THE DEPARTURES, AND AFTER LIVES OF MEMBERS.
I am now to chronicle the last scene in our history, and I know not how
to do it, for of all the events of the life it is to me the most dreamy
and unreal. The figures of our drama flit before me like shadows. It
was like a knotted skein slowly unravelling. It was as the ice becomes
water, and runs silently away. It was as the gorgeous, roseate cloud
lifts itself up, and then changes in color and hides beyond the
horizon. It was as a carriage and traveller fade from sight on the
distant road. It was like the coming of sundown and twilight in a clear
day. It was like the apple blossoms dropping from the trees. It was as
the herds wind out to pasture. It was like a thousand and one changing
and fading things in nature.
"It was not discord, it was music stopped."
Who was next to break away from the charm of the life I know not; but
when the autumnal season came I was summoned to a family council and
advised that I should begin a new occupation where I could at least
earn my subsistence. As in duty bound, I acquiesced, and in a few days
bade farewell to the Brook Farm life.
I saw no tears shed when I left, but I was sorry to leave my blue tunic
behind, it was so comfortable. I left, but it was only my outward self
that was gone, not my sympathies or hopes. Behind were family and
devoted friends. It was still my home to return to, as it would be for
an indefinite period.
For two years and a half I had worn the tunic of the community, and the
"swallow tail" and "civilized rig" I put on for my departure transposed
my appearance so much that some of the society did not at first know
me. With my parents' blessing, I entered on the rudiments of the
professional life I have ever since followed, and took the West Roxbury
omnibus for Boston, the same I had taken two years and a half before to
go to the farm.
The succeeding Saturday night found me at home again. How pleasant the
greeting from Willard, Katie and Louise; from Charlie, Abby and Edgar;
from Anna and Dolly--from all, old and young! The "Archon" almost
screamed when he saw me, I was so "stunning" in his eyes, and poked
some of his fun at me. No marked change had taken place. The
_Harbinger_ was printed as usual, and only one or two persons had gone.
Every Saturday night I returned to the "Phalanx," but soon the
shoemakers found occupation elsewhere and their seats were empty. Then
the printers went, as the _Harbinger_ was transferred to New York. At
last the shop was closed, the cattle were sold, and all the industry
ceased. I came and went but did not see the actors go, and am glad I
did not see the "Archon"'. take his leave, or the many bright faces I
had loved so well.
The Poet lingered near. In Boston he started the _Journal of Music_,
and at the Eyry lingered for a while a sweet enchantress, and the
spirits of song and music held their revels there. So, also, lingered
at "the Hive" some sweet faces and loving hearts besides those of my
kin. The greenhouse, where I had spent so much of my time, was
closed--the plants all gone. Up the rafters ran the vines I helped to
plant, but when the winter came, drear and cold, only a few persons
remained on the domain. The dining hall echoed to my voice in its
emptiness, and the little reading room at the Hive was where we now
assembled at meals.
I wandered around and looked into the empty rooms. I cannot say I felt
as sad as I would to-day. Every spot was connected with some little
event, but the events were usually of such a cheerful and pleasant
nature that I could not be depressed, and a large portion of my
intimates were still near me in the city or neighborhood. We could
muster a goodly number at call and we tried to keep alive the good work
for the "cause" with meetings, social and theoretical. But no longer
the stage brought its loads of visitors to the Hive door. Over the
hills and the meadows no more resounded the morning horn echoing far
and far away, or Miss Ripley's high voice calling "Alfred! Alfred!" who
acted as major-domo in the absent General's place.
No more came down from the distant houses school lads and lasses, and
the long, tridaily procession of young and old had ceased forever. The
din of the kitchen was stopped, and the merry brogue of Irish John was
silenced. No more rushed the blue tunics for the mail when the coach
came in--alas, it came no more! The fields remained as when last
cropped, and if we went to the Cottage no merry sound of music came
from the school room. We mounted the stairs without meeting the classic
face or the elastic step and figure of the Professor or his fair
sister, and in vain did we look for the concourse of books where once
he wielded his modest pen and translated his German "_lieder_"
No more mounted in air the beautiful doves that circled and tumbled in
their flight--_my_ doves, that would come at my call and alight on my
hands, head and shoulders, and scramble for the corn I held out to them
in my palms. Sunday after Sunday, week after week, I spent in the Hive.
I looked out of the window but ventured not to go to the Eyry, for
there the music had finally ceased; or if the spirits sang their dirges
in those classic walls, my dim ears did not hear them.
Mr. Ripley's books had gone to swell Rev. Theodore Parker's library.
Were they surrendered without a pang? I will tell you. "Fanny," said
Mr. Ripley, seeing his valued books departing, "I can now understand
how a man would feel if he could attend his own funeral." They have
been placed in the Boston City Library by the death and last testament
of the later proprietor. The flowers I had watered and tended passed
into the hands and greenhouse of the translator of "Consuelo." Those
who owned any private effects or furniture took them away.
The Pilgrim House, never beautiful, and barren in its immediate
surroundings, was entirely deserted. The Hive was my home; and when the
warm sun, looking through the barren grape vine into the dining room
window, melted the light snow of early spring, and awoke the tender
grass into new growth and verdancy, and the remaining poultry warmed
themselves by its rays, nestling together by the doorways, as the
melting snow dripped drop by drop from the house top--the farm looked
beautiful still.
In some of our young hearts, with the coming of early summer, awoke a
yearning for one more meeting at the old place; and so we gathered the
young people from far and near for one more good time, for one more
communion. With what pleasure I recall those few hours. How happy we
were! How social and loving and dear we were to one another! In the
many years passed since then, there is no red-letter day like that one.
We were about twenty in number. There were fourteen of us between the
ages of fifteen and twenty-one years. The remainder were older. We
filled a table in the reading room. Little we cared if we sat crowded
close together, for we chose our mates. Some were pupils of the school,
the rest were youths of the Association.
In the afternoon we wandered once more in the beautiful pine woods. We
sang once more the "Silver Moon" together as we roved about, or sat on
the big boulder on the knoll at the foot of the lightning-struck tree.
We recounted old times and seasons; we cracked our merry jokes and ate
our simple treat, and then parted. In a few days the wide world was
between us, and forever. Some went East, and some West, one to
Port-au-Prince, and others to different villages and towns in New
England. Of the number, four remained in Boston; I was one of them.
Reader, my reminiscences are told, but not all told! They are like the
sultan's story that was to last a thousand years. To all but the one
interested there was an unending sameness in it, but to that one, it
was his life.
It is natural to wish to know of the writer what became of the persons
who formed this little band of devotees. I can but give a meagre sketch
in reply, for want of room.
When Mr. Ripley left Brook Farm he was poor. The experiment had cost
him money, years of toil and made debts for which he felt responsible.
He determined to pay them. As yet the way was not open. The _Harbinger_
was changed in form and lived less than two years in its new location,
and during a temporary illness of the editor its publication was
suspended. Mr. Ripley and wife taught school at Flatbush, L.I.
At the termination of the _Harbinger_ he immediately commenced writing
for the New York _Tribune_. Its pay roll indicates what he received May
5, 1849; it was $5 for the previous week's work. In July, same year, he
was paid $10 per week; April 6, 1850, $15; Sept. 21, 1851, $25 per
week. He wrote articles on all the living topics of the day, from the
arrival of the last new singer to the death of the last criminal.
Things trivial and non-important, grave and gay, of lasting import and
the most ephemeral, all came under his pen.
He also wrote, either occasionally or regularly, for a dozen other
periodicals. He was an early contributor to _Putnam's_ and from its
commencement wrote for _Harper's New Monthly_. As editor associated
with Mr. C.A. Dana he gave his time and best thought to the New
American Cyclopedia, and the first two or three volumes of the series
were edited solely by them. In 1871 his salary was raised to $75 per
week. When the Cyclopedia was revised he was paid $250 per month for
extra work on it. More than a million four hundred and sixty thousand
volumes of the two editions have been sold, and a small royalty secured
to the editors on each volume.
