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MY FRIENDS AT 
 BROOK FARM 
 
 BY 
 John Van Der Zee Seaes 
 
 New York 
 Desmond FitzGerald, Inc. 
 
CoPTKISHT, 1913 
 
 Bt Desmond FitzGerald, Inc. 
 
TO MY FRIEND 
 
 JOSEPH HORNOR COATES, Esa. 
 
 OF PHILADELPHIA 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I The Old Colonie 1 
 
 II Friend Greeley 16 
 
 III A Stranger in a Strange Land . 36 
 
 IV A Bad Beginning 49 
 
 V A Good Ending 66 
 
 VI Entertainments 80 
 
 VII The School 107 
 
 VIII Oddments 131 
 
 IX Fourier and the Farmers . . . 148 
 
 X Unto This Last 163 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 John Van Deb Zee Seat?,s . 
 
 . Frontispiece 
 
 Horace Greeley . 
 
 Facing Page 16 
 
 Ealph "WatiDo Emerson . 
 
 34 
 
 "The Hive" .... 
 
 50 
 
 Charles A. Dana . 
 
 86 
 
 The Pageant .... 
 
 " 100 
 
 A Pioneer Kindergarten . 
 
 " 108 
 
 Nathaniel Hawthorne . 
 
 " 114 
 
CHAPTEE I 
 THE OLD COLONIE 
 
 IN May, 1624, the Dutch packet New 
 Netherlands sailed up the Hudson 
 Eiver to the head of navigation, bringing a 
 company of eighteen families under the 
 leadership of Adrian Joris. The immi- 
 grants landed at a little trading post called 
 Beaverwick kept by one Tiee Oesterhout, 
 a pioneer hunter, married to a Mohawk 
 Squaw. In a few days a party of Indians, 
 probably Mohawks, waited on the new- 
 comers and politely made inquiry as to 
 their object in entering upon Indian lands 
 without notice or permission ; Tice Oester- 
 hout and his wife acting as interpreters. 
 Joris replied that they came in peace and 
 hoped to abide in peace on friendly terms 
 with the Indians. He was told that he 
 and his people would be welcome if they 
 joined the universal peace union of the 
 
2 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 Iroquois, and not otherwise. This prop- 
 osition the settlers agreed to by acclama- 
 tion. In due course the General Council 
 of the Five Nations accepted the Colony 
 as a member of the Iroquois Federation. 
 Joris was recognized as the Civil Chief of 
 the little community, and, as he was a 
 Walloon, his people became the Walloon 
 Nation of the Great Peace Alliance. The 
 Great Peace was the treaty forming the 
 basis of the Iroquois Federation. The 
 Colonists, instead of making a treaty with 
 the Indians, gave their adhesion to one 
 already made, thereby securing safety and 
 a practical monopoly of the fur trade on 
 the upper Hudson. They sent annual 
 presents to the Iroquois General Council, 
 which were doubtless received as tribute 
 in recognition of sovereignty, but the Wal- 
 loon Nation did not seem to care very 
 much about the sovereignty business so 
 long as the fur business continued to pros- 
 per, as it did for the next half century. 
 
 Two score or so of Walloons did not 
 constitute a very formidable nation but the 
 
THE OLD COLONIE 3 
 
 men were reinforced by the women who 
 had an equal voice not only in local affairs 
 but in the General Council of the Federa- 
 tion. 
 
 The settlers built their houses on the 
 Indian trail leading Westward to which 
 they gave the name of Beaver street — 
 their grand boulevard which must have 
 been two or three squares long. Beaver 
 Street was the main highway of the Wal- 
 loon Nation and was the center of the "Old 
 Colonic " as the Dutch neighborhood was 
 subsequently called. Under English rule, 
 the "Old Colonic" or Beaverwiek was 
 merged with Fort Orange and Eensselaer- 
 wick, these, collectively, being named Al- 
 bany in honor of the Duke of York, Al- 
 bany being one of his titles. 
 
 The Dutch of the "Old Colonie" did not 
 take kindly to the supremacy of the Eng- 
 lish. They obeyed the laws and the con- 
 stituted authorities but they stubbornly 
 maintained their autonomy as far as prac- 
 ticable, holding aloof from their English 
 neighbors, keeping to their own language, 
 
4 MY FEIBNDS AT BEOOK FARM 
 
 their own manners and customs, and their 
 own habits of life, generation after gen- 
 eration. As the "Old Colonie" extended 
 its borders and new elements were added 
 to its population, these Dutch character- 
 istics were gradually modified and finally 
 disappeared altogether, but they resisted 
 modern influences many years and as late 
 as the middle of the nineteenth century, 
 evidences of Dutch ancestry were still to 
 be noticed among the people of the "Old 
 Colonie." 
 
