Or bear a mace in thy Platonic reign!
Though sweet Philosophy be not my forte,
Nor Mincio’s reed, nor Learning’s weary gain.
ODE TO ALCOTT[13]
BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL
Hear him but speak, and you will feel
The shadows of the Portico
Over your tranquil spirit steal,
To modulate all joy and woe
To one subdued, subduing glow;
Above our squabbling business hours,
Like Phidian Jove’s, his beauty lowers,
His nature satirizes ours;
A form and front of Attic grace,
He shames the higgling market-place,
And dwarfs our more mechanic powers.
What throbbing verse can fitly render
That face so pure, so trembling-tender?
Sensation glimmers through its rest,
It speaks unmanacled by words,
As full of motion as a nest
That palpitates with unfledged birds;
‘Tis likest to Bethesda’s stream,
Forewarned through all its thrilling springs,
White with the angel’s coming gleam,
And rippled with his fanning wings.
* * * * *
Himself unshaken as the sky,
His words, like whirlwinds, spin on high
Systems and creeds pellmell together;
‘Tis strange as to a deaf man’s eye,
While trees uprooted splinter by,
The dumb turmoil of stormy weather;
Less of iconoclast than shaper,
His spirit, safe behind the reach
Of the tornado of his speech,
Burns calmly as a glowworm’s taper.
Footnote 13:
From “Studies for Two Heads.”
As Mr. Alcott suffered acutely from the disastrous ending of the
Fruitlands Community, so also did Charles Lane. The cherished ideal of
the regeneration of the world by a vivid example was shattered beyond
repair. Saddened and disillusioned he returned to Alcott House in
England.
In writing to Thoreau from London, in 1848, Emerson gives a description
of him. He says: “I went last Sunday for the first time to see Lane at
Ham, and dined with him. He was full of friendliness and hospitality;
has a school of sixteen children, one lady as matron, then Oldham. This
is all the household. They looked just comfortable.” The matron here
spoken of was undoubtedly a Miss Hannah Bond, who had lived at Owen’s
Community at Harmony Hall, and in due time Lane cast aside his
antagonism to family ties and married her. But from his letters to
Joseph Palmer, it is evident that his experience in life never allowed
him freedom from questions of money and property. He had sunk his all in
the experiment at Fruitlands, as “an offering to the Eternal Spirit.”
One feels a note of bitterness in him from a letter written by Wright to
Oldham in which he says: “I have been told that Mr. Lane says Alcott is
an unpractical dreamer, or something tantamount thereto. Alas! how far
shall we have to go to find those who will deliver the same opinion of
C. L. [Charles Lane] and W. O. [William Oldham] and others whom I could
mention! Sometimes I almost suspect that of myself. The world has
decided pretty truly. I begin to respect its decision and to suspect my
own.”
And from the following paragraph the pain and disheartenment of a
disappointed life shows itself with infinite pathos, as Wright says:
“Somehow or other I seem to have made up my mind that it is for me to
die, to which I look forward with hope rather than terror.” “What have I
ever done?” he asks, and responds bitterly, “Nothing, absolutely
nothing! I have dreamed only of great deeds. Let me never attempt again
what is beyond my being’s power.”
* * * * *
Fruitlands was left in the hands of Joseph Palmer, who bought it of
Charles Lane. The latter, fully aware of the shrewd common sense that
lurked beneath an eccentric exterior, urged Joseph Palmer to join him in
founding a larger Community, connecting a farm in Leominster with that
of Fruitlands as a plant on which to work out a scheme that would
promise some measure of success. They drew up the following paper and it
was duly signed and sealed:—
* * * * *
Whereas it is desireable to form Associations of well disposed persons
for the supply of their physical and mental requirements, for the
support of a free school for youth, and a home for the aged, destitute
and indigent, and Whereas a capital of one hundred dollars for each
associate is deemed sufficient for beginning such an Association, We,
the undersigned do agree to the purchase of estates in Leominster and
Harvard, Massachusetts, for the purpose of forming such an Association
which we propose to commence on the first of January next, to the amount
of five thousand dollars capital, afterwards to be extended by the
addition of new shares for the purchase of more real estate at the
discretion of the shareholders assembled on the first Monday in January
in each year, so that all persons interested shall hold equal rights by
possessing one share only. The property now in hand for this purpose
consists of Land and Buildings in Leominster and Harvard, together about
190 acres with Stock, Tools, Provisions, etc., needful for carrying out
the said design held in the name of Joseph Palmer.
