CHAPTER VIII.
THE DRAMA, AND IMPORTANT LETTERS.
The need of especial amusements was not particularly felt at the farm, but sometimes a set, inspired by an active mind, would venture out of the common course and try to do a "big thing," which, like many big things, would prove a failure. There was no hall for performances except the dining hall, and it could not be taken possession of until after supper; consequently, for a dramatic performance where it was important to have the hall prepared before hand, it was useless, and so the Amusement Group secured the lower floor of the shop for a special occasion, and Chiswell, the carpenter, made a portable stage which could be arranged for rehearsals and taken down easily, and all hands went to work, some to learn their parts and others to make dresses, properties and scenery.
The influence of a strong, active mind and persuasive tongue like that of Drew, was felt on this occasion, for he induced the Amusement Group to allow a portion of his favorite poem, Byron's "Corsair," to be acted. With pencil and scissors he went to work, cutting and slashing the "Corsair" with these ungodly weapons until I fear he could not, had he been in the flesh, have fought a brave fight.
I cannot at this late day describe the dresses worn on the occasion; but Glover was the corsair, and burnt cork had to suffer, and I know that there was quite a pretty Miss whom he had no especial objection to embracing as Medora. When he said, "My own Medora!" it was quite pathetic—enough to cause a titter among the younger portion of the audience.
Apropos of the audience, it was noised abroad that there was to be a performance at the farm, and there was more than the usual number of outsiders present. Even the Reverend Theodore, who never ventured out in our vicinity in the evening, was tempted to come over for this "great occasion." Some round-faced, pretty daughters of a well-to-do neighboring farmer from "Spring Street" were there also, and with friends and neighbors, the shop was full; for us a large audience.
Well, the "Corsair," clipped as it was, dragged its slow length along to an end. We then ventured to start our great drama, "Pizarro," or the death of Rolla. But here again I am foiled in my remembrance. I know it took the "whole strength of the company" to fill out the many characters needed. Carpenters, shoemakers and farmers were turned into Spanish chieftains and Peruvians; our young maidens were changed into sun-worshippers, and our musical man adapted a portion of one of Mozart's masses, to sing to these words, "The sun is in his holy temple," etc., at which some of our people cavilled; but which portion, sung by the maidens, in white, was perhaps the best of all the performance.
I remember, however, that "the Admiral," or some one else, was stationed behind the scenes with a gun to fire at Holla when he runs away with Alonzo's child; that one of the great points made was, "By Heaven, it is Alonzo's child!" and that rushing over scenic rocks he should in imagination be shot; but the pesky gun behind the scenes would not go off until many desperate attempts were made—no report being heard until the play had further progressed, when all of a sudden the gun was fired, and frightened individuals had the temerity to ask "what that gun was for."
I remember this also, that long before the play was ended, the Reverend Theodore and others of the visitors had departed, thinking their own thoughts, and that the curative effects of that performance lasted so long the like was never attempted again; and although some were a trifle disheartened by the failure to reach the summit of their hopes, yet it was a source of merriment to others, and there are those whose eyes may meet these pages, who will still smile if you quote these lines to them: "O'er the glad waters of the deep, blue sea." "List, 'tis the bugle!" (I can vouch that it was nothing but the old trumpet we blew for dinner.) "Ha! it sure cannot be day! What star, what sun is bursting on the bay?" (It was only the barn lantern that was raised outside the window, and an awful poor light at that!).
"Well, how was Drew's play?" said one wag. "All blood and thunder, eh?"
"No; all thud and blunder," was the rejoinder.
The associative movement had now touched thousands of hearts in this country. The Brook Farm Community, at its formation, was the only community founded in America on the principle of freedom in religion and social life—all others being founded on special religious creeds. The agitation of social questions, the doctrines of Fourier and others, brought many societies into existence; but like enthusiasts in other schemes, the founders of them preached unity, but did not unite. The leaders of Brook Farm urged upon the prominent men in the social belief, to take part with them in their already established society, with all the power they could command; but Mr. Greeley and the New York men joined hands with the North American Phalanx, an association founded at Red Bank, New Jersey, and lent their influence and means to its development. Mr. Greeley thought the land at Brook Farm was of too poor quality; that the debts of the organization were heavier than they should be for a beginning, and that by starting anew, a better chance for thrift could be had—especially if a location could be selected with an excellent soil—and he desired it should be located near the great market of New York. This departure from a true idea—the idea of concentration—was certainly a great mistake, and the end proved that the young societies, with little means, and needing much, should all have joined together for financial success.