With prosperity Mr. Ripley never forgot his obligations. The old score
of debt was wiped out and paid. He was free, and as a man of letters
revelled in that which had been his youthful ideal.
When a student at Harvard College he wrote to his father, "I know that
my peculiar habits of mind, imperfect as they are, strongly impel me to
the path of intellectual effort; and if I am to be at any time of use
to society or a satisfaction to myself or my friends, it will be in the
way of some retired literary situation where a fondness for books will
be more requisite than the busy, calculating mind of a man in the
business part of the community." Thus was one of his youthful dreams
fulfilled. His capacity for work seemed unbounded. "He gave all his
time and all his energy to literary criticism, and spending on it, too,
the full resources of a richly furnished mind and infusing into it the
spirit of a broad and noble training."
He passed away July 4, 1880. A great concourse of people attended the
obsequies. Distinguished men, divines, critics, scholars, editors,
architects, scientists, journalists, publicists, artists and men of
affairs were in the assembly. The pall-bearers were the president of
Columbia College, the editor of _Harper's Weekly_, an Italian
professor, the editor of the _Popular Science Monthly_, the editor of
the New York _Observer_, an eminent German lawyer, a distinguished
college professor, a popular poet and the editor of the _Tribune_.
His wife Sophia passed from this life nineteen years before him. The
story of his romantic after marriage, and many details of his career
from birth to death, will be found in Mr. O. B. Frothingham's "Life of
George Ripley," told by his kindly biographer.
Deeply interested in his daily toil, thoroughly immersed in it body and
brain, yet cheerfully responding to all calls on his unbounded stock of
information and good nature, no one knows how often his mind wandered
over the intervening distance and saw the old farm with its mingled
incidents of pathos, philosophy and heroism, or what regrets were
covered up; but the joking allusions he sometimes made to it when
speaking of it to those who came to quiz him, were more than repaid to
his few intimate friends when he opened his heart to them, and the
earnestness of his spirit and the solemnity of his faith in the
brotherhood of humanity shone forth. He unveiled to them that he did
with undying faith still see in its ideas the elements of the true and
heavenly society; that he carried deep down in his bosom intense love
for those who were associated with him, and that if it had been founded
at this later period, so much has the interest in, social problems
increased, all the financial support needed would have been freely
given.
His friend William Henry Channing urged him to write the story of Brook
Farm, saying, "When _will_ you tell it?"
His joking reply was, "When I reach my years of indiscretion!" He knew
that the life wrote its own story.
Of the many dear ones I have known whose lives have added to my life
faith and trust in the Divine Father and his plans for the good future
of the human race; after years of thought and years of life, I give to
Mr. Ripley--the leader, the daring man, the brave Christian heart, the
torch bearer, himself the harbinger of the bright future of social
justice--the first place, the highest seat, the noblest position among
them all.
Mr. Ripley paid off the debts of the Community. I do not know all of
them. There was an amount due to Hawthorne at one time, probably his
original investment, which he growled about, and there was another due
to one of the Brothers Morton, who built the Pilgrim House. I am
indebted to his daughter, Miss Morton, for the statement that her
father received from Mr. Ripley a check in payment of the Community
debt to him. Calling her to his side and showing it to her, he said,
"There, Hannah, there is an honest man!"
After the institution was incorporated the debts and responsibilities
were shared by the incorporators and stock holders.
It has often been stated that it was the influence of Rev. William
Ellery Channing that started the West Roxbury Community. His nephew,
William Henry Channing, alluding to this in a letter to Rev. J. H..
Noyes, author of the "History of American Socialisms," contradicts the
statement as follows:--
"Of course my uncle deeply sympathized with his younger friend's heroic
effort, and wished all success to the movement, but he did not
encourage it, so far as I can understand, for in his judgment he
distrusted the prudence of the enterprise," etc. "But it was George
Ripley, aided by his noble wife Sophia--it was George Ripley, and
Ripley alone, who truly originated Brook Farm; and his should be the
honor through all time. And a very high honor it will be sooner or
later."
The head farmer, with his wife and family, who were so early in the
experiment, spent many years in the quiet town of Concord,
Massachusetts. It was he who gave Mr. Ripley courage in his work. He
was practical, honest, brave, and had enough of poetry in his
composition to take the dry edge off of his daily routine of toil. When
ploughing the fields it was with regret he turned under the lovely wild
flowers and the wild-rose bushes, and it often struck his fancy to
transplant them from the fields to the roadside where they blessed the
eyes of the wayfarer. Finally the heavenly voice called him and he went
thitherward, deeply loved, honored and respected by all. Minot Pratt's
name was a synonym of all that was pure, good and lovely. His wife
survived him many years, but in May, 1891, she passed away at an
advanced age, the last of the signers to the original agreement.
The ambitious "Professor" lives. The trenchant blade of his intellect
is still keen. Sometimes it seems that to overcome obstacles is all
with him. His wife was one of the "dear girls" of the Association.
Method in business and masterly activity have wrung from fate a
fortune, and the editorial and governmental offices he has held have
been more than ably filled. Blessed with a charming family, deeply
immersed in political as well as other writing, it would almost seem as
if the olden days were forgotten by him, were it not that now and then
he writes as he did shortly after Mr. Ripley's decease, as follows:--
"It is not too much to say that every person who was at Brook Farm for
any length of time has ever since looked back to it with a feeling of
satisfaction. The healthy mixture of manual and intellectual labor, the
kindly and unaffected social relations, the absence of everything like
assumptions or servility, the amusements, the discussions, the
friendships, the ideal and poetical atmosphere which gave a charm to
life--all these continue to create a picture toward which the mind
turns back with pleasure as to something distant and beautiful not
elsewhere met with amid the routine of this world."
Whatever may be said of the tone of the articles that come from his
pen, their ability is unquestioned, and it is not a secret that in Mr.
Ripley's judgment Charles A. Dana, of the New York _Sun_, was the
ablest editor in the world.
The "Poet," as we called him, as editor of Dwight's _Journal of Music_,
and also as critic, was deserving of especial credit for his services
in musical culture. Earnest, refined, always endeavoring to do right,
but strict in his pleasant criticisms, he pointed upward to higher
ideals. Living alone in his latter years like a bachelor, he sought
solace in his refined tastes with cultivated people. Married to Mary
Bullard, the sweet singer of my story, kindred sympathies united them
more firmly than marriage vows, but her early death deprived the world
of one of the noblest and choicest of womanhood, and his life of its
sweetest charm. He went abroad for a short trip, leaving her in full
health and beauty; he returned--she had passed from mortal sight.
A number of the members, male and female, joined the Association in New
Jersey near Red Bank--the North American Phalanx. There they renewed
the social life and experiment, with such result as some other pen can
tell.
It was about the time of the closing of the Brook Farm experiment that
the "California fever" broke out, or the rush for the gold mines. Some
of our theorists argued that the country was too poor for the
establishment of the social organizations proposed, and that more
wealth was needed. A number of the Brook Farmers went to the new
country for gold. The gardener, Peter Klienstrup, was one. I am sorry
to say that disappointment awaited him. A foreigner, and sensitive,
partly deaf and past middle life, he was not the man for the country or
the life. He died there poor. His charming, tuneful daughter, with the
beautiful complexion and lovely rounded shoulders, did not long survive
him. His wife survived, but one day I stood with only a few who knew
her, at the door of an open tomb, and a strange thrill passed over me
when one by my side said, as her body was placed within, "This is the
last of her race--the family is extinct!"
