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Brook Farm: Historic and Personal Memoirs

by John Thomas Codman · English · Gutenberg #7932 · 559,484 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Brook Farm: Historic and Personal Memoirs

Author: John Thomas Codman


        
Release date: April 1, 2005 [eBook #7932]
                Most recently updated: October 13, 2012

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/7932

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BROOK FARM

HISTORIC AND PERSONAL MEMOIRS

BY

JOHN THOMAS CODMAN




CONTENTS


CHAPTER I.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE BROOK FARM MOVEMENT

Transcendentalism; Explained by Mr. Ripley,--The Proposition,--Members
of the Transcendental Club--The first Persons at the
Community--Constitution and Laws; Articles of Agreement--Description of
Mr. Ripley, Mr. Pratt, Mr. Dwight, Mrs. Ripley, Mr. Dana, Mr. Bradford,
Hawthorne and Others.


CHAPTER II.

THE SECOND DEVELOPMENT

Thoughts on Reorganization--Fourier on Social Code--Mr. Ripley's
Action--Progress of Society--Theories by Fourier, etc.--Closing of the
Transcendental Period--Reorganization, and the Industrial Period.


CHAPTER III.

PERSONAL EXPERIENCES AND DESCRIPTIONS

Departure from Boston, and Arrival at the Farm--Description of the
Place--Attica--Personal Occupations, etc.--The Wild Flowers.


CHAPTER IV.

THE INDUSTRIAL PERIOD

Descriptions of Members: The "General,"; Ryckman, Blake, Drew, Orvis,
Cheevers--William H. Charming, and Albert Brisbane,--S. Margaret
Fuller--Ralph W. Emerson--Theodore Parker and Mr. Ripley's Joke.


CHAPTER V.

THE RUSH AND HUM OF LIFE AND WORK

Many Visitors--An Odd Visitor--The Groups and Series, etc.--The
Workshop--My first Spring--Death and Funeral--The Amusement Group,
Dances, Walks and first Summer.


CHAPTER VI.

THE "HARBINGER," AND VARIOUS SUBJECTS

The _Harbinger_ Published; Editors and Contributors, Its
Characteristics and Effect--The Industrial Phalanx--The Phalanstery--A
Financial Report--The Grahamites, and their Table--John Allen and
Boy--The Visitation of Small-pox.


CHAPTER VII.

MY SECOND SPRING

Resumption of Building--The Crowded Conditions--Gardener's
Department--Prince Albert--Jumping the Brook--Retrenchment--The
Doves--The Gardener--The Position of Woman in Association--The Right to
Vote--The Wedding--Lizzie Curson--Our Young Folks.


CHAPTER VIII.

THE DRAMA AND IMPORTANT LETTERS

The Play in the Shop--The Associative Movement--Rev. Adin Ballou's
Letter--Mr. Brisbane's, and Mr. Ripley's Letters--Mr. Pratt's
Departure--The Great Party--Cyclops.


CHAPTER IX.

SOCIAL, AND PARLOR LIFE

Meetings in Boston, etc.--Two Lady Friends--Music at the
Eyry--Consciousness of Self--The Great Snow Storm--C. P. Cranch's
Imitations.


CHAPTER X.

FUN ALIVE

Fun at the Phalanx--Ripley's Quotation--On Punning--The Robbery, and
the Waiting Group.


CHAPTER XI.

THE GREAT CATASTROPHE

The Last Dance, and the Fire--The _Harbinger's_ Account of It--Feeding
the Firemen--The Morning after the Fire.


CHAPTER XII.

SUMMING UP AND REVERIES

The Bearings of the Association and its Occupations--Slanders of the
New York Press--Definition of the Associationists Position toward
Fourier--Forebodings at the Farm--Personal Reveries.


CHAPTER XIII.

THE FIRST BREAK

Peter's Departure--Mr. Dwight at the Association Meeting--Practical
Christians--The Solidarity of the Race--Mr. Ripley's _Harbinger_
Article.


CHAPTER XIV.

THE DEPARTURES AND AFTER LIVES OF THE MEMBERS

Breaking up--Ripley's Poverty, after Life and Death--Mr. Pratt; Mr.
Dana; Mr. Dwight, and various Persons--William H. Charming--A.
Brisbane--C. Fourier--Letters of Approval.


APPENDIX.

PART I.

STUDENTS' AND INQUIRERS' LETTERS

Student Life--Explanations and Answers to Objections--Letter on Social
Equality--Religious Views.




INTRODUCTION.


There were two distinct phases in the Associated life at Brook Farm.
The first was inaugurated by the pioneers, who introduced a school, and
combined it with farm and household labors. The second phase began with
an attempt to introduce methods of social science and to add mechanical
and other industries to those already commenced. These different phases
have been called the Transcendental and the Industrial periods.

Each individual had his special experiences of the life. The writer
chronicles it from his standpoint. None, perhaps, was more interested
in it than he, young as he was, but many were more able to elaborate it
and write it in details, and did he not feel that it was an important
duty neglected by all, these memoirs would have remained unwritten.

The record books of the institution are missing, and are doubtless long
ago destroyed. These chapters have been compiled and written from few
memoranda, at various times, very often after the arduous duties of
days of professional life, and with a desire only to present the
subject truthfully, faithfully and simply; and also, not wholly to
gratify curiosity, or to record the doings of the noble men and women
who were wise before their time, but to whisper courage to those who,
like their predecessors, are seeking some solution of the social
problems that involves neither the too sudden surrender of acquired
rights, the reckless abandon of old ideas to untried and crude
radicalism, or the more to-be-dreaded feuds between classes, that mean
desperation on one side and war on the other; but to aid, if possible,
in inspiring a belief that a peaceful adjustment of our surroundings
will, in time, bring order out of chaos and harmony out of discord.

The reader will have observed long before he lays down this book, that
the Brook Farm life and ideals were purely coöperative and
philosophical, that all the elements of true society were recognized,
and that the attempt was for the better adjustment of them to the
changing and changed relations of their fellow-men, brought about by
the pervading moral, scientific and social growth of the past and
present centuries.

The nation is older, richer and wiser, since the Brook Farm experiment
began. It is more tolerant of one another's opinions, more
enterprising, progressive and liberal, and surely a few weak trials
made half a century ago, are not enough to solve the majestic problem
of right living and how to shape the outward forms of society, so that
within their environments all interests may be harmonized, and the
golden rule begin to be, in a practical way, the measure of all human
lives.

The author, in closing, will confide to his readers the wish of his
heart, that this sketch of his early days may inspire some who can
command influence and means with an interest to continue the
experiments in social science, along lines laid out with more or less
clearness by the Brook Farmers.

  J. T. C.




CHAPTER I.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE BROOK FARM MOVEMENT.


Early in the present century, New England was the centre of progressive
religious thought in America. A morbid theology had reigned supreme,
but its forms were too cold, harsh and forbidding to attract or even
retain the liberal-minded, educated and philosophic students of the
rising generation, or hold in check the ardent humanitarian spirit,
that embodied itself in ideals that were greater than the existing
creeds.

Yet nowhere prevailed a more religious spirit. It showed itself in
tender care of masses of the people, in public schools and seminaries,
in lectures, sermons, libraries and in acts of general benevolence.

From these conditions developed the idea of greater freedom from social
trammels; from African slavery, which had not then been abolished; from
domestic slavery, which still exists; from the exploitations of trade
and commerce; from the vicious round of unpaid labor, vice and
brutality. Protestations were heard against all of these evils, not
always coming from the poor and unlearned, but oftener from the
educated and refined, who had pride that the republic should stand
foremost among the nations for justice, culture and righteousness.

The old theology was crumbling. A new church was springing from its
vitals based on freer thought, in which the intellect and heart had
more share in determining righteousness. The fatherhood of God and the
brotherhood of man became the themes of discourse, oftener than those
of the vengeance of an offended Deity; and pity and forgiveness,
oftener than those on everlasting punishment.

In truth, the new departure which had begun, soon attracted to itself
the most cultivated persons of the time, some of whom, Sept. 19, 1836,
formed a club that met at one another's houses and discussed all the
important social and religious topics of the day. They were mostly
young people, college-bred, learned, artistic and thoughtful, and of
high ideals in intellectual acquirement, religion and social life. They
were all agreed that there were many evils to be eradicated from
society; in what way--individualistic, governmental or socialistic, or
by a combination of ways--few were agreed.

The problem was an open one. The theories proposed and the discussions
were extremely interesting, but no record of them is at hand, except a
few essays published in the _Dial_, a quarterly magazine which was
edited by members of the organization, which finally took the name of
"The Transcendental Club." One of the _Dial_ editors, as well as one of
the founders of the Club, and at whose house it had its first meeting,
was Rev. George Ripley, a Unitarian minister who was born at
Greenfield, Mass., in the beautiful valley of the Connecticut River. He
was of good farmer stock and had a fine physical presence, though of
medium stature. He was a lover of books, a graduate of Harvard college,
and a well trained and religious scholar. He was then settled over a
Unitarian church worshipping on Purchase Street, in Boston, and
faithfully fulfilled his duties. Above all things his head and heart
sought righteousness for all men. He believed in the justice of God and
the divine nature of man His best creation. He believed man to be
involved in an intricate and un-Christian social labyrinth, and with
deep earnestness of purpose and thorough convictions of his personal
duty in the case, set himself at work to evolve a way to extricate at
least some of humanity from their vicious surroundings; and finally
proposed to the Club a plan which he urged with his customary vigor and
eloquence.

This plan was, in short, to locate on a farm where agriculture and
education should be made the foundation of a new system of social life.
Labor should be honored. All would take part in it. There should be no
religious creeds adopted. The old, feeble and sick were to be cared
for, the strong and able bearing the greater burden of the labor. There
would be no rank, to entitle the owner of it to superior considerations
because of the rank; and truth, justice and order were to be the
governing principles of the society.

The theologians and philosophers of Europe, with whose writings and
logic Mr. Ripley was well acquainted, had impressed him with the truth
of the divinity of man's nature, or had convinced him more thoroughly
that his own ideas of it were right. He had wrestled with progressively
conservative giants, professors of colleges--notably Andrews
Norton--and had won well-earned laurels. Norton was professor of sacred
literature at Harvard, one of his own professors, sixteen years his
senior, and made a point that the miracles of Christ and the writings
of the gospel were the only sure proofs existing of spiritual truths.

The Transcendental philosophy to which Mr. Ripley had become a convert,
claimed that there was in human nature an intuitive faculty which
clearly discerned spiritual truths, which idea was in contradistinction
to the beliefs of the day, which declared that spiritual knowledge came
by special grace, and was proven by the divine miracles; this latter
belief being largely joined to the doctrine of the innate depravity of
man. Mr. Ripley's own words to his church on Purchase Street, declared
that


"There is a class of persons who desire a reform in the prevailing
philosophy of the day. These are called Transcendentalists, because
they believe in an order of truth that transcends the sphere of the
external senses. Their leading idea is the supremacy of mind over
matter. Hence they maintain that the truth of religion does not depend
on tradition nor historical facts, but has an unswerving witness in the
soul. There is a light, they believe, which enlighteneth every man who
cometh into the world. There is a faculty in all--the most degraded,
the most ignorant, the most obscure--to perceive spiritual truth when
distinctly presented; and the ultimate appeal on all moral questions is
not to a jury of scholars, a hierarchy of divines or the prescriptions
of a creed, but to the common sense of the human race.

"There is another class of persons who are devoted to the removal of
the abuses that prevail in modern society. They witness the oppressions
done under the sun and they cannot keep silence. They have faith that
God governs man; they believe in a better future than the past; their
daily prayer is for the coming of the kingdom of righteousness, truth
and love; they look forward to a more pure, more lovely, more divine
state of society than was ever realized on earth. With these views I
rejoice to say I strongly and entirely sympathize."


The prevailing tone of New England life was Calvinistic. Its doctrines
may be said to have entered every household, penetrated every sanctuary
and influenced all the leaders of society. The new departure was not a
going away from religious thought, but it joined intellect and heart.
It ignored unreasonable extravagances of statement wherever found. It
ignored faith alone. It did not believe that faith stood above works.
It pointed always towards action. It summed up the lesson and meaning
of all good doctrines, that man should _lead a better life here_, where
the duties to our fellows should not be passed by as now, but
fulfilled. It was a newer way of thinking, to be logical with religion
and put it to the test of every-day life. If the new departure meant
anything then, if it means anything to-day, its object is to accomplish
a better life here on this earth. In his soul, penetrated by divine
aspirations, Mr. Ripley heard these words ringing out: "A truer life, a
more honest life, a juster life--accomplish it!"

It was at the Club that he again urged the realization of his plan.
There gathered together were the brightest intellects, the highest
minded, the most sympathetic, thoughtful and talented young men that
New England contained. Preaching was good, but more than preaching was
wanted--the Christian life; could it not be commenced? Could they not
educate the young in practical duties as well as in books, and by their
own good example so surround them that the interior life could be
awakened--the soul's inward goodness and the power to discern the true
destiny of man?

Encouraged by the sympathy of his wife, sister and a few earnest
spirits, Mr. Ripley started on his project. He was in his fortieth
year. He was neither too young nor too old. A few years of life he
could possibly spare for the experiment. He would then be only in his
prime. He had no children to embarrass his movements. He could give all
his strength of body and mind to it. He loved the country life. It was
to be the fulfilling of what he had preached so long and what is, alas,
still preached to-day with not much attempt to realize it--the
Christian life. People would laugh at him! I doubt if that gave him one
disturbing thought. It _was right_; as it was right he would do it. But
maybe in his secret heart he thought that more of those who seemed to
have been awakened, as he had been, to the divine call, would follow
and join with him than did; for, singularly enough, not one of the
members of the Transcendental Club, who first met together, joined Mr.
Ripley's movement. They were all radical to the prevailing theology,
stiff, rigid as it was, and never, in America, was there a group
assembled who aimed higher, or did more, first and last, to elevate
humanity; for the Club contained a galaxy of mental talent.

Mr. Ripley led them all in practical endeavor to form the Christian
commonwealth that many of them had preached.

William Ellery Channing, in whose veins ran the blood of one of the
signers of the Declaration of American Independence, a beloved
preacher, was there, full of earnestness, tenderness, faith and love.
With vigor he poured out his eloquence to awaken thoughts for an
enlarged theology, and with a sympathizing heart criticised chattel
slavery, social slavery and domestic servitude, and afterward became
one of the acknowledged leaders of liberal Christendom.

Young Ralph Waldo Emerson was there, very late from the ministry, known
better as poet, philosopher and essayist; and James Freeman Clarke,
talented writer and preacher; and faithful and independent Rev. Cyrus
A. Bartol. Rev. Theodore Parker, son of a Lexington hero, doughty, bold
and brave, on whose head fell the anathemas of the orthodox and the
curses of the slaveholders at a later day, showed his ever calm,
pleasant and earnest face at the board.

Rev. F. H. Hedge, Convers Francis, Thomas H. Stone, Samuel D. Robbins,
Samuel J. May and another Channing--William Henry--were there;
Christopher P. Cranch, divinity graduate, but now well known as
painter, poet and story teller; and beloved John S. Dwight, famed
mostly as writer on music, and musical critic; and Orestes A. Brownson,
prominent essayist, who was, by turns, a Radical, Unitarian,
Universalist, Presbyterian and Roman Catholic.

All these above named persons were attached to the clergy. There were
others who, like A. Bronson Alcott, were teachers, and sometimes
lecturers. There was Henry D. Thoreau, a charming writer who spent two
years in a hut in Walden woods; and Nathaniel Hawthorne, the writer of
many familiar romances; also George Bancroft, the historian, Dr.
Charles T. Follen, Samuel G. Ward, Caleb Stetson, William Russell,
Jones Very, Robert Bartlett and S. V. Clevenger, sculptor. As an
innovation in clubs there were lady members, among whom were Elizabeth
P. Peabody, and her sister Sophia, who became the wife of Hawthorne;
Miss S. Margaret Fuller, remarkable for her intellectual capacity, and
who became the wife of Count D'Ossoli, of Italy; Miss Marianne Ripley,
sister, and Mrs. Sophia Ripley, wife, of Rev. George Ripley.

Or if those persons were not all members of the Club, of which there
seems to be no list extant, nearly every one was, and they can all be
classed as belonging to the coterie or Transcendental circle; all at
times attended the meetings, participated in the discussions, and wrote
articles for the _Dial_ and for what in those days were called the
radical journals and magazines.

The winter of 1840 had been the time of talk. Early in the spring of
the year 1841 it was announced that a location was chosen at Brook
Farm, West Roxbury, nine miles from Boston, Mass. Mr. Ripley selected
it. He and his wife had boarded there the former summer. It was retired
and pretty. Mr. Ellis owned it; Mr. Parker, Mr. Russell and Mr. Shaw
lived not far away, and a small amount of cash paid down would secure
the place for an immediate commencement of the effort. The party who
went earliest to settle at Brook Farm consisted of Mr. George Ripley;
Sophia Willard Ripley, his wife; Miss Marianne Ripley, his elder
sister; Mr. George P. Bradford, Mr. Warren Burton, Mrs. Minot Pratt
with three children, Mr. Nathaniel Hawthorne and several others. Mr.
William Allen acted as head farmer. There were in all about twenty
persons. Doubtless there were blisters on the palms and aching bones,
in the first raw days of labor, and the poetry of life was often lost
in the fatigue of the body.

Of the men of the Transcendental Club only Hawthorne and Dwight joined
what was called "Mr. Ripley's community"; and though Mr. Emerson talked
favorably of it he finally declined to join when asked to do so by Mr.
Ripley.

The farmhouse, the only dwelling there was on the place, must have
resounded with remarkable echoes as the pioneers of the new social
order alighted on its threshold. They were of cultivated families, and
were nearly all from the city and neighborhood of Boston. Their hearts
were open to the tender influence of buds and blossoms, the fresh
springing grass and the bubbling brook. They watched the birds of
various plumage; the oriole, who hung his basket nest from the pendant
branches of the elm, the robin redbreast who built close in the thick
branches of the firs, and the sparrow who was contented with a less
prominent nest, as he picked up hairs from the stable or from
underneath the windows.

They were fond of cows, pigs and poultry. There was a flower garden to
work in. There was a plenty of wild flowers in the fields and in the
woods near by. There was delightful solitude and delightful society,
and there was a wonderful novelty in all. There were contrasts of
character, deep, strong natures to reason with, cheerful hearts to talk
with, and great hopes everywhere. What wonder that they laughed,
frolicked and sang, and got up little parties and masquerades to
entertain the wonderful, wonderstruck and remarkable visitors who came
to see them? The place was a "milk farm" when the "Transcendentalists,"
as they were often called, entered on it. The surroundings were
picturesque. Some one of the party started at an early hour in the
morning with the milk for Boston, nine miles away.

All was new and had to be done by many for the first time. There was
much hard work for the women, as it was not a well-proportioned family;
pupils and visitors added to the labor, but poetry and enthusiasm
changed plain names into elegance, as Deborah into "Ora," and
beautified the laundry and kitchen with hopes and glories.

Immediately the school was set in operation. There were some promising
pupils. The young and talented Dwight, whose heart was too full to
preach what he might better practise in this ideal society, soon left
his pastorate in Northampton, Mass., and joined as instructor, and was
shortly followed by the capable Dana, who gained power for himself as
well as gave it to the Association.

The following persons were nominated for positions in the Brook Farm
School, fall term, 1842:--

  George Ripley, Instructor in Intellectual and Natural Philosophy and
                 Mathematics.
  George P. Bradford, Instructor in Belles Lettres.
  John S. Dwight, Instructor in Latin and Music.
  Charles A. Dana, Instructor in Greek and German.
  John S. Brown, Instructor in Theosophical and Practical Agriculture.
  Sophia W. Ripley, Instructor in History and Modern Languages.
  Marianne Ripley, Teacher of Primary School.
  Abigail Morton, Teacher of Infant School.
  Georgiana Bruce, Teacher of Infant School.
  Hannah B. Ripley, Instructor in Drawing.