 My father's house, where I was born, 
 stood on the south side of Beaver street 
 next to that of the Ostranders where the 
 last Walloon Civil Chief was said to have 
 lived. As a child I heard Dutch spoken 
 in the street, in the stores and the market. 
 We spoke Dutch, more or less, at home, 
 and no other language at my grandfather's 
 farm. The Sears family came from Cape 
 Cod, but my mother was a Van Der Zee, 
 and although the first Van Der Zee came 
 from Holland in 1642, the family was as 
 Dutch as ever in 1842, two centuries later. 
 
THE OLD COLONIB 5 
 
 Mother learned English at school but 
 spoke it very little until after her mar- 
 riage, and then crooned nursery rhymes 
 in Dutch to her children; "Trip a trop a 
 tronches," "Wat zegt Mynhur Papa," etc. 
 
 My father's store was '*on the Pier," 
 which is equivalent to saying he was a 
 flour merchant. The Pier was a sort of 
 bulkhead between the canal basin and the 
 river, and it was occupied by a single row 
 of buildings, all of which were flour stores. 
 The Genesee Valley was a famous wheat 
 growing country in the first half of the 
 nineteenth century, and the grain was 
 ground in Eochester and shipped down the 
 Erie Canal to Albany, the receiving and 
 distributing center for the trade. My 
 father made business trips to New York, 
 and, sometimes, as far east as Boston, 
 in those days a long journey. He usually 
 arranged to go "down the river" in the 
 Spring, having, beside his own affairs, 
 commissions to fill as delegate to one or 
 more of the May Conventions. 
 
 The May Conventions were annual 
 
6 MY FBIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 gatherings of religious bodies, philan- 
 thropic organizations, reform associations, 
 literary associations, educational associa- 
 tions and all sorts of associations for the 
 improvement of the human race in general 
 and the American people in particular. 
 The Friends yearly Meeting, the Confer- 
 ence of the American Anti-Slavery socie- 
 ties, the Grahamites or Vegetarians, the 
 Temperance advocates and other up- 
 holders of beneficent, benevolent, and Uto- 
 pian ideals assembled on these occasions, 
 and with much eloquence, made it clear to 
 the meanest understanding that the uni- 
 versal adoption of the principles especially 
 professed by each would do away with all 
 evil in the world and bring about a re- 
 turn of the Golden Age. 
 
 My mother did not always attend the 
 May Conventions, but whenever she went, 
 she took one of us children with her. My 
 first visit to New York was made as an 
 unqualified member of the Albany delega- 
 tion to something or other, I forget what. 
 One thing I do not forget, however, and 
 
THE OLD COLONIE 7 
 
 that is hearing Horace Greeley make an 
 address, and afterward being puffed up 
 with pride when the orator chatted famil- 
 iarly with his small admirer at dinner in 
 our hotel on Barclay Street. 
 
 When my mother was absent from home, 
 the family was left in charge of our 
 courtesy Aunt Catholina Van Olinda who 
 kept the house with my elder sister Althea, 
 while I was dispatched for the time to 
 my grandfather's farm. I was very much 
 at home on the farm and spent many 
 happy days there in early childhood, being 
 regarded as a sort of heir apparent by 
 the principal personages there, namely, 
 my grandfather, John Van Der Zee the 
 elder, and Tone and Cleo. The last 
 named, Antony and Cleopatra, to speak 
 properly, were ancient negroes born and 
 brought up on the farm and rarely leav- 
 ing it in all their long lives. They were 
 slaves, inasmuch as they disdained to be 
 emancipated, and "free niggers" they- 
 looked down on with contempt. They be- 
 longed to the Van Der Zee place and the 
 
8 MY FEIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 place belonged to them, and not to belong 
 to anybody or to any place was, to tl ir 
 apprehension, very like being a houseless 
 and homeless pauper. As I was John Van 
 Zee the younger, according to their genea- 
 logy the natural successor of Baas Hans, 
 they extended to me assurances of their 
 most distinguished consideration. My 
 father, Charles Sears, was not in the line 
 of succession, he being English or in other 
 words a foreigner. They tolerated him, 
 partly because he spoke to them in Dutch, 
 the only language they knew or cared any- 
 thing about, and partly because he was, 
 after all, a member of the family by mar- 
 riage. As he always brought a book in 
 hand when visiting the farm, they made 
 sure he was a drukker — ^that is, a printer 
 or bookseller or something of that vain 
 and frivolous description. Cleo attained 
 great age, overrunning the century mark. 
 In her later years she came by inheritance 
 to my mother, and so rather curiously, 
 it happened that while my father openly 
 professed anti-slavery sentiments, my 
 
THE OLD COLONIE 9 
 
 mother was a slaveholder, presumably one 
 of^'the last of that class in the state of 
 New York. 
 
