CHAPTER XII.
SUMMING UP AND REVERIES.
Brook Farm was in an exceptionally good position when the associative movement broke out, like a fever, all over the country. It was no new organization. It had started two or three years before the rest. It had fixed itself in the minds of the thinking part of the community as a gathering of able, upright, conscientious men and women. There were no slurs on their moral characters. There were no vices at which to point the finger of scorn. They were not driven or urged forward by poverty to take the position they did, and the "Community" or Association, had sprung up so silently and in such a natural manner, that it seemed a vital outgrowth from the tree of society. Notices appeared in various prints pleasantly alluding to it.
It was a curious and unique life. It deserved to be kindly noticed, and not until after the "Fourierite" doctrines were preached and accepted did there appear anything in the journals of a defamatory character relating to it. Truth compels me to say that Brook Farm and its Associates were singularly free from the rude comments and public assaults that reformers of all kinds are apt to receive. But while Brook Farm was thus free, it had to bear its share in the general assaults upon the doctrines of associative life and "Fourierism" that were made elsewhere.
Mr. Greeley, in the Tribune, had gone into the work manfully, striking heavy blows for the organization of labor; announcing himself as an advocate of the doctrines of Associated Industry, with the freedom of manner and boldness of pen and purpose for which he was noted. The Tribune was the leading journal of the country as well as of the Whig party, and the associative idea came into immediate prominence. Mr. Greeley was a man who was not ruled by any party. He had too much of genuine independence to allow himself to follow strict party lines. He was ambitious. He had political enemies ready to strike him in any way that they could to reduce his political power, who did not dare to attack him or his party openly, and they went about seeking flaws in his honest coat of mail, into which they could thrust their lances, caring not how envenomed they were if they could but wound him, thinking by this means to reduce his hold on his party and the public.
I am satisfied that this was the reason of the commencement of the principal attacks on the associative doctrines; but having commenced them, many may finally have believed they were doing justice to society by continuing in their unjust course. The principal ground of attack was that the "Fourierites" were "disorganizers," that they were unsettling the foundations of society and that they wished to make their Associations entering wedges to disrupt the marriage relation and produce promiscuity and general anarchy. Their opponents even went so far as to call the leaders infidels, and made other outrageous and absurd charges against them. The New York Express was early in the field. The Courier and Enquirer and the Buffalo Advertiser soon made themselves conspicuous, and finally the New York Observer, "a religious newspaper of the Calvinistic school, of large circulation and great influence, actuated in the present case, as must be hoped, by other motives than those that envenomed its associates," says a writer in the Harbinger, "added its ability and its power to crush the social reformers."
These attacks, long continued, created great distrust and produced strong suspicions in the public mind derogatory to the morality of the movement.
The Associationists on their part denied that they were Fourierists, or that they had advocated or proposed any change in the marriage relation; they were united for the organization of industry, and had nothing to do or propose in relation to the marriage system. This denial was not enough for their opponents. They declared that the doctrines of Association led to certain results, and in proof of it cited Fourier's speculations on the subject, which had about as much to do with the social objects of the Associationists as his cosmogony, his speculations about the Arabian deserts, or his ocean of "lemonade" that had amused so many. In the study of human nature, Fourier believed he discovered inherently inconstant natures, exceptional men and women, who cannot be constant to one idea, one hope or one love; and believing that this inconstancy was a normal trait of character with some persons, who are the exceptions to the general rule, simply and honestly acknowledged the fact, and speculated on the result and the position such persons would have in the future ideal societies.
Fourier said, "The man has no claim as discoverer, or to the confidence of the world, who advocates such absurdities as community of property, absence of divine worship and rash abolition of marriage."
The Associationists of America made no proposal of any change in the marriage relation. They had no occasion to do so. They considered it one of the best and purest arrangements of present society, and that if there were in that relation oftentimes grave mistakes and errors, there were other greater and more glaring evils and universal wrongs to set right.