The infant school was for children under six years of age; the primary
school, for children under ten; the preparatory school for pupils over
ten years of age, intending to pursue the higher branches of study in
the institution.

A six years' course prepared a young man to enter college. A three
years' course in theoretical and practical agriculture was also laid
out. The studies were elective, and pupils could enter any department
for which they were qualified.

There were various other details, the most striking of which was that
every pupil was expected to spend from one to two hours daily in manual
labor.

Before the Association started from Boston, a constitution was drawn
up. The following is a copy of the original:--

_Articles of Agreement and Association between the members of the
Institute for Agriculture and Education._

In order more effectually to promote the great purposes of human
culture; to establish the external relations of life on a basis of
wisdom and purity; to apply the principles of justice and love to our
social organization in accordance with the laws of Divine Providence;
to substitute a system of brotherly cooperation for one of selfish
competition; to secure to our children, and to those who may be
entrusted to our care, the benefits of the highest physical,
intellectual and moral education in the present state of human
knowledge, the resources at our command will permit; to institute an
attractive, efficient and productive system of industry; to prevent the
exercise of worldly anxiety by the competent supply of our necessary
wants; to diminish the desire of excessive accumulation by making the
acquisition of individual property subservient to upright and
disinterested uses; to guarantee to each other the means of physical
support and of spiritual progress, and thus to impart a greater
freedom, simplicity, truthfulness, refinement and moral dignity to our
mode of life,--

We, the undersigned, do unite in a Voluntary Association, to wit:--

ARTICLE 1. The name and style of the Association shall be "(The Brook
Farm) Institute of Agriculture and Education." All persons who shall
hold one or more shares in the stock of the Association, and shall sign
the articles of agreement, or who shall hereafter be admitted by the
pleasure of the Association, shall be members thereof.

ART. 2. No religious test shall ever be required of any member of the
Association; no authority assumed over individual freedom of opinion by
the Association, nor by any member over another; nor shall anyone be
held accountable to the Association except for such acts as violate
rights of the members, and the essential principles on which the
Association is founded; and in such cases the relation of any member
may be suspended, or discontinued, at the pleasure of the Association.

ART. 3. The members of this Association shall own and manage such real
and personal estate, in joint stock proprietorship, as may, from time
to time, be agreed on, and establish such branches of industry as may
be deemed expedient and desirable.

ART. 4. The Association shall provide such employment for all of its
members as shall be adapted to their capacities, habits and tastes, and
each member shall select and perform such operation of labor, whether
corporal or mental, as he shall deem best suited to his own endowments,
and the benefit of the Association.

ART. 5. The members of this Association shall be paid for all labor
performed under its direction and for its advantage, at a fixed and
equal rate, both for men and women. This rate shall not exceed one
dollar per day, nor shall more than ten hours in the day be paid for as
a day's labor.

ART. 6. The Association shall furnish to all its members, their
children and family dependents, house-rent, fuel, food and clothing,
and all other comforts and advantages possible, at the actual cost, as
nearly as the same can be ascertained; but no charge shall be made for
education, medical or nursing attendance, or the use of the library,
public rooms or baths to the members; nor shall any charge be paid for
food, rent or fuel by those deprived of labor by sickness, nor for food
of children under ten years of age, nor for anything on members over
seventy years of age, unless at the special request of the individual
by whom the charges are paid, or unless the credits in his favor
exceed, or equal, the amount of such charges.

ART. 7. All labor performed for the Association shall be duly credited,
and all articles furnished shall be charged, and a full settlement made
with every member once every year.

ART. 8. Every child over ten years of age shall be charged for food,
clothing, and articles furnished at cost, and shall be credited for his
labor, not exceeding fifty cents per day, and on the completion of his
education in the Association at the age of twenty, shall be entitled to
a certificate of stock, to the amount of credits in his favor, and may
be admitted a member of the Association.

ART. 9. Every share-holder in the joint-stock proprietorship of the
Association, shall be paid on such stock, at the rate of five per cent,
annually.

ART. 10. The net profits of the Association remaining in the treasury
after the payments of all demands for interest on stock, labor
performed, and necessary repairs, and improvements, shall be divided
into a number of shares corresponding with the number of days' labor,
and every member shall be entitled to one share for every day's labor
performed by him.

ART. 11. All payments may be made in certificates of stock at the
option of the Association; but in any case of need, to be decided by
himself, every member may be permitted to draw on the funds of the
treasury to an amount not exceeding the credits in his favor.

ART. 12. The Association shall hold an annual meeting for the choice of
officers, and such other necessary business as shall come before them.

ART. 13. The officers of the Association shall be twelve directors,
divided into four departments, as follows: first, General Direction;
second, Direction of Agriculture; third, Direction of Education;
fourth, Direction of Finance; consisting of three persons each,
provided that the same persons may be a member of each Direction at the
pleasure of the Association.

ART. 14. The Chairman of the General Direction shall be presiding
officer in the Association, and together with the Direction of Finance,
shall constitute a Board of Trustees, by whom the property of the
Association shall be managed.

ART. 15. The General Direction shall oversee and manage the affairs of
the Association so that every department shall be carried on in an
orderly and efficient manner. Each department shall be under the
general supervision of its own Direction, which shall select, and, in
accordance with the General Direction, shall appoint, all such
overseers, directors and agents, as shall be necessary to the complete
and systematic organization of the department, and shall have full
authority to appoint such persons to these stations as they shall judge
best qualified for the same.

ART. 16. No Directors shall be deemed to possess any rank superior to
the other members of the Association, nor shall be chosen in reference
to any other consideration than their capacity to serve the
Association; nor shall they be paid for their official service except
at the rate of one dollar for ten hours in a day, actually employed in
official duties.

ART. 17. The Association may, from time to time, adopt such rules and
regulations, not inconsistent with the spirit and purpose of the
Articles of Agreement, as shall be found expedient and necessary.

[_This was signed by_]

GEO. RIPLEY, WARREN BURTON, SOPHIA W. RIPLEY, MINOT PRATT, SAML. D.
ROBBINS, MARIA J. PRATT, D. MACK, GEO. C. LEACH, NATH. HAWTHORNE,
MARIANNE RIPLEY, LEML. CAPEN, MARY ROBBINS.

Not all who signed this document entered on the work. Mr. David Mack,
whose name is attached, for some reason did not, neither did Mr. and
Mrs. Samuel D. Robbins. Mr. Mack afterward founded the Northampton
Association at Northampton, Mass.

It would be interesting to give a history of and describe all the
persons who signed this original document, but room will not permit it.
Mr. Ripley's biography is published; I refer the reader to that book
for particulars of his life, but cannot refrain from selecting one
pen-picture of him by the author, Rev. O. B. Frothingham, who writes:--

"He was no unbeliever, no sceptic, no innovator in matters of opinion
or observance, but a quiet student, a scholar, a man of books, a calm,
bright-minded, whole-souled thinker, believing, hopeful, social, sunny,
but absorbed in philosophical pursuits. Well does the writer of these
lines recall the vision of a slender figure wearing in summer the
flowing silk robe, in winter the long, dark blue cloak of the
profession, walking with measured step from his residence in Rowe
Street towards the meeting house in Purchase Street. The face was
shaven clean, the brown hair curled in close, crisp ringlets; the face
was pale as if in thought; the gold-rimmed spectacles concealed black
eyes; the head was alternately bent and raised. No one could have
guessed that the man had in him the fund of humor in which his friends
delighted, or the heroism in social reform which a few years later
amazed the community. He seemed a sober, devoted minister of the
gospel, formal, punctilious, ascetic, a trifle forbidding to the
stranger. But even then the new thoughts of the age were at work within
him."

Minot Pratt was at one time foreman printer at the office of the
_Christian Register_--a finely formed, large, graceful-featured, modest
man. His voice was low, soft and calm. His presence inspired confidence
and respect. Whatever he touched was well done. He was faithful and
dignified, and the serenity of his nature welled up in genial smiles.
In farm work he was Mr. Ripley's right hand. He was not far from him in
age. They agreed in practical matters; indeed, Mr. Ripley deferred to
him. His wife was an earnest, strong, faithful worker. They entered
into the scheme with fervor, and it was often said of him that he was
first to give Mr. Ripley the hand of fellowship in the practical work
of organizing the society.

John Sullivan Dwight was born in Boston, and was keenly sensitive to
harmony of all kinds; amiable, thoughtful, kind. Touched with the
divine desire to do good to all, he entered into the work with his
whole earnest soul. Modest to a fault, but singularly persistent in
what he felt to be his duty, he never flinched or failed to act when
occasion required it. His tastes were of the most refined order. He
shrank from coarse contact with an unusual degree of sensitiveness, but
his great heart embraced all mankind in brotherhood. He graduated at
Harvard College, and rumor says that he had more than ordinarily the
goodwill of his classmates. He studied and made some fine translations
from French and German authors, and was ordained to the ministry. He
soon left the pulpit, feeling that it was better to try to actualize a
Christian life, preaching it by deeds himself, than to preach it by
words to others. He was supremely musical, though his musical feeling
sometimes showed itself in verse, and he stamped Brook Farm with his
musical influence. Short in stature, delicate in physical organization,
the school claimed the major part of his services.

Mrs. Ripley was born under favorable stars and had superior mental
talent and training, with hosts of friends and relatives. Her devotion
to the "Community" caused a great flutter in her social circle. Her
relatives were noted for their position, their personal dignity, and
generally for a haughtiness of manner unknown in these days. In person
she was tall, slender and graceful, with rather light, smooth hair,
worn in the plain style of the day. Being near-sighted she was obliged
to use a glass when looking at a distant person or thing. Her manner
was vivacious and she was a good conversationalist. Mr. Ripley had
changed since the description given of his appearance in earlier days,
and had grown stouter; had lost his pallor and gained a good, healthy
color. He had allowed a vigorous beard to grow, and shaved only his
upper lip.

A young man of education, culture and marked ability was Charles
Anderson Dana when from Harvard College he presented himself at the
farm. He was strong of purpose and lithe of frame, and it was not long
before Mr. Ripley found it out and gave him a place at the front. He
was about four and twenty years of age, and he took to books, language
and literature. Social, good-natured and animated, he readily pleased
all with whom he came in contact. He was above medium height; his
complexion was light, and his beard, which he wore full but well
trimmed, was vigorous and of auburn hue, and his thick head of hair was
well cut to moderate shortness. His features were quite regular; his
forehead high and full, and his head large. His face was pleasant and
animated, and he had a genial smile and greeting for all. His voice was
musical and clear, and his language remarkably correct. He loved to
spend a portion of his time in work on the farm and in the tree
nursery, and you might be sure of finding him there when not otherwise
occupied. Enjoying fun and social life, there was always a dignity
remaining which gave him influence and commanded respect. If you looked
into his room you saw pleasant volumes in various languages peeping at
you from the table, chair, bookcase, and even from the floor, and they
gave one the impression that for so young a person he was remarkably
studious and well informed.

George P. Bradford had the department of Belle Lettres. Of him, after
his decease, his former friend and pupil, George William Curtis, wrote
as follows in _Harper's Monthly_ for May, 1890:--

"The recollection of George Bradford is that of a long life as serene
and happy as it was blameless and delightful to others. It was a life
of affection and many interests and friendly devotion; but it was not
that of a recluse scholar like Edward Fitzgerald, with the pensive
consciousness of something desired but undone. George Bradford was in
full sympathy with the best spirit of his time. He had all the
distinctive American interest in public affairs. His conscience was as
sensitive to public wrongs and perilous tendencies as to private and
personal conduct. He voted with strong convictions, and wondered
sometimes that the course so plain to him was not equally plain to
others.

"It was a life with nothing of what we call achievement, and yet a life
beneficent to every other life that it touched, like a summer wind
laden with a thousand invisible seeds that, dropping everywhere, spring
up into flowers and fruit. It is a name which to most readers of these
words is wholly unknown, and which will not be written, like that of so
many of the friends of him who bore it, in our literature and upon the
memory of his countrymen. But to those who knew him well, and who
therefore loved him, it recalls the most essential human worth and
purest charm of character, the truest manhood, the most affectionate
fidelity. To those who hear of him now, and perhaps never again, these
words may suggest that the personal influences which most envelop and
sweeten life may escape fame, but live immortal in the best part of
other lives."

Among the signers was also Nathaniel Hawthorne, the writer, and it may
not be out of place to make here a few comments on his relation to the
Brook Farm life, so often alluded to by writers.

Hawthorne was an idealist in its broad sense. The idea of a juster and
more rational social state pleased him. He felt himself honored, and
was very grateful for the appreciation of the men and women by whom he
was surrounded in the literary circle of the Transcendental Club, but
he never surrendered the well-matured plan of his youth, to be a writer
of stories.

When, he went to Brook Farm he thought that his manual labors might in
a small way do a trifle towards aiding the formation of the ideal
state, and evidently felt that in his leisure hours he could compose,
write for magazines, and the like; but the hard, unwonted though
self-imposed labor, the peculiar surroundings, the buzz and hum of the
large family in which he could not fail to take an interest, distracted
him from his purpose. James T. Fields, the publisher, said of him, "He
was a man who had, so to speak, a physical affinity with solitude." He
could not put his mind to his special work. The seclusion in which he
had worked before, he could not find, and though "no one intruded on
him," as he says, yet he was not in his best element.

Had he stayed longer, this newness of situation would doubtless have
worn off, and he would have found a seclusion little dreamed of at
first acquaintance with the life. He was in haste to be at his writing;
so after a few months of manual labor, bidding adieu to the farm, he
found himself back in Boston. There were other interests that carried
him there, for we find that in the next year he married Sophia Peabody
of Salem, Mass. Critics have said that the Brook Farm life was hurtful
to his genius. He never once intimated it, but said afterwards to
Emerson that he was "almost sorry he did not stay with the Brook
Farmers and see it out to the finish."

The most ingenuous, the most simple-minded of all men in matters of
ordinary business, in relative values and exchanges, and unwilling to
act as teacher, he could only be counted as an ordinary day-laborer,
except where he could use the twin gifts of intellect and imagination
with which he was so highly endowed. His allusion to his "having had
the good fortune, for a time, to be personally connected with it," and
"his old and affectionately remembered home at Brook Farm" speak
volumes, as does also this little passage from "Blithedale Romance":--

"Often in these years that are darkening around me, I remember our
beautiful scheme of a noble and unselfish life, and how fair in that
first summer appeared the prospect that it might endure for
generations, and be perfected, as the ages rolled by, into the system
of a people and a world. Were my former associates now there--were
there only three or four of those true-hearted men still laboring in
the sun--I sometimes fancy that I should direct my world-weary
footsteps thitherward, and entreat them to receive me for old
friendship's sake. More and more I feel we struck upon what ought to be
a truth. Posterity may dig it up and profit by it."

In "Years of Experience" the writer, Georgiana (Bruce) Kirby, one of
the early associates, says:--

"Hawthorne, after spending a year at the Community, had now left. No
one could have been more out of place than he in a mixed company, no
matter how cultivated, worthy and individualized each member of it
might be. He was morbidly shy and reserved, needing to be shielded from
his fellows, and obtaining the fruits of observation at second-hand. He
was therefore not amenable to the democratic influences at the
Community which enriched the others, and made them declare, in after
years, that the years or months spent there had been the most valuable
ones in their lives."

Messrs. W. B. Allen, Minot Pratt, Warren Burton, Charles Hosmer, Isaac
Hecker and George C. Leach, with Mr. Hawthorne, devoted most of their
time to outdoor farm work.

Many of the pupils became interested in the new life with which they
came in contact. It influenced them for good, and in after years they
were full of gratitude and praise for the help and moral tone it
imparted to them. An extract from a letter from Mr. Richard F. Fuller,
the father of Margaret Fuller, to Mr. Ripley at this time reads as
follows:--

"A lady asked me not long since where she should send her daughter to
school. I said at once, to the _Community_, for there she would learn
for the first time, perhaps, that all these matters of creed and morals
are not quite so well settled as to make thinking nowadays a piece of
supererogation, and would learn to distinguish between truth and the
'sense sublime,' and the dead dogmas of the past. This is the great
benefit I believe you confer upon the young."

The pupil who became most prominent was George William Curtis, who
always acknowledged the beneficial effect it had upon all his future
career.

New England and New York sent in their share of pupils until the
accommodations were crowded. The school flourished. It was not large,
but select. It was necessary to have more room, and a neighbor's
cottage was hired. Enthusiasts wished to build on the place. Plans of
procedure for the Association were indefinite. The central idea of
justice to all men and women was ever uppermost. Mrs. Olvord, a lady of
means, built a small gabled cottage of wood, which, owing to ill
health, she was able to occupy but a short time. At the highest point
of the domain, on a ledge of "pudding-stone," the Association erected a
small, square, wooden building which was named "the Eyrie," and at
another period a large double or twin house was built to be conjointly
occupied by two brothers from Plymouth, Mass., of the name of Morton;
it was called "the Pilgrim House." The original farmhouse was
christened "the Hive." The cultivation of the farm proceeded, and some
ornamentation in the shape of flower-beds was done around the houses.
It was soon found that much milk was needed at home, and the sale of it
was discontinued.

A few individuals making a common family on a farm near a city, would
seem to be too unimportant a matter to excite much comment now, even
though the people who did it were superior in attainments, of high
purpose, and above criticism in their moral and social standing; but at
this date of our country's history, all thoughtful people in New
England seemed to be gaping at them with curiosity and wonder, and
comments were unlimited. As they were neither dogmatists, nor active
fanatics who brandished anathemas of terror and destruction at those
who followed not in their ways, but simply and unostentatiously
attended to their own business, and seemed to care very little for what
anyone said derogatory to their proceedings, the conditions appeared so
unique, that interest in their doings increased day by day.

Mr. Ripley wrote of it a few months after its commencement: "We are now
in full operation as a family of workers, teachers and students. We
feel the deepest convictions that, for us, our mode of life is the true
one, and no attraction would tempt any one of us to exchange it for
that we have quitted lately." And it would be an impertinence now to
penetrate into its private circles and bring its members and doings to
the gaze of an investigating and curious public, were it not that its
doings and its members have become, from their relation to social
science, a part of public history.

The pressure of life was off at Brook Farm, for the nonce. What anyone
did that was out of the common, might cause smiles and laughter but no
frowns or scoldings. Each felt and believed in the demonstration of his
or her own individuality, and, as a first consequence, there was
something that was often mistaken, by strangers, for rudeness and want
of order. Some forgot that it was especially work they came for, and
were anxious to have their theories discussed. Independence in dress
was universal. The Mrs. Grandys were all away, and if the young ladies
thought it was prettier to exhibit the grace of flowing tresses than to
bind them up in "pugs" behind their heads, who should, who could,
object?

Prim Margaret Fuller, who was a visitor--and never a member of the
community as has often been stated--professed herself disturbed, at
first, by the easy and perhaps indifferent manner in which they
listened to her long conversations, as they sat on the floor or on
crickets; but on a later visit, she expressed herself as better
pleased. Doubtless some of the individual angularities had been rubbed
off, by this time, by the pleasant but close contact of the Community
life--and some of hers as well.




CHAPTER II.


THE SECOND DEVELOPMENT.


Two years of the experimental and "idyllic" life, ran rapidly away, and
the Community had gained something of position and name in the outward
world. Personal contact had modified the extreme views of many of the
founders. Changes had taken place in the Individuals composing it; some
had departed. Six of the original stockholders remained. The number had
increased to about seventy, including some thirty who were pupils. The
financial success had not been all that was desired. Everything else
was getting more settled. The social life was charming. Improvements in
material matters, in comforts, in discipline and in grace of manners
were visible. But what was to be developed next among all the things
desirable? Was it to push the school still further in progress, to
attach mechanical industries to the organization, to work up the farm
life into more prominence, or what?

It could not be expected that this large number of persons, whose early
surroundings and ideas had been so varied, could at once agree as to
what next steps were necessary to take, or to what definite end the
Community should be shaped. There was need, certainly, of some central
purpose strong enough for all to unite upon to inspire permanence.

