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.
The round of daily life this season was little varied from that of the
past, but there was more activity and more crowding. A great many
makeshifts were had to enable persons who wished to visit the place to
get even lodging for a night, for no one knew who or how many were
coming before the evening coach arrived. Oftentimes it came full, when
it seemed there was not a sleeping place to be found on the domain. The
Association buildings overflowed, and a neighboring house was leased
and occupied just across the road, by the Hive. It was sometimes called
the "Nest," and had been hired in the first days of the "Community."
Even then every corner was filled.
There was some income from this crowd of visitors, and at the same time
the work and system of the place were much retarded, for as carriage
after carriage and vehicle after vehicle came, each one would require
an attendant, who was taken from labor, and when the regular attendants
were all occupied the horn would be sounded to see if anyone of the
shoemakers or printers or farmers or teachers would leave his work and
volunteer for this duty.
Frequently all these visitors would leave as suddenly as they came, and
would only give their thanks, not even being of a single cent's
immediate value to the place for the outlay of time taken from
productive labor. Sometimes a growl would be heard because a trifle was
taken for the expense of meals, or about the absence of feathers in the
beds, by some visitor who intruded himself uninvited. I pitied the
Dormitory Group, running from house to house at edge of evening to find
a stray corner to lodge a guest; seeking out the rooms of absent
members, and hunting up towels, furnishings and fittings, through all
the pleasant summer weather. But this was cheerfully done for "the
cause," and much more had to be done.
Our lecturers were wanted--men who were in practical associative life,
and they were taken from remunerative work to speak to the public. Thus
we entered into the summer, and the beautiful grass waved again on the
meadow; the pleasant lights gleamed again from the Eyry windows; the
pure moon looked down on the summer fields; the merry voices of the
young and happy folks were heard as the farmers came up from the
fields, and the horn sounded its "_toot-toot_" as a signal for all to
join at meals.
I was in the gardener's department, assisting him in the care of the
greenhouse plants and making flower beds, but our especial work was
laying out and planting a large garden which should be a permanent
addition to the beauty of the place, and a future source of income. On
the farm was a fine imported bull who did not seem to be doing his
share of work in our very industrious place, so a ring was put in his
nose and he was my especial charge in the way of a team. It appears
cruel to one who for the first time sees a bull led by the nose, but
there seems to be no reason why a bull should complain, when there are
so many humans continually led through life in the same fashion.
In fact the bull throve and had in some ways considerable sense. He was
harnessed into a tipcart and we made him work for us. He was a strong,
powerful fellow, and has carried his eighty loads of gravel a day, from
one part of the garden to the other. At noon I would relieve him of his
harness and mount his back for a ride to the barn. I would then be the
"observed of all observers." Sometimes, for the frolic, I would load my
cart with young misses and dump them at the Hive door, backing up to it
in the most approved style of an old "gee-haw" farmer.
"Prince Albert," the bull, was a gem. He worked admirably. He never
gave me any trouble, or anyone else human, but when stalled near the
oxen he had a peculiar fancy to poke his horns into them. Early one
morning, by some mischance, he got loose in the barn, and "going" for
one of them frightened him so much that he also broke loose, and in
trying to make his escape from the bull, backed into the barn-room.
There was a large trap door in it, and the ox ventured on it, breaking
it, and fell through. The bull was so close behind that he could not
escape, and they dropped together into the little room below, the door
of which was open. The ox escaped into the yard, and ran for dear life
around the front of the Hive, pursued by the bull. Whether the jar of
the fall, his escape, or his quiet disposition sobered him I know not,
but he soon fell into a jog-trot pursuit, and was caught and returned
by a neighboring farmer.