"Accordingly our position is that the existing institution is to be maintained in its greatest possible dignity and purity. We believe that with the establishment of truth and justice in the practical affairs of society; with the guarantee of pecuniary independence to all persons, the most fatal temptations to debase and profane this relation will be removed…. But to purer and nobler generations more upright, honorable and generous, we leave all legislation on this subject. It is for us to maintain the institution inviolable."
The above quoted words are taken from a statement made by all the officers of the "American Union of Associationists," for at this time an outside movement of that name had commenced, whose object was to propagate doctrines, and stimulate the various organizations that were forming, to actualize the new social order in various parts of the country.
At a convention in Boston, held May 27,1846, where the American Union of Associationists was formed, this resolution was passed:—"Resolved, That we hold it our duty, as seekers of the practical unity of the race, to accept every light afforded by the providential men whom God has raised up, without committing ourselves blindly to the guidance of any one, or speaking or acting in the name of any man; that we recognize the invaluable worth of the discoveries of Charles Fourier in the science of society, the harmony of that science with all the vital truths of Christianity, and the promise it holds out of a material condition of life wherein alone the spirit of Christ can dwell in all its fulness; but Fourierists we are not and cannot consent to be called, because Fourier is only one among the great teachers of mankind; because many of his assertions are concerning spheres of thought which exceed our present ability to test, and of which it would be presumption for us to affirm with confidence; and because we regard this as a holy and providential movement, independent of every merely individual influence or guidance, the sure and gradual evolving of man's great unitary destiny in the ages."
After the excitement of the fire and after the enthusiastic meeting for the holy cause, the voice of reason, pure and cold, went forth in whispers over the face of Brook Farm. Inquiries began to be made about prospects. It was considered a great piece of good fortune to have been enabled to commence the first "Phalanstery." Would any one invest in a second one, and was there prospect enough for the success of the industry on the place to secure a livelihood? If not, what must be done? These were important questions. Retrenchment had gone far. The table was too poor to attract visitors; too poor, some thought, for health, but I observed that all kept well.
I am not sure in my details of all the industry on the place just at this time, but I believe that Britannia ware was made by one or two workmen, principally oil hand lamps and teapots; but sales were limited, the market being dull or glutted, and the Brook Farmers had not the capital to manufacture and keep on hand a supply of goods for better times.
Some six to ten were engaged in making shoes and pots. There goods were sold at fair profit, though it was not a particularly remunerative business, and sometimes the group was not full of orders.
There was also the "sash and blind" business, which included the making of doors. I believe that this business could have been made profitable, but here again the inevitable want was capital. In order to make these articles of good quality, it is of the first importance that all stock in them shall be well seasoned, for if it is not, changes of temperature will produce shrinkage and warping. The wood should be either kiln-dried—a novelty then—or dried by long keeping in sheds, and it was important to buy largely when there was a good source, and store for future use. These things the Brook Farmers could not do, and consequently some of the doors and sashes shrank, much to the disgust of everybody.
The Harbinger was the principal work done in the printing line as no outside business, such as job or book work, was secured. I have not found out whether the Harbinger paid its expenses or not, but it was considered that it aided Brook Farm by advertising the work in its columns. Certainly there was not much profit in it, for it is well known that the expense of issuing a few copies of a publication is nearly as large as when the number is doubled.
And the farming! Was it paying? A little, of course. Great labor and devotion are needed on a farm at special seasons: I am of the opinion it was a mistaken idea that no day's labor should consist of more than ten hours. Our kind-hearted leader, who had not known the necessity for great personal, physical toil, long-continued, in order to produce special results, frowned on long hours, and did not lend his magnetism to induce persons to toil out of regular time, except possibly in the haying field; and therefore the days were clipped to stated hours, when it would have been better to have extended them occasionally beyond the regular time.