 One of our neighbors in the Old Colonic 
 was Thurlow Weed, the Boss of the Whig 
 party in the Empire State, and the 
 founder, proprietor and editor of the Al- 
 bany Evening Journal, one of the most in- 
 fluential papers in the country. Father 
 was on terms of near-intimacy with Mr. 
 Weed, and this brought him in touch with 
 Horace Greeley. Father, though never a 
 politician, was interested in party affairs 
 and in constant communication with the 
 Old Line Whigs of the Henry Clay follow- 
 ing, and I am under the impression that 
 the consultations of the political firm of 
 Seward, Weed and Greeley were some- 
 times held in father's library. When he 
 was editing the "Log Cabin" the party 
 paper in the first Harrison campaign, Mr. 
 Greeley was often a guest at our house, 
 and at that period, he and father formed 
 a warm friendship which continued during 
 the remainder of their lives. 
 
10 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 Having referred to Mr. Weed as the 
 Boss of the Whig party in New York 
 State, I think it due to the memory of an 
 honorable man to state my belief that 
 he never made one dollar out of politics. 
 He gave a great deal of service and a 
 great deal of money to the promotion 
 of his political ideas, but never received 
 a penny in return. He was a Boss in- 
 deed, directing party affairs with the 
 strong hand of a Dictator, but he sought 
 no profit and gained none, not even the 
 thanks of those he served. So far from 
 bettering his fortunes, his public activi- 
 ties involved constant demands upon his 
 private purse. Not only party friends but 
 party enemies called on Thurlow Weed 
 for help when in distress, knowing that 
 his hands would be open and his lips 
 closed. Closed they were, but it was gen- 
 erally understood in the Old Colonic that 
 the many seedy and needy applicants com- 
 ing to his door must have made serious in- 
 roads on his income. 
 
 One noticeable case was that of a saloon- 
 
THE OLD COLONIB 11 
 
 keeper, a Whig politician in a small way, 
 ■who was supposed to control the "canal 
 vote," that is the vote of the floating 
 population in the canal basin, among whom 
 were boatmen ready to cast their ballots 
 either way for a price. Mr. Weed did not 
 approve of this man or of his methods, 
 and the fellow went over to the Locofocos, 
 bag and baggage. He took with him an 
 ugly grudge against the Whig Boss and 
 vented his spite in lies, slanders and def- 
 amations of the foulest kind. For years 
 he made all the trouble he possibly could, 
 but being a drinking man, he meanwhile 
 drifted down hill, deviously but without a 
 stop. When he had reached the bottom, 
 in utter destitution, he came to Mr. Weed 
 begging for aid — and he got it. More 
 than that, after his death his children were 
 supported until they could take care of 
 themselves, and the costs, as we could not 
 help knowing, were paid by our Beaver 
 Street neighbor. 
 
 A final memory of Mr. Weed lingers in 
 my mind, to the discredit of those who 
 
12 MY FEIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 should have been his grateful friends. 
 The last time I called on him was 
 when he was living in New York with 
 his daughter, I think in Broome Street. 
 On greeting him I noted that he 
 was much disturbed by some annoy- 
 ance which he could neither conceal nor 
 throw off with his old-time bouyancy of 
 spirit. 
 
 His agitation was so evident and so un- 
 usual that I ventured to inquire as to the 
 trouble which so vexed his serene temper. 
 In reply he took up a copy of a prominent 
 New York morning paper and pointed to 
 a sub-editorial in which he was referred 
 to by name as "a veteran lagging super- 
 fluous on the stage." 
 
 That was* the most unkindest cut of all. 
 Mr. Weed was at that time living in re- 
 tirement, but he still contributed vigorous 
 and timely articles to the editorial columns 
 of this same journal. He was grievously 
 hurt by the gratuitous affront to which he 
 had been so rudely subjected, but all he 
 said was, "I may be superfluous, but no 
 
THE OLD COLONIE 13 
 
 one can truthfully say I ever was a lag- 
 gard." 
 