There was great roaring and noise in the fracas, which was of short
duration, but long enough to bring out the men from the Hive to witness
the affair. The General, who had been sleeping a little late--probably
he had been baking bread the night before--made his appearance from his
little room on the ground floor, with boot on one foot and shoe on the
other, just as it was all over, with the impatient inquiry, "W-w-what
is it all about?" On an explanation of the affair being made, the next
question he asked, in all earnestness, soberness and simplicity, was
"W-h-o-i-c-h came out ahead?" The personal appearance and manner of the
General, and the absurd question, uttered in a vehement and stammering
way, touched a ludicrous spot in the minds of the spectators so
permanently that should you ask one of them to-day, "Which came out
ahead?" he will smile or give you a shout of laughter in return.
It took but little to amuse, sometimes, for on one of the beautiful
summer days at nooning time, a group of men were resting in the shade
of the arbor that was on an island artificially made in the brook below
the terraces in front of the Hive, breathing the pure, balmy air of
outdoors instead of the indoor air of the workshop, reclining on the
thick greensward, when some two or three essayed the not very difficult
feat of jumping the merrily running brook, from embankment to
embankment, and dared Tirrell, one of the number, to follow. He was the
oldest and a little less supple than the others; and in trying the jump
deliberately landed about three inches short of the opposite bank, knee
deep in the water. It was, as the young people say, "too funny for
anything," but equally funny to the lookers-on to see the amused
Chiswell, one of his mates, roll over and over on the greensward in
repeated convulsions of side-splitting laughter, whilst the others,
standing up, had hard work to keep their perpendicular and writhed in
awful shapes as they joined in chorus with him, as Tirrell was slowly
wading out of the water up the embankment.
Trouble in financial affairs still existed. Cash in large amount was
not received, and it was perilous times with the Direction. When the
fall of the year came, it was announced that we must retrench our
meagre diet, to enable us to go on until our labor could pay us
better--until we could improve our employments and enlarge the
institution so that there could be more producers--and it was submitted
to without much complaint.
The work on the new building ceased, so that all hope of entering into
it before the coming spring was abandoned. There was one motto,
"Retrenchment," and it was echoed from all sides with all manner of fun
and mock solemnity; but those who were in the inner circle doubtless
felt, more than the youngsters did, the seriousness of matters. A more
strict account of everything was kept; indeed it seemed that the time
spent in keeping all the various items, was out of proportion to the
work done. I shall not soon forget, in this connection, the joke of
"the Parson," E. Capen, who, holding up a pair of pantaloons that he
had just received from the Mending Group, said sharply, "I have just
gotten a _reseat in full_ for these pantaloons!"
It will not be necessary to go into details of changes made to secure
more prosperity. I was undisturbed by them. I could go with crust of
good bread all day and be satisfied, growing strong and healthy. I
could endure the cold and heat without trouble, and have often braved
the winter wind, taking no pains to keep it from being blown on my bare
chest, and without discomfort.
The new greenhouse was built in the autumn, just in time to save the
plants from frost. It was situated back of the cottage and garden,
almost parallel with our boundary wall, and about fifteen feet from it.
There was a little sleeping room connected with it, where I lodged
summer and winter. Above me in the gable, a variety of beautiful doves,
consisting of Pouters, Tumblers, Ruffs, Carriers and Fantails, was
installed. They were very tame, and were much admired by our family and
visitors. They came at my call, alighted on my hands, head and
shoulders, and picked corn from out my hands and from between my lips.
We planted grape vines that bore promises, but were too young for
fruit, and we made bouquets and sold them to Boston and West Roxbury
parties.
Peter N. Klienstrup, the gardener, was under the spell of the powerful
weed, tobacco, and he tried time and again to break from the habit of
using it, but as often returned to its enchantment and its witchery.
"Dis is my last piece," I have heard him say many times, showing me the
fragment of a "hand," and when that was gone and for some two or three
weeks afterwards everything soured him. He was as cross as a bear, but
after that time his nerves would gradually become calmer and his
complexion clearer.