At a very early date in the movement, there was a Community formed at Hopedale, Milford, Massachusetts, under the leadership of Rev. Adin Ballou, a man of considerable ability, whose tenets were those of peace in absolute distinction to those of war. The Community was pledged by its members not to enter into any hostile act, and to use its influence for universal peace, they being all of a sect called "Non-Resistants." Our leader, wisely, I think, made overtures to them to unite with the West Roxbury Community, but the proposition was declined in the following letter:—
"MENDON, MASS., Nov. 3, 1842.
"DEAR BROTHER RIPLEY: Since our last interview I have met our brethren and had a full consultation with them on the points of difficulty on which we are at issue with your friends. We are unanimous in the solemn conviction that we could not enlist for the formation of a community not based on the distinguishing principles of the standard of Practical Christianity so called, especially non-resistance, etc. We trust you will do us the justice to think that we are conscientious and not bigoted. The temptation is strong to severe, but we dare not hazard the cause we have espoused by yielding our scruples.
"We love you all, and shall be happy to see you go on and prosper, though we fear the final issue. We are few and poor, and therefore you can do without us better than we without you—your means and your learning! But we shall try to do something in our humble way if God favor us. We beseech you and your friends not to think us unkind or unfriendly on account of our stiff notions, as they may seem, and to regard us always as ready to rejoice in your good success. Let me hear from you occasionally, and believe me and those for whom I speak, sincerely your brethren in every good work.
"Affectionately yours,
"ADIN BALLOU."
I remember that the Association, through its leaders, urged upon all the principal men who came within their sphere, with considerable zeal, to unite in their movement. This is a matter of record that should be placed to their credit.
A little later than this I find a letter from Mr. Brisbane, who showed his characteristics so well in it, that I present all its important parts for reading:—
"NEW YORK, the 9th December, 1845.
"MY DEAR RIPLEY:—Yours of the 3d just received, the 5th came to hand yesterday. I note all its contents in relation to your views upon the necessity of developing Brook Farm. The reason why I have spoken in some of my last letters of the best means of bringing Brook Farm to a close, and making preparations for a trial under more favorable circumstances, is this. In the middle of November I received a letter from Charles in which, in speaking of the varioloid, he stated the difficulties you have to contend with, and expressed fears for the future in such a way that I decided you had made up your minds to bring things to a close. I feared that Morton might be foreclosing his mortgage, which would be a most serious affair. This is the cause of my adverting to a possible dissolution and the necessity of looking ahead to meet in the best and most proper manner such a contingency.
"As to any opinion of what is to be done, it is easily explained.
"First, we must raise a sufficient amount of capital, and the amount must not be small.
"Second, when that is secured we must prepare and work out a plan of scientific organization sufficiently complete in its details to serve as a guide in organizing an Association. For my own part, I feel no capability whatever of directing an Association by discipline, by ideas of duty, moral suasion and any other similar means. I want organization; I want a mechanism suited and adapted to human nature, so that human nature can follow its laws and attractions and go rightly, and be its own guide. I might do something in directing such an organization, but would be useless in any other way. As we all like to be active, I would like exceedingly to take part in and help construct a scientific organization.
"How can we raise the capital necessary to do something effectual? I see but two ways. The first is for C. and I—and if he will not do it, then for you and I, if you would possibly engage in it—to lecture patiently and perseveringly in various parts of the country, having the translation of Fourier with us, and continue at the work until we have enlisted and interested men enough who will subscribe each a certain sum sufficient to form the fund we deem necessary. Patience and perseverance would do this. One hundred men who would subscribe one thousand dollars cash, would give us a fine capital. Something effectual, I think, might be done with such an amount; less than that would, I fear, be patchwork.
"Second, if C. or you cannot engage in this enterprise, then I shall see what I can do alone. I shall make first the trial of the steel business—that will now soon be determined, probably in a few weeks. There are chances that it may be a great thing; if that turns out nothing, then I shall take Fourier's work and do something of what I propose you or C. and I should do together.
