Brook Farm: Historic and Personal Memoirs

by John Thomas Codman

From this report it can easily be learned that no important financial progress had been made at Brook Farm, and that any accumulation of wealth was yet in the future. The Brook Farmers were working in hope. It was still an experiment, and as an experiment it will be necessary for me to point out by-and-by the defects which will answer the often asked question, "Why did Brook Farm fail?" But it is well to bear in mind the starting point. Most men of business go into trade with a capital, some reserved fund, but the Brook Farmers had none, and as they progressed, the want of it was more and more felt. "It is the first step that costs," as the French proverb says, and the Brook Farmers had a great many first steps to take, steps that no others had taken, and inevitable costs and losses must occur. But we pass on into the second spring of my Brook Farm life.

And here another character came into our circle, and joined in work on the farm. He was very enthusiastic. His wife had lately died, and he brought her body to Brook Farm as to Holy Land and buried it in the little grove by the side of our first and only grave, so that there were now two mounds that the gardener ornamented with sods, shrubbery and flowers.

I do not think this new friend had a fine face. His features were not large, and, if we except the full forehead, not very attractive. His mouth was small, and his dark brown hair asserted its rights in spite of brush and comb, and would not lie gracefully down over his brow, and it added to the look of determination there was in the little man's countenance, shown by the lines in his face and the rigid and spare muscles, a "hold on" expression which so well coincided with his character.

New England at this time put its fingers in its ears and stifled the beatings of its heart that kept time with justice, in order that the peace of our country should not be disturbed by men who thought slavery a curse, and proclaimed it so. Rev. John Allen was then in a pulpit, and dared to speak his mind to his people, at which they rebelled and would not hearken. "Speak I must; speak I will," said he, "or we part! Let me but preach a sermon once a quarter on the subject of slavery!" But the church said, "No." "Let me then but preach once in six months," and the church said, "No." Finally he said he would continue with them if they would allow him to preach one sermon a year on the subject—I doubt not that that one would have carried flint and steel enough to set fire to all the tinder in the congregation—but the church would not listen, and they parted.

He had one little child, an infant a year or two old, who, deprived of his mother, was brought to the farm and had a great deal of attention and pity bestowed upon it. This little boy brought a misfortune which threatened the lives of the members, the business and life of the Association. He was the pet of his father, who took him to Boston on his lecture tours and brought him back, for Mr. Allen was engaged to lecture for the cause. The child had never been vaccinated, and being ill at the Hive, it was discovered that he had symptoms of small-pox, which disease he had taken somewhere in the city. Imagine the commotion among the persons who had handled and fondled the young darling, and in the Association in general! But the bravery of men and women who had dared to leave their homes and share the fortune and fate of this young Community was everywhere displayed.

The child was isolated and cared for, but in due time backaches and headaches foretold the coming of the dreaded disease, and preparations were made for anticipated results. The Cottage was vacated, and the sick were conveyed thither. The disease took a variety of forms. There were those who had nothing but the symptoms, or a pustule or two; some had a few dozen on them, scattered from head to foot; they were almost absolutely well; they refused to be made invalids of; they kept at work on the farm or were only disabled for a day or two when the disease was at its height. The lighter cases increased in number, and finally the Direction saw it was useless to try to isolate all, and that the disease must have its run, and they must trust to fate for final results. The worst cases were in the improvised hospital, under the care of kindly nurses. "Hired," say you? No; not a bit of it! but dear, kind women and men volunteered to attend to this sacred duty, and after weeks of imprisonment, came out with the glory of having protected every life, and the Associated family lost not a member. There were more than thirty cases. The simple diet, the pure air and the healthy mental stimulus of cheerful lives, with the knowledge that they were something more than in name a united body, must have had its effect, for the whole trouble passed away like a summer shower, and left no permanent impression on the society. There were three or four extreme cases, but only one or two persons who bore scars that were defacements, and there was no panic in our midst. The members took the whole matter with wonderful coolness.

Like a shower it wiped out the army of visitors! When any persons came, an attendant warned them of our condition ere they reached the Hive door, and they precipitately retreated. Occasionally only, a carriage or a few persons travelled the accustomed ways. Not until the epidemic had passed did the interminable throng resume its accustomed walk, or strange faces appear at the "visitors' table," and our many constant and cheerful friends greet us again as of yore. The labor of the Association was much disarranged, and there was loss in many ways, but it was truly to be congratulated that it escaped from such an unusual danger as comfortably as it did. From the first days of the Community until its close, there was only one death on the farm, and that of the person described in a former chapter.

CHAPTER VII.

MY SECOND SPRING.

All through the spring the talk was of the new building, the "Phalanstery," as we called it. Everybody was thinking what great progress could be made when we should live in it. One day, passing by, I found the carpenters had resumed work, and from thenceforth it progressed until it assumed the resemblance of a mammoth house.