The gardener would persevere in the disuse of tobacco until the
enchanter's spell seemed broken, when some disturbing thing would upset
him, and he would turn his pockets inside out, and fumble with his
thumb and finger in their extreme corners for the least particle of the
"luxury." "John, I _must_ have some tobacco," he would say, and in a
day or two would be again under the full influence of the weed. I
pitied the old man, as I do the thousands of younger men who are to-day
under the same enchantment.
Swept into this little nook in the industries of the place, I left the
Farming Group forever.
It is often stated that the home circle is the sphere of women, but at
times it is a very narrow circle--a very narrowing circle to its
occupants. There are thousands who enter it as brilliant young ladies,
and come from it at the end of a few years morbid, harassed, depressed;
sunk in all the graces and powers that make a woman's life beautiful
and distinct from a man's. The circle in many cases is so narrow that
there is no room for growth. The humdrum toils, the petty cares and
rude contact with hired help, sink many a charming woman into a
domestic drudge and scold.
It has been asserted that Associations and Communities may do well for
men, but that women can never get along in them. The experience of
Brook Farm testifies against the assertion. If ever there was a clear
record of faithfulness and devotion, of sacrifice, of love of
principle, and earnest, unselfish work for unselfish ends, the women
toilers of Brook Farm can claim it and secure it without cavil. Morning
and evening, in season and out of season, in heat and cold, they were
ever at their posts. And the self-imposed toil made them grow great. It
opened their hearts as they daily saw the devotion of others.
It was for the meanest a life above humdrum, and for the greatest
something far, infinitely far beyond. They looked into the gates of
life and saw beyond charming visions, and hopes springing up for all.
They saw protection for all, even to the meanest of God's creatures; a
life beyond cold charity, up among the attributes of the Creator's
justice; an even garment for all, protecting the weak children of life
against the strong, the strong against the machinations of the weak.
How could they grow otherwise than great?
Wherever woman's hands were wanted to work, wherever woman's head was
wanted to plan, and wherever woman's care and sympathy were needed,
they were always forthcoming. Some were witty, too. One of our ladies,
with her hands full of apple blossoms and her eyes bright as stars, was
met by Mr. Ripley, who said to her, "You have been foraging, I see!"
"Oh, no," she said, with an arch smile, "I do not go _foraging_."
The pupils of the school took the infection of labor. At first often
haughty and distant, they soon mellowed, and were ready to assist the
young associative friends, with whom they became acquainted, in various
little works, and enjoyed the labor. The prevailing tone was health.
Sickness was a rarity to either sex. The pupils mingled with the games
and sporty, walks, rides and parties, and many seemed as devoted as
though belonging to the body, and when they returned from vacations, it
was with happy greetings to all and from all, and like returning home,
rather than to tasks.
Separate and distinct from the school was a room for the young at the
Hive, where mothers could leave their children in the care of the
Nursery Group whilst they were engaged in industrial work, or as a
kindly relief to themselves when fatigued by the care of them; for a
primary doctrine was "alternation of employments." It was believed that
more and better work could be done by not being confined to one
employment all the day of labor; that it was better for the mental as
well as the physical system to have a change--in theory as often as
once in two hours. In practice, under the conditions which governed our
life, an attempt only could be made to alternate labor and to relieve
the mothers from the excess of burden that the care of young children
often is. Some very sweet and choice ladies attended to this
employment, choosing it from their attraction towards it; thus
inaugurating the day nursery system, now coming into vogue in our large
cities.
In the matter of dress, the women who chose, had made for themselves a
short gown with an under garment, bound at the ankles and of the same
material. With this dress they could walk well and work well. It was
somewhat similar to the dress worn by Mrs. Bloomer and called by her
name years after this date.
The question of the "right to vote" for women was not one that troubled
the politicians of Brook Farm. At all of the meetings for the
acceptance or rejection of applicants and other purposes, women cast
their votes without criticism, for were they not mutually interested?
And now, nearly half a century since, we are asked to form a party to
secure similar rights. Why, men and women, the party was formed when a
majority of persons now living was not born; only it was a very small
party, and, need I add--select!