The good, kind-hearted "General" sleeps within sound of the Pacific
waves, for he, too, was one of the early Californians. And the Admiral,
the pure-hearted, high-minded and keen-eyed Admiral, has long since
laid down his burdens and his aspirations. And so also with many, too
many for me here to recount. The two sisters that I have described with
flowing hair, grew in loveliness to full womanly beauty and then passed
to the angelic world.
Mr. Ryckman, surnamed the "Omniarch," reigns no more in this sphere.
Peace to his memory.
The downfall of the Association was the wrecking of Irish John. He
seemed homeless and aimless. The constant smiles on that remarkable
face gave way to soberness profound. Old habits crept back upon him. He
had a friend, one of our number, who took a kindly interest in him, but
could not follow all his waywardness. He departed for New York,
ostensibly for business. Not long after this his friend received a note
from there in John's handwriting, saying that if he would send to a
certain number and street he would find something for him. It was a
trunk, and appeared to contain all of John's effects except the suit of
clothes he had on. What end he made no one knows.
How grand it would be if the social fabric could keep and guard all its
weak ones, surround them by influences that could prevent them from
falling into evil ways, and bear them up until the end comes peacefully
and naturally!
Marianne Ripley, Mr. Ripley's sister, the devoted soul who reigned over
the Kitchen Group and cultivated the flowers on the terraces, spent her
later hours in the West, and passed away at Madison, Wisconsin. John
Allen, the firm preacher, has gone also. His little boy, who conveyed
the small-pox to the farm, grew to manhood, and at an early age fought
with Grant at Vicksburg, where he received the wound that caused his
death.
The dear girl with the loud laugh is still here, but tears and sorrow
have been in her cup. Her kind husband, one of our number, and some
children are with the shadows; and the dimpled face of the black-haired
girl with the Irish name, whose beauty took my young fancy, long ago
joined the larger realm of beauty.
The house dog, Carlo, whom everybody knew, grew rapidly old when the
Association broke up. I never saw such a change. It seemed as though
regretful remembrances of former times clung to him. There was no more
the _music_ of "the sounding horn" to awaken him from his drowse, and
he passed much of his time under the woodshed. But he was not the sleek
and canny dog of yore. He grew thin and weak. Long locks of indifferent
colored brown hair grew out of his sides, and hung loosely down. His
gait was slow and feeble, and it was not pleasant to look at him.
Finally, one cold day, at least a year after the general departure, he
was missing, and I could find nothing of him. Inquiries were in vain.
It was in the following spring that his bones were found where either
he himself had dug a burrow, or the hand of charity had laid him. Good
Carlo!
Some very happy marriages sprang from the acquaintance at Brook Farm.
There, in a few weeks or months, a better knowledge could be formed, a
truer and more absolute and certain estimate of character, than by
years of fashionable flirtation. And here let me add, that the women
were always well dressed: there were no party dresses, all shine, lace
and glitter, and household wrappers all slouched, torn and drabbled.
The situation of woman was such as to stimulate her ever to neatness in
personal appearance, even if the material was but a "ninepenny" calico;
and the same may be said to a marked extent of the men.
And many others who stood shoulder to shoulder in the ranks have shared
the common lot. Scattered through the country, in city, town and
hamlet, those who survive are doing their humble duties, and filling
their stations honorably. There are those among them who have gained
wealth, and none whom I know that are in poverty. In the circles they
occupy, their influence has been felt towards a liberal judgment in all
matters pertaining to government, religion and society.
Our friend Rev. William Henry Channing spent the major portion of his
after life abroad. The war brought him back to America. He was at one
time chaplain of the House of Representatives of the United States, and
served the country at the front; but he returned to Liverpool, England,
where he preached and educated his family, passing away beloved by
members of all the prominent churches both conservative and radical.
There were some four and possibly more, who joined the Catholic Church.
This created at the time many remarks, but it is only an episode for a
class of minds to find themselves at the other end, at the opposite
side, at the bottom instead of the top when they have swung themselves,
pendulum-like, far away from ordinary moorings. The "Community" people
were at the extreme of society, unorganized, without creeds, without
science, and only morality and faith to guide them, and having given
the lie to ordinary social forms; having lost their faith and trust in
society as it was, is it strange that some should swing to the extreme
of conservatism, that they should try a new departure when met by
seeming failure in their radical moves?
But why continue the list? The very boys have become gray-haired men,
but proud to say, each one of them, "I was one of the Brook Farmers."
In closing this picturesque drama, it would not be strange if someone
should ask if this is all that is left of the life. Has it been only a
failure and a dream that I have chronicled, or has it resulted in
something worthy of the aspiration that preceded it? Has it added
strength to the lives of individuals, and has it done something for
society? As chronicler, I stand in the shade and let my readers judge;
but the few words of comment that follow, from well-known individuals,
bear strong testimony to an effect that must have been duplicated in a
great many other instances: and, indeed, if its influence had gone no
farther than to a few persons, that alone would justify the laudable
attempt of this "venture in philanthropy." My conviction is that it
reached farther than to single individuals, and that it still reaches
into and influences more or less all the deep undercurrents of society.
I am confirmed in this opinion by the following statement made by Mr.
George P. Bradford in the _Century Magazine_ for May, 1892:--
"I cannot but think that the brief and imperfect experiment, with the
theory and discussion that grew out of it, had no small influence in
teaching more impressively the relation of universal brotherhood and
the ties that bind us to all; a deeper feeling of the rights and claims
of others, and so in diffusing, enlarging, deepening and giving
emphasis to the growing spirit of true democracy."
But if I were to leave my position as narrator, and speak from my
individual standpoint, I would say Brook Farm and what it stood for was
to world-benighted travellers, seeking for sustenance, like a city set
on a hill. It was a small, glimmering light of social truth, shining
amid universal darkness. It was a dim foregleam of the great sun of
social life and science, that will yet rise and shine gloriously on our
earth. It was a spark of that divine justice that, like electricity,
has been stored for humanity from the beginning of things--abundant in
quantity and power to bless all men--stowed away by the hand of God for
us, awaiting only our awakening from the sleep of ignorance and
childishness, to use and cherish it. It was an example of trust, a
tribute to faith. It was a realization of poetry. It was in touch with
the wishes, hopes and prayers of millions of humanity; of untold
numbers of saints and martyrs of all nations and climes, and its
mission was the highest on earth--universal justice to all mankind.
Albert Brisbane, the _doctrinaire_, has departed also. Although
allusion has been made to him in the former pages of this book somewhat
in contrast with Mr. Ripley's spiritual gifts, let no person think that
I underestimate the mission he undertook or the work he accomplished in
his devotion to the master, Fourier. Certainly he deserves very great
credit, and there are those who, deep in their hearts, cherish most
profound gratitude to him and his memory.
Whatever any one may believe of the feasibility of the carrying out of
Fourier's doctrines of united industry or the practicality of any of
his theories, they must stand amazed at the bold and often extremely
beautiful conceptions of his brain; such as the actual forecasting of
the development theory before Darwin, Spencer and Huxley were
born--though not exactly in detail with them; his bolder conception
still of the destiny of man, and his Cosmogony; of the progress of
present civilization towards an oligarchy of capital, foretold so
exactly,--as is now seen by thinking minds, three quarters of a century
ago; his profound analysis of the human springs of action; his
discovery of the divine laws applicable to the future as well as to the
present wants of the human race. For the presentation of all this to
the American people; for all these things and more, we are first
indebted to Albert Brisbane, and it is a great debt which the future
will certainly appreciate and pay.
My work would not be finished without alluding more fully to the
wonderful genius whose works and life made such an impression on the
Brook Farmers as to induce them to brave all the misconception, sarcasm
and obloquy that they must have felt would be heaped on them when they
concluded to follow his formulas, and bowed their intellects to him in
acknowledgment of his leadership in the field of social science.