"If the capital can be had, where shall we organize, you will ask? That is a thing to be carefully considered, and which we cannot decide at present.
"Placed under the circumstances you are, all these speculations will appear foreign to the subject that interests you, and useless. You want capital, and immediately, for Brook Farm. Now it seems to me a problem as perplexing to get fifteen thousand dollars for Brook Farm as it does to raise one hundred thousand dollars. Where can it be had? The New Yorkers who have money, G., T., S., etc., are all interested in and pledged to raise ten thousand dollars for the North American Phalanx, to pay off its mortgage. You might as well undertake to raise dead men, as to attain any considerable amount of capital from the people here; I have tried it so often that I know the difficulties.
"The fact is, we have a great work to accomplish, that of organizing an Association, and to do it we must have the means adequate to the task, and to get these means we must make the most persevering and Herculean efforts. We must go at the thing in earnest, and labor until we have secured the means. I really see no other way or avenue to success; if you do, I should be glad to hear your explanation of it. Fifteen thousand dollars might do a great deal at Brook Farm, but would it do the thing effectually—would it make a trial that would impress the public? And for anything short of that, none of us, I suppose, would labor.
"We are surrounded by great difficulties. I see no immediate chance of obtaining a capital sufficient for a good experiment, and until we have the capital to organize upon quite a complete scale, I should say that it would be a very great misfortune to dissolve Brook Farm. No uncertain prospects should exercise any influence; the means must be had in hand before we made any decisive movement towards a removal or organizing in a more favorable location, even if you were perfectly willing to leave New England and the neighborhood of Boston. As I said I spoke of it, and should be urged to make at once the greatest efforts to obtain capital only under the fear that circumstances might force a crisis upon you.
"I have touched merely upon generalities to-day; after further correspondence I will write you more in detail. I will also come on and see you if you deem it advisable. The other experiment keeps me here at present; I think that next week I shall test it. I am greatly rejoiced to hear that you are getting on well with the translation.
"A. BRISBANE."
I present in contrast, the draft of a letter by Mr. Ripley, showing the difference in the ideas of the two men. Among the social organizations at this date, was the Community founded by Mr. John A. Collins, at Skaneateles, New York, to whose friend the letter was addressed. This movement was based on "community of property" which was denounced by the school of Fourier as a fallacy. I commend the letter to careful perusal. It is beautiful in language; its spirit is transcendent.
"BROOK FARM, MASS.
"MY DEAR SIR:—I thank you for sending me the circular, calling a convention at Skaneateles for the promotion of the community movement.
"I had just enjoyed a short visit from Mr. Collins, who explained to me very fully the purposes of the enterprise, and described the advantages of the situation which had been selected as the scene of the initiatory experiment. I hardly need to say that the movers in this noble effort have my warmest sympathy, and that if circumstances permitted, I could not deprive myself of the privilege of being present at their deliberations. I am, however, just now so involved in cares and labors that I could not be absent for so long a time without neglect of duty.
"Although my present strong convictions are in, favor of cooperative Association rather than of communities of property, I look with an indescribable interest on every attempt to redeem society from its corruptions, and establish the intercourse of men on a basis of love instead of competition. The evils arising from trade and money, it appears to me, grow out of the defects of our social organization, not an intrinsic vice in themselves; and the abolition of private property, I fear, would so far destroy the independence of the individual, as to interfere with the great object of all social reform, namely, the development of humanity, the substitution of a race of free, noble, holy men and women, instead of the dwarfish and mutilated specimens which now cover the earth.
"The great problem is to guarantee individualism against the masses, on the one hand, and the masses against the individual, on the other. In society as now organized, the many are slaves to a few favored individuals in a community. I should dread the bondage of individuals to the power of the mass, while Association, by identifying the interests of the many and the few—the less gifted and the highly gifted—secures the sacred personality of all, gives to each individual the largest liberty of the children of God.
"Such are my present views, subject to any modification which farther light may produce. Still I consider the great question of the means of human regeneration still open, indeed, hardly touched as yet, and Heaven forbid that I should not at least give you my best wishes for the success of your important enterprise.
"In our own little Association we practically adopt many community elements. We are eclectics and learners, but day by day increases our faith and joy in the principle of combined industry and of bearing each other's burdens, instead of seeking every man his own.