JOSEPH PALMER.
CHARLES LANE.
August 18, 1846.
But this same shrewd common sense evidently stood in the way of bringing
this plan into actual existence, for Charles Lane writes a letter
complaining that so much time has been wasted in considering it that he
can no longer remain in America, and he sails for England leaving his
son William with the Shakers. It is a noticeable proof of the confidence
the members of the Community placed in Joseph Palmer that not only
Charles Lane wanted him as an associate, but also Samuel Bower, who
urged him to join him in founding a Community in a more temperate
climate where he could carry out his convictions regarding the casting
aside of all outer clothing. But Palmer had seen enough of the
Transcendentalists to make him realize the advantages of running his own
Community, which he did for upwards of twenty years in a strange,
haphazard sort of fashion. He had no name for it, and he never sought
recruits, but he never closed his door to the wayfarer, and two large
iron pots, one full of baked beans, and the other full of potatoes,
stood always ready for the poor and hungry. And so in a humble way,
Joseph and Nancy Palmer carried out some of the ideals started at
Fruitlands by the Transcendentalists. Calvin Warner lived there off and
on for many years, and old Widow Webber sought refuge there, and many
came and went. The Harvard people called it a home for tramps and called
him “Old Jew Palmer”; but any one who takes the trouble to look closely
into his life finds in him a stalwart character full of fibre and
unswerving courage, with a very real and abiding religious faith.
He was a fighter for his rights, to the end. The right of way belonging
to Fruitlands crossed old Silas Dudley’s land to the highway. A
continuous battle raged concerning that right of way, and so fierce did
it become that when after a heavy snowstorm Joseph Palmer started to
shovel the snow off of it, old Silas Dudley shovelled it back again.
They kept at it there all day, both irate old men holding out with a
grim determination to win. As neither succeeded in gaining advantage,
they sent for Mr. Emerson to come and settle the question, which he did.
Quaint old times, quaint old people,—we are grateful for just such
pictures of the past!
* * * * *
The following letters were found by a grandson of Joseph Palmer among
some old papers at Fruitlands.
NEW YORK, Sept. 10, 1846.
_To Joseph Palmer_,
_Still River_,
_Harvard, Mass._
DEAR FRIEND:—
I owe you a severe scolding, and as I always endeavor to pay my debts,
here goes. You detained me so long that my school is broken up, the
weeds are shoulder high at the door, and my utility in this direction is
at an end. Hereafter do not be so dilatory. The good you desire to do
will forever escape undone if you are so very, very, very cautious. Yet
I am not for haste or for a magnificent work. But having really made
your decision and concluded your plan, carry it out faithfully and
confidingly on such a scale as you know you can stand by.
I read the Prospectus to several, and none objected. If your Leominster
friends have any truth in them, now it will be known. I have written to
D. Mack, and have tried to interest some others, and I really think if
you could keep me in New England the next winter, the foundation of a
rational, soulful, simple Association might be laid. If you had not kept
me so long, this might have been possible, but now it seems to be my
destiny to obey the manifold and unceasing calls of the Spirit through
William Oldham, and return to Alcott House, where your letters will find
me, and I hope you will take time to write me all interesting
particulars. Perhaps I may work better on that side. At all events, I
can assure you I shall continue to take as deep, as active, and as
direct an interest in the Leominster and Harvard Association as if I
were present. Now that matters are arranged a little more suitably to my
nature, I shall work for it with greater freedom and potency. We should
help all men out of their false positions, whatever they are, as fast as
we can.
Please do not fail to see Edmund Hosmer, and commune freely with friend
Emerson. Give my kind remembrances to your wife and daughter, to Mr.
Holman, to Thomas and his wife, to Calvin, and all the faithful hearts
in your circle. I shall endeavor to write a little history of
Fruitlands, past and future, so pray supply me with all the facts as
they arise. I hope there will be plenty of good names to put in my book.
I have faith that I shall see you again, but when I cannot guess. Before
that time I trust a faithful band will be congregated. I do not care how
few, if they be but good and true. Have your son and daughter signed the
Prospectus? Mack may come next to make the casting vote, or some other
one on whom you could rely.
I _know_ that you and I, S. Ford, and your daughter could carry the
design through, if we should have the happiness to be thrown together.
