Two College Friends

By Frederick W. Loring and Mint Editions

Two College Friends (1871) is a novel by Frederick W. Loring. Published in the last year of the author’s life, Loring’s debut novel is a powerful story of male friendship and homosexual desire that shifts from college campus to battlefield in a series of diary entries, letters, and narrative sections. Partly inspired by Loring’s life at Harvard, the novel was dedicated to his estranged friend William Chamberlain, who likely served as a model for the character Tom. The Professor, who acts as a mediator between the two young men, was modeled on an unnamed teacher who mentored the author at Harvard and died as Loring “was writing the opening pages of [the] story.” Tragic, romantic, patriotic, and bittersweet, Two College Friends is an important work of fiction by an author whose life was cut short before he reached the age of twenty-three.

“Tom is full of patriotism. I never can tell how deeply a sentiment enters his mind; but he is fretting terribly about going with me.” At the outbreak of the American Civil War, Ned leaves Harvard to fight for the Union as a commissioned officer. Despite his patriotism, Tom is forced to remain behind by his parents, who want him to graduate before considering life at war. After a year of sporadic letters and torturous silence, Tom reunites with his old friend Ned at his hospital bedside and, once he has recovered, joins up with his unit and accompanies him back to camp. Together at last, they embark on a dangerous mission, putting their lives at stake for love of country—and for one another. This edition of Frederick W. Loring’s Two College Friends is a classic of American literature reimagined for modern readers.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Mint Editions
• Release date: Oct 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781513217369

Frederick W. Loring

Frederick W. Loring (1848-1871) was an American poet, novelist, and journalist. Born in Boston, he was a distant grandson of English settler Thomas Loring, who arrived in New England in 1634. Educated at Phillips Academy and Harvard University, Loring showed early promise as a writer and literary scholar, no doubt stemming from his late mother’s encouragement and love of reading. After graduating from college, where he contributed to the Harvard Advocate literary magazine, Loring published a novel, Two College Friends (1871), and a poetry collection entitled The Boston Dip and Other Verses (1871). Over the next year, he found publication in such journals and periodicals as The Atlantic Monthly, The Independent, Every Saturday, and Appleton’s Journal. For the latter, Loring left in spring of 1871 to report on the expedition of Lieutenant George M. Wheeler to Arizona. In November of that year, having passed through Death Valley at the height of summer and published several articles for Appleton’s, Loring was among six stagecoach passengers killed in an attack by a group of Yavapai in the vicinity of Wickenburg Arizona. He is remembered today as a talented writer whose promising career was cut short before it could fully blossom. Loring’s only novel has been praised as a pioneering story of male homosexuality for its depiction of young men united by friendship, romance, and tragedy.

Book preview

I

THE LECTURE ON DOMESTIC ARTS

" ‘At dawn,’ he said, ‘I bid them all farewell,

To go where bugles blow and rifles gleam;’

And with the waking thought asleep he fell,

And wandered into dream."

It was quarter after two in the afternoon, and the Professor was sitting at his desk, engaged in arranging the notes of his lecture, when there came a knock on the door.

Come in, said the Professor. Ah, Ned! is it you? This to a graceful boy of twenty, who entered the room.

Yes, it is Ned, said the boy; and he particularly wishes to see you for a few minutes.

Every moment is precious, said the Professor, until my lecture is in order. What is the matter? Are you in trouble?

Yes, said Ned, I am in trouble.

Then let me read to you, said the Professor, the concluding paragraph of my lecture on Domestic Arts.

Oh, don’t! said Ned; I really am in trouble.

Are you the insulter or the insulted, this time? asked the Professor.

Neither, said Ned, shortly; and I’m not in trouble on my own account.

Ah! said the Professor; then you have got into some difficulty in your explorations in low life; or you have spent more than your income; or it’s the perpetual Tom.

It’s the perpetual Tom, said Ned.

I supposed so, observed the Professor. What has that youth been doing now? Drinking, swearing, gambling, bad company, theft, murder?—out with it! I am prepared for anything, from the expression of your face; for anything, that is to say, except my lecture on Domestic Arts, which comes at three.

Well, if you choose to make fun of me, said Ned, I can go; but I thought you would advise me.

And so I will, you ridiculous creature, when you need it, said the Professor; only at such times you generally act for yourself. But, come; my advice and sympathy are yours; so what has Tom done?

He has fallen in love, said Ned.

Oh, no! said the Professor.

Yes, sir, repeated Ned, more firmly, he has fallen in love.

’Tis the way of all flesh, said the Professor; but I don’t think Tom can fall in love. He never even dislikes anyone without a cause.

That’s all very well, sir, said Ned; but when a fellow has a girl’s picture, and looks at it when he thinks he isn’t watched; and when he receives notes, and keeps them, instead of throwing them around, as usual; and when he takes to being blue,—what do you say?

Please state your propositions separately, said the Professor, and I will endeavor to form an opinion. When a fellow has a girl’s picture,—what was the rest?

I wish you wouldn’t make fun of me, said Ned.

Well, in Heaven’s name, what is there to trouble you, if Tom is in love? asked the Professor.

Because he hasn’t told me, said Ned.

Oh! you are jealous then, rejoined the Professor. You are the most selfish person, for one who is so generous, that I have ever seen. You are morbid upon the subject of Tom, I believe.

Well, look here, said Ned; I have neither father nor mother; I have no one except Tom. I care more for him than for anyone else in the world, as you know; but you never will know how much I care for him; and it does seem hard that he should shut me out of his confidence when I have done nothing to forfeit it. There’s some girl at the bottom of all this. He and that big Western friend of his, the Blush Rose, whom I never liked, have been off together two or three times; and, as I say, Tom has got this picture; and the Blush Rose knows it, and knows who she is. I’ve seen them looking at it, and admiring it. I’m afraid, from Tom’s not telling me about it, that he’s doing something out of the way.

In that case, said the Professor, you had better let me read you the closing paragraph of my lecture on Domestic Arts.

No, I thank you, said Ned; I shall have to hear it, anyway, this afternoon.

So you will, said the Professor; and, by the way, I shall give you a private if you behave today as you did in my last lecture. I have told your class-tutor to warn you.

Well, that is pleasant, said Ned.

I meant it to be, replied the Professor. Goodbye. I may call at your room tonight,—to see Tom.

And, as Ned was heard going down the stairs, the Professor, seeing that he had still twenty-five minutes to spare, took his lecture, and sat down before the fire, which flickered slightly, and just served to destroy the dampness of that April day.

II

THE PICTURE OVER THE FIREPLACE

Whether the Professor would have made any alterations or amendments in his lecture, it is difficult to say; that he did not is due to the fact that his eye fell upon a little photograph, which hung over his fireplace. As he sits there, thinking over what Ned has told him, and laughing at the idea of Tom’s being really in love, he gazes on this little photograph, and smiles. The Professor has one or two real