A large crop was hay. Near the main farm was a lot of some fifteen acres of grass land that was a part of the original purchase, but entirely independent of contact, and at some distance towards West Roxbury village. It was called the "Keith Lot" and was the best hay field. All the meadows grew heavy crops of grass; it was not all "herd's grass," but consisted of a variety of species, and went under the name of "meadow hay," which was considered second in quality.
There were the mistakes of beginners made. Some crops were lost that might have been saved and made profitable. Of apples there were not many. The farm could not supply the Association's wants, and we had at times to buy both fruits and vegetables. Besides the cows a few swine were kept. Occasionally a "beef critter" would be killed for home use, either by our stout neighbor with a fruitful name (Orange), or by our little Englishman.
Our practical neighbor's advice and assistance were of use to us. His occupation was especially farming, but he had a "slant" towards killing animals, really liking the business. He could do the butchering of a hog with the best of grace, and had killed, first and last, so many, that I imagine he could tell the number of squeals, or wrigglings of the porcine tail it took to terminate the life of the animal, after he had given it the coup de grace. Once, when remonstrated with by a lady for his cruel position towards the race of swine, the "professional" love of his occupation arose above all other considerations.
"Where do you expect to go when you die," said she to him, "if you are so cruel to animals?"
"Well, I don't know," he replied, "but I hope I shall go where there are plenty of hogs!"
In the progress of the institution much work was done to increase the amount of grass land and tillage, and where the meadows bordered on the bush and stubble, the bush scythe was freely used. Muck was dug and spread in quantities. Mr. Ripley rather prided himself on the knowledge of the composition and improvement of soils, and when the experiment ceased, the farm had improved in amount of tillable surface and capacity of production. This progress was, much of it, to the Association's cost, and added but little to the immediate income.
I have alluded to the tree-nursery. There were thousands of young trees bought and transplanted for a nursery, and seedlings raised that had to be budded or grafted, and this was faithfully and carefully done by an experienced man, assisted by the Professor and other native talent, and the grounds kept continually in order. There was no immediate return for this outlay, which needed a year or two more of growth and investment, to bring back the first cost and make a profit from the business.
Let me here call attention to the nature of the various occupations started. They contained in general, I am satisfied, as good chances for profitable return as most occupations, and with time, and a market not overstocked, would finally have paid well. Once only were we caught with the ignis fatuus of genius, a washing machine—patented, of course—that came to an untimely end with a few gasps.
The greenhouse business was an outgo from first to last. It was a business in prospective. It took two persons from other and more productive labor, and quantities of fuel were consumed through the long winter days and nights with a very meagre return. It had its bright side—it was attractive—and if persevered in would have paid in the end. The garden was still more of an outgo than the greenhouse. The soil was very poor, and the manure for high culture was not forthcoming, for it was all needed on the farm.
The large number of visitors did at times return more than the cash outlay, but in reckoning the incomes of the Association this must be left out, or set down as uncertain. Some boarders were almost always on the place; either interested parties, or members' friends, but this income also was slight, as the table was meagre and the price in proportion. What, then, was there beside these occupations to support and increase the organization? Three things: Income from new members who came with property; income from regular investors, who took stock in the Association, and income from the school.
There was a prospective income from persons who were expected to come and try the new mode of life. There were those who had been promised an opportunity to join us. They were selected from a mass of applicants, and one object in the selection was to secure persons of good standing and means. Such persons represented a desirable class. But now the "Phalanstery" was burned that hope was destroyed, for all the available rooms were occupied with those living on the domain; and if there was to be no progress in material things, who would wish to invest in stock that had not paid a cent and in which there was but a slight chance of profitable return—nay, more, which stood ten chances to one of being entirely lost? Of course no one unless he had money to give away. The persuasive eloquence of the gifted leaders could not secure investors for the reasons I have given, and for other reasons of which I shall speak.