 I believe the management of the paper 
 apologized privately for the stupid insult, 
 ascribing the sub-editorial to one of the 
 juniors, and expressing regret that it 
 should have been inadvertently printed. 
 All the same, Thurlow Weed never wrote 
 another editorial, the untoward incident 
 putting an end to the labor of a long and 
 arduous journalistic career. 
 
 Across the way from Mr. "Weed's resi- 
 dence in the Old Colonie was the Van Ant- 
 werp house, bearing the date 1640 in iron 
 figures at the peak of the gable which 
 fronted the street. It was built of yellow 
 brick — or at least the gable front was so 
 built — and the Van Antwerp legend was 
 that these bricks were imported from Ant- 
 werp, the native town of their family. 
 The last descendant was Juferouw Cor- 
 nelia Van Antwerp who kept a little school 
 in the basement of her dwelling, the family 
 fortune having dwindled until this home 
 was about the only property left to the 
 
14 MY FEIBNDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 Juferouw. In this school my sister 
 Althea and I were taught the three E's 
 and not much else. The ancient Dutch 
 spinster was a lady, well-bred, dignified 
 and courteous, who held a high place in 
 the elect circle or Old Colonic society, and 
 was not the less esteemed because of her 
 straitened circumstances. Her walk and 
 conversation were no doubt edifying, but 
 the curriculum of her scholastic institute 
 possibly left something to be desired in 
 the departments of higher education. She 
 had one available qualification for her 
 position, however, — ^being an expert in 
 making and mending quill pens. She 
 spent much of her time during school 
 hours in shaping these writing instru- 
 ments, and I imagine she eked out her 
 slender income by supplying pens to the 
 neighbors. 
 
 The public schools were, in those days, 
 looked upon as public charities, and these 
 were not attended by children whose par- 
 ents or guardians could afford to pay for 
 private instruction which, whether better 
 
THE OLD COLONIE 15 
 
 or worse, did not at all events, suggest 
 poverty. So it came about, that father, 
 on returning from one of his journeys 
 eastward, brought home the idea of send- 
 ing Althea and myself to school at Brook 
 Farm. 
 
CHAPTER II , 
 FRIEND GREELEY 
 
 WHEN Mr. Greeley first came to our 
 house, I was not very favorably im- 
 pressed by his appearance. He was tall 
 and strongly built with broad shoulders 
 somewhat bent forward, a smooth face, 
 fair complexion and very light hair worn 
 rather long. He was near-sighted and, 
 like other near-sighted folk had a way of 
 peering forward as he walked, and this 
 with his heavy lurching gait, gave him a 
 very awkward, countrified carriage. He 
 remarked in my presence at a later time, 
 "I learned to walk in the furrows of a 
 New Hampshire farm and the clogging 
 clay has stuck to my feet ever since." 
 
 His voice was thin and high-pitched, a 
 small voice for such a big man, as we 
 thought, and he had an abrupt manner of 
 withdrawing attention that was to us 
 rather disconcerting until we got used to 
 
 16 
 
Horace Greeley 
 
FEIEND GEEELEY 17 
 
 it. His pockets were bulging with news- 
 papers and memoranda, scrawled in the 
 curiously obscure handwriting which I 
 subsequently found much difficulty in 
 learning to read, though it was plain 
 enough when the meaning of the strange 
 hieroglyphics intended for letters was 
 once fully understood. He was pressed 
 with business during his brief visits but 
 found time to make friends with the 
 juveniles of the family and we learned to 
 welcome him with real pleasure. My 
 mother noted that we made him smile, and 
 that went far in establishing intimacy. 
 Horace Greeley's rare smile revealed 
 beauty of character and that charity com- 
 mended by St. Paul as greater than faith 
 or hope ; a smile more nearly angelic than 
 we often see in this mundane environ- 
 ment. 
 
 His peculiarities of dress have been, I 
 think, much exaggerated by common gos- 
 sip. He wanted his clothes made big and 
 easy, and he wore them a long time and 
 somewhat negligently, but that was be- 
 
18 MY FEIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 cause lie had other things to mind and not 
 in the least because he affected singu- 
 larity. I was with him a good deal as a 
 boy and as a young man and I am sure he 
 spoke truly when in response to some 
 friendly advice concerning these matters, 
 he said "I buy good cloth, go to a good 
 tailor and pay a good price, and that is 
 all I can do about it." 
 