"It will give me great pleasure to hear from you whenever you have anything to communicate interesting to the general movement. I feel that all who are seeking the emancipation of man are brothers, though differing in the measures which they may adopt for that purpose; and from our different points of view it is not, perhaps, presumptuous to hope that we may aid each other, by faithfully reporting the aspects of earth and sky as they pass before our field of vision.
"One danger, of which no doubt you are aware, proceeds from the growing interest in the subject, and that is the crowds of converts who desire to help themselves rather than to help the movement. It is as true now as it was of old, that he who follows this new Messiah must deny himself and take up his cross daily, or he cannot enter the promised kingdom. The path of transition is always covered with thorns and marked with the bleeding feet of the faithful. This truth must not be covered up in describing the paradise for which we hope. We must drink the waters of Marah in the desert, that others may feed on the grapes of Eshcol. We must depend on the power of self-sacrifice in man, not on appeals to his selfish nature, for the success of our efforts. We should hardly be willing to accept of men or money for this enterprise, unless called forth by earnest conviction that they are summoned by a divine voice. I wish to hear less said to capitalists about a profitable investment of their funds, as if the holy cause of humanity were to be speeded onward by the same force which conducts railroads and ships of war. Rather preach to the rich, 'Sell all that you have and give to the poor and you shall have treasure in heaven.'
"GEORGE RIPLEY."
Although the working condition of the Association was never better than now; although its organization was complete as it could well be under its disadvantages, it was with sorrow that the Direction heard that one of the earliest members with his family—our head farmer—had decided to leave the Brook Farm life. It was true that he could be spared, that his three children were unproductive and that there was talent enough on the farm to run the Farming Series well; but it seemed a break in the established order, showing, perhaps, that things were not as successful as they appeared to be, and that maybe the event was a raindrop predicting a storm.
I think no one blamed him, but all were sorry to part with one whom they loved so well. That his interest in the cause and the Association had not waned is apparent from the following letter, April 3, 1845:—
"Dear Sir:—In withdrawing from the Association I cannot believe it necessary for me to say to you that I do not cease to feel an interest, a very deep interest, in the success of the cause in which I have in my humble way labored with you for the last few years. The final success of this attempt to live out the great and holy idea of association for brotherly cooperation, will be to me a greater cause for joy than any merely personal benefit to myself could be.
"I wished, but could not do it, to say to you and others how much I love and esteem you, and how painful it is for me to leave those to whom I am so much indebted for personal kindnesses. You know me well enough to believe that I feel, more deeply than I can express, pained by this separation. God bless you. God bless and prosper the Association individually and collectively.
"Yours truly,
"MINOT PRATT."
It was about this time that a "party" was given by the "Great Apostle," as Mr. Brisbane was called by us. I made a memorandum of it at the time, which aids my memory in presenting it.
The day had been pleasant; it was one of the last in March. The farm work had progressed as usual. Old Kate was at the plough and Cyclops at the wagon. Who was Cyclops? She was a large, raw-boned, gray-white mare, whose feeding did not show well; the more oats and meal and hay she had, the more ribs we counted in her sides—you have seen such an animal! But she was wonderful, because she stepped longer, than any other of the horses; worked harder without showing fatigue, and made the nine miles to Boston in a practical if not a graceful way.
She had a fault, and horsemen had to admit it (you know they seldom admit a fault but what is very visible). This was a visible fault, and yet at the same time it was a want of visibility. She had but one eye. And so Glover it was, I am quite sure, named her Cyclops.
By the by, she had one other fault that I had almost forgotten, and that was of elevating her heels against the dashers of wagons, when she had an ugly fit, which took place semi-occasionally, and the peculiarity of it was that she was not particular as to time or place where she made her exhibitions. It might be in Dock Square or State Street, or it might be on the farm, just as all were starting out. It was not over pleasant to be near her when she flung those long hind legs some six feet in air, and the dash-board was flying in pieces.
The "General," with some others, was about to take a ride one day, when she put a hind foot over the dasher, which caused him to dismount precipitately. "For," he said he, when speaking of it, "I thought if she was g-going to g-get in, it was time for me to get out!"