God knows and disposes, and blesses all the earnest, in which company
may you ever be found with
Your resigned brother,
CHARLES LANE.
You have given William his letter, I suppose. See him as often and cheer
him as much as you can.
Plenty of people from Brook Farm in consequence of the changes there
would be glad to come. The industrials are all obliged to leave. They
apply to the N. A. Phalanx, but there is no room for them. Let your plan
be known and the house may be filled.
I believe I shall sail in the Diadem for Liverpool in a day or two.
* * * * *
AT MR. MOORE’S, KNOWLES PLACE, DAVIDSON STREET, EAST MERRIMACK STREET,
LOWELL, NOV. 6, 1849.
FRIEND PALMER,—
Having removed to reside in Lowell it may be well to inform you of the
change. Perhaps you sometimes come so far in this direction—if so it
would be cause of regret to me not to see you. Now, of course, I _shall_
see you if you visit L. whilst I locate in it.
Since conversing with you I have meditated much on the great step in
progress which I am incessantly reminded it is my interest and duty to
make. But how make it? When? Where? and with whom? or, whether alone? On
this subject so important to me, to you and to society, I have many new
facts and estimates of facts all tending to induce, I trust, early and
beneficial action. How far you might be disposed to coincide with me I
know not, nor how far your long experience might modify my intentions if
communicated. I should certainly like to confer with you at length and
without reservation. For such a purpose writing is quite inadequate, so
I shall not attempt any statement of my views, etc., herein. One thing,
however, I may say, which is that I am fully and I believe finally fixed
in the conviction that no Association of persons can be brought to
inhabit Fruitlands or your place at Leominster founding itself on those
bases and conditions which six years ago were so frequently discussed by
us. Be sure C. Lane can send you nobody from England, and I am unaware
that there is in this country any one Realist enough to _proceed with
the natural economies far enough to satisfy your just expectations_.
I shall most assuredly, if the Infinite Spirit wills, make my home in
the open heavens and resume the right so long in abeyance of being
naturally and therefore well and sufficiently clothed. The true question
is a proper Individualism and nothing that is good and desirable in
Socialism can come but after this. This is universally and ethically
incontrovertible and physically the solution waits our action. You have
long stood on the threshold and best know whether you are prepared now
to pass over it and give up your localized and civilized life. I think I
am quite clear that it will be necessary to stand within circumstances
having less pressure. Suitable natural conditions are indispensable and
are to be provided at whatever cost of relinquishment of current
enjoyments.
Yours faithfully,
SAML. BOWER.
* * * * *
London, Sept. 29, 1849.
_To Joseph Palmer_,
_Still River_,
_Harvard, Mass._
DEAR FRIEND PALMER:—
If there was a possibility of sending me here only six or seven acres of
our old Fruitlands, you should hear no more of me as a claimant.
As this cannot be, and I am once more adrift in consequence of the lease
of our house and grounds having been sold, I hope you will have
prosperity enough in the culture to release yourself gradually from my
encumbrance whereby I may be enabled just to pay the rent on an acre or
two to cultivate with my own hands.
Do not let me ask in vain for a good long letter narrating all your
local news since I left your hill regions. Mr. Emerson will inform you
of William’s movements and convey any letters or messages to me. I
suppose Dr. Thomas has made a pretty handsome fortune by this time in
setting people’s mouths in tune and that he will retire to Fruitlands to
make sure of it.
Yours faithfully,
CHARLES LANE.
* * * * *
LONDON, Sept. 16, 1851.
_To Dr. Thomas Palmer_,
_Fitchburg, Mass._
DEAR FRIEND:—
As I am not so certain of reaching your father through the post-office
as you, I enclose this note to say that I should feel obliged if you
would have the goodness to discharge my claim. Some two or three years
have passed since I thought I should no more trouble Mr. Emerson on the
subject, which is one among the reasons for urging a settlement. Your
business I am sure has been too successful to make it needful to go out
of the family for the cash, or at all events for much of it. The farm
has been prosperous, and though your father does not aim at commercial
profits, yet his industry and integrity bring them to him. I feel it is
but as yesterday I and your father went from Harvard to Fitchburg with
the cattle. Oh, how hot! I am differently employed now, but I still
desire the field and the garden. If I had such a spot here as Fruitlands
I should not quit it, but enjoy a life fruitful in all good. Pray, in
this matter of the mortgage attend to the request and give my best
regards to your father, from whom I should much like to have a letter.
