The Great Mirror of Same-Sex Love - Prose - 73. Henry Stevenson Washburn "...the Potomac held his body in its embrace..."

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The fall of Lieutenant Grout

LIEUTENANT JOHN WILLIAM GROUT, the subject of “The Vacant Chair,” was the only son of Jonathan and Mary Jane Grout, and was born in Worcester, Massachusetts, July 25th, 1843. His father was a successful business man, and the son enjoyed the excellent educational advantages given to the young in that enterprising city. He was a bright boy, and a favorite of his playmates, by whom he was familiarly known as Willie Grout. It soon was evident that he was by nature endowed with rare gifts, physically and mentally. Of medium stature and symmetrical proportions, erect carriage and remarkably fine and manly features, and with elastic vigor and the glow of health, he might have been selected as a model by an artist.

The photograph herewith given, which was taken just before his departure for the war, is an excellent likeness of his personal presence. He was a diligent student, and mastered easily subjects to which his attention was given; but he turned with special interest to history, in its relation to nations, and their conflicts one with another. He seemed to have been born for a military life; and inherited undoubtedly a love for the camp from his ancestors. “He was of the sixth generation from John of Sudbury, who was a grandson of an English Knight, and who distinguished himself for his heroism in leading his townsmen triumphantly against the assaults of the Indians in 1676 – for which he was rewarded with a Captaincy, then a substitute for Knighthood in England.”

It was early a question what profession in life he should follow – a matter which was not settled till he entered the Highland School in his native city, where in the Military Department his wishes were gratified. He joined the company of Cadets, and soon became its commander. Hardly had his ambition been thus gratified, when the Civil War became the all-absorbing matter of interest to the people.

No one was quicker than he to see that his hour had come, and he desired at once to enter the army; but his parents withheld their consent for a while, chiefly on account of his youth, for he had barely attained the age when his country could legally claim his services. When however, they yielded to his importunity, his joy knew no bounds; and with all the ardor of his nature he began preparations for the service before him, such as sleeping on the floor to inure himself to the hardships of life in camp.

When the Massachusetts 5th Regiment was organized. he received the commission of second lieutenant of Company D – an honor rarely bestowed upon so young a person. He was very popular in the regiment. His knowledge of military tactics was such that his services as a drillmaster were in constant demand.

“He assured his friends, not with buoyant rashness, but with serious candor, that he had girded on his armor for all the emergencies of war, and for victory or death. He seemed to feel the solemnities as well as the responsibilities of his position, but never faltered in his purpose, or in the duties he was subsequently called to discharge.

“It was the fortune of the Massachusetts 15th Regiment to do the greatest execution, and suffer the greatest loss, in that disastrous conflict at Ball’s Bluff, October 21, 1861.”

The coolness, self-possession, and courage of Lieutenant Grout were noticed by his comrades with astonishment, and greatly stimulated the courage of others. When the day was lost, and they were forced to retreat to the river, he seemed to be utterly regardless of himself in his desire to have the wounded conveyed to the opposite shore. To his honor let it ever be remembered that he crossed the stream with a boat-load of the sufferers, and seeing them safely landed, returned to render like assistance to others ; and continued so to do till he was obliged to plunge into the stream to save his own life. He had reached the middle of the river when he exclaimed to a comrade at his side, “Tell Company D I could have reached the shore, but I am shot, and must sink;” and as the waters closed over him, his spirit took its flight from the throes and conflicts of earth.

When his death was announced, Col. Devens with deep emotion said, “Dear little fellow; he came to me at the close of the battle and said, ‘Colonel, can I do anything more for you?’ and I replied, ‘Nothing, but take care of yourself.’”

For several weeks the Potomac held his body in its embrace, to be finally surrendered to loving hands, from whence it was tenderly borne to his native city for burial.

The heart of the old Commonwealth had never known a sadder day than when his remains, under the escort of the Highland Cadets, attended by the mayor and both branches of the city government, Col. Devens, and a large concourse of sympathizing citizens, were taken to the cemetery for interment. Many tears were mingled with the volleys fired over the grave of the hero, who, at the early age of eighteen, fell a voluntary sacrifice upon the altar of his country.

—Henry Stevenson Washburn,^[i]

1862