Neither Mr. Ripley nor any of his co-workers had heard of Charles
Fourier--the French exponent of industrial association--or his
doctrines, unless in a most casual way, and certainly they had not
studied them when they started the Community. They were independent
workers in a field of social science; but when they became acquainted
with his ideas, especially his ideas of industry made attractive by
organized labor, and its relation to the higher standard of work and
liberal belief they had adopted and maintained thus far, their
enthusiasm was awakened for them and they resolved to graft some of his
formulas on their institution. The little Community, with its bright,
cheerful school and its happy members, was not paying its way. There
were philosophers enough in it. There were plenty of sweet, charming
characters and amateur workmen in it, but the hard-fisted toilers and
the brave financiers were absent.

Still, it was not entirely absence of financial success that led the
responsible men of the Community to make the change in the organization
that they did, but truly because the grand and reasonable ideas of the
distinguished Frenchman bore such internal evidences of harmony with
human nature and with God's providence and laws that they carried
conviction to the great and sympathetic minds of Brook Farm. Fourier
argued that there was a sublime destiny for mankind on this earth, that
the Creator was infinitely good, that all the instincts of our nature,
when not subverted by bad conditions, pointed towards that destiny, and
that humanity was on its way upward--that the past progress argued what
the future might be.

I give as illustrations, a few extracts from "The Social Destiny of
Man," by Albert Brisbane, page 269:--"Four societies have existed on
the earth--the savage, patriarchal, barbarian and civilized. Under
these general heads may be classed the various social forms through
which man has progressed up to the present day. _If four have existed
may not a fifth, or even a sixth, be discovered and organized?_ Common
sense would dictate that there could, although the world has
entertained a different opinion."

Page 293: "If the barbarian asserts that the lash is the only means of
forcing the slave to labor, the civilized is not far behind him in his
reasoning, for he will assert with equal confidence that necessity and
want are necessary stimulants to industry. The barbarian is as ignorant
of the levers which civilization puts in play as is the civilized of
the powerful incentives to action which the groups and series will call
forth."

Page 464: "If He [God] has not known how or has not wished to give us a
social code productive of justice, industrial attraction and passional
harmony;--_if he has not known how_, how could he have supposed our
weak reason would succeed in a task in which he himself doubted of
success? _If he has not wished_, how can our legislators hope to
organize a society which would lead to the results above mentioned, and
of which he wished to deprive us.... What motive could he have had to
refuse us such a code? Six views may be taken on the subject of this
omission.

"_First--either he has not known how_ to give us a social code
guaranteeing truth, justice and industrial attraction; in this case why
create in us the want of it, without having the means of satisfying
that want which he satisfies in creatures inferior to us, to which he
assigns a mode of existence adapted to their attractions and instincts:

"Second--_or he has not wished_ to give us this code; which thus
supposes the Creator to be the persecutor of mankind, creating in us
wants which it is impossible to satisfy, inasmuch as none of our codes
can extirpate our permanent scourges:

"Third--_or he has known how and has not wished_; in which case the
Creator becomes a malignant being, knowing how to do good, but
preferring the reign of evil:

"Fourth--_or he has wished and has not known how_; in this case he is
incapable of governing us, knowing and wishing the good which he cannot
realize, and which we still less can attain:

"Fifth--_or he has neither wished nor known how_; and we must attribute
to him both want of genius and evil intention:

"Sixth--_or he has known how and has wished_; in this case the code
exists, and he must have provided a mode for its revelation--for of
what use would it be if it were to remain hidden from men for whom it
is destined?"

Page 468: "If the human race were at the commencement of their social
career--in the first ages of civilization--they would perhaps be
excusable for founding some hope of social good upon human science,
upon the legislation of man; but long experience has proved the
impotency of human legislation, and shown clearly that the world has
nothing to hope from human laws and civilized constitutions."

Page 260: "Either the passions _are_ bad or the social mechanism _is
false_, for evil prevails, and to a melancholy extent. If the former be
true, then there is no hope of a better state of things, for every
means of repression and constraint that human ingenuity could invent
has been applied to regulate their action; but all in vain--they have
remained unchanged, and in the eyes of the moralist as perverse as
ever. If, however, the latter be true--that is, if the social mechanism
be false--then there is a chance for a better future; for our
incoherent and absurd societies are changing more or less with every
century. They are at the mercy or whim of a tyrant, or of a revolution
of the mass; they may therefore be reformed or done away with entirely."

These grand words and this powerful logic, if even too strong for some
of the readers of this book, were not so for the brave hearts of the
leaders of Brook Farm, and for Mr. Ripley in particular. The tentative
feeling, the search for science to back up the social impulses, seemed
at last to have found something solid in a society conceived by the
Creator; the man created by him, fitted to it by him; the society
fitted to the man; the one the counterpart of the other. Albert
Brisbane, Parke Godwin and Horace Greeley, with the _Tribune_, were
arousing the thinkers in New York; Gerritt Smith was agitating the land
question and giving away to actual settlers vast tracts of land owned
by him. The works of the communist Owen and others were read.
Antislavery, anti-war and non-resistance societies were vigorously
prosecuting their claims. It was an era of great social activity.
Thousands were aroused. "Communities," "Associations" and "Phalanxes"
were springing up in various quarters. It seemed that the tide of
change from social chaos to order was fast rising. A great wave of
reform was sweeping over the land. Should the Community moor itself
where it was, or be borne on with the flood?

This was the question of moment; and while the young danced or played,
acted in charade or masquerade, and the youths wove garlands of green
around their straw hats, and amused themselves by wearing long tresses
and tunics, the sedater heads were solving this important question. And
they must decide it, but first of all Mr. Ripley's wishes must be
consulted: the key to the situation was in his hands. What would he do?
Would he, and should they, take among them men and women endowed only
with practical, everyday talents, able to be honest and make shoes and
sew garments; to strike with a sledge and a blacksmith's arm; to be
adepts, maybe, in all the cares for the outward wants of the body, but
who had never read Goethe or Schiller, and, possibly, neither
Shakespeare, Scott nor Robert Burns; and might not care to read or
study Latin, French, German or philosophy! It was for Mr. Ripley to
decide.

Did he then think of the little church in Purchase Street, and of what
he had solemnly said to the listening congregation? Had he not told
them that in every soul was a divine fire that aspired to the right no
matter how deeply it had been covered from sight or buried by the
troubling cares and surroundings that environed it: that there was a
divine equality of spirit at the base of all human lives?

Did he not hear reverberating in his soul the sublime passage, "If I be
lifted up, I will lift all others up to me"? Had he not been lifted up?
Had he not been supremely blest with health, strength, education,
talent, friends, companionship with the great and his cup filled full
of the sweet and sublime accords of the Christian faith? Had he not
been lifted up, not in crucifixion, but by myriads of silent blessings,
and was it not Christ-like to aid in lifting all others up also?

Alas for those who speak of Mr. Ripley's action at this time as
"Ripley's fall"! These were the moments when he achieved his glory,
when the greatness of his character arose, almost without exception,
above all others of the Transcendental School, who hovered around, and
wished to claim him as a bright example of a man separated from the
common herd of humanity, as a leader of a select group of men and
women, cultivated intellectually and socially. Then, as before, when he
saw what he deemed right, or, rather, when the intuitions of his soul
told him his duty, he did not hesitate.

Soon he was practically deserted by Emerson and his coterie, by some of
the associates and pupils of the school, and boarders, who were scared
out of their propriety by the fear of losing social caste, and they
showed their disfavor by leaving him alone; but, intrenched as he was,
and surrounded by a multitude of friends, new and old, and many
secretly admiring his intrepid spirit, they could only vent their
disfavor in sly sneers and hints that Mr. Ripley, and, of course, his
followers with him, had fallen from their high estate. Yes, they who
sat near by on the fences and crowed reform the loudest--they who had
never soiled their ink-stained fingers with the grass-green sod of old
Brook Farm in practical example of work--found most fault with him,
because he chose to remain and risk his social standing still more than
he had already done, in his magnificent work and experiment.

In order to show more clearly some of the philosophy under which the
leaders of Brook Farm based the changes in their theories and
organization, let us pause a few moments to give a slight sketch of the
growth of human society from its primitive formation to the present
time, trusting that the time spent on it may not be unworthily used,
and the patience of those to whom these ideas are old is asked for the
benefit of others to whom they are new.

It is evident that, at some time, there was a beginning of social life.
To those who have full faith in the Mosaic record it was in the Garden
of Eden; but that may be considered as before society, as such, was
fairly begun. It was the very dawn of the childhood of our race. To
those who recognize the fact that the primitive man was a weak,
unskilled, uncultivated savage, the conclusion must come that the first
social life of the race was very crude; that men lived in trees or in
caves and rude huts, and that they formed societies or hordes for
protection from the huge and formidable wild animals that roamed the
uncultivated earth.

Upon the slain beasts, wild fruits and grains they existed. They hunted
and fished, and although the passions of friendship, love and ambition
implanted in their souls by their Creator shone out at times, at other
times they quarrelled like the brutes they slaughtered. This state of
crude society is named _savagism_.

But as the beasts became less formidable foes, and were much diminished
in numbers by being slain and possibly from other causes, it is
probable that at times the race suffered hunger, and finding that the
ground readily produced from seed, the primitive race or races began to
plant, and finding also that they had slain so many of the wild animals
that they could keep herds of cattle without great danger of their
destruction by them, the life of the herdsman began. But as the herds
began to be numerous, it was found necessary to travel with them in
order to give them new pasturage, and then the nomadic or wandering
life was fully installed.

With their cattle and their wives, and their limited knowledge of
cultivation, the patriarchal tribe moved from place to place; sometimes
to find water, sometimes to find pasture for their horses and cattle,
and at harvest time they returned to their fields to harvest the grain
which had been planted for all. This, as you see, describes crudely the
second state of society, which is the "_patriarchal_" state.

As population increased, the difficulty of constantly changing the
place of residence was more and more apparent; and as some arts had
sprung up, such as the manufacture of pottery, farming implements and
defensive weapons, which could not be equally well carried on in all
places, towns, and afterwards cities, sprang up, where the artisans
resided; and being often liable to marauders, especially when the
outside population or tribes were wandering away from them, they
enclosed them with walls. By industry some wealth was acquired; some
luxury and comparative splendor were introduced. Prominent and
naturally ambitious individuals and families raised themselves into
power, and, placing themselves at the head of armies, with the newest
weapons of war, made by their own hands, went forth to conquer. Thus
the third, or what is called the "_barbaric_" state was established.

Still moving on in the same direction, a great variety of class
distinction was made. Woman arose steadily from a condition of almost
hopeless slavery to be the one companion of man, and direct slavery of
man to man was abolished. Invention was stimulated, and means of
dissemination of knowledge, such as the printing press and the
university, came to light. Kings and princes reign by law, which is
fully established, and commerce and trade flourish. These things
inaugurate the advent of civilization; but perhaps the most marked
types of civilization are the _independence of the individual,
monogamic marriage_ and _free competition_. Thus was established the
fourth societary condition.

Society having progressed so far, and gone through so many changes, is
it reasonable that it must now stop at what we call "_civilization_" as
the _ultimatum_ of its progress? With a little thought it will be seen
how surely man has, through all these changes, emancipated himself from
physical surroundings until he stands forth free and independent, but
without, however, any positive relation or duty binding him to maintain
the independence of all the human brotherhood. His independence is for
himself alone, and in that relation he is forced by _conditions of his
surroundings_ to neglect and trespass on the rights of his fellow-man
to keep his individual supremacy, and to develop various promptings of
his soul, which are ofttimes good, great and noble.

In the early days of civilization, free competition develops the
resources of man. The prospect of wealth, and the power it brings with
it, encourages trade to seek the ends of the earth, and from its
products vast enterprises are built up. As every fruit has in it that
which causes its final dissolution, and within it also the germs of a
future and higher life, so civilized society carries in it the germs of
its decay and dissolution, society being a natural product, as fruit
is, of God's providence. _Free competition_ is the destructive agent,
or one of the most important agents in its dissolution. Observe that
the power which ripens a natural fruit causes, in the end, its
destruction. Observe also that free competition, which in the early
stages of civilization glorifies and typifies it, by continuing at its
work will finally destroy it.

There is another element which is called capital. In savage life there
is hardly anything which can be called capital. The amount of capital
depends on the wealth of the community. As society advances, wealth
increases; from savagism to civilization, from early civilization to
the present time. This wealth, this capital comes from the reserved
products of labor; "dried labor," it has been called, for labor is its
only source of production. This wealth belongs to the community that
has earned it, saved it and inherited it. It is the grand moving power
of society as it now stands, and without it we would return to the
savage state. Society can never be too wealthy, any more than it can be
too powerful, and the one is the synonym, to a great extent, of the
other.

But capital with interest, as the agent and assistant of competition,
is destructive. Capital joined with labor builds manufactories,
railroads, towns, and is the great moving power of civilization; but in
the growth of civilization vast amounts of it have accumulated, and
being unevenly distributed, there are those who are constantly seeking
its use to help them to business and to elevation, and have been ready
to pay a royalty, which we call interest, for the use of it. This has
made capital a commodity.

The progress of arts and inventions has been, in modern days, in such
increased ratio to the increase of capital that it has created so great
a demand that a monopoly has been made of it; more is paid for the use
of it than its real worth, so that wealth, even in this democratic
country, is piling up in colossal fortunes by being drawn from the
great body of society. Consequently, classes of people grow relatively
poorer as fast as other bodies of people or individuals grow richer;
the extremes of riches and poverty constantly increasing.

Every advance in the producing capacity of machinery gives organized
capital a better hold on labor, because capital owns the machinery,
and, in homely phrase, labor "is the under dog in the fight" all of the
time. It makes no practical difference to it whether the laborer
becomes capitalist or no, for the moment he becomes so he is engaged in
the same crusade. He is no better nor worse than the one whom we called
capitalist yesterday. It is the _unnatural position_ or _relation_ of
_capital and labor_ that makes him what he is. To change this relation
to a more just one was among the grandest ideas of the Brook Farmers,
and the only way it could possibly be done, in their estimation, was by
reorganizing society on a new basis; by combining the capital of the
workers and others interested and using it so as finally to control
machinery for the benefit of labor, and to reduce its hours of toil so
that the laborer could have time for self-improvement.

Having traced the progress of society from its earliest forms to our
present civilization, it can be easily shown how the supreme or
governing power is first in the hands of the most powerful physically;
then passes to the one most able by prowess to sway a tribe or people;
then passes into the hierarchy of the church, that rules by swaying
mental terrors; next into the hierarchy of the state, that rules by
both mental and physical terrors; and, in our present civilization, has
passed or is passing rapidly into the hands of a moneyed class ruling
with powers according to the amount of capital swayed; and it can be
proved that these changes are but the natural result of forces that are
as sure and constant as sunlight and electricity.

This present form of social power, it is argued, is transient, and like
the others, will pass away and be replaced, and can only be replaced by
anarchy, or by a hierarchy of organized talent arranged in serial order
from the most talented down to the humblest laborer, and this was
another of the grand ideas of the Brook Farmers. From the seeds of this
civilization will spring--is springing--a higher order. It is an order
that the teacher Fourier called "_guaranteeism_." It is an order in
which the _governing power_ passes from the moneyed aristocracy into
the hands of _organized bodies_. It is an order in which the spiritual
and material truths are incorporated into organic societies and
governments which guarantee to everyone support in sickness and
protection from dangers of various sorts; an order which, in fact,
abounds in mutual guarantees covering by degrees all the numerous
necessities and wants of life--hence its name; and finally, in the
process of time, placing all the material wants of the people under
protective guarantees.

This fifth condition of society must pass into the sixth order, which
is the _associative order_, or the coöperative phase of society in
which it will be proven by practical works that, by adherence to
principles and proper organizations, we may avoid a large share of the
miseries we have in the past so unsparingly laid to the charge of the
Deity as discipline for us, but which are the results of our own
ignorance. The "_harmonic order_" is associated life of a high type,
and includes association of families, economy of means, unity of
interests, labor made attractive, equitable distribution of profits,
integral justice, etc., in such a way as to bring about very great
happiness among _all_ people, thus deserving its grand name. From the
commencement of the age of harmony, which is a higher octave of life,
society begins a new era, the beauties and accords of which no one can
do more than speculate upon.

This sketch of the progress of the human race may seem trite to many
readers. It may have a familiar sound, but it is necessary to our
narrative. It was promulgated many years before our modern writers came
into the field with their evolutionary theories, and it is at least a
theoretic base for social scientists to build their hopes of present
and future progress on. To the Brook Farm leaders it was new; it was
sensible; it was reasonable. Communism they did not favor, for their
motto was, "Community of property is the grave of individual liberty."
Instinctively they rebelled against it.

The organized communities held everything in common--houses, lands,
moneys and goods; even prescribing what garments should be worn, and
also electing a religious creed for their members. It was not
compatible with the greater ideas of freedom held at Brook Farm. It was
not a free life and it could not be a true life, for they all believed
in the motto, "The _truth_ shall make you _free_," and instead of
freedom, the "Communities" used mental constraint and tyranny to hold
themselves together.

The Brook Farmers believed that the laborer owned the value of his
labor; if it was used, it was credited to him, and a part of the
increased value of the domain belonged to him. It never belonged to the
organization;--that is, the value of it--but by mutual consent might be
retained, invested and added to the laborer's stock. Theoretically the
result would show that the person who was the most capable, active and
industrious would in time own the most accrued capital. This the Brook
Farmers claimed was right and according to nature, and, combined with
_yearly diminishing interest_, could not be destructive, as capital is
now.

They had fallen unwittingly, it may be said, on ideas that coincided
with those of Charles Fourier. There was an agreement between them,
unknown at the start. Their idea that certain mutual guarantees were to
be in the constitution, such as immunity from labor in extreme age and
youth, care in sickness--a certain "minimum" of rights according to the
prosperity or wealth of the institution--and that an "integral
education" was a duty of the Association--an education not of the mind
alone, but of the hands, heart and affections--coincided exactly with
Fourier, and it was easy to adopt his motto of "_coöperative labor_,"
for they had already adopted the principle; also "_association of
families_," for that had been agreed on. It was easy to adopt his
formula of "_honors according to usefulness_"; they believed in it.

Usefulness, not wealth, station or any artificial distinction, was to
receive the highest rank and the greatest honors and favors from the
body politic. It might be an invention of the mind; it might be some
Herculean or disagreeable labor of the body, or it might be some
enthusiasm imparted from some brilliant soul, that would win the honor;
but it could be given to none except those who had won it by superior
usefulness, whether that usefulness came from doing the work in the
"sacred legion"--who were a body of persons who did unattractive work
from a sense of duty--or in any other body or group.

It was easy to adopt "_attractive industry_," another of Fourier's
mottoes, for were they not trying mind and body to make it so? And
finally, it was easy to adopt the aphorism that the attractions of life
in the universe are in proportion to the destinies they assist in
accomplishing--"_attractions are proportionate to destinies_," as it is
translated. Certainly it was simple and easy to grasp and believe, when
explained so well as it had been by Fourier, and by Brisbane and
Godwin, his American translators. And lastly, if all these things were
true, why not say so and adopt them? They were outside and free from
modern society. They had one of their own. They were happy in it. They
had adopted truth as their guide--truth as they saw it, and whenever
and wherever they saw it.

Thus closed the first chapter in the history of this little society.
They had gathered together without any idea of scientific organization,
but from profound convictions of the present wrong relations of the
human brotherhood, from religious convictions of duty, and in the
belief that they would increase in love to one another, and draw to
themselves by their example the good and wise; believing also that if
they planted the seeds of truth and unity they would be watered with
deeds of faith, and by degrees overtop and destroy the evil undergrowth
that abounded in the so-called civilization all around them.