Only once did we have a wedding ceremony at the farm, though the
friendships commenced outlasted the Association. The financial
conditions for marriage were not inviting. One pleasant evening, later
than this date as I remember it, we were all invited to the Pilgrim
House to a wedding of one of Mr. Dwight's sisters. Our friend Rev. W.
H. Channing officiated.
It was a homelike affair, and after the ceremony "the Poet" (J. S.
Dwight) was invited to speak to us; but no, he was not in the mood. He
was urged--for all liked to hear his kindly voice, and we thought this
a particularly pleasant subject--so he at last arose from his seat and
commenced with these words: "I like this making one." It seemed to
touch various chords in the minds of the hearers, for the applause and
laughter that followed silenced the rest of the speech and it was never
finished. Then some one proposed that all should join hands and make a
circle, as the symbol of universal unity, and a pledge to one another
that all were united in effort to continue and carry on the great work
of harmonizing society on a true and just basis of unity of interests,
attractive industry, mutual guarantees, etc.
"Come, let us join hands! let our two flames mingle
In one more pure;
Since there is truth in nothing that is single
Be love, love's cure,"
sang our Poet after this time in the _Harbinger_, and some said with
double meaning. I have a list of names of fourteen married couples
whose mutual friendship was begun or continued through Brook Farm life,
and I have yet to know of an unhappy marriage among them all.
The question was often debated whether such a life as was led in
Association would have a tendency to favor early marriages or not, but
like a great many other questions of importance, it was debated without
settlement. One party claimed that from the freedom of social
intercourse and facility of acquaintance, an intimacy would spring up
that would result in early marriages; and the other party maintained
that with the certainty of true friendship from woman, and pleasant
social relations, marriages would not be hurried, but delayed until the
parties' thoughts and temperaments were well harmonized and all proper
and natural arrangements of support and comfort thoroughly secured.
There was with us a variety of female characters. We had our Marthas
who were troubled with much serving, and our Marys who loved to sit at
our leader's feet and hear the glad tidings and the new doctrines; and
now and then we had an uncomfortable woman, fully out of place and
consequently unhappy. Such an one was usually the wife of some man
whose whole energies were devoted to his work and who was happy in
himself, on his half shell, and was to be pitied that his other half
lived not in his shadow, but cast a shadow on him.
All Brook Farmers recollect with pleasure, among special cases of
devotion, the little, straight, light-haired, smiling woman, who was so
long chief of the Dormitory Group, who was at nightfall wandering about
with stray towels, sheets and pillows, always making arrangements in
the shifting population for every one who came; hunting places for
stray visitors, when we were crowded; puzzled and wearied oft--for no
one knew at what hour of the day or evening visitors might come and we
had oftentimes almost to make a Box and Cox affair of it, for there was
no hotel within a long distance. This little woman was at her post
again in the morning doing dormitory work, never tired, going from
house to house, ever with a smile on her face; and this position she
voluntarily occupied more than two years. Sweet Lizzie Curson!
Then the young folks--the young misses--were full of devotion. Commend
me to the young for unselfish work, or was it that the life awoke in
them a devoted spirit? This I know, that the sympathy and friendship
which sprung up in those days has lasted all these years, and will
remain as long as life. But it was not personal beauty that held me in
sway, and still holds me after so many long years--years that have
transformed most of those beautiful girls into old matrons and weeping
widows, plain and homely--but because it seems to me that there never
was a more gentle, kind, amiable, trusting, self-respecting, loving set
of young folks anywhere assembled.
And oh, how they learned! How they grew in grace and in education, both
of the practical and the ornamental! How fine in health and figure,
from the free life, from the grace learned in dancing, the repose at
early hours, the simple diet and the mind filled every day with
pleasant thoughts and ideas. I do not know of any one who was not in
fine, robust health. They all, without exception, developed into
healthy men and women; or, to be a little more exact, as long as they
remained on the farm they continued to develop in health, strength,
grace and beauty.