The "Associationists" were not united. The centre of the movement was at New York, and from there great stories of the advancement of the North American Phalanx at Red Bank, New Jersey, went forth. It was Greeley's pet. It was the favorite at the centre and mostly with the doctrinaires. It was an excellent domain, with water power, splendid fruit-growing land, sufficiently near New York market for an undoubted sale of all its products. Greeley admired the talent and the social life at Brook Farm, but he thought that the leaders engaged at the North American Phalanx had a more practical turn, and their soil was wonderfully better fitted for farming, which always seems to be the hobby of reformers. It was near to him; he could visit it often, and he invested money in it.
It was intimated that the Brook Farm experiment had better stop, and that all the material that was good should be transferred to the North American. But it is easily seen that this was impossible, and that the experiment must go on. The leaders and members had pledged themselves too faithfully to carry out the Association's ideas, and none among them would be bold enough to announce such a project. It would seem like selling out to another organization. Who would dare to propose to break into the charmed circle by such discordant words? And so it went on.
Much talent was used in the school. As the Association took to itself a variety of industries; as it added shoemakers, carpenters and farmers to its original stock of intellectual workers, a change took place in the selectness of its society. Although the members were chosen by the organization, yet "practical" farmers, and "practical" shoemakers, with their wives and children, are not supposed to have the easy grace of manners, the elegant language and the fluency and charm of cultivated and scholarly men and women. The little, scarcely organized Community had increased into a goodly number, so that its dining room was like a small hotel; and it was no longer held by the "Transcendentalists," but had become a portion of a large and increasing body of men who followed the wild ideas of a Frenchman named Fourier, and called itself the Brook Farm Phalanx.
And who was this Fourier? It was just at this time; it was just as this question was asked by anxious mothers, that the slanders of the New York Press, copied into other papers, far and wide, worked mischief to the Brook Farm School. I never knew a pupil who was not pleased and delighted with the school; but the mother who sends a child away from home to an educational institution, especially if the child is a girl, will send it where there are no intimations connected with it of the character of those brought so prominently forward by the New York newspapers. It matters not so much to her that she believes the stories are slanders; her duty seems plain to take no risks.
The "Association" or "Phalanx" now overlapped the school, and it could no longer have the prominence as an industry that it did at first. The school, from being so intimately connected with the Association, began to lose caste. Although conducted with as much talent as ever, and with as much devotion on the part of its teachers, from the fact of the unfortunate odium cast on it, and its peculiar surroundings, was declining, and the high talent, the culture and the knowledge of its teachers, could not retain it in its proud position.
Thus I have gathered together, as in a bouquet, the sources of all the income of the once famous "Brook Farm." How slight they were!
It has often been stated that Brook Farm was a well chosen location for the experiment made there. It was nine miles from Boston. There were no surrounding industries. There was no water power at hand, the little brook being too small for any purpose but ornament. There was no available railroad station—the nearest was four miles away. This necessitated the teaming of lumber, fertilizers, coal, family stores and all stock for manufacturing purposes, from Boston, as it was not practical to send part way by rail and transfer it to teams. A portion of the time we were obliged to go to the city by the way of West Roxbury Village, as the nearest way—over the hills—was blocked by snow during our long New England winters, and this increased the distance. One or two teams, with men, were ever on the road. This was expensive and tedious.
After the manufacturing stock had been teamed thus far into the country, it was carted back in the shape of goods over the same road. I must praise the men who were engaged in this business, for they were not only teamsters, but errand boys—expressmen we would call them now—as well as purchasers of provender and general commercial agents of the Association; and their combined tasks were hard and difficult. Busy, driving Glover Drew and Buckley Hastings filled this office faithfully and long.
For the original purpose of an industrial school the farm was attractive, but for an experiment such as was foreshadowed by the name Phalanx, the place was not at all fitted, and the good sense of Mr. Greeley saw that the domain of the North American Phalanx was vastly superior.
