his surprise at finding how little interest the men of education took in the public life of the great republic. He told the students of the leadership of university men in the national life of England, and

called upon them to consecrate themselves to public service.

Upon his graduation Mr. Wolcott entered the law school, but was attracted by an invitation from the college, which he accepted, to teach for a year in French and History. The next year he passed in the law office of Lothrop, Bishop, and Lincoln, From 1872 to 1874 he was a student in the Harvard law school, taking his degree of bachelor of laws. He was admitted to the Suffolk Bar in 1874.

On September 2, 1874, he was married in Boston to Edith Prescott.

In the middle of the eighteenth century, before the capture of Louisburg, General Roger Wolcott of Connecticut was second in command to Sir William Pepperell. There also served in Nova Scotia under Sir William Pepperell a young lieutenant from Groton, Mass., William Prescott. At

the news of the battle of Lexington, he, like the Huntington brothers from Connecticut, reported at Cambridge as colonel of a regiment of minute-men. His record at Bunker Hill and elsewhere in the Revolutionary War is familiar. His son. Judge Prescott, was the father of the historian, William Hickling Prescott, whose son, William Gardiner Prescott, of Pepperell and Boston, was the father of Mr. Wolcott's bride. Sympathetic in all their associations as well as in character, Mr. and Mrs. Wolcott began their happy life together by traveling for a year in Europe.

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CHAPTER III.A HARVARD STUDENT

CHAPTER III.
A HARVARD STUDENT