Now came to the leaders a new revelation! It was of science applied to
society. Mr. Ripley had great faith in scientific agriculture. Was
there to be science applied to society? Was it true that the actual
laws applicable to social life had been discovered? Were they immutable
as the laws of earthly bodies--of the sun, the stars and the universe?
And did they actually agree with the laws of music, color and
mathematics? It seemed so. They could but try them. And with a faith
for which, during all these succeeding years, they have been, laughed
at by cynical philosophers, they went to work to apply them, as far as
possible, to the actual life they were then leading. All honor to them!

When the resolution was finally taken to join with the movements that
seemed to be, as it were, a new impulse for humanity's sake--an
outpouring of spirit upon the children of men, instanced by the very
great and sudden interest taken by numerous bodies, societies and
individuals along the line of social reform--it was not entirely
palatable to all who had looked on the little Community as their pet
property, their ideal home; for the sainted individualists, for
cultivated book-worms, for theorists who could read Latin and Greek but
whose ideas of labor extended only to planting flowers or washing with
care a few muslins to adorn their beautiful selves; and fearing a loss
of selectness some departed. The motive extended to the school, and,
although many of the former pupils left, their places were soon filled
by others.

The responsible men looked at the matter from another standpoint. They
felt that the labor on the farm had been the least success of anything,
and that to organize and improve it was one thing important, if not
_the_ one thing needful. Many good men stood at the outer gates waiting
for entrance. The members of the "Direction" were firm, and brave. They
felt that the experience of the first two years was a permanent
advantage to them, and they reorganized under the same name as before.
With the new constitution was published a preliminary statement from
which the following is extracted:--

"All persons who are not familiar with the purposes of Association,
will understand from this document that we propose a radical and
universal reform rather than to redress any particular wrong, or to
remove the sufferings of any single class of human beings. We do this
in the light of universal principles in which all differences, whether
of religion, or politics, or philosophy, are reconciled, and the
dearest and most private hope of every man has the promise of
fulfilment. Herein, let it be understood, we would remove nothing that
is truly beautiful or venerable; we reverence the religious sentiment
in all its forms, the family and whatever else has its foundation
either in human nature or Divine Providence. The work we are engaged in
is not destruction, but true conservation; it is not a mere resolution,
but, as we are assured, a necessary step in the progress which no one
can be blind enough to think has yet reached its limit.

"We believe that humanity, trained by these long centuries of suffering
and struggle, led on by so many saints and heroes and sages, is at
length prepared to enter into that universal order toward which it has
perpetually moved. Thus we recognize the worth of the whole past, and
of every doctrine and institution it has bequeathed us; thus also we
perceive that the present has its own high mission, and we shall only
say what is beginning to be seen by all sincere thinkers, when we
declare that the imperative duty of this time and this country, nay,
more, that its only salvation and the salvation of civilized countries,
lies in the reorganization of society according to the unchanging laws
of human nature, and of universal harmony.

"We look, then, to the generous and helpful of all classes for
sympathy, for encouragement and for actual aid; not to ourselves only,
but to all who are engaged in this great work. And whatever may be the
result of any special efforts, we can never doubt that the object we
have in view will be finally attained; that human life shall yet be
developed, not in discord and misery, but in harmony and joy, and that
the perfected earth shall at last bear on her bosom a race of men
worthy of the name."

[_Signed by the Directors_.] GEORGE RIPLEY. MINOT PRATT. CHARLES A.
DANA.

Brook Farm, Mass., Jan. 18, 1844.

This constitution was largely like the first one, but varied from it in
the following particulars:--

"The department of Industry shall be managed in groups and series as
far as is practicable, and shall consist of three primary series, to
wit: Agricultural, Mechanical and Domestic Industry. The chief of each
group to be elected weekly, and the chief of each series once in two
months by the members thereof, subject to the approval of the General
Direction."

"Persons wishing to become members must first reside on the place as
applicants for one month."

"Applicants who have passed acceptably through their term may become
candidates, and remain in this new relation a month more, when they may
be admitted as Associates."

"Personal property may be received as stock by the Direction of Finance
when it shall be deemed advantageous to the Association."

"Persons shall, on becoming residents on the domain, deliver an exact
inventory of all the furniture and implements which they may retain as
private property, to be filed for reference in the office of the
Direction."

"New groups and series may be formed from time to time for the
prosecution of different and new branches of industry."

"Three hundred days shall be considered a year's labor. The hours of
labor shall be from the first of October to the first of April at least
eight hours daily, and from the first of April to the first of October
at least ten hours daily, and no person shall be credited for labor
beyond that time."

"No debt shall be contracted in behalf of the Association by any person
whatever."

"Articles furnished to the Associates shall be charged at cost as
nearly as the same can be ascertained."

"The period of education shall extend from birth to the age of twenty
years, and shall be divided into three stages: Infancy to six years,
Pupilage from six to sixteen years, and Probation from sixteen to
twenty. The education during probation shall be in the practical duties
of Associates."

"No public meeting for business or amusement shall be protracted beyond
the hour of ten P. M."

       *       *       *       *       *

Many persons who have heard of the Community life at Brook Farm have
idealized it into a little coterie of choice spirits who sat around the
study lamp at early eve, after the light toil of the day had ceased,
and discussed the intellectual problems of the German philosophers who
had given much of the impulse to the Transcendental Club, and brought
so many young men forward as leaders of thought; but this was only
partially true.

Mr. Ripley at first endeavored to instruct the assembly and impart to
them some of his own intellectual enthusiasm. Evening classes were
formed; readings took place from some of the prominent poets--Goethe,
Schiller, Shakespeare; from Carlyle and Cousin as well as Emanuel Kant;
but when the industrial period began, he had more than his hands full,
and he laid his books on the shelf. They were his tools--they were the
ladders on which he had mounted to his high estate. Why should he
worship them? They had taught him, as had the Hebrew writers, faith in
the Creator; faith in His best creation, man; faith in reason, faith in
right, faith, in a magnificent human destiny. Why should he spend his
life in singing praises of them? To work! To begin to shape society to
higher ends! That was indeed the worthiest end in life, and his
worthiest homage to the writers and their books.




CHAPTER III.

PERSONAL EXPERIENCES AND DESCRIPTIONS.


It was a pleasant afternoon in March, 1843, when I left Boston, in a
small omnibus, that started from Brattle Street for West Roxbury
Village and Brook Farm. My father's family of three had preceded me, he
remaining behind to close his business; it was a question of but a few
days when we should be all embarked in the new and untried life to
which we were looking forward with pleasurable emotions.

The nine miles of interval was passed, riding through an undulating
country, by pleasant farms surrounded with the stone walls so common in
Massachusetts and the eastern states, and by pretty white houses, with
green window blinds and little front flower gardens, with fruit and
shade trees standing sentinels on their borders. Here and there a ledge
of "pudding-stone" cropped out, and the scenery grew more primitive as
we neared the vicinity of the farm. Slowly we rode on, leaving
passengers and parcels by the way until it showed signs of deepening
twilight, when we reached by a slight acclivity the door of the
farmhouse that was at the entrance of the place, where I was soon
joined by my relatives who took me in charge and made me presentable
for supper; but I was too late to join with the family, and took my
first meal with them the following day.

Looking out of the window the next morning, I found it overlooked the
farm-yard and the broad meadow that lay south of the house. What
awakened me was the sound of a trumpet or horn, blown by some one for
rising or breakfast. I dressed leisurely, as I found it was the first
or "rising horn," and went out of the front door for a survey. Before
me was the driveway. A wooden fence, and a row of mulberry and spruce
trees stood guarding the two embankments that were terraced down to the
brook and meadow. On the embankments were shrubs and flower beds. A
couple of rods to the right stood a graceful elm, beside a gateway that
opened on a pathway to the garden and fields.

Passing by the front of the house I found that two wings had been added
to it in the rear, leaving shed and carriage room beneath. Directly in
front of me, and facing due east, was a large barn raised upon stone
posts, which was open on the south side to the large barnyard, and
between the barn and house was a driveway or road, leading over the
premises.

In the kitchen, which was directly in the rear of the dining room,
there was a clatter of dishes, and a few persons were going from place
to place outside.

Some one was in the barn attending to the cattle. He had on a tarpaulin
straw hat, and a farmer's frock of blue mixture that hung down below
the tops of his cowhide boots. I looked sharply at the man, and found
it was Mr. George Ripley. The "second horn" sounded; it aroused the
dog, who howled pitifully or musically--in bad unison with it. Soon the
persons from the other houses came to breakfast, strolling leisurely
along.

I found that all the people, unless ill, took their meals at the
farmhouse dining room. A little quaintness of dress, some picturesque
costumes--such as the blue tunics with black belts of leather, that the
men wore; the full beards, that were not common then as now; the broad
hats and graceful, flowing hair of the young ladies; the varied style
of garments of the students and the boarders--all interested me.

The long, low dining room had rows of tables, some six in number,
seating on an average fourteen persons each. White painted benches
supplied the place of chairs. The tables were neatly set in white ware;
white mugs served for both cups and drinking glasses. There were white
linen table cloths, and everything was scrupulously neat.

At the farther end of the room sat Mr. Ripley. The garments of the
husbandman and farmer had all been laid aside, and, neatly dressed, he
was smiling and laughing, his gleaming eyes seeming to reflect their
brilliancy on the golden bows of his spectacles. At his right sat his
wife, and near by his sister, who poured the morning libation of tea or
coffee. Most of the pupils were at this table. Mrs. Ripley, tall,
graceful and slim, was, like her husband, near-sighted, but only on
occasions would she raise a gold-bowed eye-glass to look at some
distant object or person. The fare at the table was plain; good bread,
butter and milk from the farm were present. It is hardly necessary to
say that I looked around with peculiar interest on those who were to be
my new friends and companions. It was not a dismal or sober meal. There
was a happy buzz that indicated to me a probability of great future
happiness.

How well do I remember the old dining-room with its familiar forms and
faces--too many to describe now! There were the young and pretty Misses
Foord; the one a dimpled blonde, lovely, rosy-complexioned, with large,
wonderful blue eyes; and her sister with her clear skin and dark hair
and eyebrows, both wearing their contrasted and unbound tresses flowing
over their graceful shoulders. And hark! 'tis Dolly, dear Dolly Hosmer,
with her rollicking, noisy laugh. And pretty Mary Donnelly--oh, how
pretty! with the dimples and the peach-bloom on her face, her white
teeth and coal-black hair--ever pretty whether she was smiling at you
or peeling potatoes. And Charles Newcomb, the mysterious and profound,
with his long, dark, straight locks of hair, one of which was
continually being brushed away from his forehead as it continually
fell; with his gold-bowed eye-glass, his large nose and peculiar blue
eyes, his spasmodic expressions of nervous horror, and his
cachinnatious laugh. There were sturdy Teel, and heavy Eaton, and
frisky Burnham, and bluff Rykman, with round-eyed Fanny Dwight and
another graceful Fanny, and oh! so many more men and women, friends and
workers striving for a sublime idea. I could describe very many of them
and the minute details of all the houses and surroundings, but it would
unwisely overcrowd these pages.

Mounting the central and highest portion of the farm I found it was
beautifully situated in an amphitheatre surrounded by hills on all
sides, and formed a charming picture. There was a young orchard of
apple trees, and here and there stood a few shade trees by the walls
and roadside. There were fields, or rather patches, where corn and
vegetables were grown for family use. Some of them were exposed on the
southern faces of the hills, and some were in the hollows. In front was
the broad, meadow, like a pleasant sea of green, stretching far away.

From the first house, the old farmhouse called now "the Hive"--a pretty
and well-chosen name--the driveway led to the other houses. It
descended nearly to the level of the meadow, and did not rise again
until it neared the "Pilgrim House," the most distant one. From that it
turned on itself on the high ground toward the "Cottage" and "Eyry,"
the remaining houses.

The "Pilgrim House," an oblong double house, occupying a commanding
position, was plain and white, without ornamentation, and squarely
built like most of the New England country houses of its date. There
were no trees around it, and it was the least attractive house on the
place.

The "Cottage" had four gables, and was also plain and unpretending; it
had only some half-a-dozen rooms and was painted a dark brown color. It
was situated on a little knoll, with flower beds in the rear, and
greensward all around it.

Beyond and nearer to the "Hive," in the centre of the domain, was the
"Eyry" (this is the way Mr. Ripley spelled it; some spelled it "Eyrie"
and some "Aerie"). It had for its base a ledge of Roxbury conglomerate
called "pudding-stone," and it was banked up with two greensward
terraces. It had the highest and finest location, with a background of
oak and maple woods, and looked out on the orchard, commanding a fine
view. It was a square, smooth, wooden structure painted a light gray,
sandstone color. It was made of smooth, matched boards, and had a
large, flat cornice or flange that surrounded it near the top, which
saved it from extreme plainness. Yet it was pleasing to the eye, and it
had low, French windows that open like doors out on to the upper
terrace.

As I looked in it for the first time I saw that a few pictures adorned
the walls: pressed fern leaves filled the mantel vases, and the bright
remnants of last autumn's foliage were in some places fastened to the
walls. There was also a piano, over which hung an oil painting, and in
the opposite room was a large array of Mr. Ripley's books. It was "the
library," and many of the works were in German. In particular, there
was a set of fourteen volumes, "Specimens of Foreign Literature,"
edited by Mr. Ripley, that attracted my attention.

At the Cottage were the school-rooms principally for the younger
children; and the Pilgrim House was used mostly for family lodgings.

For a time my sleeping apartment was with others in the upper room of
the rear wing of the farmhouse, dignified by the name "Attica." My
companions were all single men; good, reliable fellows who were working
for a principle and would ordinarily have declined such a
lodging-place, but under the circumstances were not apt to grumble, but
made the best of it. It was like camping out, and all its mischances
were turned into fun. My roommates were called "the Admiral," "the
Dutchman," "the General" and "the Parson,"--nicknames given each one of
them for some personal peculiarity.

There were advantages as well as disadvantages in living in "Attica."
It was nearest the centre of the life and business of the place. In the
winter mornings there was no long walk to meals, as those had who lived
at the other houses. We were near the warm kitchen; and when the house
was still and work suspended--all save the baking of bread, which often
proceeded in the evening in the range ovens--a group would gather
around the fire and talk and gossip--for we were not beyond the last;
speculation, theory and argument went pleasantly on until bed-time.

No, Attica! I have not forgotten the days spent inside thy walls, thy
strange inhabitants, or the mysteries that surrounded thee on my first
entrance into thy domain! I have not forgotten the long, low roof and
projecting beams, or the half dozen bedsteads that were standing
around; the two large chimneys that arose in the centre and the number
of stove-pipes that came from below and entered them; or the skylights
that were thy only means of illumination save the window at "the
Parson's" end, which looked out on the pleasant fields and the houses
beyond; or the plain, uncarpeted floor, the washstands by the chimneys
and the clothing hung up around.

Neither have I forgotten the nights when lying in bed I have heard the
rain pouring and pattering above thee and me; or when I saw by the dim
light of a single oil lamp, as I lifted myself on my elbow in bed, one
of the occupants moving his cot bedstead from some gentle leak that was
getting too familiar with his bedclothes; or when in the dreary winter
the Storm King howled around and bore some fleecy flakes on his windy
gusts through a stray hole in the roof, and morning showed us a
miniature white mountain on the floor.

No, to this day a vision of the "Parson" (Capen) comes to me, reading
by the light of an oil lamp placed on a shelf at the head of his
bedstead, long after others were asleep; lying in bed at the
furthermost portion of thy space; now chuckling to himself, then
drowsily reading on and on, with his spectacles dropped down on to the
point of his long nose--as the passage was either witty or dry; or
visions of the early risers, waking betimes and disturbing the dreams
of the later ones by the preparations of the toilet; or the sound of
the morning horn as it rose from beneath us on the clear air!

I was seventeen years of age, and having passed the time when I could
have been by right a pupil in the day school, was assigned to manual
labor. You will see by the Constitution that I was a "Probationer." It
was fortunate that I loved the grass and trees, and the routine of farm
life. My youth excused and deprived me of the council meetings and the
right to vote, so that many hours spent by some, though but a little
older than myself, in meetings, were absolutely mine to rove in, or to
use as I liked. Though born to city life and work I dearly loved the
country and a farm, but did not know its duties, nor had I the strength
for heavy labor, so I assisted in work in and about the houses in the
early hours of the day, and in some of the lighter farming, as
planting, hoeing, weeding and driving the oxen, horses and cows; in
fact, taking a lad's place in the farm and house employments.

Owing to the amount of labor and the disproportion of female help, some
of the young men under age oftentimes assisted after meals in wiping
dishes and supplying hot and cold water. It was a matter of rivalry
between parties to see which could beat in a match, the washer or
wipers. Two lads of near my own age supplied dishes and hot water as
fast as it was needed, and one young lady washed the plates, saucers,
mugs and the like, the same young men doing the wiping.

There was plenty of plain crockery piled up and it was rushed into a
capacious receptacle and washed with great dexterity. Then wipe, young
men, wipe! Will you allow a young lady to wash faster than two can
wipe? _Never_, _boys_, never! and with incredible speed the surface of
the plates and dishes was changed into mirrors. There was one young
lady who was hard to beat; often when the parties thought they had
nearly succeeded she would cry out for "hot water"! and one would have
to supply her with it, and by that time his partner would be
overwhelmed with a stock of unwiped crockery. Need I say that at times
I was one of those boys?

There were none of the modern conveniences for water, and the pump had
to do its share of work. The rooms were supplied daily by a water
carrier who went from house to house filling the pails and pitchers in
the rooms and halls.

I was willing and tractable. The fresh air, the simple diet and the
free life began at once to tone up my organization. I soon found that
the Eyry steps and the Eyry embankments were where the air was freshest
of an evening, and the tones of the piano presided over by the "poet's
sister," Fanny Dwight, attracted me more and more. The pupils and those
of their ages grouped naturally together. I did not care to go among
the arguers and the disputants who talked anti-this and anti-that, the
new sciences of medicine--the water cure and homoeopathy; who disputed
the doctrines of community of property, western lands, politics,
approaching war with Mexico, etc., etc. Nor did I care to group with
the few who played euchre and smoked "conchas," and the book of nature
had very often more charms for me than any other.

Our family rooms were small, and as stated I was sandwiched in with
others, in rather unpromising quarters. But I almost only slept there.
My interested parents often spent the evenings as well as the days in
domestic duties, so I was much alone. I cared not. I could thoughtfully
contemplate the climbing constellations, and sometimes one of the many
who grew friendly to me would point out the planets and name the stars
for me, and I would watch the moon rise slowly above the horizon. The
beautiful meadow was below me, and above and around the whole eastern
hemisphere of sky. Or I would wander around the houses to see what was
going on, meeting groups of promenaders by the way. At the cottage the
piano would be playing, and likely as not Lucas and José or Willard and
Charles were waltzing with Anna and Abbie or Katie and Agnes to
Louisa's playing. Or it was singing school, and all joined it; or Mrs.
Ripley was going to read "Margaret"; or the "Professor" (Dana) wanted
me in his German class; or it was full moon and we would walk a mile or
two down the highway, or make a moonlight visit to the pines. Otherwise
I was dreaming day-dreams to Fanny's piano playing.

Ah! do you think I was indolent? Not so! In my meditations I was
working out social problems and solving theories of life and religion.
I was nursing kindliness of heart, love to all men. I was awakening a
crushed nature, and absorbing influences that made the mottoes of
"Unity of man with man," "Unity of man with God," "Unity of man with
the universe," seem like real, tangible things. But who can say how
much was also due to the low, soothing harmonies that floated out of
those graceful windows with parting sashes that opened like doors down
to the windowsills?

In time I explored every cranny and hollow of ground. I wandered in the
woods, found every wild flower, knew every tree; knew where the
trailing evergreens grew; could go to the spot where I could find what
I wanted for bouquets, and surprised the Community with their ample
size and beauty. I came in with wreaths and garlands; gathered
varieties of grasses untold; picked rhodoras in early spring, saracenas
and orchids in summer, asters and gentians in the late fall, and
innumerable flowers in various places of a neighborhood wonderfully
rich in botanical specimens.




