There a group of
people conversed together who have left an echo that is still heard.
There also is still heard "the shot fired round the world," which of
course returned to Concord on completing its circuit. But even the
endless concourse of visitors, making the claims of any region
wearisomely familiar, cannot diminish the simple solemnity of the
town's historical as well as literary importance; and indeed it has so
many medals for various merit that it is no wonder its residents have
a way of speaking about it which some of us would call Bostonian.
Emerson, Thoreau, Channing, and Alcott dispersed a fragrance that
attracted at once, and all they said was resonant with charity and
courage.
The first flash of individuality from Emerson could hardly fail to
suggest that he resembled the American eagle; and he presided over
Concord in a way not unlike our glorious symbol, the Friend of Light.
It must have been exhilarating to look forward to many years in
Emerson's hamlet. My earliest remembered glimpse of him was when he
appeared--tall, side-slanting, peering with almost undue questioning
into my face, but with a smile so constant as to seem like an added
feature, dressed in a solemn, slender, dark overcoat, and a dark,
shadowing hat--upon the Concord highroad; the same yellow thoroughfare
which reaches out to. Lexington its papyrus-strip of history. At the
onset of Emerson--for psychic men do attack one with their
superiority--awe took possession of me; and, as we passed (a great
force and a small girl) I wondered if I should survive.
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