Winters can be long and harsh in New England, but at least we have hope every year that, soon enough, spring and then summer will make their return. But what if warmer weather never returned? That’s exactly what happened in 1816, The Year Without a Summer.
This is a story of insanity, and it begins in ancient Ireland, where legend says there once lived the powerful Tuatha de Danann. They were Kings, Queens, Druids, and those possessed with magic arts long since forgotten or explained away by modern science. Among them was Cailleach (translation, “Old Hag”), the Witch Queen of Winter.
Shortly after sunrise, Reuben Brown crouched on a hill just outside the center of Lexington, Massachusetts. He was out of breath from his six-mile ride from Concord, and what he saw didn’t make him breathe any easier. More than 700 British troops were on the road, and 70-odd provincial militia were all that stood between them and Concord.
In 1774 when Parliament passed the Boston Port Act in an attempt to break the Massachusetts colonists of their resistance to crown policy, it also authorized English General and acting Massachusetts Governor Thomas Gage to undertake any military measures necessary to help bring the colony under control. In late winter and early spring of 1775, Gage received a series of dispatches from London ordering him to not only arrest the leaders of Massachusetts’ opposition party but to launch a major strike against the apparently growing provincial stockpiles of weapons and munitions located throughout eastern Massachusetts.
Oral and written history records are like dust; grains disappear over time—burned, blown away, forgotten. In some cases, just enough original particles remain that, when swept together, give a foothold for stories like this one.
Stand in Concord Center, on Lexington Road, with your back to the Old Hill Burying Ground and your gaze fixed on the gold-domed First Parish building across the street. Here you are standing in the area of Concord’s first meeting house. Below your feet are grains of dust walked over centuries before by Concord residents such as Puritan John Jones, the first minister of Concord. And what happened when he left this spot became something New England history tried to bury.
Ellen Tucker Emerson was the second child and eldest daughter of Ralph Waldo Emerson and Lidian Jackson Emerson. Born on February 25, 1839, she was named after Emerson’s first wife, Ellen Tucker, who was deceased.
Emerson understood the importance of education for all and ensured that Ellen was well schooled by educators, including Elizabeth Cary Agassiz, wife of biologist Louis Agassiz and a dedicated teacher who became the first president of Radcliffe College; Franklin Sanborn, Concord educator and one of abolitionist John Brown’s “secret six;” and Elizabeth Sedgwick, who founded the Sedgwick School for Young Ladies in Lenox to enable girls to expand their knowledge. By the time Ellen’s formal schooling ended in 1858, she was able to speak and translate French and German, capabilities she was able to draw on for the rest of her life.
Concord has a reputation for producing people of radical ideas, justice, and bravery. From the minutemen of the American Revolution to transcendentalist writers like Henry David Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson, the town of Concord has an ability to grow a sense of social justice in all its citizens. The story of Ellen Garrison Jackson Clark, an African American woman born and raised here in Concord who went on to fight for freedom at a national level, is a less well-known example—an injustice that The Robbins House and the Concord Museum are seeking to rectify.
The focal point of Concord’s historic Monument Square is the Civil War Monument. A bronze plaque on the obelisk honors the names of 48 local men who lost their lives in the Civil War; however, 49 Concord men paid the ultimate price. Private George Washington Dugan’s name is missing.
The Concord Free Public Library’s Special Collections holds a rich and extensive collection relating to Herbert Wendell Gleason (1855-1937), a prominent American landscape photographer and environmentalist. The holdings include close to 7,000 Gleason negatives on glass plates and film, Gleason’s slide lecture “Thoreau’s Country,” albums of Concord, and Thoreau-related images compiled by Gleason himself, as well as correspondence and lecture notes.
Concord usually gets attention for its past. Even Louisa May Alcott worried that her town was “degenerating into a museum of revolutionary relics.” She, of course, belonged to an intellectual event that gave a second chapter to Concord’s celebrated history, but the Concordian of today is liable to feel that everything great belongs to the past.