The reader will decide, if I have portrayed truly the men and the
principles actuating them, that whoever they thus acknowledged as
worthy of that sublime place must have been endowed with intellectual,
moral and spiritual capacities, and intuitions of the highest order.
Should it have been the fortune of any one to come across an occasional
allusion to Fourier, it will be apt to be of such a forbidding nature
that there will be no strong temptation to follow the subject further;
and all through the literature of our country, in the writings of men
whose reading, if not their knowledge, should have taught them better,
will be found intimations that "Fourierism" was a system of life based
on a plane hardly worthy of being rated higher than mere sensualism.
Against this accusation I place the record of the man whom especially
spiritual minded and liberally educated men like George Ripley, John S.
Dwight, William Henry Channing and many others delighted to know and to
honor.
Charles Fourier was born at Bezancon, France, April 7, 1772. The son of
a merchant, he had a collegiate education, and took prizes for French
and Latin themes and verses. He was found of geography but more fond of
cultivating flowers, and of music. At eighteen years he entered into
commercial pursuits. By the siege of Lyons he lost the fortune his
father left him, and was forced into the army, where he served two
years. This portion of his life was involved in the romance of war and
revolution, during which he was doomed to death, but made a fortunate
escape from it.
He was always noted for the avidity with which he sought knowledge, and
his honesty was outraged at an early age, being punished by his father
for telling the truth of goods on sale, thereby losing a purchaser.
Again his soul revolted when at Marseilles in 1799, where he was
employed, for he was selected to superintend a body of men who secretly
cast an immense quantity of rice into the sea, which monopolists had
allowed to spoil in a time of famine rather than to sell at a
reasonable profit. This last action was to him a crime of so deep a
nature that he entered with more enthusiasm on his studies for
preventing the like.
In capacity of agent he travelled in France, Belgium, Germany, Holland
and Switzerland. He had a prodigious memory, and in his journeys when a
building struck his attention, he took the measurement of it with his
walking stick, which was notched off in feet and inches; and, one of
his biographers says:--
"He was profoundly acquainted with every branch of science,
particularly the exact sciences. For forty years he labored with
patience and perseverance at the Herculean task of discovering and
developing the theory and practical details of the system which he has
given to the world."
Says a writer in the London _Phalanx_:--
"The principal features of Fourier's private character were morality
and the love of truth. He had a character both grave and dignified,
religious and poetic, friendly and polite, indulgent and sincere, which
never allowed truth to be profaned by libertine frivolity, nor faith to
be confounded with austere duplicity. He was a man of dignified
simplicity, a child of Heaven, loving God with all his heart, all his
soul, and all his mind, also loving as himself his neighbor--the whole
human family."
Fourier's own words translated read:--
"God sees in the human race only one family, all the members of which
have a right to his favors. He designs that they shall all be happy
together, or else no one people shall enjoy happiness. . . . The love
of God will become in this new order the most ardent love among men."
The closing words of an exhaustive review of Fourier's writings, by Mr.
John S. Dwight, in the _Harbinger_, are these:--"There is a Titanic
strength in all the workings of that wonderful intellect. He walks as
one who knows his ground. His step is firm, his eye is clear and
unflinching, and he is acknowledged where he passes, for there is no
littleness or weakness, no halting or duplicity, in his movement. He is
in earnest; he has taken up his cross to fulfil a mighty mission. He
doubts not, desponds not; he speaks always with certainty, and though
he suffers from impatience of postponement, yet he ceases not to insist
upon the truth. He expostulates, perhaps, with deceived and degraded
humanity in too much bitterness of sarcasm; but how profound his
reverence for Christ and for humanity, how pure his love for man, and
how sublime his contemplation of the destiny of man in the scale of
higher and higher beings up to God!"
Fourier passed from earth in 1837. His body was buried at Pere la
Chaise Cemetery, Paris, France.
The idea of living in combined families is no new thing. From the
earliest times to the present, it has cropped out under various
circumstances and with various changes. Ever with dawning of new light
and the increase of universal education comes the desire--sometimes in
great waves--for more united interests, and a truer, more Christian
brotherhood; for closer unity in life and for the enlargement of home
with all the joy, comfort and peace that word contains.
In this country various outgrowths from the social body have taken
positions on this plane. The masses of our people are not now in
sympathy with them. They believe that these little social homes or
"communities" are dull and monotonous, and are bound so tightly by
creeds as to be obnoxious to freedom of life and ideas. My belief is
that the creeds adopted and thrown around them, though often adding to
their financial protection, and possibly often being their only
safeguards from fraud and knavery, have covered from the public the
great dignity, worthiness and beauty of this mode of life; when,
therefore, Mr. Ripley formed his society free from any pledges or
creeds, it touched a deeper bottom in men's hearts than any like
organization had ever sounded.
Whatever of failure there was in their actualization, Brook Farm ideas
remain. They charm philosophers, poets and statesmen. They work
quietly, leavening the social mass. One must be in sympathy with them
to know how potent is their action and how with a touch of the old
enthusiasm they will be found breaking out again in larger and larger
circles of humanity, for in view of the progress of mechanism, science
and art in the last fifty years, to form the phalanstery in its
material shape would be an easy task.
Rev. William Henry Channing expressed himself in this wise to his
mother, years after the breaking up of the Association:--
"My dearest mother, I assure you that did I see my way clear to an
honorable independence for my family, so as to be just, while kind to
them, I should joyfully die in attesting my fixed faith in Association,
and I predict that when, years hence, we meet in the spiritual world,
you will smilingly bless me and say, 'My son, your personal limitations
excepted, you were right.' You will feel proud of my seeming earthly
failures then; at least I humbly hope so. If this is all romance it is
of that earnest, living strain which I trust ever more and more to be
quickened by."
At a final visit to Brook Farm he said: "Most beautiful was that last
day and all its memories; and never did I feel so calmly, humbly,
devoutly thankful that it had been my privilege to fail in this
grandest, sublimest, surest of all human movements. Were Thermopylae
and Bunker Hill considered successes in their day and generation?"
Lying before me is a letter not intended for publication, showing how
one member of the Association affectionately regarded his old home. It
is as follows:--
PROVIDENCE, R. I., 1871.
"My Dear Friend:--I herewith return the letters you so kindly sent me.
I have derived much pleasure in their perusal, and have looked on them
with affectionate regard as a mode of greeting from old friends from
whom I have been separated for more than a quarter of a century. I do
not think any one who was at Brook Farm has that deep and sincere
affection for it and its memory that I have. It was my mother by
adoption, and what little I have of education, refinement, or culture
and taste for matters above things material, I owe to her and the
heroic and self-sacrificing men and women who composed its body, social
and scholastic. I was but a cipher there, among them by accident, and I
was much the gainer even if they were not the losers. What I saw there,
and what I learned there, have been of great value to me, and if I have
made any progress in material matters or have attained any social
position, I am frank enough to confess that I owe it all to dear old
Brook Farm. God bless its memory. What I have, and what I am, is the
outgrowth of a two years' life at my first real home. . . .
"When I commenced this I intended to write but a half dozen lines,
simply making my acknowledgment of your kindness, but my purpose soon
changed, and I now find that I have not enough room on this sheet to
say one tithe of what comes rushing in my mind 'as a river' about Brook
Farm, and I can now only say that I wish you to convey my kindest
regards to all of our dear old acquaintances whenever you see them or
write to them. All Brook Farmers are to me as brothers and sisters, and
I so esteem them.
"WILLIAM H. TEEL."
I am tempted also to add the following extract from a letter written
years ago by a friend of the movement in his eightieth year to his
son:--
"To many, Brook Farm may have been a dream that ended with the
scattering of that little band of workers. That special form of the
dream vanished, but the seed was planted, and my confidence in the
dream is vivid still. In the past these ideas have been the crude
visions of the few, but now they are the absorbing subjects of
speculation of the many, and all our best literature is full of them.