CHAPTER IV

THE INDUSTRIAL PERIOD.


When I arrived, Hawthorne, Bradford, Hosmer, Hecker, Burton, Leach and
Allen had gone; as had also the Curtis brothers, George and Burrill,
the Bancroft boys, sons of the historian, and Barlow (since General
Barlow)--all pupils; as well as some of the ladies--Miss Dora Gannett,
niece of Rev. Ezra S. Gannett, Miss Georgianna Bruce, (afterwards Mrs.
Kirby), Miss Allen, Miss Sarah Stearns; and the phase of the Brook Farm
life jocosely or seriously alluded to by the after-comers as the
"Transcendental Days" or "Community Times," gave place to the
"Associative or Industrial Period."

In the place of the Transcendentalists came other men and women, new
and untried, with not so much of Greek and Latin, not so much suavity
of manners, not so much "cultivation," but warm of heart and brave of
purpose. The magnificent idea was a revelation of truth to some but
also a great temptation for many shivering poor and impatient
outsiders. They could thrive on it. They felt it was their right, their
destiny, having failed in the civilized fight for bread and butter and
comfort, to have from some source food, shelter and protection; and it
struck them that Brook Farm was just the place to go for it. So the
Association was inundated with applications of all kinds by person and
by letter.

It is my fortune to possess the originals of a number of these
interesting letters, specimens of which may be found in the appendix.
The replies by Mr. Ripley were drafts of the letters sent; they are all
in his fine handwriting and _bona fide_ documents which the writer
personally secured at Brook Farm many years ago, after the organization
had broken up.

The Directors used discretionary power, and if there was any
probability that the applicant would be useful, his case was presented
for action at a general meeting of the Association.

I was not long on the farm before I became acquainted with many of the
Associates besides those before mentioned--those who belonged entirely
to the Associative period; and among the unique figures there was no
one that struck my young fancy more than that of Peter, or, in familiar
talk, "the General."

Peter M. Baldwin was about his work when I was introduced to him, and
as he put forth his hand I saw that his arms extended no little way
through the sleeves of a common green baize jacket; and that his large
feet, which were encased in an old pair of slippers, had descended some
six inches below a pair of blue overalls before they touched the
ground. If he had been inclined to corpulency, his frame was ample to
build upon for a man of Websterian proportions, but he was not so
inclined; on the contrary, he simulated other great men in his
personality--Jackson, or our modern Abraham Lincoln. He was spare,
bony, nervous. His heavy eyebrows, his dark hair well sprinkled with
gray, which arose straight upward from his high, indented forehead, and
his large, half Roman nose, prominent cheek-bones and thin cheeks
reminded one so forcibly of the pictures of General Jackson that he was
by unanimous consent nicknamed "the General."

He shook me by the hand warmly and asked me a few questions, and it was
not until after this first interview that I discovered he had an
impediment in his speech. A rapid talker, he would rattle on in
conversation and then stop as suddenly as though you had put your hand
over his mouth. You would look up in astonishment, and then find by the
contortions of his face that he was trying to speak some troublesome
word but could not. The word once recovered, his speech flowed on as
before and perhaps for a long while, until he stumbled upon another
fence-like one; when he would dismount, take down the bars, or jump it,
and proceed as before.

This impediment, strange to say, never troubled the General when he had
prepared a piece for recitation, for he would then speak with dignity
and precision, and made the very beau ideal of "the lean and hungry
Cassius."

He was a universal favorite, on account of the kindness and benevolence
of his disposition. This generosity was superabundant, for if any of
the younger portion of the family wished for the sweets of the
storeroom, over which he presided, they had only "to coax the General"
to succeed in obtaining their wishes.

"The General" was the baker and made the bread, cake and some of the
pastry. He also assisted the "kitchen group" in domestic cookery.
Beyond this he was particularly fond of three things--disputation, the
newspapers and a cigar. He was thoroughly devoted to the doctrines of
"United industry" and to Brook Farm. He was among the first up in the
morning and last at night, attending to his ovens and his bread.

Peter's room was at first in Attica with others, where I saw him often,
and his favorite pastime was a game of euchre, which had not then
worked itself into general favor. I did not care to play it then, or
any cards; I was too much charmed with the life of the place, with the
society of the young, with social games under the inspiration of the
hostess, with love of dance and music and the ever-changing face of
nature, to care for such dull solace as the pasteboard games.

But the General did; he conversed, he smoked, he read the newspapers,
he argued, stuttered and talked the "water cure," and one day I was
surprised on going into the room to find him fully embarked for the
cure of a desperate headache. What had he done? Why, taken the
wash-bowl and filled it with water, placed it on the floor, stretched
himself out at full length on the floor also, and, with a pillow at his
shoulders, laid the back of his head into the wash-bowl. But being of
an active temperament he could not be quiet and idle long, so, calling
for a newspaper and lighting a cigar, he gently puffed the weed and
read the news, lying still in position while the "cure" was
progressing. It was a funny sight!

My attention was soon drawn to a large, portly gentleman who carried
his head erect and had an easy, familiar way about him; for he was
acting as host, being charged with the reception of guests and
strangers who came to visit or to look about the place. He walked with
the grandeur of a Falstaff and the dignity of a sachem. His capacious
gray coat and broad-brimmed hat might suggest to a stranger that he had
been at some time a member of a Shaker community, but his closely cut
gray hair and his heavy, o'erhanging eyebrows and brave visage gave the
lie to any such suggestion. Aye, aye, every hair that stood bristling
up on that front of his seemed to stand in rebellion against such a
charge, seemed saying, and growing more bristly every moment, "I, a
Shaker? Not I!" A large mouth was an appropriate companion to a
ponderous throat and chin, which were daily shaven with scrupulous
adherence to the first principles of warm water, soap and a sharp
razor, and a practice of thirty years gave a polish to his face unknown
to those less adept in the art.

On one occasion, some of the members fled from the tyranny of the
brutal blade and let their beards grow in uncut stubble, not, however,
without criticism from our host, who said in answer to their argument
that it was natural for the beard to grow, "Art is the perfection of
nature! Look at this garden!" It was after dinner, and some were taking
a few moments' rest in front of the Hive, lounging on the fence and
looking down the terrace into what was called "her majesty's garden"
and toward the bubbling brook. "What would it be without its walks,
flower-beds and arrangement?" he continued. "And these fields--what
would they be without the art of cultivation? You see it is art that
perfects nature."

Then some wag suggested that he was trying to cultivate "the field of
his face," but nothing could disturb the imperturbable gravity of his
composition. Gravity, solid gravity, was one of the basic elements of
his nature. When, however, he lighted his enthusiastic lamp, and his
warm heart gushed forth in song or story--I think I hear him singing
now, "A man's a man for a' that!"--he carried his audience with him.

The "Omniarch," as Mr. Ryckman was called, was a man of family, his
short, sprightly, nervous little wife acting as hostess and attending
to the lady visitors.

Many visitors asked the question of him, "Mr. Ryckman, do the Brook
Farmers hold all their property in common?"

With a bland smile he would say to them: "Certainly not; the idea of a
Community, as it is generally understood, is a society that owns or
holds all the property or capital of its members as its own, in its own
corporate right--that no one can remove, but everyone can use portions
of at will, or in turn. If the ideas of the first projectors were not
all definite on this point, we now stand boldly as champions of
individual property. It is one of our watchwords. For what is property?
It is but the extension of the individual; wings to fly with; hands to
work with; dried labor; labor's product laid away for future use, to
bless oneself with. It is the bottom and foundation of material
society, for none exists without it, and the greater the amount,
distributed fairly and justly, the greater the power and strength of
the society that holds it. We take human nature as it is--as God made
it. We do not propose to remake it; that is the folly of reformers and
theorists, and more especially moralists in and out of the church. The
desire, the personal desire, to acquire property is a fundamental trait
of character more or less strong in every individual. If a society
cannot be adjusted to that trait it will fail. We think one can be. We
think ours is so, as fairly as the nature of our transitory conditions
will allow. We want capital here. That we can make it here in time,
there is no doubt, but we must labor long to secure a plus of labor
that we can dry and store for future use. Meanwhile we want to build a
suitable unitary building, which is almost an absolute necessity;
farming implements and various appliances are wanted to suit the new
conditions under which we live, and many things for comfort, too
numerous to mention."

The host was not sparing of his words, especially when stimulated by
charming questioners, in ways like these: "Tell me more, Mr. Ryckman."
"What are you living here for?" "Can you expect anything from this
life?"

"Yes, madam, we expect a great deal. The theory of our life is that a
great saving can be made over ordinary ways of living. It now takes one
hundred houses for one hundred families, and one hundred housekeepers,
and probably, on the average, one hundred servants, one hundred
kitchens, one hundred fires, and as many cooking stoves or ranges, and
everything in proportion. Now by combining together the saving on the
cost of all these houses and cooks, kitchens, coal and wood, dispensing
with all unnecessary servants and labor, a house of magnificent
proportions adapted to the wants of the combined families could be
built, with elegant parlors for lectures, assemblies and music;
dining-rooms, kitchens and laundries which would not cost as much as
the separate households full of inconvenience and discomfort.

"This economic side of our life is easily seen, but there are many
other sides or phases that are not as readily comprehended. We are here
as a protest to the unnatural life of our crowded cities. We are here
to build society anew on juster principles, believing that if we once
get a fair foothold, the institution will be self-supporting, and so
attractive that we shall have no need to seek for true, earnest
workers; they will seek us, rather than we seek them, and we shall be
able to choose of the best material for an eternal city where all will
be rich in the fulness of the surrounding life, and the children will
be educated from the start to industry, goodness and justice."

Among the pleasant pictures of memory is that of Thomas Blake as he
appeared after he had changed his civilized clothes for a Brook Farm
tunic of blue plaid, a "tarpaulin" straw hat and a neat broad rolling
shirt collar of large dimensions that gracefully tended towards his
square shoulders. I see again his dark, manly countenance lighted up by
his keen brown eyes; his Roman features; his closely curling hair; his
intellectual forehead and pleasant smile, and his very neat, "trig"
appearance. The new life seemed to fill him full of pleasure, and he
was always ready for his share of work, study or enjoyment. His short,
nautical figure and his name, Blake, soon earned him the complimentary
title, which with one accord we gave him, "the Admiral." A nearness of
age brought us together, and a strong sympathy of tastes cemented our
friendship. We worked, played, danced and sung together, and wandered
up and down the paths and roads discussing social problems and all
sorts of subjects, ever returning in our talks to our home life, its
pleasures, aims and duties.

I thought that there was a little of the dapper look about John Glover
Drew who arrived the same day with the Admiral, as I met him for the
first time near the corner of the Hive. He seemed stiff and formal in
dress and manner, and his face had in it the cool, matter-of-fact
element which did not attract me; in fact he looked too "civilized."
His clothes were of fine materials; dress coat, silk vest and dark
pantaloons. His stylish and plump person filled them out thoroughly. A
tall silk hat set a trifle back on his head exposed his large forehead;
a fob and seal that hung below his vest, in contrast to the Brook Farm
dress, made an added conspicuousness to his appearance. I can see him
now, in my mind's eye, lift his watch out of its secret enclosure and
examine it to secure promptness of his engagements.

His large head was covered with dark, slightly curling hair. His smooth
face, toned by a delicate beard and fine arching eyebrows, reminded one
of the portraits of Shakespeare. His nose was short and round and his
nostrils dilated when in animated conversation. The muscles of his firm
mouth were ever on the play and gave life to his countenance, which
when in repose assumed a heavy and somewhat stern appearance. The union
between his head and body was made, apparently, by a high, stiff, black
neck-stock.

He was fully of medium height, and healthy, but if one in his presence
tried the blowing of a flute or the tuning of a violin it would set him
in agonies, and the of his wrath was not forthcoming. He was wholly
alive. There was not a point where you could touch him and not
appreciate that the nerves of sensation vibrated and quivered. Droll
and jocose in manner, he was constantly quoting from Shakespeare or the
poets, of whom he had been a constant reader. He was witty, too, and
did not disdain a pun, or repartee.

He had the elements of a good mercantile training, and was therefore
just the man needed in the young Association, and soon arose from one
position to another, winning the meaner laurels of "chief of group" and
"head of series," and in time became the "commercial agent" and member
of the "Industrial Council." Thenceforth and ever after, he was more
bustling than before, both in and out of doors; hovering around the
barn with its horses and wagons; ever tackling up teams and starting
for the city; unpacking boxes, bales and barrels; ever in conference
with the chiefs, inquiring what was needed--anyone could see that
almost everything was needed--and showing by his exterior the busy
brain that worked within. Mr. Drew was an especial admirer of some of
Byron's poems, and it was rumored around that the corners of newspapers
had occasionally been garnished with the fruits of his pen.

Here let me say that first impressions in this case gave no index to
the manly, brave spirit that was in him, which, true as steel, bore to
the end witness to his belief in the truth and the divinity of the
associative and coöperative ideas.

There was in the farming group a healthy-looking young man, of ruddy
countenance and fair skin, with brown hair and beard that grew
luxuriantly, who soon made himself conspicuous by his individuality,
his good nature and cheerfulness. There was a positive side to his
character; he was in earnest, and he put himself by his earnestness
into a positive way that to the superficial seemed to savor of the
important, so that Irish John nicknamed him "John Almighty," and it
stuck to him, as an old simile says, "like a burdock to a boy's
trousers." His devotion was rewarded by chances to lecture. He became
one of the faithful, and faithful he has always remained. Amid all the
changes of life that have come to him since, and notwithstanding the
many persons indoctrinated with Fourier's ideas, he has been for years
almost the only man among them broadly advocating them and directly
working for the laboring man by endeavoring to organize societies and
industrial unions of various sorts for their benefit. I sincerely honor
the devotion of John Orvis, continued through so many years of his life.

But what would be the use in sketching the characters that throng
around me by the hundreds, who were associated with this new life?
Good-natured, full-faced Frederick Cabot, of Boston, whose capacities
were devoted to the bookkeeping department and who was clerk of the
corporation, who was in the vigor of young manhood, unique of face and
beard, with stout neck and low, rolling collar, when beards were absent
and collars high; and plain, unpretending Buckley Hastings, who could
work like a Trojan--were of them; and the corps of farmers and workers,
male and female, who made the body politic, all were interesting, but
they must be left out of this narrative, along with the great number of
kind and sympathetic persons whose dear hearts encouraged, and whose
dearer presence stimulated the Association in its labor.

But it will hardly do to leave out John Cheevers from the list of
strange characters on the farm, because, though he did not belong there
as member and was as a barnacle on the body politic, he was so quaint
and queer. He was Irish and came to America as valet to Sir John
Caldwell, who died very suddenly at the Tremont House in Boston. Pity,
compassion or the like induced Mr. Ripley to befriend him, and being
introduced to the life he became, as may be said, omnipresent. His
education, his refined tastes, seemed to spring from a crude and
vigorous soil. Travel and contact with high and low made his
conversation interesting, and the mystery of a supposed relationship
with Sir John added a romance to his life.

His affection for many of the residents was very great. He was
introduced into associative life in "Transcendental days," and many a
tale he told of the departed ones, often alluding to them as "extinct
volcanoes of Transcendental nonsense and humbuggery."

Like many of his countrymen, he carried things to extremes. Extremes in
language were the most common, for he had all the oiliness and glibness
of an Emeraldic tongue, and in conversation, when a little excited, the
words tumbled out with headlong velocity or flowed like molten brass
into the mould of the founder, and, to carry the simile farther, some
would sputter over. He had in his storehouse of language, many queer
phrases and sayings that he brought out to embellish his conversation,
some of which were only used as a _corps de reserve_, or brought into
action when all others failed in argument.

He prophesied that all people, no matter how high they might carry
their heads, would sooner or later "find their level." He believed in
the practical. All "folly" and "nonsense" were eschewed by him, and yet
no one was more fond of a joke than he, excepting when it was played on
himself. John professed great love for the mother church if you
attacked it; but if anyone spoke earnestly in its favor he was equally
persuaded by him not to believe in such "Jesuitical nonsense and
folly." His tunic dress, instead of being a blue one like what most of
the men wore, was made of green plaid, but on Sundays, a dark blue
"swallowtail" coat with brass buttons made its appearance, and with
shoes newly polished he was ready for church.

Unlike the majority of the men, who wore the hair moderately long, his
was cut short to his pate, not a straggling hair protruding itself
beyond the others. In deference to the seventh day, he exchanged his
shirt of blue cotton for a white, well-starched linen one, and donned a
high black lasting neck-stock and dark vest, and shaved his face so
clean that it reflected his own sunshine if not the solar ray. In
person he was of medium height, with a head of thick, dark, almost
black hair, slightly sprinkled with gray, and his small dark eyebrows
were high above his full eyes which were set almost flush with his
forehead. The muscles of his face were prominent, and deep lines were
marked around his large mouth with its long under lip, which half the
time was on a broad grin.

He walked with a headlong sort of gait, his body slightly bent forward,
deriving its motion from the lower portion of his frame, without that
swaying of arms and chest so common, and which gives grace to motion.
He was ever moving, bustling about; ever inquiring--now for this one,
then for another; occasionally taking from his pocket a small paper
parcel into which he thrust finger and thumb mysteriously and
guardedly, and turning half away from you would make the cabalistic
motions common to imbibers of "old Rappee"; and having satisfied the
desire of that extraordinary pug nose of his, would be off in a
twinkling to some distant part of the farm, where you may be sure that
he was edifying his hearers with a specimen of good-nature, and the
peculiar intonations of a mellow voice flavored with genuine brogue.

There are two friends of the movement who cannot be left out, who were
often on the farm, whose characters were very unlike and almost at
antipodes; yet both were impressed with the associative theories. One
of them viewed them from a Christian and moral side, believing that
Christianity favored them, that they were productive of the earthly end
toward which the sublime doctrines of Christianity pointed; and the
other believed that scientific social organization alone would act so
powerfully as a stimulant and teacher to humanity, that mankind and
human nature would gravitate to their own sublime places at once if an
organization was presented suitable to their needs. They were Albert
Brisbane and William Henry Channing.

Among the devoted friends there was no one for whom we had greater
admiration and esteem than Rev. William Henry Channing. He was a
Unitarian minister and a nephew of the celebrated Rev. William Ellery
Channing. His figure was tall and stately, though rather slender. He
carried himself finely, and walked with head erect. His features were
sharp cut, clean and regular. His hair was dark and curling, and worn a
trifle long for these days. His forehead was high and slightly
retreating. His eyes were sharp and piercing, deeply set, with delicate
dark eyebrows. His complexion was warm and brilliant, his beard closely
shaven. He had a pleasant smile which, when it deepened, showed a fine
set of white teeth. All of these physical signs were in his favor, but
there was about his face, so handsome at times, an earnestness that
seemed almost painful, when, devoted to the cause, he spoke with the
burning, eloquent words he so often uttered.

In social life he was charming. His voice was soft and melodious; his
education and talents were of the finest order. He was a firm believer
in the mission of Jesus Christ to bring peace, order and justice out of
our social chaos. He was an Associationist from the Christian side, if
I may so speak. His belief in Christ was so thorough that it made him
think all things possible that were Christlike, and he believed that
associated life contained more of the spirit of Christ in it than any
other form of society, ancient or modern.

He desired to join the organization with his wife and young children,
but Mrs. Channing did not, and we were deprived of his union with us,
as well as of the company of a charming woman and her family. But he
was around us like a protecting spirit. He spoke on social occasions to
us. He was full of inspiration and full of hope, though his education
was not of a practical sort after a worldly standard. He couldn't
calculate market values. Neither could he organize a workshop or build
a barn. His thoughts were for greater things; for everything that
elevated large numbers of people--education, morals, faith, peace,
anti-slavery and the good government of his country.