Yours truly,
CHARLES LANE.
XI
TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS
BY
LOUISA MAY ALCOTT
ORIGINAL CHARACTERS OF TRANSCENDENTAL WILD OATS
TIMON LION _Charles Lane._
HIS SON _William Lane._
ABEL LAMB _A. Bronson Alcott._
SISTER HOPE _Mrs. Alcott._
HER DAUGHTERS _The Alcott girls._
JOHN PEASE _Samuel Bower._
FOREST ABSALOM _Abram Everett._
MOSES WHITE _Joseph Palmer._
JANE GAGE _Anna Page._
A CHAPTER FROM AN UNWRITTEN ROMANCE
On the first day of June, 184-, a large wagon, drawn by a small horse
and containing a motley load, went lumbering over certain New England
hills, with the pleasing accompaniments of wind, rain, and hail. A
serene man with a serene child upon his knee was driving, or rather
being driven, for the small horse had it all his own way. A brown boy
with a William Penn style of countenance sat beside him, firmly
embracing a bust of Socrates. Behind them was an energetic-looking
woman, with a benevolent brow, satirical mouth, and eyes brimful of hope
and courage. A baby reposed upon her lap, a mirror leaned against her
knee, and a basket of provisions danced about at her feet, as she
struggled with a large, unruly umbrella. Two blue-eyed little girls,
with hands full of childish treasures, sat under one old shawl, chatting
happily together.
In front of this lively party stalked a tall, sharp-featured man, in a
long blue cloak; and a fourth small girl trudged along beside him
through the mud as if she rather enjoyed it.
The wind whistled over the bleak hills; the rain fell in a despondent
drizzle, and twilight began to fall. But the calm man gazed as
tranquilly into the fog as if he beheld a radiant bow of promise
spanning the gray sky. The cheery woman tried to cover every one but
herself with the big umbrella. The brown boy pillowed his head on the
bald pate of Socrates and slumbered peacefully. The little girls sang
lullabies to their dolls in soft, maternal murmurs. The sharp-nosed
pedestrian marched steadily on, with the blue cloak streaming out behind
him like a banner; and the lively infant splashed through the puddles
with a ducklike satisfaction pleasant to behold.
Thus these modern pilgrims journeyed hopefully out of the old world, to
found a new one in the wilderness.
The editors of _The Transcendental Tripod_ had received from Messrs.
Lion & Lamb (two of the aforesaid pilgrims) a communication from which
the following statement is an extract:—
“We have made arrangements with the proprietor of an estate of about a
hundred acres which liberates this tract from human ownership. Here we
shall prosecute our effort to initiate a Family in harmony with the
primitive instincts of man.
“Ordinary secular farming is not our object. Fruit, grain, pulse, herbs,
flax, and other vegetable products, receiving assiduous attention, will
afford ample manual occupation, and chaste supplies for the bodily
needs. It is intended to adorn the pastures with orchards, and to
supersede the labor of cattle by the spade and the pruning-knife.
“Consecrated to human freedom, the land awaits the sober culture of
devoted men. Beginning with small pecuniary means, this enterprise must
be rooted in a reliance on the succors of an ever-bounteous Providence,
whose vital affinities being secured by this union with uncorrupted
field and unworldly persons, the cares and injuries of a life of gain
are avoided.
“The inner nature of each member of the Family is at no time neglected.
Our plan contemplates all such disciplines, cultures, and habits as
evidently conduce to the purifying of the inmates.
“Pledged to the spirit alone, the founders anticipate no hasty or
numerous addition to their numbers. The kingdom of peace is entered only
through the gates of self-denial; and felicity is the test and the
reward of loyalty to the unswerving law of Love.”
This prospective Eden at present consisted of an old red farmhouse, a
dilapidated barn, many acres of meadow-land, and a grove. Ten ancient
apple-trees were all the “chaste supply” which the place offered as yet;
but, in the firm belief that plenteous orchards were soon to be evoked
from their inner consciousness, these sanguine founders had christened
their domain Fruitlands.