The highest problems of man and society are the common subjects of
discussion. So will it continue to be, by the tiller of the soil, the
workman at the bench, as well as the poet and philosopher, until order
and harmony are evolved out of this chaos. The good time is surely
coming. 'The world,' as Whittier wrote, 'is gray with its dawning
light.'
"J. A. SAXTON.
"Deerfield, Mass."
Well, the Brook Farm experiment died! There can be only one reason why
its friends should rejoice, and it is the same that touched the great
mind of Saint Paul, nearly two thousand years ago, when he said, "Thou
fool! that which thou sowest is not _quickened_ except it _die!_"
FINIS.
APPENDIX
I. Students' and Inquirers' Letters
II. Applicants' Letters and Mr. Ripley's Replies
III. An Outside View of Brook Farm Associative Articles
STUDENTS' AND INQUIRERS' LETTERS.
_Student Life_.
BROOK FARM, MASS., Oct. 27, 1842.
My Dear Friend:--Pardon my delay in writing you in reply to yours of
the 15th ult., but there have been matters of interest that have
occupied my leisure, and so much so that only now do I find myself free
to exchange good wishes with you and to answer the important questions
you put to me as to what I think of, and how I like, the Brook Farm
life.
To reply to these questions I might write a long dissertation
explaining what I like and what I do not like, or I could answer them
by a few brief words; but my inclination is to do neither, and to give
you in place of both a little sketch of the proceedings here and make
you the judge of what my feelings would be likely to be under the
circumstances that I shall narrate.
I am still a student, and most of my time has been spent in studies of
various sorts; the languages--ancient and modern--attracting me a great
deal, but the German and the French the most. I do not "burn the
midnight oil," and yet I think I am progressing well. Our teachers are
all very approachable men and really seem in dead earnest. You might
suppose from rumors that reach you that they would be very notional
people, but they are not so, or, to say the least, if they are they
keep their notions to themselves. Mr. Dana, Mr. Bradford and Mr. Dwight
are particularly kind to me, and all the teachers go out of the way to
explain points that come up in the lessons.
After hours, we have had many interesting conversations, class
readings, dramatic readings, etc., and visitors come who entertain us
in various ways. Miss Frances Ostenelli, for one, who has a wonderful
soprano voice, and Miss S. Margaret Fuller from Concord--there is no
end to her talk--and also Mr. Emerson from Concord, to whom a good many
pay deference.
Whilst he was here there was a masquerading wood party. It was quite a
bright idea. Miss Amelia Russell was one of the persons who planned it.
Her father has been minister to Sweden and was one of the commissioners
who signed the Treaty of Ghent. It was an open-air masquerade in the
pine woods, and the affair was worked up splendidly. Masquerades have
been, in New England, of a private nature and held indoors. To hold one
out "in the garish light of day" was a new sensation, and attracted
some of the friends of the Community. The day was lovely and in the
woods the privacy was complete. Barring one or two friendly neighbors
of farmer stock who looked on, it was truly a select party. One of the
ladies personated Diana, and any one entering her wooded precincts was
liable to be shot with one of her arrows. Further in the woods a gipsy,
personated by Miss 'Ora Gannett, niece to Rev. Ezra Gannett, was ready
to tell your fortune. Miss "Georgie" Bruce was an Indian squaw, and
"George William" Curtis, a young man, carried off the palm as "Fanny
Elssler" the dancer. There was a mixed variety of characters that made
up the _tout ensemble_--a Tyrolean songster, sailors, Africans,
lackeys, backwoodsmen and the like. The children enjoyed the day much.
A large portion of the dresses were home-made. Dances and conversation
by the elders filled the day and evening.
Sometimes we have the serious business. Some of the singular persons
here affect vagaries and discuss pruderies or church matters, ethics
and the like. Or we have some of the Concord people who give us parlor
talks. Once in a while they arouse the gifted brothers, and then we
have a genuine treat; Mr. Dwight and Mr. Bradford, Mr. Ripley, Mr.
Capen, Burton and all hands get dragged in, and in the earnest
discussion that follows one cannot but be edified and often very much
instructed. Subjects relating to a more rational life and education for
the poor and unlearned interest me and arouse my enthusiasm. There are
some fine lady as well as gentlemen readers, who show their ability in
poetry and prose, and, for the amusement of the young people, some
devote their talents on occasions to tableaux, which are delightful and
display fine historic scenes and characters.
I rise in the morning at six to half-past; breakfast at seven; chat
with the people; get to my studies at eight; work an hour in the
garden; recite; dine at noon; take an hour in the afternoon on the
farm; drive team; cut hay in the barn; study or recite; walk; dress up
for tea at six. In long days the sunsets and twilights are delightful
and pass pleasantly with a set of us who chum together. I am so near
Boston that I go to concerts and lectures with others, or to the
theatres, or to the conventions, the antislavery ones being most
exciting. In summer I join the hay-makers. In winter we coast, boys and
girls, down the steep though not high hills, in the afternoons, or by
moonlight, or by the light of the clear sky and the bright stars; or we
drive one of the horses for a ride, or we skate on the frozen meadow or
brook to the Charles River where its broad surface gives plenty of room.
One thing I like here--everything but in my lessons I have perfect
freedom to come or go and to join in and be one with the good people or
not. I am not hampered. I go to church or not, as I desire, and I can
do anything that does not violate the rules of good breeding; but I am
expected to be in my room at a seasonable hour at night--ten o'clock,
sure.
Thus have I given you my programme. Can you think I would do better
elsewhere? I might have more style, a better table, and more room to
see my friends in, though the parlors here are good enough, but where
could I have more genuine comfort? I expect to go home by New Year's,
returning, if I can, by March, and am so in love with the life I may
try to attach myself to it permanently. In the meantime I will see you,
and hope to enjoy with you many hours of conversation after the oldtime
way at our house. As ever,
Your student brother,
CHARLES.
_Explanations and Answers to Objections._
BROOK FARM, MASS., Dec. 11, 1845.
FRIEND HARRIS:--As you are a stranger to the associative ideas, and
have but little knowledge of our life here, no doubt many questions
arise in your mind that you wish answered, and might be answered by me
if I knew what they were; but knowing what questions usually appear
most prominent to the average mind, I will try my hand at a few of them
as they present themselves to me. Number one is, What were my first
impressions of the idea of associative life; that is, did the idea
strike me pleasantly or not? I frankly reply to this that the idea was
decidedly unpleasant. It so connected itself in my mind with some sort
of an "institution," as a great hospital or infirmary or "Dotheboys"
school, where Smikes or incipient Smikes went daily to a restricted
routine, and thrice daily, with the rest of imprisoned souls, to the
special amount of grub and rations provided by some personal or
impersonal Squeers, that I could not but at once reply to the person
speaking of it that I should not like any such institution.
The next question is, How did my mind change on this subject? I answer,
by reflection and continued conversation with those who were intimate
with the ideas. Mark this: _There is nothing so absurd as the first
presentation of great facts to the mind;_ the greater the fact, the
greater its apparent absurdity, and the greater will be our hate or
want of welcome to it if it runs contrary to our preconceived ideas.
Every visible thing is presented to the retina of the eye, the
looking-glass of the brain, upside down, and it is by study that begins
at birth, and is finished ere remembrance commences, that the child of
God and man is able to detect the true relation of material things to
himself. We have not yet learned the importance or significance of this
arrangement, but why may not we find in future investigations that the
mental vision is governed by the same law, and that thoughts strike the
brain or mental sensorium in the same inverted way? So universally do
law and life differ from their semblances, that it appears to me to be
one of our _supreme duties_ to learn to _reverse primitive ideas._
A question also comes to you in this wise: How could one make up his
mind to associate with all sorts of people that they might meet in one
of these "Communities"? A man in the ordinary chances of life has to
meet all sorts of persons, does he not? Ignorant dependents are in your
house, sleeping under your roof. Your tradesmen may be rude, unkind and
unlettered. Passing from your door you jostle, it may be, the murderer
and highwayman on the street; you enter a car, and the driver's breath
is perhaps reeking from his last night's debauch; you sit, possibly,
between the pickpocket on one side and the patient yet uncured from
some epidemic on the other. You pass to your business through a street
full of roughs, and in your own store are men wishing you to die that
they may take your place, seeking every opportunity to overreach you;
and then wonder if I smile when you ask me how _I_ could "mix up."