The horn, as usual, rang out its cheerful tones for meals. There were but few notes of preparation shown outside the rooms, for the event of the evening. Up in the greenhouse the gardener and myself were busy picking out choice flowering plants, and clipping off a stray dead leaf or twig, and scouring the pots until they shone; and as the other teams were busy, I harnessed my "Prince" to his cart and carried them to the Hive where we made the best display of them we could in the dining room.
We had some mottoes on the walls, as "The Series distribute the Harmonics of the Universe," "Attractive Industry," "Universal Unity," etc.
At half past eight o'clock everything was in order. Side tables were spread with a simple repast, and around the room were flowering plants, azaleas, camellias, heaths, geraniums, etc. When the company had assembled, the choir sang some glees, after which Mr. Brisbane made a speech, and gave as a sentiment, "Unity of the Passions." Let me here explain a little of what is meant by this sentiment. The twelve passions are what are generally called "the human feelings or sentiments." They are divided into the intellectual ones, the social ones and the sensitive ones or those pertaining to the five senses.
There are three intellectual ones, viz., Analysis, Synthesis and the Composite. These exhaust the powers of the intellect; or, in other words, the mind separates things, puts things together and compounds things, and that is all that it can do in its primary intellectual capacity.
There are four social "passions," viz., Friendship, Love, Familism (i. e., the family sentiment) and Ambition; and all our social life is based on one or more of these four sentiments.
Then there are five sensitive passions, which are aids and attendants of the body—"sight, smelling, hearing, touch and taste."
"The five sensitive passions tend to material riches, refinement and harmonies. The four affective passions govern social relations and those of individuals. Friendship tends to social equality and to the levelling of ranks. Love regulates the relations of the sexes, Paternity those of ages and generations; Ambition produces hierarchy of ranks and distinctions among individuals; it establishes in society gradations of all kinds based upon skill, merit, talent, etc.; it is opposite in its effects from friendship."—"Social Destiny of Man," page 453.
The four social passions correspond to the four primary prismatic colors of the Newtonian system, to the common chord in music and to various other natural things. The three intellectual passions correspond to the other three notes of the musical scale and to three other prismatic colors; and the five sensitive passions correspond to the five semi-tones, and also to five intermediate colors of the prism. Now this at first sight looks very much like a scheme or a notion, but the founder of this doctrine lays his claim to a higher judgment. He says practically, "These are facts founded in nature by God himself." Let me give you his own words, often reiterated: "I give no theory of my own, I deduce. If I have deduced erroneously let others establish the true deduction." Can words be more simple or more modest?
These "passions," or "faculties," if you like the last word better, as taught in the general schools of theology, are all at war with one another, but as taught by the school of Fourier will all work harmoniously together when right material conditions exist. Or in other words, there is no inherent discord among these twelve sister faculties residing in the nature of man. It is the duty of man on this earth, and his destiny also, to bring them into harmonious relations, first by organizing industry, and bringing man into right relation with nature and his fellows, so that they can commence their natural action; and this is what is meant by the "Unity of the Passions," and is the first step towards universal happiness. Let me give a quotation from the same author:—
"The impulses (passions) have a right and a wrong development. The right development produces harmony, good, justice, unity. The wrong development produces selfishness, injustice, duplicity."
I have no memorandum of what was said by the speaker, but I remember he was enthusiastic beyond bounds, and that he went in fancy from this earth up into the starry vault of spheres that he fancied were peopled by living beings——Jupiter and Saturn being in harmony—and in his enthusiasm cried out, "I love those great worlds up there!" looking upwards with outstretched arms and uplifted hands; and it was telling, for he was eloquent as well as enthusiastic.
After this warm gush of rapture came quiet Dwight in one of those sweet, calm, choice, dignified, exact speeches for which he was noted, and gave as a sentiment, "The marriage of love and wisdom," the idea being that present society, however much it may be filled with love—love for the poor, the needy, the slave and the outcast—can never avail much towards universal happiness until it marries itself to wisdom: wisdom to do justice, to adapt means to ends, to exchange charity, which is a curse to him that gives and him that takes, for even-handed justice, divine law and social order; so that pauperism and its kindred vices may be done away with forever, and in its place the reign of peace and harmony prevail.
