Brook Farm: Historic and Personal Memoirs

by John Thomas Codman

"There had been no work performed on the building during the winter months, and arrangements had just been made to complete four out of the fourteen distinct suites of apartments into which it was divided, by the first of May. It was hoped that the remainder would be finished during the summer, and that by the first of October the edifice would be prepared for the reception of a hundred and fifty persons, with ample accommodations for families, and spacious and convenient public halls and saloons. A portion of the second story had been set apart for a church or chapel, which was to be finished in a style of simplicity and elegance, by private subscription, and in which it was expected that religious services would be performed by our friend William H. Channing, whose presence with us, until obliged to retire on account of ill health, had been a source of unmingled satisfaction and benefit.

"On the Saturday previous to the fire, a stove was put up in the basement story, for the accommodation of the carpenters, who were to work on the outside; a fire was kindled in it on Tuesday morning, which burned till four o'clock in the afternoon; at half past eight in the evening the building was visited by the night watch, who found everything apparently safe, and at about a quarter before nine a faint light was discovered in the second story, which was supposed at first to have proceeded from a lamp, but on entering, to ascertain the fact, the smoke at once showed that the interior was on fire. The alarm was immediately given, but almost before the people had time to assemble, the whole edifice was wrapped in flames. From a defect in the construction of the chimney, a spark from the stovepipe had probably communicated with the surrounding wood work, and from the combustible nature of the materials, the flames spread with a celerity that made every effort to arrest their violence without effect.

"This edifice was commenced in the summer of 1844, and has been in progress from that time until November last, when the work was suspended for the winter, and resumed, as before stated, on the day in which it was consumed. It was built of wood; one hundred and seventy-five feet long, three stories high, with spacious attics, divided into pleasant and convenient roams for single persons. The second and third stories were divided into fourteen houses, independent of each other, with a parlor and three sleeping rooms in each, connected by piazzas which ran the whole length of the building on both stories. The basement contained a large and commodious kitchen, a dining hall capable of seating from three to four hundred persons, two public saloons, and a spacious hall and lecture room. Although by no means a model for the Phalanstery, or unitary edifice of a Phalanx, it was well adapted for our purposes at present, situated on a delightful eminence which commanded a most extensive and picturesque view, and affording accommodations and conveniences in the combined order, which in many respects would gratify even a fastidious taste. The actual expenditures upon the building, including the labor performed by the Associates, amounted to about seven thousand dollars, and three thousand dollars more, it was estimated, would be sufficient for its completion. As it was not yet in use by the Association, and, until the day of its destruction, not exposed to fire, no insurance had been effected. It was built by investments in our loan stock, and the loss falls upon the holders of partnership stock and the members of the Association.

"It is some alleviation of the great calamity which we have sustained that it came upon us at this time, rather than at a later period. The house was not endeared to us by any grateful recollections; the tender and hallowed associations of home had not yet begun to cluster around it, and although we looked upon it with joy and hope as destined to occupy an important sphere in the social movement to which it was consecrated, its destruction does not rend asunder those sacred ties which bind us to the dwellings that have thus far been the scene of our toils and of our satisfactions. We could not part with either of the houses in which we have lived at Brook Farm, without a sadness like that which we should feel at the departure of a bosom friend. The destruction of our edifice makes no essential change in our pursuits. It leaves no family destitute of a home; it disturbs no domestic arrangements; it puts us to no immediate inconvenience. The morning after the disaster, if a stranger had not seen the smoking pile of ruins, he would not have suspected that anything extraordinary had taken place. Our schools were attended as usual, our industry in full operation, and not a look or expression of despondency could have been perceived. The calamity is felt to be great; we do not attempt to conceal from ourselves its consequences, but it has been met with a calmness and high trust, which gives us a new proof of the power of associated life to quicken the best elements of character, and to prepare men for every emergency.

"We shall be pardoned for entering into these almost personal details, for we know that the numerous friends of Association, in every part of our land, will feel our misfortune as if it were a private grief of their own. We have received nothing but expressions of the most generous sympathy from every quarter, even from those who might be supposed to take the least interest in our purposes; and we are sure that our friends in the cause of social unity will share with us the affliction that has visited a branch of their own fraternity.

"We have no wish to keep out of sight the magnitude of our loss. In our present infant state it is a severe trial of our strength. We cannot now calculate its ultimate effect. It may prove more than we are able to bear; or like other previous calamities, it may serve to bind us more closely to each other, and to the holy cause to which we are devoted. We await the result with calm hope, sustained by our faith in the Universal Providence, whose social laws we have endeavored to ascertain and embody in our daily lives.

"It may not be improper to state, as we are speaking of our own affairs more fully than we have felt at liberty to do before in the columns of our paper, that, whatever be our trials of an external character, we have every reason to rejoice in the internal condition of our Association. For the few last months it has more nearly than ever approached the idea of a true social order. The greatest harmony prevails among us; not a discordant note is heard; a spirit of friendship, of brotherly kindness, of charity, dwells with us and blesses us; our social resources have been greatly multiplied, and our devotion to the cause which has brought us together receives new strength every day. Whatever may be in reserve for us, we have an infinite satisfaction in the true relations which have united us, and the assurance that our enterprise has sprung from a desire to obey the divine law. We feel assured that no outward disappointment or calamity can chill our zeal for the realization of a divine order of society, or abate our efforts in the sphere which may be pointed out by our best judgment as most favorable to the cause which we have at heart."

There was no wind. The building was entirely consumed; and the hungry firemen, on their homeward way, were invited to lunch at the Hive. Peter, the baker, had just turned out from the oven a fine batch of bread. We made coffee for them. The bread was for our morrow's breakfast; they ate it all, and Peter worked all night to supply the deficiency. In the midst of the lunch Mr. Ripley mounted a bench and spoke a few pleasant words of thanks to them, and you would not have guessed that a great misfortune had fallen on our scheme from the serene, cheerful look on his fine face. He thanked the firemen kindly for coming to our aid. Their visit, he said, "was very unexpected to us," but he was glad to give them the poor hospitality we had. "But had we known," he said, in that bright, pleasant way of his, "or even suspected you were coming, we would have been better prepared to receive you, and given you worthier, if not a warmer reception." "Good enough, good enough!" shouted the firemen.

This calamity did not affect any belief that the Brook Farmers had in social science, and it did not break up the Association. Certainly no one departed from the place at once in fear of disorganization. It called forth kindly letters from all parts of the country, and our immediate friends gathered around us as if to shield us from further harm. The sweet singer returned to pass a few days with us, and our noble friend Channing spoke earnest words to all.

It was Sunday; the Direction broke its rule and decided to call the Association together in the evening to talk over everything connected with its prospects. There was one reason for doing so, and that was, one of our prominent members was going next day to New York to deliver a course of lectures on music, and they desired he should be present at the consultation. I do not remember that the meeting talked facts and figures, but that it was a meeting of goodwill and resolution, where all expressed their sympathies or convictions regarding the life then and there led; their desire for its continuance, and their hopes and wishes for the future prosperity of the little band.