Here Timon Lion intended to found a colony of Latter Day Saints, who,
under his patriarchal sway, should regenerate the world and glorify his
name for ever. Here Abel Lamb, with the devoutest faith in the high
ideal which was to him a living truth, desired to plant a Paradise,
where Beauty, Virtue, Justice, and Love might live happily together,
without the possibility of a serpent entering in. And here his wife,
unconverted but faithful to the end, hoped, after many wanderings over
the face of the earth, to find rest for herself and a home for her
children.
“There is our new abode,” announced the enthusiast, smiling with a
satisfaction quite undamped by the drops dripping from his hat-brim, as
they turned at length into a cart-path that wound along a steep hillside
into a barren-looking valley.
“A little difficult of access,” observed his practical wife, as she
endeavored to keep her various household gods from going overboard with
every lurch of the laden ark.
“Like all good things. But those who earnestly desire and patiently seek
will soon find us,” placidly responded the philosopher from the mud,
through which he was now endeavoring to pilot the much-enduring horse.
“Truth lies at the bottom of a well, Sister Hope,” said Brother Timon,
pausing to detach his small comrade from a gate, whereon she was perched
for a clearer gaze into futurity.
“That’s the reason we so seldom get at it, I suppose,” replied Mrs.
Hope, making a vain clutch at the mirror, which a sudden jolt sent
flying out of her hands.
“We want no false reflections here,” said Timon, with a grim smile, as
he crunched the fragments under foot in his onward march.
Sister Hope held her peace, and looked wistfully through the mist at her
promised home. The old red house with a hospitable glimmer at its
windows cheered her eyes; and, considering the weather, was a fitter
refuge than the sylvan bowers some of the more ardent souls might have
preferred.
The new-comers were welcomed by one of the elect precious,—a regenerate
farmer, whose idea of reform consisted chiefly in wearing white cotton
raiment and shoes of untanned leather. This costume, with a snowy beard,
gave him a venerable, and at the same time a somewhat bridal appearance.
The goods and chattels of the Society not having arrived, the weary
family reposed before the fire on blocks of wood, while Brother Moses
White regaled them with roasted potatoes, brown bread and water, in two
plates, a tin pan, and one mug; his table service being limited. But,
having cast the forms and vanities of a depraved world behind them, the
elders welcomed hardship with the enthusiasm of new pioneers, and the
children heartily enjoyed this foretaste of what they believed was to be
a sort of perpetual picnic.
During the progress of this frugal meal, two more brothers appeared. One
a dark, melancholy man, clad in homespun, whose peculiar mission was to
turn his name hind part before and use as few words as possible. The
other was a bland, bearded Englishman, who expected to be saved by
eating uncooked food and going without clothes. He had not yet adopted
the primitive costume, however; but contented himself with meditatively
chewing dry beans out of a basket.
“Every meal should be a sacrament, and the vessels used should be
beautiful and symbolical,” observed Brother Lamb, mildly, righting the
tin pan slipping about on his knees. “I priced a silver service when in
town, but it was too costly; so I got some graceful cups and vases of
Britannia ware.”
“Hardest things in the world to keep bright. Will whiting be allowed in
the community?” inquired Sister Hope, with a housewife’s interest in
labor-saving institutions.
“Such trivial questions will be discussed at a more fitting time,”
answered Brother Timon, sharply, as he burnt his fingers with a very hot
potato. “Neither sugar, molasses, milk, butter, cheese, nor flesh are to
be used among us, for nothing is to be admitted which has caused wrong
or death to man or beast.”
“Our garments are to be linen till we learn to raise our own cotton or
some substitute for woollen fabrics,” added Brother Abel, blissfully
basking in an imaginary future as warm and brilliant as the generous
fire before him.
“Haou abaout shoes?” asked Brother Moses, surveying his own with
interest.
“We must yield that point till we can manufacture an innocent substitute
for leather. Bark, wood, or some durable fabric will be invented in
time. Meanwhile, those who desire to carry out our idea to the fullest
extent can go barefooted,” said Lion, who liked extreme measures.
“I never will, nor let my girls,” murmured rebellious Sister Hope, under
her breath.
“Haou do you cattle’ate to treat the ten-acre lot? Ef things ain’t
‘tended to right smart, we shan’t hev no crops,” observed the practical
patriarch in cotton.
“We shall spade it,” replied Abel, in such perfect good faith that Moses
said no more, though he indulged in a shake of the head as he glanced at
hands that had held nothing heavier than a pen for years. He was a
paternal old soul and regarded the younger men as promising boys on a
new sort of lark.