One Sabbath afternoon we were invited to meet with him in the near-by
beautiful pine woods, for religious services; and like the Pilgrims and
reformers of old, we there raised our voices in hymns of praise, and
listened to a sermon of hopefulness from his eloquent lips. Would we
had a picture of that marked company as they were seated around on the
pine leaves that covered the ground, following their "attractions" by
joining in groups with those they most admired or most sympathized
with--young and fair, bright and cheerful, as they mostly were, with
the warm sunlight glinting through the sighing pines; hearts and eyes
illuminated with great thoughts; hands and faces browned with working
for great, world-wide ideas. Memory is the only photograph of it, and
be assured the picture is a beautiful one.

The church was Channing's first love, but he found it bound with
creeds, and not broad enough to cover all humanity, as his great
bounding heart did. After music and an inspiring address under the
trees, and the arches of Nature's temple, looking heavenward, he said,
"Let us all join hands and make a circle, the symbol of universal
unity, and of the _at-one-ment_ of all men and women, and here form the
Church of Humanity that shall cover the men and women of every nation
and every clime."

Who shall say that it was not so?--that then and there was not formed
one of the impulses of life, one of the branches of the spiritual
church that shall live forever! Their daily toil, the thousand and one
annoyances they had to submit to from uncomfortable surroundings and
private discords--for no one need think that all the persons and those
connected with them who came to Brook Farm were equally inspired and
interested--and the risk of personal losses, were part of their pledge
and baptism of earnestness.

Mr. Albert Brisbane, of New York, was equally tall with Mr. Channing,
but of a type of features that was ordinarily less pleasing; wearing a
full beard closely trimmed, intellectual in forehead and face, with a
voice one could hardly call musical; a rapid, earnest talker; the
travelled son of a wealthy man, who had spent some years abroad and in
France, where he became acquainted personally with Fourier and with his
doctrines of association, which had deeply impressed him. On his return
to America he advocated them in the New York _Tribune_, and by the
publication of two or more volumes, by active interest in a society,
and by various writings for papers and magazines.

I do not know whether Mr. Brisbane owned stock in the Brook Farm
Association or not. Certainly he never gained any dividend by his labor
there, but was an interested observer who boarded at the farm at
intervals, sometimes passing a few days only, and finally residing some
months, occupied in the study and translation of Fourier's works.

He was an enthusiast, but his over enthusiastic moods influenced the
Brook Farmers, it seemed to me, often-times unwisely. He saw the
full-blown phalanstery coming like a comet and expected every moment.
We shortly would be in a blaze of glory! He loved to talk of the good
things to be--of social problems worked out by science and by harmonic
modes; to flatter himself that without great self-sacrifice, devotion
and untiring industry, the world was to be regenerated. It seemed to
his mind, that it could be done all at once by organization and
enthusiasm, and it was only necessary to create enough of them to carry
everything before them as in a bayonet charge.

He labored hard with the society to change its name to Phalanx, and to
push the movement as far as possible into the formulas and organization
described by Fourier, which did not advance it a single step in
material or spiritual progress, and acted, as in the case of the
constitution, as a dead weight, owing to the burdensomeness of its
details, which called for too much labor to keep the accounts of so
complex an organization.

Having described a few of the many persons who were members of the
Association, I must speak of three noted persons who are very often
accredited as belonging to the West Roxbury Community; they are Miss
Margaret Fuller (afterwards Countess D'Ossoli), Ralph Waldo Emerson and
Theodore Parker. They were all personal friends of Mr. and Mrs. Ripley,
and belonged to the Transcendental Club. In the first period of the
experiment the two former made lengthy visits at the farm, but during
the Industrial Period only one of them, Mr. Parker, that I remember
visited the place. I must except a single visit from Miss Fuller, whom
I recall as plain-looking, and plainly to old-fashionedly dressed, with
a crane-like neck and a long gold chain around it, which reached to her
waist. She talked quite easily and freely, and the impression of the
blue-stocking was left perhaps unfortunately on my mind.

Rev. Ralph Waldo Emerson--for he had been an ordained minister--wrote
for the _Dial_, furnished it with queer poems, wrote articles on the
wrongs of labor, and agreed fully with Mr. Ripley on so many points
that he has been mistaken many times for a Brook Farmer.

Concord, Massachusetts, Mr. Emerson's home, contained a marked radical
centre, and some of the Concord people were affiliated by kinship and
by sympathy with the Brook Farm people from first to last during the
entire experiment. Mr. Ripley invited Mr. Emerson to join it, but he
declined in a letter which may be found in Mr. Frothingham's "Life of
George Ripley," Appendix, page 315. I make the following extract:--

       *       *       *       *       *

"My Dear Sir: It is quite time that I made an answer to your
proposition that I should venture into your new community. The design
appears to me noble and generous, proceeding as I plainly see, from
nothing covert or selfish or ambitious, but from a manly heart and
mind. So it makes all men its friends and debtors. It becomes a matter
to entertain it in a friendly spirit, and examine what it has for us.

"I have decided not to join it, yet very slowly, and I may almost say
with penitence. I am greatly relieved by learning that your coadjutors
are now so many that you will no longer attach that importance to the
defection of individuals which you hinted, in your letter to me, I or
others might possess--the painful power, I mean, of preventing the
execution of the plan."

       *       *       *       *       *

Rev. Theodore Parker, the noted liberal Unitarian preacher, of whose
close personal relations with Mr. Ripley much might be said, lived two
miles away, at West Roxbury, where he preached in the village church,
and his afternoon walk every few days was over to the Farm and back for
exercise, and to meet and converse with Mr. Ripley at the Eyry. At the
close of their chat you would see them coming down the hill together
towards the barn, where Mr. Ripley's duties as milkman took him at that
time of day, when they would part--Mr. Parker for his long walk home.

One afternoon they were seen as usual coming down the hill. Theodore
Parker had not then become famous, but preached in a little square,
wooden church, to his small country congregation, and once on a time,
being on a visit to a friend at a distance (we will call the friend's
name Smith, for convenience sake), Mr. Smith asked Mr. Parker how Mr.
Ripley was getting along with his "Community." "Oh," said the faithless
Parker, "Mr. Ripley reminds me, in that connection, of a new and
splendid locomotive dragging along a train of mud-cars."

Soon after Mr. Ripley heard what Mr. Parker had said of him, and
resolved to pay him in his own coin. So he held him that day in
pleasant, lively conversation until he reached the farmyard by the barn
at the Hive, and the unsprung joke was running all around the pleasant
lines of his face and twinkling in the corners of his brilliant eyes.
Towards the close of the conversation, as Mr. Parker was about to
leave, Mr. Ripley casually said that he had met Mr. Smith, and he had
spoken of Mr. Parker and his church.

"Indeed," said Mr. Parker, "and what did he say of me?"

"Well, if you must know," Mr. Ripley replied, "he said that you and
your little country church over there in West Roxbury, with its few
dozen of farmers, reminded him of a new and splendid locomotive
dragging along a train of mud-cars."

It would have been worth a month of an ordinary lifetime to be there
when Mr. Ripley exploded his joke, to hear his merry peal of laughter,
whilst his sides shook again, and his reverend friend stood confounded.

But such little jokes did nothing towards rupturing the sincere
confidence and friendship of these two brave men, and soon after this
Mr. Parker was writing pleasant notes to the "Archon," as Mr. Ripley
was often called. By good fortune, I am the possessor of one of them,
and as it shows the playful side of a great man, the side often
withheld from the public, I give it here. It is charming. It is without
date and reads:--

       *       *       *       *       *

"Archonite Illustrissimo: I have just received a letter from the
Secretary of the Navy, who informs me that he has jurisdiction over the
_waters_ of the U. S. A., and accordingly over _Brook_ Farm. He
therefore requests me to investigate your proceedings and report to the
department. He thinks of appointing yourself to the command of the
fleet destined against Texas, and wishes me to _Sound_ you on that
point. (How would Little John do for California?)

"I am to come over tomorrow P. M. and make investigations, so have the
chips picked up, and the pigs shut up in the library. Now hold yourself
in readiness to receive _Blanco_ White, who thinks you were one of the
greatest men who had appeared since Balaam the son of Beor. Pray reward
him for the honor he has done you.

     "Yours, T."




CHAPTER V.

THE RUSH AND HUM OF LIFE AND WORK.


The departure from the ordinary mode of living initiated at the farm
seemed to stir up every curious, investigating and odd mortal, from one
end of the country to the other, and they all wanted to visit the
place. At first they were made welcome to the table, and to what there
was to spare of the members' time, but when their name was "legion" the
Board of Government found it necessary to exact a fee for meals. This
did not diminish them; the cry was "Still they come!" Men, women and
children were passing from Hive to Eyry on every pleasant day from May
to November, and over the farm, back to the Hive, where they took
private carriage or public coach for their departure. Among these
people were some of the oddest of the odd; those who rode every
conceivable hobby; some of all religions; bond and free; transcendental
and occidental; antislavery and proslavery; come-outers, communists,
fruitists and flutists; dreamers and schemers of all sorts.

The number of notable persons who visited the farm at this period was
large. I was too young to appreciate the positions they held, in
literature, the church or the nation, but append a list of names,
selected almost at random, mostly of distinguished persons who were
occasional visitors. Horace Greeley, Parke Godwin, Henry James, Freeman
Hunt, Charles Kraitsir, Henry Giles, S. P. Andrews, all of New York;
Rev. O. A. Brownson, Rev. James Freeman Clarke, Rev. Henry A. Miles,
Rev. Edward E. Hale, Rev. Samuel Osgood, Rev. Frederick T. Gray, Rev.
A. B. Green, Rev. C. A. Greenleaf, Hon. John G. Palfrey, Hon. E.
Rockwood Hoar, Hon. George H. Calvert, of Newport, R. I.; Hon. Charles
Sumner, Judge Ellis Gray Loring, Judge Wells, Dr. W. F. Channing, R. H.
Dana, A. Bronson Alcott, George B. Emerson, Samuel G. Ward,--Marcus
Spring and Edmund Tweedy, of New York; James A. Kay, of Philadelphia.
W. W. Story, C. P. Cranch, E. Hicks, Joseph and Thomas Carew, John
Sartain, John A. Ordway and Benjamin Champney, were among the many
artists who came; the major portion of all the above named persons were
from New England.

It will not do to forget young and curly-headed John A. Andrew, who
became the war governor of Massachusetts, or Robert Owen, the English
communist, well known for his social experiments at New Harmony, Ind.,
who, at this time, was a ruddy-faced, almost white-haired person, with
a large nose, and carrying well his seventy years on a vigorous frame.

George R. Russell, Francis G. Shaw and Theodore Parker, with their
wives and members of their families, were very friendly visitors.

There were numerous ladies, also, who came. I remember Miss A. P.
Peabody, Pauline Wright, Mary Gove and sweet Lydia Maria Child, of New
York.

The old record book that lay in the reception room at the Hive would
reveal a list of four thousand names, registered in one year, to select
from, but alas! it is lost forever.

A. Bronson Alcott came one day and brought his friend Lane, who was
anxious to visit the "Community," but Lane was opposed to eating
anything that was killed or had died, so he ate neither fish nor flesh.
Neither would he wear wool, because it was an animal product, for he
did not like animal products. Neither would he wear cotton nor use
sugar nor rice, because they were the products of slave labor. And
finally, he walked from Boston in a linen suit, because he would avoid
using a horse, for his argument was that the value of time spent in
providing food, lodging and care of animals, was not returned to the
owners for the outlay. Lane came from England, and was not a "Yankee
crank," as some might possibly think.

Miss Louisa M. Alcott wrote of him in connection with her father and
herself, in an article entitled "A Journey to Fruitlands." Judging from
my remembrance of all the characters, the picture is faithfully drawn.

Among the odd visitors the climax was reached, when a man came to pass
a day and a night, who announced, that he had no need of sleep and had
not slept for a year. The statement was passed by as a mere whim, we
thinking of course that when night came he would not refuse a bed, but
he did. After spending the evening at the Eyry, where the visitors were
more especially entertained, he was notified that an attendant would
show him to his bed, but he politely declined one, and as there seemed
to be no other way, he was allowed to remain in an easy chair, with a
lamp burning, after the household had retired.

It was late when Irish John Cheevers, _our_ odd genius, prowling about
the premises on his way to his room at the Cottage, saw the light in
the Eyry parlor, and supposing some of the household were awake, went
softly up and looked in at the window. There sat the visitor in the
chair, _asleep_. He then went in, but his noise aroused the sleeper,
and as John couldn't possibly keep his tongue still a minute, he said,
"I beg your pardon, sir, I did not intend to disturb your sleep--not in
the least, sir," in his palavering way, at which the stranger protested
strongly that he hadn't been disturbed, as he had been awake all the
time.

In the morning the stranger was there, still sitting in his chair, and
declared he had passed the night pleasantly, but had not been asleep.
Of course the improbability of the thing made, as the newspapers say, a
"sensation." "By gad," said John, "I caught him asleep in the Eyry
parlor. I did, upon my word; I did, my very self."

John wasn't inclined to be profane, but when anyone pretended to be
what they were not, it aroused his combative spirit, and it was the
"blank humbuggery of the thing" that mightily displeased him. But the
time came when the laugh was against him. He had been in bed and slept
some hours one summer night; it was the time of the full moon, when its
transcendent beauty led the young folks to wander over the farm from
house to house, to sit a while on the doorsteps or on the knoll at the
Hive; to sing "_Das Klinket_" or such part songs as "Row gently here,
my gondolier," or "The lone starry hours give me Love, when calm is the
beautiful night," or anything else to let out the joyousness of their
hearts. They were not wild, for they labored enough to take away the
wildness that indolence brings, and to sober them down to the cheerful
mood; and cheerily would talk to one another of the people around them,
and of the hundred little excitements the novel life led them into,
that were wanting elsewhere, and often it was an hour or two later than
the usual time for rest, before they were in bed.

John had been to his couch, and when he awoke it was broad daylight. He
dressed and went down to the Hive, and as some one was going away early
to Boston, concluded to get the wagon ready. But first he looked into
the kitchen; the door was unlocked, as it always was, day and night;
there was no one there, and it was surely time some one should be up.
He drew out the light wagon from under the shed, and went for the
harness. All the time the universal stillness surprised him. Where
could all the people be? He thought he would see how high the sun was,
and looking up into the sky, beheld the full face of the most beautiful
moon that ever shone on God's fair acres, when a new thought struck
him, that he had mistaken moonshine for daylight. He wheeled the wagon
into the shed, and then went for another long nap; but some of the
young men, who hadn't been in bed a great while, overheard the
movements, and had their laugh and fun out of it!

During the first spring and summer of my stay my hours were largely
spent in the Farming Series, working in the various groups. I assisted
at planting, hoeing and driving or leading the horses at the plough. I
also helped the gardener, who arrived with plants, in the care of them
and in the ornamentation of the place.

According to the science of Fourier, everything is naturally arranged
in groups and series. A group consists of three or more individuals or
things, and a number of similar groups together make a series. To have
harmony in society requires the application of this law or arrangement
to all the relations of daily life; or in other words, it is natural to
be thus arranged in industrial and social life. The Brook Farmers,
being ambitious to introduce a resemblance to such an organization--for
it could be but very faintly shadowed by their few members--and also
desirous to indoctrinate all into the idea of this natural arrangement,
organized "groups and series" in the following manner as proposed in
the new constitution. "Three or more persons combined for some object
or labor" made a group; harmonic numbers for groups--three, five,
seven, twelve, etc. A series consisted of three or more groups for a
similar object, joined under one head or chief.

To illustrate the system we will suppose it to be the spring of the
year. The Farming Series will then consist of the following groups:
First, a Cattle Group, Which attends to the feeding, grooming and
general care of the cattle--horses, cows, oxen, pigs, etc. It may
include the milking of the cows, or that may be a group in itself under
the name of the Milking Group. Second, a Plowing Group, who attend to
the plowing of the fields. Third, a Nursery Group, who have the care of
the young trees, grafting, budding, etc. Fourth, a Planting Group,
which may later in the season change into a Hoeing Group, or into a
Weeding Group, or into a Haying Group, or a separate organization for
each may continue till the end of the season. Each chief of a group
recorded the hours expended in labor in his group, so that it was
possible to tell, at the end of a season, how many hours had been spent
in a given occupation, as hoeing, weeding, planting, etc. These groups,
each having a chief, formed the aforenamed series, and the heads, or
"chiefs" of all the groups together elected the head of the series, who
kept a record and had general charge of the work done under his
management.

The Mechanical Series, consisting of shoemaking, carpentering, sash and
blind-makers' groups, were usually the same persons the year around.
If, however, the shoemaker was tired of his group, and could be spared,
he took his hoe and rake, and went into some group in the Farming
Series for a change of occupation; the hours he spent there were put to
his credit on the book of the group in which he labored in that series.

The Domestic Series had care of the houses and all domestic work, and
was divided into Consistory, Dormitory and Kitchen Groups. There were
also Washing, Ironing and Mending Groups, and perhaps some others. The
beds, rooms, halls and lamps had to be attended to every day, water and
towels provided, and the "Dormitory" and "Consistory Groups," situated
as the Brook Farmers were, were obliged to go from house to house to
attend to these duties.

There were independent groups on the farm, not connected with any
series, as the Teachers' Group, and the Miscellaneous Group, who did a
variety of miscellaneous work; and there was a Commercial Agent who
bought and sold goods for the Association. There was also a group
called "The Sacred Legion," who did exceptionally disagreeable labors,
not from the love of them but from the sacred principle of duty. Only
occasionally some repugnant task had to be undertaken, and be it to the
honor of the leaders, not one of them, even the most fastidious or
cultivated, shirked the responsibility of it.

The industrial system of Fourier has often been objected to as a
mechanical arrangement, by which persons were fixed, automaton-like,
and expected to work where they were placed, and has been opposed with
the criticism that human beings are not automatic--that they have the
restlessness of human nature and will constantly rebel at such
conditions.

Another and a greater criticism has been that the levelling tendency,
as is supposed, of the Fourieristic doctrines, is inimical to every-day
experience, and that the natural differences of characters, ambitions
and mental conditions were not recognized in the system, consequently
there would be no place for all these varied human attributes to work
and progress in.

These are very great errors, and are entirely attributable to the
superficial knowledge of the man and his works. If ever there was a man
in this universe who had faith in the Supreme Power, Fourier was that
man. His theology covered the _absolute wisdom_ and _absolute goodness_
of God. Starting from these two fixed standpoints, he believed that the
Creator wisely planned the universe and laid out the destiny of the
human race from its inception, as a wise and beneficent being, fixing
its beginning and its end and all of the intermediate stages between
them as parts of the plan. Creating man as a social being, he must,
therefore, have created from the first the form of society under which
he should, finally, as a race, pass the greatest portion of his sojourn
here, and, being an _absolutely good_ Creator, he must have created
absolutely good social conditions as the destiny towards which all
mankind is now tending, and which will finally be reached.

Having also created man with many varied talents, the society or the
social order in which he intends him to live, must have room in it for
the use and development of the variety he has created: a place for the
strong, a place for the weak; a place for the proud, a place for the
lowly; a place for the penurious, a place for the lavish; a place for
the sober and a place for the gay. Moreover, if the Creator is wise, he
has created just the number and variety of mental and physical
personages to fill the otherwise empty places, and no others; for, if
he has created a surplus of them, he is unwise, and they must be in
discord with the rest. If the movements of the heavenly bodies are not
left to chance, neither is the destiny nor the place of any human being
in creation left to chance, either here or hereafter.

Far from any levelling tendency in Fourier's system, far from any
communism, it contains, in itself, room for the completest aristocracy
there ever was, the natural and the true aristocracy, ordained by the
logical mind of the Creator, implanted in our natures, and which we
intuitively admit and admire. But having given man freedom of will, not
having made him to associate automatically, as he has, apparently, made
the honey-bee, the beaver, the ant, and various social creatures, it is
necessary for him to go through a period of ignorance, and,
consequently, of some suffering, whilst he is learning by experience to
find his powers and his position in creation, even as the little child
does, who reaches out its hand for the moon, and stumbles over trifles
lying in its way that were easily removed, could it, in its undeveloped
condition, have sense enough to do it. But the two conditions are not
possible, together. Both ignorance and knowledge of a subject cannot
dwell in one person at the same time; therefore it is only slowly and
painfully that we find, by degrees, our wonderful powers, the bountiful
provision for happiness, and the grand destiny that so peacefully lies
in the arms of the future, awaiting our embrace and caress.