 The popular phrase about Greeley's old 
 white coat had some foundation in fact, 
 but not much. He did wear a light drab 
 overcoat when I first saw him, with the 
 full pockets spreading out on each side. 
 As it suited him he wore it many years 
 afterward, and when it was quite worn 
 out he had another one made just like it 
 which he wore many years more. I doubt 
 if he ever had more than two of these 
 famous garments, but it is true that these 
 two, always supposed to be the same old 
 white coat, were known all over the North- 
 ern part of the country. As late as the 
 first Grant presidential campaign, Elder 
 Evans, inviting him to make an address 
 
FRIEND GEEELEY 19 
 
 before the Shaker community at Harvard, 
 Mass., asked him to please bring "the old 
 white coat, that our folk may know it is 
 you, for sure." 
 
 It is possible there may have been some 
 little feeling of resentment against this 
 sort of patronage expressed in the drag- 
 ging on of the old white coat with the 
 sleeves awry and the collar turned under, 
 but I am sure that as a rule Mr. Greeley 
 gave very little thought as to wherewithal 
 he would be clothed. 
 
 Horace Greeley never had half a chance 
 to develop the finer qualities of his na- 
 ture — and he knew it. He was a tremen- 
 dous worker and as an aggressive editor, 
 an ambitious politician and an ardent re- 
 former, driven like a steam engine, he 
 could give little heed to the slings and 
 arrows of outrageous fortune, but he was 
 sensitive as a girl to rebuffs bringing to 
 mind what might have been. Among 
 friends with whom he felt at home 
 and in really congenial company, he 
 was a different being from the hard 
 
20 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 hitting fighter and eccentric philoso- 
 pher known to the public. At our home 
 he was with the children like a child, 
 genial and companionable as an elder 
 brother. In the house of the Carey sis- 
 ters, where I saw him years later, he was 
 happy and care-free. Phoebe and Alice 
 Carey, poets and essayists, had Sunday 
 evening gatherings at their home in New 
 York, where the choice spirits of the liter- 
 ary world held converse after the manner 
 of their kind, as at the assemblies in the 
 Paris salons of the 18th century. In this 
 company Mr. Greeley was at his best, 
 animated, witty and charmingly affable. 
 He realized, only too well, that his best 
 was wasted in the strife which was his 
 daily portion and which ended in the disas- 
 trous defeat that cost him his life. The 
 flashes of aroused egotism that sometimes 
 blazed out in red-hot words, were only 
 signs of impatience and regret that he had 
 been deprived of opportunity to cultivate 
 the amenities and graces of life and to 
 gain control of the higher powers he con- 
 
FRIEND GEBELBY 21 
 
 scioiisly possessed. Any one who will 
 take the trouble to-day to read his later 
 writings, his tribute to old friends and his 
 essays like that on "Growing Old Grace- 
 fully," will be led to know that Horace 
 Greeley had the soul of a poet. 
 
 Through acquaintance with Thurlow 
 Weed my father came to know Mr. Gree- 
 ley and through Mr. Greeley he came to 
 know Dr. George Eipley and the circle 
 of literary folk in Boston of which he was 
 the center. Boston was not at that time 
 a literary city. If there was a seat of 
 literature in America, then, it was to be 
 found in Philadelphia, there being very 
 little visible evidence of literary activity, 
 in the three-hilled town; no Old Comer 
 Book Store, no publishing house like Tick- 
 nor and Fields, no Scarlet Letter, no At- 
 lantic Monthly and no Evening Tran- 
 script, subsequently one of the best news- 
 papers from a literary point of view this 
 country ever had. There was, however, at 
 the period referred to, about 1840, a 
 coterie of brilliant intellectual people in 
 
22 MY PEIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 Boston and Cambridge many of whom at- 
 tained, later, some degree of eminence in 
 the literary world. 
 
 These were young men and women of 
 fine culture, liberal in opinion and 
 animated by a new spirit of the times 
 which was in this country first manifested 
 in their midst. At that period a wave 
 of interest in what was then known as 
 social reform swept over France and 
 Germany and reached our shores in Mas- 
 sachusetts Bay, eventually extending all 
 through the north and northwest, convey- 
 ing new social and political ideas to thou- 
 sands of intelligent Americans. These 
 new ideas were discussed at the meetings 
 of the thinking young folk above referred 
 to, at which meetings they also held other 
 high debates on matters philosophic, 
 poetic, educational, etc. They eventually 
 established a periodical as their organ 
 called The Dial, a publication which 
 immediately attracted wide attention by 
 the admirable literary style of its articles 
 as well as by their originality and com- 
 
FRIEND GREELEY 23 
 
 manding interest. The Dial had the 
 effect of imparting greater cohesion to the 
 company of editors, contributors and oth- 
 ers interested in its publication, and these 
 presently became known to the world as 
 the Transcendentalists ; a word borrowed 
 from Germany and rather too formidable 
 for general use in our busy country. 
 