Mr. Dwight was an admirer of Swedenborg's poetic fancies. He thought many of them more than fancies. He believed that he gained through unknown sources some glimpses of a higher life; and some of his doctrines, as that of "correspondences" bore so strong a resemblance to Fourier's "universal analogy" that it was quite striking; but his claims to special theological inspiration, he did not admit. I speak of this because some one might accuse him of plagiarism, the phrase of Mr. Dwight's sentiment being similar to Swedenborg's words. Pardon this digression, and we will return to our party.
Mr. Ripley followed in his free and graceful style, and brought things slowly down to our own door with pleasant word and wit (Ripley was a punster with the rest; one of our wags one day called him a Pumpkin—Pun-King—a paraphrase on New England pronunciation of the word), and in conclusion gave us a sentiment: "The Hive! May it be a hive, full of working bees, who make a little noise, a great deal of honey, and sting not at all."
Mr. Dana, the youngest of the four, then followed with a glowing speech, in earnest, clear and chosen words. Not as fluent as either of the other speakers, he yet commanded full attention, and we all knew he meant what he said; there was no doubt about it—the frank manner, the natural gesture, the glowing face, proved it. He gave as a sentiment, "Ambition, the greatest of the four social passions!" He admired it! It was that which carried life onward and made youth able and strong; the ambition for higher things, for higher life and higher opportunities. It was that which brought this little band together—an ambition to better social life; and it was this passion that would lead them onwards through discords into a higher unity and harmony. But in the present social order a misplaced ambition led men to do a thousand wrongs; it produced war, misery and discord, but when placed on the side of humanity it tended upwards towards God and the heavenly accords. True ambition was the unsatisfied thing that never ends except in something higher, nobler, grander.
Here let me explain again. The four social passions before named correspond to the common, chord in music, but ambition corresponds to the seventh note on which no music ever ends. It is always incomplete without the eighth note, the first of the octave above; it runs into it; it is restless, it must never be left alone, but always has an object—the higher unity. Such is true ambition, and such are its results in the natural order.
Applause followed Mr. Dana's speech, and after his remarks the sentiment of the evening turned towards, home life. The orators spoke of the earnest endeavors of the men and women by whom they were surrounded; of their constant daily labor to produce harmony and higher social development, and more particularly of their years of personal toil and devotion, and of their own earnest affection for one another, until tears started in some eyes.
Mr. Ripley spoke of the devotion of the persons about to leave the Association to found "a little colony of their own," for whom he had the highest personal esteem, cemented by years of friendship, counsel and labor together; his sorrow for their departure; his good wishes for them, and his hopes for their present and future welfare, and closed with a sentiment, "The late chief of the Farming Series, Minot Pratt and his family—they can not remain long in Concord without returning to harmony" (Concord, Massachusetts, was where our farmer was going), for which the modest gentleman returned thanks for himself and wife in a few kind and earnest words.
One after another joined in pleasant remarks, and the simple feast, the music and the conversation were kept up. The ever-present fun and frolic abounded in some corners, but the joke of the evening was perhaps that of the Parson—him of the sharp face and nose, who read so late by the light of the lamp in "Attica"—who commenced his remarks by saying that he desired to offer a sentiment, and must be pardoned if it was of a personal nature. Now the reason why this gentleman got the title of "the Parson" was not from his reading, his gravity or want of gravity, but from the fact of his having been educated for the ministry, which in those days required a great deal more preaching damnation to sinners than now. His unwillingness to do so was the means of his leaving the pulpit, and this gave the pith of the toast or sentiment offered.
Parson Capen's speech was sharp. He did not spill over on every occasion. He had no little spurts of wit like a spatter of water on a hot stove, but when he let out his joke it went off like a percussion cap. The attention of the company being secured, he alluded to his present position as a change, he believed, for the better—from his former relation to society when he was preaching against, to the present time when he was working for, humanity; and gave as a toast, "Ephraim Capen—thrust into the pulpit to damn mankind, thrust out of the pulpit to bless mankind."
Laughter followed this sharp witticism, and the hours passed quickly on until it was near midnight, when it was suggested that "Old Hundred" be sung, and all joined in the anthem. As the last note died away, the stroke of the clock announced the hour of twelve, and all departed to their houses to sleep, and dream of the pleasant time they had enjoyed.