In reply to me, you may say that the relation is different; that you do
not take these persons to your table and associate with them as one is
obliged to in one of your "Associations." It is true that you may not
sit at meat with these especial persons; but how many live at hotels
where the next neighbor at table, to whom, if you are a gentleman, you
show politeness, is entirely unknown to you, and may be a swindler,
cheat or knave. But you associate with him only as much as it is
_necessary_ for you to do; and that is just as much as you are obliged
to do in an Association, and no more. It does not follow because I sit
at meat here at Brook Farm with a hundred, I have intimate social
relations with all of them. On the contrary, there are those to whom I
seldom speak unless to give them a passing salutation, and some who are
civilly disposed, who do no more, or as much, to me.
In a society of which you might be a member, with a full privilege to
assist in its organization, you will be better able to choose those of
congenial qualities for associates than you ever can in your present
position, so that your life, after a while, may be select in its chosen
companions, and a great deal more so in its general social features
than now.
Since I came here I find my ideas all changed in relation to this
subject. Instead of the yoke that I felt would be on me, I find
freedom--freedom to speak, to act, and a truly self-imposed government.
The yoke I expected to find _is_ very easy and the burden is light. I
enjoy my life and home. We have not much of worldly goods, but we are
united and we look high up--some say to cloud-land; but I assure you
that on the average there is nowhere a clearer-headed set of persons on
social questions than here, and association is now to me the most
beautiful thing on earth. The life and ideas are all one with harmony.
Surely is it not better for me to begin life this way than with doubt
and distrust of my fellows? Doubt begets doubt; faith begets faith;
action begets action. If we can get enough persons to follow us, we can
prove whether our ideas are true or not. Surely the dull, monotonous
life of "religious communities" like the Moravians, Shakers, Rappites
and others find followers; why not this bright, happy, cheering, frank
life of ours?
We are expecting a visit from Horace Greeley soon; I have never seen
him, but we have heaps of strangers coming every day, some quite
distinguished and some plain folks, but the average are wide-awake
people.
Truly your friend,
JOHN C. FOSTER.
_Letter on Social Equality._
BROOK FARM, MASS., Sept. 9, 1845.
MY DEAR SISTER: Do not think that the great minds here teach _social
equality_, as many seem to think they do. To hear outsiders talk one
would imagine that the leaders want that all should be of the same
pattern; that the tall geniuses should be cut down to an average, and
the dwarfs set up on stilts to make them of the same height as the
others. How far from it!
Added to this indignity, outsiders appear to think that rations are
served as in the army, and that it is an absolute necessity in order to
fulfil some absurd law, that every man, woman and child should sit down
together at the same exact time, and eat the aforesaid rations
together; and also, there being some good and able men here, that they
court connection with weak people of any complexion so as to make a
fair average: and they feel that such conditions, to say the least, are
unnatural; and so would I, if there was truth in the position, but
there is not a particle. It oftentimes seems to me that people take a
sort of pleasure in misrepresenting facts, or seem to have a
satisfaction in thinking that they know about as much as the average
person, and that it would be a sin to know a little more. They are
pardoned for their ignorance because nearly, if not all, the social
organizations that have departed from the common customs of society and
have formed "communities" have striven for equality of property rights
and society rights, and often for sameness in dress and religious
ceremonies. This is the nut that all persons who look superficially at
us and at the community system, find hard to crack. They feel that if a
person has an ambition to be more than another, to desire more, to
desire to wear a different garment and pray differently or worship
differently, they should have the inherent right to do so.
And this is the feeling that these common-sense people, these
intelligent people of Brook Farm who organized this society, have and
believe in, and they have tried to arrange all their laws and customs
to conform to these evident truths. And also, they never would have
adopted any of the formulas or ideas of Fourier, had they not believed
his Industrial Phalanxes allowed all the variety of social conditions
that make a true society or social order. No attempts ever undertaken
had the sanction of Fourier, because they had not the proper number of
persons to make a start with. "By no means," said Fourier, "attempt to
organize a phalanx with less than four hundred persons; that is the
very least number you can have and have a sufficient number of
characters to produce anything like harmony." His idea was, that from
fifteen to eighteen hundred persons would be the true number.
The Brook Farmers have never preached social _equality_, but social
_rights_. Social _equality_ is a thing that comes from individual
ability, and is never positively fixed, but relative, because there are
talents superior and inferior mingled in each human being, and the king
may wonder how the cook put the apples in the dumplings. With the
larger number of individuals stated, a greater chance is given to find
"mates" and "chums," and the less likelihood there would be in the
imperfectly organized societies of rude contact--for who could doubt
that all such societies, even the very best, would be imperfect for
generations to come?
I take it that this is the gist of the reason why the so-called social
equality is so repulsive to theorists who have not comprehended the
great difference between social _equality_ and social _rights_. Once
and for all, I do not believe, we do not believe, in social equality;
but we do believe that societies can be established in such a manner as
to secure in a large degree the rights of all, and be perfectly
practicable, and that in time they will develop into true harmony.
As ever your sincere
BROTHER CHARLIE.
_Religious Views._
BROOK FARM, MASS., June 9, 1845.
MY DEAR FRIEND:--In reply to your question as to what the religious
views of the Brook Farmers are, I might, if I wished to be curt, say
that they are such as you see by their lives. I am aware, however, that
such a reply will not exactly suit you, and that you really mean what
are their creeds, as, are they all Baptists, Trinitarians, Unitarians,
or what not? And I answer you that I find here those who were brought
up in every kind of belief; some who are from the Roman Catholic
Church; some from the Jewish; some Trinitarians; some Unitarians; some
from the Swedenborgian Church; some who are Liberals; some who are
called "Come-Outers," and Mr. P., who professes to be, and is more like
an infidel than any other man I ever saw.
They call some of the residents here "Transcendentalists." You may
judge from the name that they must be either very good or very bad
people, but they represent people of education who are a little "high
stilted" in their religious views, and do not take in all the wonderful
Mosaic traditions. At least, this is as near as I can explain it to
you. It is the fashion to call every one who has any independent
notions a Transcendentalist, but I do not know who invented the name or
first applied it.
The people here do not dispute on religious creeds; they are too busy.
They work together, dine and sup together year in and year out in
intimate social relation, and do not either have angry disputes, or
quarrels about creeds or anything else. On the contrary, I am much
surprised at the earnest inquiry that is often made into the beliefs of
others, or rather into the groundwork or foundation from which the
churches sprung which have different tenets from their own.
But the majority are Unitarian in their belief. Mr. Ripley, Mr. Dwight,
Mr. Dana and Mr. Cabot, with a majority of the ladies, lean that way.
Dr. Lazarus and his handsome sister are of or from the Jewish faith,
whilst Mr. Hastings leans towards Romanism and Jean Pallisse is
Catholic; and by the way, I never until I came here had any sympathy
with the symbols of that church, but the intelligent persons by whom I
have been surrounded have explained the great beauty of them to
me--persons who are not and never can be Romanists any more than
myself. Dr. Lazarus has posted me on the Jewish symbols, and Fanny M.
and her mother have brought forward the great beauty of the
Swedenborgian doctrines.
All Mr. Ripleys's writings on social subjects breathe a religious air.