 Whether they were overweighted by 
 their ponderous title or whether they 
 created an artificial atmosphere too ethe- 
 rial for common mortals, the first genera- 
 tion of Transcendentalists was also the 
 last. They had no successors and The 
 Dial, as their organ, was short lived. It 
 undoubtedly exercised a considerable in- 
 fluence in its day ; and individual members 
 of the long-named fraternity did much to 
 mould the thought of the American people 
 in after years. Among these were Ralph 
 Waldo Emerson, Bronson Alcott, George 
 William Curtis, Francis George Shaw, 
 translator of Eugene Sue and of George 
 Sand, and father of Colonel Eobert Shaw, 
 Margaret Fuller, Theodore Parker, Dr. 
 
+ 24 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 Howe and his fiancee Julia Ward, Charles 
 A. Dana, John S. Dwight and perhaps a 
 score of other bright spirits. Occasional 
 attendants at their gatherings and con- 
 tributors to The Dial were Horace Gree- 
 ley, William Page, afterward President of 
 The National Academy of Design, Thomas 
 Wentworth Higginson and my father, 
 Charles Sears. Their acknowledged leader 
 was the Rev. George Eipley, the founder 
 of Brook Farm. 
 
 I do not know anything more about this 
 old time Transcendentalism than I do 
 about the Pragmatism of our day, and 
 that is not much. I believe the two 
 schools of thought were alike in this, they 
 both held that modern civilization has 
 gone sadly and badly astray in the pur- 
 suit of wealth. Not money but the love 
 of money is, now as ever, the root of all 
 evil. [The first work of the makers of 
 America was necessarily the creation of 
 property, the accumulation of the means 
 of life, but we have pushed this pursuit 
 too far, have gone money mad not know- 
 
FRIEND GREELEY 25 
 
 ing when we should stop trying to get rich 
 and give our time and attention to higher 
 things.') 
 
 There is another matter to be noted as 
 of some significance namely that leading 
 Transcendentalists were, and leading 
 Pragmatists now are, scholars and uni- 
 versity men. It is true America was not 
 turning out university men in the '40 's 
 and it might perhaps better be said that 
 the Transcendentalists were college men, 
 but as several of them were educated in 
 Germany the connotation may be allowed 
 to stand. It was said of these learned stu- 
 dents that at their meetings they read 
 Dante in the original Italian, Hegel in the 
 original German, Swedenborg in the orig- 
 inal Latin, which language the Swedish 
 seer always used, Charles Fourier in the 
 original French, and perhaps the hardest 
 task of all, Margaret Fuller in the orig- 
 inal English. Margaret was an honored 
 member of the illustrious company and 
 was held in high esteem ; but her writings 
 are mighty hard reading. I can quite un- 
 
26 MY FRIENDS AT BKOOK FARM 
 
 derstand James Eussell Lowell's judgment 
 in Ms "Fable For Critics" where lie con- 
 demns a certain literary offender to 
 severe punishment, sentencing him to 30 
 days at hard labor, reading the works of 
 Margaret Fuller. 
 
 It was, as above said, after one of his 
 visits to Boston that my father came home 
 with the suggestion of sending Althea and 
 myself to school at Brook Farm, The 
 idea met with a good deal of opposition 
 from the Dutch side of the house, which 
 was my side for all I was worth, but I 
 suppose father opined that it was time 
 some of the provincialism of the Old 
 Colonie should be rubbed off. Through 
 his acquaintance with Thurlow Weed he 
 came to know Mr. Greeley and through Mr. 
 Greeley was introduced to Dr. Eipley and 
 the Transcendentalists, gaining, by the 
 way, broader views and a wider range of 
 ideas than those which had prevailed in 
 Beaver Street for two hundred years. 
 Such, I take it was the sequence of events, 
 not as noted by a little boy but as partly 
 