Fourier discovered the arrangement in nature of the "Serial Order" or
the law of the Groups and Series, which on paper seems formal, but is
simply one of the mathematical rules of society, and which, under right
conditions, does not intrude itself, any more than the rules of
arithmetic do when we are buying a few apples, but are nevertheless
ever present. The writer does not wish to impose a dissertation on his
readers, but felt impelled to answer, in this place, these objections
made by many worthy people.

The workshop, which was being built at the time of my arrival, was two
stories in height, sixty by forty feet in size, with a pitched roof;
well lighted with windows, and situated some three hundred yards behind
the Hive, in a northwesterly direction. At its further end, in the
cellar, was placed a horse-mill, afterwards exchanged for a
steam-engine, that carried the machinery for all the departments of
labor. Our engineer, Jean M. Pallisse, a worthy Swiss, a very
intelligent man, had a calm face that fitted well with the quiet
wreaths of smoke he sent up on the air, from his almost ever-present
cigar. It was our delight to coax him to bring out his violin on dance
nights, and give us a charming waltz or two. You would hardly associate
his intelligent and pleasant face with the dull work of an engine room,
but he was there day by day, faithful and regular as a clock, for he
was in earnest. He had the sublime faith in him, and in later years
held a responsible position in a wealthy importing house in New York
City.

The shop was partitioned off, according to the needs of business, and
in the time of our greatest numbers, when crowded with members and
visitors, no other place being found to stow people in, beds were
placed in its upper story.

The general impression of my first summer at Brook Farm is that it was
one of great activity and great hopes. Everywhere the ambition was to
enlarge--to increase the number of members, to increase the
occupations, to increase the tillage by turning over the grass-grown
meadows and "laying down" more land; to increase the nursery for young
trees and plants, to increase the hay crop by clearing the brushwood
and mowing the stubble close. Everywhere were busy people with ploughs
and cultivators, hoes and rakes, and I was with them wherever there was
work to be done.

The glory of the summer was the hay field. On the fair meadows we
turned and gathered the hay. It was a large crop; although the hay was
not all of the best, it was mostly of fair quality. And when the
hoeing, weeding and haying were done, the farmers dug meadow-muck for
compost.

Ready and willing as I was to try my hand at whatever came along, I
went into the meadow and followed the plough with a bogging hoe, and
one day tried digging muck but the chief of the group thought the labor
was too heavy for me; I would have to wait until I grew stronger.

Coming home one day I was told that one of our number had passed away.
She had been sick at the Hive a long while before my arrival. I could
scarcely be called acquainted with her, though I had been into her room
and called with others. In health she had been a brave worker, and in
sickness bore her severe suffering patiently. Messrs. Chiswell and
Tirrell of the Carpenters' Group were called on for their help, whilst
Mrs. Pratt and others prepared the body for its final sleep. Members of
the Direction selected a lovely spot in a little pine grove beyond the
Pilgrim House for a grave, and we gathered for a last service.

I expected to hear Mr. Ripley speak, but true to a sensitive instinct
of propriety he did not, for though he was at the head of the
Association, she had her own faith and creed which he deemed sacred.
She was an Episcopalian, and after the service was read by one of our
number a solemn procession was formed which followed her body, borne on
our light wagon, to the grave, where, singing a hymn, we left her
quietly in peace.

Soon after the gardener planted some young evergreens, and placed
flowering shrubs and a little fence around the sacred spot. If one must
die, must surrender life, oh, where can it be done better than under
such circumstances? From first to last no stranger's hand had aught to
do with this sister either in life or in death. No idle or curiously
intrusive person came near, and all the surroundings, though simple,
were in keeping with the solemnity of the occasion. There was no pomp
or rivalry of show, no gaudy deckings, that we in our hearts despise,
but which an unhallowed custom forces upon us; but all was done
decently, lovingly, peacefully and well. It was a simple name she
bore--Mary Ann Williams.

There was an amusement group, the members of which did not receive
pecuniary compensation. Its duty was to provide amusement for the
people and the scholars, as often as could be afforded, without
trespassing on school and daily duties.

Miss Amelia Russell, a little, plump woman, with a pleasant smile,
dimpled cheeks, round, laughing eyes, cultivated and easy manners, was
chief of this group for a long period. Her title was "the mistress of
the revels." Under her direction there were various plays, games,
dances and tableaux.

Besides the walks in the fields and woods there was an occasional
"children's festival," in the grove of pines, in which a large portion
of the elders joined. There were plenty of amusements, for although the
amusement group took general charge of them, there was nothing to
prevent any person or number of persons from amusing themselves to any
extent, and in any way, not interfering with the business of the place.

Being among the minors, the pleasures of dancing and roaming over the
diversified country, were most attractive to me; for the young people
danced without expense--as we were, anywhere, any time, for five or ten
minutes, an hour or an evening, and it never became a dissipation; it
was too natural and common to be a dissipation. There were never late
hours. There was no dancing for show, or to display handsome clothes,
but simply for the love of it, its harmony and love of one another's
society and companionship.

When the cares and lessons of the day were laid aside, and the evening
meal was over, we sauntered up the hill to the Eyry, and passing near
the Cottage, would perhaps find some one at the piano in the music
room, and if we numbered four or five, would waltz or dance to one or
the other's playing, the players and dancers taking turns until it was
time to stop. It might be there was a class in history or in reading at
eight, or maybe singing school would soon commence. If so, that
terminated the matter. Perhaps there was to be music at the
Eyry,--there was no formality, we went without ceremony to hear it.

There were times when there was a regular "dance at the Hive." The
mistress of the revels was kind enough to assist young or old, whose
"education had been neglected," and who had never been taught their
"steps," by forming a dancing class and including all in it; and it
would have done your heart good to see the old fogies try for the first
time in their lives to put on grace. Grace it was, but often of the
oddest kind. Imagine the tall, spare figure of "the General," turned of
forty, full six feet in height and stooping in the shoulders, all legs
and arms--who could sit in a chair and wind his legs around each other
until the feet changed places, and sit comfortably so--as pupil of the
plump, little woman, straight as an arrow, and only (at a guess) four
feet six in height, and looking shorter for her plumpness, taking his
"one, two, three," and "forward and back steps."

Imagine, also, all hands seated at the supper tables, with the rattle
of knives, forks, mugs and plates, and the full buzz of conversation;
waiters crowding up and down, supplying the fast vanishing food, and
everything cheerful, when a rapping on one of the tables arrests the
attention of all. One of the gentlemen, arising, announces, "There will
be a dance in this hall this evening, at eight o'clock, to which all
are invited." This is received with applause by the young people.
Perhaps it is a surprise to them; for some of the pupils who have a
little pocket money, have gained permission of the authorities, and
have sent for the Dedham "feedler," as our Dane used to call him, to
play the violin and call the dances.

As for music, our orchestra was not very large. I am almost ashamed to
say that one violin, solitary and alone, or a piano brought down from
the Cottage, was often the only solace and cheer. But then the room was
not large, and certainly it was not high, so that nothing was lost in
its expanse, and truly the young man played very well, and I remember
there were some brass instruments used on an especial occasion.

You should have been standing outside, looking in at the window just
the time that supper was over. Wouldn't you have seen some busy young
folks, clearing the tables and washing the dining-room ware! And you
would have seen the clean, white mugs and plates put up in huge piles
in the dining-room closet. Wouldn't the benches and tables disappear
quickly, and the floor be swept, and the lamps lighted, and everything
put in "apple-pie order"! And then the young women workers would
disappear, and in a few minutes reappear dressed in their best, like
magic pictures of youth and beauty, adorned in simple garments, with a
rose bud or a wreath of partridge vine (Mitchella) with its bright red
berries, woven into their tresses, or with some simple adornments; and
then for an hour or two of enjoyment!

The dance would commence. One by one, after the young persons were in
the midst of the revelry, the older persons would come in, and the
non-dancers would range around as spectators; and now and then you
would distinguish our leader by the curly locks, the gleaming eyes and
gold-bowed spectacles, his glowing face expressing satisfaction in our
enjoyment.

At ten o'clock, the dance ceased; immediately the tables and dishes
would reappear, as if by enchantment, and in a twinkling the dining
room was arranged for the morning. We had had our pleasure, and were
ready to pay for it by restoring things to immediate order. Besides,
what young man could leave the young ladies to set the tables alone,
after having danced with them all the evening? After this there were
hours enough left for sound sleep, and there were no headaches in the
morning. The result was, all the young people grew strong, graceful and
healthy.

My peculiar temperament and strong love of nature made the walks and
wanderings in the fields dear to me. I recall them with the greatest
pleasure, and think that some others among the living must do the same.
There were no stated, regular hours for walking. The teachers went when
their classes for the day were over; the young folks when their tasks
were completed, or at twilight, in the long summer days, and often the
larger parties were on Sunday afternoons, for then there was greater
freedom from care. Some went to West Roxbury to church in the morning,
some, maybe, to the Eyry to read Swedenborg or other writers, and
unless Mr. Channing or some other minister who desired to preach was
present, there were no set services; and even if there were, a walk
might be arranged for a later hour in the summer afternoons.

The tall, slim figure of the wife of our president, wearing a Leghorn
shade hat, with one or two graceful lady pupils by her side, was often
present and leading the procession; then perhaps the manly form of our
head farmer, and his stout wife, and his boys and girl; our "poet,"
always beside some fair maiden, in cheerful conversation; a visitor and
the visited; groups of young people together, with muslin dresses, blue
tunics and straw hats intermingled; children; and maybe the stately
form of William Henry Channing, with his regular profile, and his head
carried high, looking upward and off, as into far, pleasant and dreamy
distances, walking beside a tall, black haired woman, with a spiritual
face of high type,--in all some thirty to forty in number, making a
delightfully picturesque group.

Such parties would generally make the large and beautiful pine woods
that were near us the _ultimatum_ of their walk. Others would take a
longer walk, to the thicker woods of "Cow Island" (now covered with
houses), or to the Charles River. Leaving the farm they dived into the
young oak woods, by a small path in the rear of the Cottage, and
entering the magnificent grove of pines after a short walk, found a
grassy wood path that led a long distance through them. Soon the party
would begin to straggle and divide, some to gather wild flowers and
berries, and more to find materials for wreaths, or ferns and mosses
for decorations.

The walks ended where walks do that have no definite plan--anywhere in
the woods, sitting on the boulders or the pine leaves, or in some shady
nook where a topic would be found for discussion, or a pleasant book
would be read. When the supper horn sounded, you found the absent ones
together again, with bright, rosy faces and good appetites; and only a
few of the younger folks would be late, who had strayed farther or
walked slower, to enjoy the companionship of those of the same age; to
listen to their sweet voices, and to linger, as only young folks love
to linger.

The summer came on with joy and beauty. I recall the long waves of
nodding grass, that swayed in the June wind and were chasing each
other, fugue-like on the broad meadows. How beautiful it was, tipped
with its various hues of green, yellow, red and purple, bending and
rising as each breath of wind passed over it! The crops looked well,
and the table was supplied with varieties of garden produce.

If you approached the farm in the middle of the forenoon, you wondered
where all the people were, but at the sound of the first horn, half an
hour before dinner, "from bush and briar and greensward shade" they
would begin to start out like Robin Hood's men, and when the second
horn was sounding, the daily, the tri-daily procession was fairly on
the move, approaching the Hive from all sides. It was a very pretty and
novel sight.

The men had been in the field planting, hoeing or weeding--the farmer's
triad of duties in the vegetable field--and as they worked side by
side, the questions of the day were discussed with freedom and with
partisanship, but with good nature. The one who had a bias for art
brought forward his art hobbies; the dress reformer aired his and the
vegetarian argued his cause. Personal questions often came to the
front--as how Smith probably voted in the Association meeting in the
case of the admission of some mooted person; he was so sly you could
not find out! And they quizzed one another, and they laughed and
rivalled one another in speed of work, which they did faithfully and
interestedly. It was a good school of human nature, and sooner or later
each one was sized up with a deal of exactness. With the sounding of
the horn the hoes were left in the field or put on the shoulder for the
march to the barn, where, in its little room, the toilet for meals was
made.

When I think under what disadvantages these toilers worked for five
years, I wonder at their patience and firmness. What would our city
families say to all going out from their apartments, male and female,
young and old, and walking from an eighth to a quarter of a mile--often
making their own path through the deep snow of our severe New England
winters--three times each day, for the simple meals we had there to
eat? What would they say to living in crowded rooms, without private
parlors, and the public one at the Hive not much better than an office
in a back country hotel, and the other disadvantages heretofore named
and many more, simply for the principle of the thing?

Of course there was enthusiasm, and that sweetens many dull dishes; but
for those used to home comforts, to be sandwiched in with comparative
strangers--squeezed down, as it were, into a press--oftentimes having
the family separated into various and disunited parts of the mansion or
into different houses, was decidedly uncomfortable to bear.

These disadvantages could not but make the Association quite early
decide that the one thing above all others needed was a new building
with suites of rooms, where families could have the comforts and
privacy of homes, which with a large kitchen, bakery, dining rooms,
parlors, etc., would make a "unitary dwelling"; approximating to an
apartment house of more modern days in many of its details, and
improving on it as regards unitary cooking, dining and social
conveniences.

The autumn fled rapidly away, and things had to be hurried up and put
into shape for the winter. The gardener had no greenhouse, and was
growling for fear the early frost might take a fancy to his plants. So
the Association built him a temporary one in the "sand bank" by the
side of the farm road, and the plan was to bend their energies towards
getting the new dwelling started as early as possible in the spring,
and to build a permanent greenhouse near it.

I do not know what passed in the General Direction during the winter.
They were undoubtedly busy in endeavoring to obtain money for
constructing the new building, preparing plans for its interior
arrangement, and personally lecturing in various places, to aid in
awakening the public to the new ideas, hoping also that some benefit
might accrue to their organization, as well as to the cause, from their
efforts.

The winter was mild, and it passed rapidly. There were coasting parties
of young and old, but it was not often that the snow was favorable.
There were literary societies, and we admired "the General" when he
recited the part of the lean and hungry Cassius. He didn't stammer
then, and he received the additional title of "Shakespeare's hero."
These things, with reading, dancing and singing classes, an occasional
"social" at the Hive, with private gatherings and chats around the
kitchen fire by "Hiveites" (i.e., those living at the Hive), found us
with spring at hand before we could realize it.

Among other matters in progress in the spring was the garden. The
gardener was urging upon the Association the usefulness and
profitableness of the growth and sale of garden and greenhouse plants
and flowers; the great benefit they would be in adding attractiveness
to the place, and also the importance of starting plants so that they
might be growing into sizable shrubs, to return an early profit for
their outlay. These facts decided the Association to commence a flower
garden, and they located it on a partially level piece of ground behind
the Cottage, covering perhaps a half acre, with a chance of future
extension by cutting the wood adjoining and cultivating the untilled
ground.

There was much labor put on this piece of land, as it was first reduced
to a level by removing the soil and subsoil, and levelling the gravelly
bottom; then returning the subsoil and soil to the top. Walks were next
laid out with great care, and flower beds made. A border was also dug
for the expected new greenhouse, and filled with rich soil and compost,
and the end of the summer saw it erected.

But the most important step taken in the spring was the establishment
of a journal devoted to the interests of Association and Associative
life.

It is easy to see how naturally, independent of the need of an organ
for a new movement, the Brook Farmers took to the idea of publishing a
journal. In the first place there were at hand men who were abundant in
talent; who were used to writing, and well up in literature and fine
arts, to whom the idea was grateful as water to young ducks, And,
second, there were at least two or three printers and compositors
residing on the farm, who were as able in their department as the first
named were in theirs. There was in this connection, also, the
possibility at some future time of obtaining printing for the Printers'
Group, should that branch of labor be well established.

The scheme cannot be better introduced than by giving here the
prospectus of the _Harbinger_, the beautiful name of the new weekly
paper. You will find in its brave words some of the ideas that the
leaders of this movement developed, but more particularly the broad
faith they had in human nature and in great principles applied to
social life, and the greater trust they had that the Providence under
which we live had ordained man for a sublime destiny.




CHAPTER VI.

THE "HARBINGER" AND VARIOUS SUBJECTS.


The following is the prospectus of

THE "HARBINGER."

Devoted to the Social and Political progress. Published simultaneously
at New York and Boston, by the Brook Farm Phalanx. "All things, at the
present day, stand provided and prepared, and await the light."

Under this title it is proposed to publish a weekly newspaper, for the
examination, and discussion of the great questions in social science,
politics, literature and the arts, which command the attention of all
believers in the progress and elevation of humanity.

In politics, the _Harbinger_ will be democratic in its principles and
tendencies; cherishing the deepest interest in the advancement and
happiness of the masses; warring against all exclusive privilege in
legislation, political arrangements and social customs; and striving
with the zeal of earnest conviction, to promote the triumph of the high
democratic faith, which is the chief mission of the nineteenth century
to realize in society.

Our devotion to the democratic principle will lead us to take the
ground of fearless and absolute independence in regard to all political
parties, whether professing attachment to that principle or hostility
to it. We know that fidelity to an idea can never be reassured by
adherence to a name; and hence we shall criticise all parties with
equal severity, though we trust that the sternness of truth will always
be blended with the temperance of impartial candor. With tolerance for
all opinions, we have no patience with hypocrisy and pretense; least of
all with that specious fraud which would make a glorious principle the
apology for personal ends. It will therefore be a leading object of the
_Harbinger_ to strip the disguise from the prevailing parties, to show
them in their true light, to give them due honor, to tender them our
grateful reverence whenever we see them true to a noble principle; but
at all times, and on every occasion, to expose false professions, to
hold up hollow-heartedness and duplicity to just indignation, to warn
the people against the demagogue, who would cajole them by honeyed
flatteries, no less than against the devotee of mammon who would make
them his slaves.

The _Harbinger_ will be devoted to the cause of a radical, organic
social reform, as essential to the highest development of man's nature,
to the production of those elevated and beautiful forms of character of
which he is capable, and to the diffusion of happiness, excellence and
universal harmony upon the earth. The principles of universal unity as
taught by Charles Fourier, in their application to society, we believe
are at the foundation of all genuine social progress, and it will ever
be our aim to discuss and defend these principles, without any
sectarian bigotry, and in the catholic and comprehensive spirit of
their great discoverer. While we bow to no man as an authoritative,
infallible master, we revere the genius of Fourier too highly not to
accept, with joyful welcome, the light which he has shed on the most
intricate problems of human destiny. The social reform of whose advent
the signs are everywhere visible, comprehends all others, and in
laboring for its speedy accomplishment, we are conscious that we are
devoting our best ability to the removal of oppression and injustice
among men, to the complete emancipation of the enslaved, to the
promotion of genuine temperance, and to the elevation of the toiling
and down-trodden masses to the inborn rights of humanity.

In literature the _Harbinger_ will exercise a firm and impartial
criticism, without respect of persons or parties. It will be made a
vehicle for the freest thought, though not of random speculations; and
with a generous appreciation of the various forms of truth and beauty,
it will not fail to expose such instances of false sentiment, perverted
taste and erroneous opinion, as may tend to vitiate the public mind or
degrade the individual character. Nor will the literary department of
the _Harbinger_ be limited to criticism alone. It will receive
contributions from various pens, in different spheres of thought, and,
free from dogmatic exclusiveness, will accept all that in any way
indicates the unity of man with man, with nature, and with God.
Consequently all true science, all poetry and arts, all sincere
literature, all religion that is from the soul, all wise analyses of
mind and character, will come within its province.