In this connection I am reminded that there was but little machinery invented and employed on farms at the date of my narrative; and although our agriculturists, in spite of the stale jokes that have been fathered on them, were in the advance in this department as in others, it was only in the third or fourth year of their occupancy of the farm that they deemed it wise or prudent to purchase a horse rake, and I recall no other modern implement used, unless it was a seed drill, taken on trial. It was the same in the domestic department; there was not even a dish washer or a clothes wringer, and the most extensive and valuable aid in the laundry was a pounding barrel in which the soiled clothes were placed and put under discipline.
There was enough reason and brave common sense among the people to ponder on the condition of things as I have presented them to you. The outlook was not encouraging. I cannot remember the order in which some of the events came to pass which I am to narrate, but the order is unimportant. Certainly there were Association meetings in which prospects were talked over and counsel was demanded and taken from one and another. Unfortunately for this story I was not at them. Doubtless I was in the quiet of the Eyry, dreaming daylight dreams, musing and listening to Fanny Dwight's deft piano playing, while she was filling me with the mysteries of Schubert and Mendelssohn and Beethoven, or else wandering about the farm, with no special aim but to find rest and enjoyment in my leisure hours. These meetings were serious, grave and often protracted. There were some who thought matters could be better managed. This is not strange, for it is always so. There were those who thought that some, particularly among the earlier members, though not absolutely non-producers, should be turned off or made more productive; but this was difficult to do. Expansion was the only true policy, and the fates seemed to be against it. Outside of the meetings and in daily life all seemed to be in harmony.
I had now lived more than two years at the farm. I, the pale city lad, had grown brown under the sun's warm kisses. I fancy I was not rosy, but the bright eyes and the clear complexion, free from speck or blemish, gave the certain indications of health. I had tasted of the actual farm work. I had planted beans, potatoes and melons. I had hoed corn, and on my knees weeded, in the broiling sun, the young onions. I had driven horse to plough, and side by side with others, trying to hoe my row with them, disputed, discussed social questions and ideas, and chaffed one another on our personal gifts and peculiarities while working together in the different groups. I had not hewed wood, but I had chopped brush. I had yoked and driven the oxen, and the first time had a difficulty with them because I tried to yoke the off ox on the nigh side; and when I graduated into the greenhouse group I learned all the mysteries of the care of plants, potting, transplanting, making leaf-mould and doing spade and rake work to perfection; and in the laying out of beds and walks did a full share of shovel-work on the sandy and gravelly soil, and drove the dump-cart.
Oh, the independence of it! To be able to do everything, and with love of it, knowing no high or low of work—all of it honor, and no shame in any of it! It is the surroundings that develop the manhood. Was I working for myself? Was I working for any other man or person? No, it was for all of us that I did it. Did I and we not have the example of great minds and greater hearts? We did. One day whilst the shop was erecting, our mason, who was on the roof building the chimney, was waiting for his helper, who had not returned from his dinner or had been called away; and as he wanted bricks very much, I carried some hodsful up the ladder to him in the genuine Emeraldic fashion.
(Arise not from shades profound, to frown on me, Abraham, thou honest "Rail Splitter!" Arise not, warlike, Ulysses, thou "Tanner." Hide thyself away! Shake not thy cottony locks at me, thou pale-faced "Bobbin Boy!" Be not too jealous of your unique titles. I shall never aspire to so glorious a one as "Hod Carrier." I have not earned it. I did it but once, and shall never do it again! Rest easy!)
And now, at eventide, whilst the Solons of the little commonwealth were making laws, solving problems and building defences against the common enemy—the wolf of penury and hunger—I was sitting on the steps or on the low window-sills at the Eyry, meditating and thinking ever of the beautiful things with which I was surrounded; thinking of the glowworms I found in the path to Cow Island, their wonderful beauty, and how like illuminated pearls were their tiny lamps, and when I touched them how they rolled themselves into a coil that resembled the pin of pearls my mother wore on her bosom, only they were more beautiful; thinking that their lights translated into words were even more beautiful than their phosphorescent hues, for they said, "Come to me, my love!"