FEIEND GREELEY 27 + 
 
 imagined and partly reasoned out at a 
 later time. Partly imagined, too, is the 
 presumption that my father was attracted 
 by the philosophic ideals presented by his 
 Boston friends. A tired business man 
 might well be impressed by (the Tran- 
 scendental teaching that our civilization 
 has gone wrong in forcing all human 
 energy into the one pursuit, that of get- 
 ting riches. They held that while hard 
 work rarely harms any one, the monoto- 
 nous grind in the money making mills re- 
 sults in arrested development. Work as 
 hard as you please, spend all the energy, 
 all the talent, all the skill you have but 
 not in seeking wealth. That is not worth 
 while, and it prevents the doing of what 
 is worth while. Do your best in the 
 world ; give all you can, but be sure to get 
 a fair return, not in money but in better 
 things. Seek culture, seek knowledge, 
 seek character, seek friendship, good will, 
 good health, good conscience, and the peace 
 that passeth understanding shall be 
 added unto you. Be content with a small 
 
28 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 measure of this world's wealth and do not 
 crave costly luxuries to make a show 
 withal. To this end, go out into the 
 country; raise what you need as far as 
 possible with your own hands, and enough 
 more to exchange for such things as you 
 cannot produce.) Abandon the world, the 
 flesh and the Devil and go back to the soil 
 and find the Garden of Eden^ 
 
 My father accepted these teachings in 
 good faith and gave in his testimony with 
 those who in The Dial and through other 
 agencies were propagating the new phi- 
 losophy. His engagements with others 
 were such that he could not break 
 away at the time to put these novel ideas 
 to the test of actual experiment but no 
 doubt he thought it wise and well to give 
 his children an early initiation into the 
 new life that was to regenerate the world. 
 
 Dr. Eipley was, as said, the leader of 
 the Transcendental coterie and he had all 
 the vitalizing enthusiasm that a leader 
 must necessarily possess. He was a 
 solidly built man of medium height with 
 
FRIEND GREELEY 29 
 
 brown hair and beard and the kindest eyes 
 in the world. He was a Unitarian clergy- 
 man, a scholar learned in all the learning 
 of the Egyptians and all the other learned 
 peoples of every age and clime, and a 
 gentleman of the most engagingly cour- 
 teous address ; his good manners rested on 
 bed rock foundations, too, and could not 
 be corrupted by evil communications. I 
 saw him more than once in straits harsh 
 enough to try the patience of a saint, and 
 noted with surprised admiration that his 
 perfect poise was not in the least dis- 
 turbed. 
 
 It was Dr. Eipley who, having the cour- 
 age of his convictions, bravely suggested 
 putting in practice the principles he and 
 his Transcendental friends advocated in 
 theory. "We talk well," he said, in 
 effect, "why not try to do the thing which 
 we say?" And he did. With a few of 
 these friends, like-minded, he went out to 
 West Eoxbury; six miles from Boston, 
 and bought a farm of 200 acres. Being 
 unusually bright folk, remarkably intelli- 
 
30 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 gent, Mghly educated and, as may be said, 
 brilliantly enlightened, they succeeded, al- 
 most beyond belief, in making a woefully 
 bad bargain. I do not know how much 
 they paid for the land but whatever the 
 price it was too high. The property was 
 picturesque to look at but its best herbage 
 was sheep-sorrel. Next the brook, which 
 gave the name. Brook Farm, there was a 
 fair bit of meadow, with a rounded hill 
 called the Knoll rising sharply on the 
 north. The land rolled unevenly on, one- 
 eighth of a mile or so, to higher ground 
 and then fell off again to a level plateau 
 covered with pine woods, beyond which 
 were two or three fields of plow-land. 
 The soil was thin, sandy where it was not 
 rocky, and rocky where it was not sandy. 
 It was a poor place, indeed, and had been 
 poorly farmed until it was as lean as 
 Pharaoh's second herd of kine. It speaks 
 well for these unsophisticated philosophers 
 that in four years they made this desert 
 to rejoice and blossom as the rose; culti- 
 vating the finest market gardens and 
 
FRIEND GREELEY 31 
 
 flower-gardens in Eoxbnry, planting or- 
 chards and vineyards, and growing pastur- 
 age for a profitable dairy. 
 {li the amateur farmers were dismayed 
 on finding what a hard row they had to 
 hoe on this impoverished estate, they 
 never complained, so far as I have heard, 
 but resolutely set about the work they had 
 to do. rThey came out to try a certain 
 social experiment; an experiment in living 
 a higher kind of life than that of their 
 day and generation, resting on the faith 
 that such a life can be lived here and now 
 as well as heretofore in the legendary 
 "Golden Age" of the past, or as here- 
 after in the "good time coming" of the 
 future. The one purpose they enter- 
 tained was to dwell together in unity 
 "near to the heart of nature," a phrase 
 attributed to Margaret Fuller. All other 
 considerations, whether of hardship, or 
 bad beginnings or disappointments were 
 but secondary if they could succeed in dem- 
 onstrating the practicability of their 
 high ideals. '\ 
 
