The record-union., 1894-05-26
A MODERN CONCORD sage.

Copyright, 1894, by Edgar L. Wakeman. All
rights reserved
In the minds of vast multitude of us
who live our obscure lives remote from
the ancient hamlet of Concord, renowned
in the memories Of men as the former
home of sages, the name invariably comes
rustling into the consciousness with a
dim, underlined yet certain sense of large
ness and loftiness.
The place possesses neither. It is
quiet town of struggling homes, set round
the edge of gentle, pine-crowned ridge,
and its oldest habitations here and there
creep out into luxuriant meadows as II
tempted countryward by the very sweet
ness of the pleasant ways beyond.
No sound of toll is heard in Concord.
No token of the tremendous activities
which ordinarily crowd from cities into
near villages can be seen. Not even
rugged bit of scenery can be found with
in it's placid environments. 1t is but
peaceful hamlet, set behind the city and
the sea, in lovely valley trimmed by
tender hills.
It has gardens lush and beautiful. 1t
blends into close huddled farm homes Of
marvellous New England thrift and
plenty. 1t has orchards wide and vine
yards rare. But nobody is ever seen
coming to it or going away. Its thirty or
forty hundred souls putter and pother
about its square old mansions as if
effort were done and eternal siesta had
come.
1t has age. 1t has riches. 1t once had
intellect. These are enough. 1t rests IN
its happy valley like dreaming age asleep
with smile-fit face upon the warm bosom
of ample content.
In its slumberous silence that which
stirred the souls of all its departing inter-
pre- ting sages is here. Here flows the
gentle Concord stream on its onward sea-
ward way. Here stretch the fair mead
ows. Here circle the tender hills. Here
stand the pines as IN prlmeVal Gays.
Here still are tie low-roofed homes with
gables old, where life was meted out to
homely souls in three simple parts-the
birth, the toll, the rest.
Ancient burial spots with their brown
and leaning headstones, like congrega-
tions of hooded Capuchins at prayer,
huddle with loving guardianship be-
tween rare old mansions OF the lVlng.
Out there stretches the smooth highway
TO old Sudbury town, where is still stand
ing Long1ellow's 'Wayside Inn.' 1onder
winds the winsome way past Haw-
thorne's "Old Manse," as messy and
sweet as ever to-day, to the sacred battle
ground giebe.
The historic Lexington highway trails
past two centuries old inn. From the
very spot Pitcairn forgivably registered
and boasted, you see. as in dream. the
wraiths of British soldiery as they came
in and went, and through the ghostiy
ambush smoke OF yeomen's rifles
,ioI,, rh
the former homes of Emerson, Alcott and
Hawthorne, the fancy for an instant
gliding to Thoreau's lifeful Walden Pond
beyond.
The first one is large and white and
prinl, like later roadside hostel, with
babbling Mill Brook almost touching its
meadoward, sloping grounds; the second,
opposite and beyond, is gabled and
gloomy behind two noble elms, the little
School of Philosophy" structure, un-
painted and drear as some mountain
side chapel beside it, and the third, is
Hawthornes beloved ''Wayside," but a
stones throw beyond. brooding beneath
the shadows of the pines which sob and
sough as if planting for the lost wizard
hand that wrought within it.
Then. up in the Sleepy Hollow Gene
terry, among the pines are found, for the
pilgrims reverentlal contemplation, the
grave of the gentle Thoreau, the tomb of
Emerson, unmarked by name, epitaph
or sign, save one uncut massive block OF
granite at it's head, and finally the level
grave of Hawthorne, apostle OF nature,
revealer of spiritual calm, Greater OF
deathless imageries-trinity of mortal
immortals-lying in the last sweet peace
together.
To pilgrim worshipers at the shrine OF
these dead yet ever living transcendent-
alists, nothing seems more certain than
that the race of sages in ancient Concord
is forever extinct, just as it is thought
that the Hudson can never know another
Irving, New England another Longtel-
low, Tweeddale another Scott, Ayr and
Dumfries another Burns, or Stratford
and the Avon another Shakespeare.
This is because their reverenIial thought
is concentrated exclusively upon single
species of the sage, those of the species
who begin the profession of the sage at
so early an age that enough people in the
world hear of their vocation, as an orig
ina1 discovery, TO insist that all other
folk shall agree with them in their CLASH
fcation.
Now Union jimmy Biggs of Con-
cord had possessed no such advantage.
Having started cut in life as a stone-cut-
ter, nothing could have been more ab-
surd than for him to have exchanged his
vocation for that of sage, because, in that
event. he would also have had to write a
book deliver lectures, or establish a
school of philosophy.
While either or all these things were
no doubt within the scope of his genius,
Uncle Jimmy often remarked TO his
sweet little old wife, as we'll as TO the
few who had by accident or inclination
come to bask within the sunshine of his
equable temper and drink at the foun-
tain of his pure philosophy. ''Sech
things is mighty onsartin, an more
worritin','' which jewel of wisdom,
falling before the eyes of perception,
was alone sufficient to set the seal oil
richness, depth and profundity upon Its
source.
Besides" Uncle Jimmy would often
remark to his most trusted disciples with
an ineffable smile OF philosophic calm,
az know'd 'em all.n
This with gentle gesture of his mall
let towards Sleepy Hollow Cemetery
and the great who were lying asleep
within 1t.
Il cut all their headstuns. footstuns
corner-stuns and copin's. know'd ZEN
afore cutIin' th' stuns. I've seed ZEN
comm an goin', an L hum. Pve seed
folk from ev'ry pint tn compass, comm
am goin' T. git a look at 'em. But never
seed one on 'em, in fifty year, with 1
happy face, er a happy face around 'em
All on 'em had dispepsv, nuralgy el
rheumatics. Don't b'lieve tn Lord talks
through sour stomach. Don't blieye