I was thinking of the bobolinks that twittered and sung, and seemed to tumble upward as well as downward in the air over the waving grass on the meadow; or I heard behind in the dim oak woods the whip-lash sound of the notes of the whippoorwill, repeated a hundred times on the air, while the round face of the moon looked down and made the shadows of the trees and the forest grow deeper and darker. Now and then I heard, when all was still, from his nesting-place, the brave yet delicate notes of the song sparrow, singing in his dreams from out a happy, overflowing heart. Dear little fluff of feathers!
I was thinking of the brood of young partridges I scared in the woods, and how like a flash, mysteriously and totally, they disappeared in the underbrush. I was thinking of the tiny newts and wonderful creatures I found in the shallow water in the meadow ditch. I was thinking that if the saracenas were in bloom I would go to find some of them on the morrow; or if the brilliant cardinals were, I would hunt for them at the brookside; or if there were any yellow violets to be had I wanted to find them, as I had found many varieties.
Then I turned my head and listened more earnestly to the music or to the conversation in the parlor, of inspired men and women, talking in low, conversational tones, with now and then a spice of wit, on art, religion, science or the lives of great painters, musicians, artists and reformers. Or I was looking to see if the "Northern Cross" had appeared among the constellations above the horizon. Or maybe I heard George W. Curtis, who had come to visit his old teachers, singing the "Erl King" or "Good-night to Julia" or plaintive "Kathleen Mavourneen" in his inimitable way. Perhaps I was deep in social science or restudyiug some of Fourier's pleasant fancies, such as the rivalries of groups of nice children with his little hordes of brats and "rushers"—to use a modern word—and how in nature's scheme their different talents so balanced one another as to make complete harmony.
I was thinking of the big boulders that join and make a hole we called "the cave," over which Hawthorne's fancy made the apostle Eliot preach to the Indians, giving it the name of "Eliot's Pulpit," and describing it afterward so prettily in his "Blithedale Romance"; a book of which Emerson speaks, and truly, as "that disagreeable story," and of some of the sketches in it as "quite unworthy of his genius." And I was thinking of the retired little dell in the far "Wisconsin Lot," where doubtless he and others have taken their volumes and note-books, writing and reading to the music of the hum of the bees, the sighing pines and the redbreasts.
I was thinking of the unfortunate humanity who lived outside of our charmed circle, and how little they knew of the magnificent future the infinite Father has prepared for them and their descendants, and how from the beginning the plan has been coördinate with man's help to his brother man and his sister woman; and my whole soul was penetrated, even as it is now, with pity for the blindness, mental and physical, that cannot see how to use the gifts the Infinite holds out, patiently waiting for us to take from his indulgent hands. I was thinking how much, how very much, of all our suffering comes from human ignorance only.
I heard all the songs of nature beside the birds. In the spring I heard the toads and frogs and turtles making merriment in their little sitting-rooms in the pools of water in low places. In the summer I heard the locusts sing and the lazy croak of bullfrog, bearing the relation of trombone in the orchestra of nature to the other musicians, whilst the fireflies were dancing in mid-air all around him—he winking at them with those wondrous projecting eyes. In the autumn the cricket was my favorite, and he was kind enough at times to come into our musical parlor to rival Mary and Jennie and Helen. But in the winter it was only the kindly birds that came to us—sweet chickadee and the talkative crows. None of us injured the birds. I do not remember ever seeing a gun on the place. Thus went the seasons—spring, summer, autumn, winter.
I loved the daily round of life. All were kind to me. I was well mentally and physically. I was in the bud of youth. I was like the pink rhodoras in spring, callow of leaf or fruit but brightly covered with promising blossoms. There remained one thing for me—to know I was happy. Did I know it? Yes, I did. I realized it then as now. I was not a victim of unconscious joy, to awaken to it at some future period. It was not to me a dream. The cup was full! I was truly happy!