It is true they are not creedal, but his idea is that every act of life
should be from a true and earnest spirit, and that this is the
substance of all creeds; and strange to say to you, who believe that
Associations like ours have a levelling effect, those who have their
faiths fixed, say, "I think more of the symbols of my church than ever,
since I came here."
"I am a Jew, but a liberal, understanding Jew," says one.
"I am a Catholic, but I am a liberalized Catholic," says another.
"I am a Swedenborgian, but my belief liberates me from the crudities of
Swedenborg," say others.
"I look from the centre outward as never before. We all see how the
forms of our churches were intended for good, and we all see how many
of them have been prostituted. When I go from here I shall respect your
forms and ceremonies because you have taught me the meanings of them."
Is this definite enough for a hasty answer? The lesson I have most
taken to heart is that by examining with respect the many different
faiths, we gain a higher idea of a Being who has an exhaustless variety
in his attributes.
As ever yours,
C. J. THOMAS.
APPENDIX.
PART II.
APPLICANTS' LETTERS AND MR. RIPLEY'S REPLIES.
[Copies of some of these letters and other documents from the originals
were used by permission, in preparing the "Life of George Ripley."]
_From a Theological Student._.
LONGMEADOW, Feb. 25, 1845.
_Rev. George Ripley,_
DEAR SIR: Probably you have forgotten the Andover student who spent
Thanksgiving with you a year ago, and who made you a short call last
September. But he has not forgotten Brook Farm. I write now for the
purpose of asking a single question. Are you so full that it will be
impossible for you to take one more in the course of a few weeks?
I recollect you asked me last fall if I intended to go to preaching
against sin in the church. I agree with you, sir, that there is
emphatically sin in the church that ought to be preached against, if
anywhere. But the truth is I do not see as much sin either in the
church or out of it as my theological teachers have endeavored to
persuade me there is. Besides, I think that preaching against it has
been proved to be a very ineffectual way of rooting out what sin there
is. Indeed, from the very nature of the case, it seems to me that
telling men once a week, at arm's length, that they are doing very
wrong and will be eternally punished unless they do differently, is not
quite what is needed for improving their character and condition. For
this reason, and because my faith in other respects also is not
sufficiently orthodox, I have braced myself as well as I could against
the urgent importunities of my friends, and refused to take a license.
My strongest sympathies are with the cause in which you are laboring,
and I am not wholly without hope that I shall yet find something to do
in it. I am utterly alone here. I think often of what Carlyle says,
"Invisible yet impenetrable walls as of enchantment divided me from all
living."
Will you do me the kindness, sir, to answer the inquiry I have made of
you as soon as convenient?
Yours most respectfully,
D. B. COLTON.
_Letter from a Young Man._
COLCHESTER, CT., Nov. 1, 1843.
_Rev. George Ripley,_
SIR: My ideas of the principles of Industrial Association have been
obtained by reading the New York _Tribune_. I am convinced that these
principles are the elements out of which may be constructed that true
social order which shall develop man's physical well-being, and call
forth the mental and moral faculties of the soul.
My intention is to join some association of the kind now forming or
already in operation. Your Community has been spoken of as one of the
first and best in the country. My object in writing to you is to
ascertain the peculiar nature of this organization and management, the
terms of membership--the amount of capital required, or whether one
without capital would be received--and whether a young man of the
following description would find opportunity to _work_ and receive a
_fair_ remuneration for his labor.
What I can _do_ you can judge. I am twenty-five years of age, have
lived eight years in New York, six years in one of the best wholesale
dry goods houses there. Brought up at this place a mechanic and farmer,
and am now engaged in wagon making and blacksmithing, for which I don't
get a red cent beyond a good living.
The capital that I intended to invest in Association gone to Davy
Jones' locker in the wreck of the commercial world.
An answer to these few inquiries would much oblige
Your obedient servant,
HORATIO N. OTIS.
_Reply to Preceding Letter._
[The preceding letter has the following draft of a reply to it on a
letter sheet in the handwriting of Mr. Ripley.]
MY DEAR SIR: Yours of the 1st inst. is this day received. I dare say
that you have received a correct impression of our establishment from
the article in the _Tribune_. We are laboring with cheerfulness and
hope, in the midst of great obstacles, for the organization of society
and the benefit of man. Whoever wishes to join us must be willing to
make great sacrifices; to endure severe toil patiently; to live in
comparative poverty; to suffer many deprivations for the sake of
realizing justice and charity in the social state.
We are at present on a small scale, but we are making arrangements to
enlarge our number and our branches of industry. We should like to
establish your branch of business, and could do so to advantage with an
efficient and skilful workman and a small increase of capital. An
answer to the following questions will decide whether we can have any
further negotiations with you:----
1. Are you ready from an interest in the cause of Association to endure
the sacrifices which all persons must suffer?
2. Could you by yourself, or your friends, command a few hundred
dollars sufficient to start your business?
3. Could you, without help, make and iron off ox carts, horse carts,
one horse wagons, etc., in a style that would ensure their sale in the
neighborhood of Boston? Can you shoe horses and oxen?
4. Are you single or married?
5. In fine, have you confidence that by your manual labor in the
branches you have mentioned, you could do more than earn your living in
Association?
I shall be happy to hear from you as soon as convenient. I am
Yours truly,
GEORGE RIPLEY.
_A Model Questioner--a Woman._
UTICA, Jan. 18, 1844. SIR: I have the happiness of being acquainted
with a lady who has some knowledge of you; from whose representations I
am encouraged to hope that you will not only excuse the liberty I
(being a stranger) thus take in addressing you, but will also kindly
answer a number of questions I am desirous of being informed upon
relative to the society for social reform to which you belong.
I have a daughter (having five children) who, with her husband, much
wishes to join a society of this kind. They have had thoughts of
engaging with a society now forming in Rochester, but their friends
advise them to go to one that has been some time in operation, because
those connected with it will be able to speak with certainty as to
whether the working of the system in any way realizes the theory. The
first question I would put is,----
1. Have you room in your association to admit the above family?
2. And if so, upon what terms would they be received?
3. Would a piano-forte, which two years ago cost three hundred and
fifty dollars, be taken at its present value in payment for shares?
4. Would any household furniture be taken in the same way?
5. Do you carry out Mr. Fourier's idea of diversity of employment?
6. How many members have you at this time?
7. Do the people (generally speaking) appear happy?
8. Does the system work well with the children?
9. Would a young man (mechanic of unexceptionable character) be
received having no capital?
10. Have you more than one church, and if so what are its tenets?
11. Have parties opportunities of enjoying any other religion?
12. What number of hours generally employed in labor?
13. What chance for study?
14. Do you meet with society suitable to _your taste?_
Although my questions are so numerous that I fear tiring you, yet I
still feel that I may have omitted some inquiry of importance. If so
will you do me the favor to _supply the deficiency?_
Please to answer my questions by number, as they are put.
Hoping you will write as soon as possible, and do me the kindness I ask,
I remain,
Yours respectfully,
A. HUDSON.
_From a Minister._
NORTH BRAMFORD, CONN., June 1, 1843.
_Mr. G. Ripley,_
DEAR SIR:--I have an earnest and well matured desire to join your
community, with my family, if I can do it under satisfactory
circumstances--I mean satisfactory to all parties.
I am pastor of the First Congregational Church in this town. My
congregation is quiet, and in many respects very pleasant; but I have
felt that my views of late are not sufficiently in accordance with the
forms under which I have undertaken to conduct the ministry of
Christian truth. This want of accordance increases, and I feel that a
crisis is at hand. I must follow the light that guides me, or renounce
it to become false and dead. The latter I cannot do.
I have thought of joining your association ever since its commencement.