We appeal for aid in our enterprise to the earnest and hopeful spirits
in all classes of society. We appeal to all who, suffering from a
resistless discontent in the present order of things, with faith in man
and trust in God are striving for the establishment of universal
justice, harmony and love. We appeal to the thoughtful, the aspiring,
the generous everywhere, who wish to see the reign of heavenly truth
triumphant, by supplanting the infernal discords and falsehoods on
which modern society is built--for their sympathy, friendship and
practical cooperation in the undertaking which we announce to-day.

The _Harbinger_ was launched, and it weathered the, storm for four
years, until its editors sought other and wider fields for their
genius. Besides the motto on the prospectus, they took the following
from Rev. William Ellery Channing: "Of modern civilization, the natural
fruits are, contempt for others' rights, fraud, oppression, a gambling
spirit in trade, reckless adventure and commercial convulsions, all
tending to impoverish the laborer and render every condition insecure.
Relief is to come, and can only come from the new application of
Christian principles, of universal justice and universal love, to
social institutions, to commerce, to business, to active life."

It was printed in quarto form, sixteen pages to every number, with
clear type and in excellent style. The index of the first volume bears
a list of twenty-two names as contributors, and it contains many worthy
ones. The New York names were as follows:--

Albert Brisbane. William Henry Channing. Christopher P. Cranch. George
William Curtis. George G. Foster. Parke Godwin. Horace Greeley. Osborne
MacDaniel.

The New England names were:--

Otis Clapp, Boston, Mass. William W. Story, Boston, Mass. T. Wentworth
Higginson, Boston, Mass. James Russell Lowell, Cambridge, Mass. J. A.
Saxton, Deerfield, Mass. Francis George Shaw, West Roxbury, Mass. John
G. Whittier, Amesbury, Mass.

Other contributors were:--

E. P. Grant of Ohio. A. J. H. Duganne of Philadelphia.

The Brook Farm writers were:--

George Ripley. John S. Dwight. Charles A. Dana. Lewis K. Ryckman.

In the second volume are two more of the Channing family as
contributors, Dr. William F. and Walter, and also the name of James
Freeman Clarke, of Boston, with an additional writer from Brook
Farm--John Orvis.

Mr. Ripley and Mr. Dana wrote most of the editorial Associative
articles. Mr. Dana was the principal reviewer, and noticed the new
books. Mr. Dwight wrote an occasional article on Association, reviewed,
and attended to the musical and poetical department. He also earnestly
advocated the doctrines of social and industrial life suggested by
Fourier. Translations in prose and poetry were common. Parke Godwin and
W. H. Channing assisted in translations or selections from Fourier's
writings. George William Curtis wrote the musical correspondence from
New York, and among the poetical contributions in the first volume, is
one from J. G. Whittier, "To My Friend on the Death of His Sister," and
five poems by Cranch, Higginson, Story, Lowell and Duganne; also poetic
translations from the German by Dwight and Dana, as well as original
poems by them.

The paper was not local. It aimed high as a purely literary and
critical as well as progressive journal, and I must ever consider it a
fault that it did not chronicle more of Brook Farm life. We look almost
in vain through its pages for one word of its situation, finding none
except in some allusions to it in the correspondence from abroad.
Occasionally the school was advertised in a corner, but for the rest it
might as well have been published elsewhere as at Brook Farm. The
leaders, feeling that the life there was an experiment, and perhaps a
doubtful one, were not disposed to gratify a curiosity which they
probably considered morbid, by yielding to it. This was a mistake. It
was a mistake, as much as it would be for us to leave out of our
letters to our friends the petty incidents of daily life, and describe
only grand principles and outside events. It is only to those loved
most by us that we recite the trivial things, for we know that those
trivialities link us closer than anything else, filling all the chinks
in our friendship or love. It was a disappointment to those who desired
to know often of the spirit of the workers, and of the little events
that happened there, not to find more notices of them.

In many other respects the _Harbinger_ was a grand success. In all that
pertained to music, criticism, poetry and progress no journal stood
higher. I cannot tell of its pecuniary success for I do not find any
memorandum of its finances. The first number commenced with a story
translated from the French of George Sand (Madame Dudevant) entitled
"Consuelo"--in some respects the sweetest story she ever wrote. It was
translated by our neighbor, Mr. Francis G. Shaw, who would oftentimes
mount his horse, and, with his little boy, a tiny fellow, on a pony by
his side, gallop over to see us. How hard it is for me to realize that
afterward the same little fellow, as Col. Robert G. Shaw, led his
colored regiment through fire and smoke and the whizzing bullets up to
the cannon's mouth of bloody Fort Wagner, and there laid down his life
for his country.

Francis George Shaw was of a Boston family and a gentleman of means. He
took great interest in our experiment and its hoped-for results. I have
not words to praise his kindness, and his gentlemanly manner and
bearing towards us all. He looked on life from a high standpoint.
Wealth did not corrupt him. He was a Christian in large heartedness and
philanthropy. He recognized his Maker's image in all men; the garment
he saw through; the color he saw through; and he desired above all
things the education, progress and culture of all the human family.

Appended is an additional list of all the advertised contributors of
the _Harbinger_, during its publication at Brook Farm, not including
those already mentioned:--

John Allen, Brook Farm. Jean M. Pallisse, Brook Farm. S. P. Andrews,
New York, N. Y. William Ellery Channing, Concord, Mass. Joseph J.
Cooke, Providence, R. I. Fred. Henry Hedge, Bangor, Me. Mark E.
Lazarus, Wilmington, N. C. E. W. Parkman, Boston, Mass. J. H. Pulte,
Cincinnati, Ohio. Samuel D. Robbins, Chelsea, Mass. Miss E. H. Starr,
Deerfield, Mass. C. Neidhart, Philadelphia, Pa.

The presence of a weekly journal on the farm, with its varieties of
current literature, poetry and music, could not but awaken in many of
the colaborers most pleasurable emotions. Prose articles and poetry
from it were discussed by daylight and by the fireside, by the
roadside, in the shops, on the farm--in fact, everywhere. The "Admiral"
was wild over Hood's "Bridge of Sighs." It was so quaint; the rhythm
was so unique; it was so full of sentiment; it was so tender; it
displayed so touchingly the sorrows of a young heart, and was so in
harmony with the humanitarian sentiment of our lives, that he and
others could but repeat it over and over, and the poet's rhymes kept
ringing both in our physical and mental ears. The lines--


  "One more unfortunate,
  Rashly importunate
  Gone to her death.

       *       *       *       *       *

  Take her up tenderly,
  Fashioned so slenderly
  Young and so fair."

were repeated times without number. Cranch's, Story's and Duganne's
poems were favorably criticised, the authors being friendly to the
Association, and the verses of our own members touched tender spots.

When Mr. Emerson's poems were published, there was quite a desire to
know what his sonnet to our friend William H. Channing was like. The
disappointment was great when, instead of a grand, glowing sonnet to a
great-souled man, it took up only an exceptional point of feeling in
his mind on the Abolition question, on which they were not quite
agreed. Quite a little discussion took place between two young persons
as to the propriety of the lines,

  "What boots thy zeal, O glowing friend,
  That would indignant rend
  The Northland from the South?"

The one party contended that "boots" was entirely inadmissible in
poetic phrase. "What boots? Cowhides or patent leathers?" said he,
whilst the other contended that the whole scope of the meaning made the
poetry. But still the first stuck to his point, that a grand sentiment
needed grand words as well as grand ideas, and "boots" was a homely and
inadmissible word with which to express a high sentiment.

Among the many volumes noticed, "Festus," by Philip James Bailey, was a
constant source of admiration and criticism in some of our circles, and
we had many varied ones. Listen to what Mr. Dwight said of it at the
time in the _Harbinger_: "There are more original and magnificent
images on a single page of Festus than would endow a dozen of the
handsome volumes most in vogue. The conclusion you come to as you read
on, is that his wealth of imagination is illimitable, and that you
might as well cut a cloud out of the purple sunset atmosphere, as a
figure from the boundless atmospheric beauty of this poem."

"Festus" still retains its charm for me.

The _Harbinger_, as may be seen, was to be published by the Brook Farm
_Phalanx_, not _Association_. The reason why the name was changed was
because "Association" was not a definite one, conveying distinct
impressions to the public mind, like "Community"; and the name
"Phalanx," although to American ears, new in its connection, was
expressive, and was also adopted by a number of social experiments just
starting, and it was desirable to have them all associated in name as
well as in general doctrine. The name "Community" was rejected because
all the societies organized under that name held their property in
common, which the "Association" distinctly did not.

There were other changes made at this time, more important in idea than
in practice. The name "Areopagus" was applied to an enlarged general
council, and our leader got in this connection, without warrant, the
name of "the Archon."

"Come!" said jocose Drew to him one day, as he sat on the wagon-seat
ready to start for the city, "we are waiting for you!"

"Ah!" was Mr. Ripley's reply, "I see you have the _wag_-on, and are now
waiting for the Archon!"

The government was vested in a General Council consisting of four
branches: First, a Council of Industry, composed of five members;
second, a Council of Finance, of four members; third, a Council of
Science, of three members, and fourth a President, who, with the
chairmen of the other three councils, constituted a "Central Council."
The Council of Industry was appointed by the chiefs of the several
series devoted to manual industry; the Council of Finance, by the
stockholders; the Council of Science, by chiefs of the series devoted
to educational, literary and scientific matters, and the President by
the concurrent vote of the three series.

The Areopagus, whose duty was advisory, consisted of the General
Council; the chiefs of the several groups and series; stockholders
holding stock to the amount of one thousand dollars or more; all
members of the Phalanx over the age of forty-five who had resided on
the place for two years or longer; and of such other persons as might
be elected by this Council on account of their superior wisdom, merit
or devotion to the interests of the Association; no person voting who
was not a member of the Phalanx.

There was a curious and interesting addition to the constitution in the
"Council of Arbiters," which was to consist of seven persons, "the
majority of whom shall be women." To this council individuals and
departments were to bring all complaints, charges and grievances not
provided for in other ways. They were to take cognizance of all matters
relating to morals and manners, and to report to the General Council
all cases wherein their decision was not complied with. The reader can
judge by this that there were men and women who understood "woman's
sphere," and were ready to assist her to it quietly and naturally, long
years ago in this little band.

A considerable number of arrangements were made to secure what was
considered justice in the relation of capital to the Phalanx, its
members and its stockholders. The capital stock was divided into three
classes, namely: loan stock, or that which received a fixed percentage
for use; partnership stock, depending on the general product of the
Phalanx for its dividend; and labor stock, that represented the
dividend to labor.

The arrangements for the dividends on stock of the several kinds were
quite complicated, and, under the light of after events, seem farcical;
but the constitution makers believed they were arranging matters not
only for the Brook Farm experiment, but for all who might adopt the
social life of the Phalanxes, present and future. Looking at it in this
light, the constitution might deserve more thought than can be given to
it now.

There was a preliminary article, written and signed by George Ripley,
President, from which the following extracts are made:--

"At the last session of the Legislature of Massachusetts, our
Association was incorporated under the name which it now assumes, with
the right to hold real estate to the amount of one hundred thousand
dollars. This confers upon us all the usual powers and privileges of
chartered companies. We have introduced several branches of profitable
industry, and established a market for their products; and finally, in
the constitution which follows, we have applied the principles of
social justice to the distribution of profits in such a manner that the
best results are to be expected.

"Nothing is now necessary to the greatest possible measure of success
but capital to furnish sufficient means to enable us to develop every
department to advantage. This capital we can now apply profitably and
without danger of loss. We are well aware that there must be risk in
investing money in an infant association as well as in any other
untried business, but with the labors of nearly four years, we have
arrived at a point where this risk hardly exists. Not that we have
surmounted all the difficulties of the enterprise; these are still
sufficiently abundant. But we have, by no means with ease, laid the
foundation, and now stand ready to do our part in rearing a
superstructure, which approaches more nearly to the ideal of human
society than any that has as yet existed--a society which shall
establish justice between all interests and all men; which shall
guarantee education, the right to labor, and the rights of property to
all, and which by actual demonstration of a state of things every way
better and more advantageous, will put an end to the great evils which
at present burden even the most fortunate classes.

"What we have already been able to accomplish ought to give weight to
our words. We speak not from abstract conviction, but from experience;
not as mere enthusiasts, but as men of practical common sense, holding
in our hands the means of escape from the present condition of society,
and from that still more frightful state to which in all civilized
countries it is hurrying.

"Accordingly, we calmly and earnestly invite the aid of those who
perceive how little security existing institutions offer against the
growth of commercial feudalism on the one hand, and pauperism on the
other--of those whose sympathies are with the unfortunate and
uneducated masses; of those who long for the establishment of more true
and genial conditions of life, as well as of those who are made
restless and fiery-souled by the universal necessities of reform.

"But by the increasing number, whose most ardent desire is to see the
experiment of Association fairly tried, we are confident that the
appeal we now make will not be received without the most generous
response in their power. As far as their means and their utmost
exertions can go, they will not suffer so favorable an opportunity for
the realization of their hopes to pass unimproved."

I cannot say that I think all parties in the Association were pleased
with the changes in the constitution. They were not simple enough to be
easily applied and quickly comprehended, and were too weighty and
cumbersome for the little society.

Early in the second spring (1844) of my sojourn at the farm it was
decided to build a large unitary building on the high ground, almost
directly in front of the Eyry, though at some distance from it, on the
eastern verge of the slope facing the meadow, and nearly in line with
the distant town road. It was late when the preparations were concluded
and the work was commenced. There was not money enough in the treasury
to pay for it, but it was thought that means would come. The result of
the season's work was that the foundation walls were laid, the first
floor was boarded, and thus it was left for the winter.

It was to be an oblong, wooden building, with an entrance on a level
with the earth terrace. The lower floor was divided into some five or
six apartments, with parlors, a reading room, reception rooms, large
dining hall, with an adjoining kitchen and bakery. From the main hall
or entry, which was on the left of the centre of the building, arose a
flight of stairs which led out on to a corridor or piazza which
extended across the whole front of the building. This corridor was
duplicated by one above it, and the roof jutted out to a line with the
lower story and covered them both. Pillars supported the roof, and were
attached to and supported the corridors. On the lower corridor or
piazza were the entrances to the suites. There were seven doorways that
entered seven houses, as distinct as any other seven houses, except in
being connected by the corridors and being under one roof, each house
containing two suites. Thus could privacy be maintained and sociability
increased.

The building would add wonderfully to the advantages of the
Association, and being near the centre of the domain, would diminish
the travel which consumed a great deal of time. It would give room for
increased numbers; would furnish a suitable assembly room, and more
especially would it give to the larger families a chance to place their
members together in the natural family order. It would also allow the
other buildings to be used exclusively for family purposes, and if
success increased the resources of the Association, the main building
would be enlarged by adding wings to it.

The proportion of unmarried persons in the Association was large, and
young men predominated. They had, in a general sense, a good home in
the Association, but there was lacking the family circle to draw around
at night, and a good deal of motherly care and sympathy. They were
reliable young men, and many of the families would not have objected to
having them joined to their evening circles, had they not been crowded
themselves; to having a sympathizing care over them, and to looking
after many of those trifling things that make the difference between
comfort and discomfort.

It was a theory that all should have a home--that the Association, as a
general home, should not take the place of the private family; and it
was also considered a duty by many to join to their family circles one
or more of these single persons. It was proposed in the apportionment
of the rooms in the new building, to place a family in each house and
proportionately distribute the young men, when desirable to do so,
among them. This would give all a more equal chance, and not doom the
young and productive members to reside in attics, or in groups in any
place convenient for the Association, in its crowded state, to put them.

Extracts from the Financial Report to the Association.

"The Direction of Finance respectfully submit their annual report for
the year ending Oct. 31, 1844:--

   The income of the Association during the year from
    all sources whatever has been . . . . . . .$11,854.41
    and its expenditures for all purposes,
    including interest, losses by bad debts,
    and damage of buildings, tools and
    furniture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10,409.14

    leaving a balance of . . . . . . . . . . . . 1,445.27
    from which deducting the amount of
    doubtful debts contracted this year . . . .    284.43
                                                --------
    we have . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $1,160.84

which is to be divided according to the Constitution.

"By the last yearly report of this Direction it appears that the
Association has been a loser up to November 1, 1843, to the amount of
$2,748.83. In this amount was included sundry debts against associates
amounting to $924.38 which should not have been included. There were
also some small discrepancies which were afterwards discovered, so that
on settling the books, the entire deficit appeared to be $1,837.00.

"To this amount should be added the proportion of the damage done to
the tools, furniture and general fixtures and depreciation in the live
stock, by the use of the two years which the Association has been in
operation previous to that time. The whole damage of this property by
the use of these years has been ascertained by inventory to be $365.54,
according to the estimates and statements prepared by Messrs. Ryckman
and Hastings, which are herewith submitted.

"Of this sum, $365.54, we have charged one third, $121.85, to the
account of the current year, and two thirds, $243.69, to the account of
the two preceding years. To the same amount should also be added sundry
debts which have since proved to be bad, amounting in all to $678.08,
and also an error in favor of I. Morton amounting to $17.74, which has
since been discovered in his account, so that the total deficit of the
preceding years will appear to be as follows:--

  Deficit on settling the books..... $1,837.00
  Damage on furniture and fixtures..... 243.69
  Bad debts, including debts of
  associates considered doubtful....... 678.08
  I. Morton............................  17.74

  Total.............................. $2,776.51

"From this amount is to be deducted the value of the farm produce
consisting of hay, roots, manures, etc., on hand November 1, 1843,
which was not taken into the amount of last year, but which has been
ascertained to be $762.50, as well as the value, $49.13, of the family
stores which were on hand at the same time, but were also omitted from
the amount.

"Deducting these two amounts ($762.50+$49.13= $811.63) from the deficit
as above stated we have:

  Deficit.......... $2,776.51
  Farm produce and
  family stores....... 811.63

  Real deficit for
  1842 and 1843.... $1,964.88

"It was the opinion of a majority at least of this Board that this sum
must be chargeable upon the future industry of the Association, and
that no dividend could be declared until it had been made up.
Accordingly the quarterly statement for the quarter ending August 1,
1844, was based upon this opinion, and a deficit of $526.78 declared to
exist at that time. It is but justice to say that that statement was
made up in the absence of one of the members of the Direction, Mr.
Ryckman, who on seeing it objected entirely to the principle which it
embodied. Subsequent consideration has convinced the Direction that the
statement was in that respect erroneous, and that the transactions of
previous years ought not to affect the operations of this, in the way
proposed in the statement. It should be borne in mind that the deficit
before spoken of is not a debt in itself, but is the difference between
the amount of our debts and our joint stock, and the nominal value of
our assets. The Association is not bound to pay the sum or to make it
good in any way. It pays interest upon it, but can never be called on
to pay the principal. The sum total of the actual liabilities of the
Association, that is, of debts and obligations which it is bound at
some time or other to pay, is much exceeded by the cost value of its
property. Its joint stock, which it is not bound to pay, much exceeds
the deficit we are speaking of, so that clearly the deficit is not to
be paid, but only the interest upon it, that is, five per cent per
annum forever. So that it is evident that the principal is by no means
chargeable upon the industry of the present or of future years, but
only the interest. And even if the said deficit were a debt to be paid
it would still, as we conceive, be perfectly just and legitimate to
issue stock for its amount to those members by whose labors it was made
up. Because in that case we should merely, in consideration of such
labor, bind the Association to the yearly payment of the interest
aforesaid according to the terms of our joint stock compact.

"This is, as we are persuaded, the only way whereby labor can receive
justice. If a hundred dollars in money is invested in our stock, we
issue certificates for that amount, and why must we not do the same
with an investment of a hundred dollars' worth of labor? The claim in
the latter case seems to us even more imperative than in the former.
The dividend of each year ought, as we are convinced, to be made with
reference solely to the difference between its gains on the one hand,
and its expenditures and losses on the other.

"The earlier losses of the establishment must be regarded as the price
of much valuable experience, and as inevitable in starting such an
institution. Almost every business fails to pay its expenses at the
commencement--it always costs something to set the whee

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