Is it possible for me to do so under satisfactory circumstances? I have
deep and, I believe, an intelligent sympathy with your idea. I have a
wife and four children--the oldest ten, the youngest seven years old.
Our habits of life are very simple, very independent of slavery to the
common forms of "gig-manity," and our bodies have not been made to
waste and pine by the fashionable follies of this generation. It is our
creed that life is greater than all forms, and that the soul's life is
diviner than _convenances_ of fashion.
As to property, we can bring you little more than ourselves. But we can
bring a hearty good-will to work, and in work we have some skill. I
have unimpaired health, and an amount of muscular strength beyond what
ordinarily falls to the lot of mortals. In the early part of my life I
labored on a farm, filling up my leisure time with study, until I
entered my present profession. My hands have some skill for many
things, and if I join you I wish to live a true life.
My selfish aims are two: first, I wish to be under circumstances where
I may live truly; and second, and chiefly, I wish to do the best thing
I can for my children.
Be so good as to reply to this at your earliest convenience.
Yours sincerely,
JOHN D. BALDWIN.
_From an Ohioan._
CHEVIOT, HAMILTON CO., O., SEPT. 23,1845.
_Mr. Ripley_,
MY DEAR SIR:--I have been looking somewhat into your plan of
Association, and have read carefully Godwin's "Popular View of the
Doctrines of Charles Fourier." I see much that I admire and some things
that I disapprove in Fourier's views. His views on marriage and his
ideas of a future state may do harm to his system of Association:
first, in exciting prejudice against it, and so preventing a fair
experiment; and secondly, in being adopted by friends of Association in
their admiration of their great master.
His views in respect to love are, to my mind, exceedingly
exceptionable, and the idea of making provision in Association for
those whose love is inconstant, _appears to me contrary to all sound
philosophy._ A vicious constitution ought never to be fostered by
indulgence. But I really hope that your Association, which I presume
will be the model one for this country, will be careful to reject the
exceptionable morality of the French teacher, and while you adopt his
practical scheme in its worthy features, will also make it manifest
that you esteem Jesus Christ as the true Master.
I may say that the more I compare the principles of Association adopted
by you, with the general state of society, the more I admire the former
and become dissatisfied with the latter. I feel great anxiety for your
success. I feel deeply anxious that the friends of Association should
be students of the gospel of Christ, that care might be taken to carry
out the glorious doctrines of the Son of God. I do not mean
sectarianism. I mean that religion, that pure morality, that
spirituality which Jesus Christ exhibited in his own life; not the
religion of the _ascetic_, but the social, the benevolent, the
philanthropic, the Godward aspirations of the spiritual man.
My wife and myself often converse about the propriety of uniting with
you. We become disgusted with the social arrangements with which we are
connected. In worldly society we mourn over the outbreaking vices not
only of the low, but of those who are highest in rank; and when we seek
satisfaction of mind and heart in the church, lo! even there
selfishness rules supreme, and a profession of religion covers up the
meanest propensities of the sanctimonious worshipper. I cry out, "Help,
Lord! for the godly man ceaseth; for the faithful fail from among the
children of men."
We desire to know through your own candid view of your prospects, as
well as present condition, whether we may be justified in so disposing
our affairs as to ultimately join your Association. At present I am
laboring on my farm, near Cincinnati, having no definite plan of future
action.
Please write me definitely upon what terms we may join you, how much I
must put into the Association to secure the support of my family and
myself--it being understood that we take hold as the rest of you do.
Besides my wife I have a son sixteen years of age, another eleven, a
third seven and a daughter four. We are all healthy, and I believe are
about as well disposed as most families to live by our own personal
exertions.
Yours very respectfully,
WILLIAM H. BRISBANE.
_Verbatim Letter._
BOSTON MASS. Feb. 23 1844.
_Mr. Ripley_ DIR SIR I was requsted to pit the following on paper for
the consideration of your society. R. H. wife and four children the
oldest ten the youngest thre the two eldest boys, the two youngest
girles. Furniture wile consist of thre beds and bedding one bedstead
one tabel and workstand six or eight chairs crockery ware &c. Tooles
and machinery as follows 1 planing machine 1 upright boaring machine 1
circular saw, irons for an upright saw morticing machine 1 turning
lathe and belting 1 doz of hand screws 1 copper pot to make varnish in,
two dimejons 3-5 gls. each for varnish and oil tooles for cutting bench
screws &c likewise 1 cow 3 cosset sheep 1 yew & 2 wethers the cow 11
years old and little lame in one foot otherways a veryry good cow, also
a verry light handcart. There are other articles not mentioned perhaps
that might be usful to the Association that would be thrown in for the
benefit of all.
The Association can consider the above articles and select wat articles
would be usful or beneficial and let me know their action thereon at
the next meeting of the Association If I should be called to visit my
family before the next meeting you will pleas direct a line to me.
Yours--
ROBERT DAY.
The Brook Farm wits would say that the writer of the above letter
should go to college "for a _spell_."
_Seeking Success in Life._
LOCKPORT, Oct. 28, 1842.
DEAR FRIENDS, if I may so call you: I read in the New York _Tribune_ a
piece taken from the _Dial_, headed "The West Roxbury Community." Now
what I want to know is, can I and my children be admitted into your
society, _and be better off than we are here?_ I have enough of the
plainest kind to eat and wear. I have no _home_ but what we hire from
year to year. I have _no property_ but movables, and not a cent to
spare when the year comes round. I have _three children_, two boys and
one girl: the oldest fourteen, the youngest nine. Now I want to educate
them. How shall I do it in the country? There is no chance but ordinary
schools. To move into the village I could not bring the year round, and
the danger they would be exposed to without a father to restrain their
wanderings, would be an undertaking more than I dare attempt.
Now if you should presume to let me come, where can I live? Can our
industry and economy clothe us for the year? Can I keep a cow? How can
I be supplied with fire in that _dear place?_ How can I _pay my school
bills?_ How can I find all the necessary requisites for my children to
advance in learning? If I should wish to leave in two or three or five
years, could I and mine, if I paid my way whilst there? If you should
let me come, and I _think best to go, how shall I get there?_ What
would be my _best and cheapest route?_
How should I proceed with what I have here, sell all off or bring a
part? I have three beds and bedding, one cow and ordinary things enough
to keep house. My children are all called tolerable scholars. My
daughter is the youngest; _the neighbors call her an interesting
child._ I have no pretensions to make; my only object is to _enjoy the
good of the society_ and have my children _educated and accomplished._
Am I to send my boys off to work alone, or will they have a _kind
person_ to say, "_Come boys_," and _relieve me from the heavy task of
bringing up my boys_ with nothing to _do it with?_
If your religion has a name I should like well enough to know it; if
not, and the substance is love to God and good-will to men, my mind is
well enough satisfied. I have reflected on this subject ever since I
read the article alluded to, and now I want you to write me _every
particular;_ then if you and I think best, in the spring I will come to
you. We are none of us what may be called weakly. I am forty-six years
old; able to do as much every day as to spin what is called a day's
work--not that I expect you spin much there, only that is the amount of
my strength as it now holds out.
I should wish to seek _intelligence_, as you must know 1 lack greatly,
and I _cannot endure the thought_ my children must lack as greatly,
whilst multitudes are going so far in advance, no better qualified by
nature than they. I want you to _send me quite a number of names of
your leading characters_. If it should seem strange to you that I make
the demand, I will explain it to you when I get there. I want you to
answer _every item_ of this letter and as much more as _can have any
bearing on my mind_, either way, whether you accept this letter _kindly
or not_. I want you to write an answer without delay! Are there
meetings for _us to attend?_ Do you have singing schools?
I do thus far feel friendly to your society.
Direct your letter to, etc.
M. R. JOHNSON.
_A Southern Applicant._
ALEXANDRIA, BENTON CO., ALA., July 13, 1845.
_Mr. G. Ripley,_