32 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 Perhaps it is not a matter of much in- 
 terest to the present generation but to us 
 it has always seemed that these Brook 
 Farmers deserve to be favorably remem- 
 bered. They were not martyrs, being, on 
 the contrary, an unusually joyous and 
 happy company, but, all the same, they 
 gave the best of their lives to the service 
 of humanity. C They honestly and earn- 
 estly believed they could demonstrate the 
 practicability of their theories, to the ad- 
 vantage of their fellow-beings, and they 
 faithfully tried to accomplish that pur- 
 pose.) If the Pilgrims of Plymouth de- 
 serve honor for unselfish devotion to re- 
 ligious reform, why should not the Brook 
 Farm pioneers of social reform receive 
 correspondingly suitable recognition. It 
 is true they did not immediately attain the 
 ends they sought but neither did the Pil- 
 grims; and the end is not yet. 
 
 It should be said that not all the Tran- 
 scendentalists joined Doctor Eipley in his 
 Utopian undertaking. Ealph Waldo Em- 
 erson for example was not of our com- 
 
PEIEND GREELEY 33 
 
 pany. Indeed, he was not of any com- 
 pany. An inspiring preacher he gained 
 early fame as a pulpit orator in the First 
 Unitarian Church of Cambridge, Mass., 
 but even the liberal communion of that 
 free congregation was too close for his in- 
 dependent spirit, and he abandoned a 
 career of brilliant promise in the ministry, 
 a^ he said, "for his soul's peace." Sui 
 generis, to be himself he must stand alone, 
 and alone he stood during the remainder 
 of his life. 
 
 A stanza of his poem, "The Problem" 
 doubtless expresses something of his sen- 
 timents with regard to religious affilia- 
 tion: 
 
 "I like a church, I like a cowl, 
 I love a prophet of the soul, 
 And on my heart monastic aisles 
 Fall like sweet strains or pensive smiles, 
 Yet not for all his faith can see 
 "Would I that cowled churchman be." 
 
 Of all the visitors coming to Brook 
 Farm, I think Emerson was the most wel- 
 
34 MY FEIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 come. He was beloved by everyone from 
 Dr. Eipley, dear friend and brother clergy- 
 man, to Abby Morton's little ones. The 
 messages of cheer and the words of wis- 
 dom he brought were received and treas- 
 ured with intelligent appreciation. I have 
 heard it said that Emerson was at his best 
 when talking in monologue of an evening 
 at the Hive, or in more formal discourse 
 in the grove on Sunday. He was com- 
 panionable and entered into the life of the 
 place with evident enjoyment — Chappy but 
 not jovial. He smiled readily and most 
 charmingly, but never laughed. As a young 
 man his personality was most attractive, 
 serene loving-kindness illumining his 
 comely countenance! My mother, also a 
 serene spirit, thought his face the most 
 beautiful she ever saw; and she was sure 
 that laughter would be unseemly and dis- 
 turbing, 
 
 Emerson liked to be with us at times, 
 but never to be one of us. In the begin- 
 ning Dr. Eipley wrote him a cordial in- 
 vitation to join the association, the only in- 
 
Ralph Waldo Emerson 
 
FRIEND GREELEY 35 
 
 vitation of tlie kind lie ever gave, I be- 
 lieve. The invitation was declined in a 
 note quoted by Eev. 0. B. Frotbingbam 
 in bis admirable biograpby of Dr. Eipley, 
 as follows: 
 
 *'It is quite time tbat I made an answer 
 to your proposition tbat I sbould venture 
 into your new community. Tbe design 
 appears to me noble and generous, pro- 
 ceeding as I plainly see from notbing 
 covert or selfisb or ambitious but from a 
 manly beart and mind. So it makes all 
 men its friends and debtors. A matter to 
 be entertained in a friendly spirit and ex- 
 amined as to wbat it has for us. 
 
 "I have decided not to join it, yet very 
 slowly and I may almost say, with peni- 
 tence. I am greatly relieved by learning 
 tbat your coadjutors are now so many tbat 
 you will no longer attach that importance 
 to the defection of individuals which you 
 hinted in your letter to me or others 
 might possess — I mean the painful power 
 of defeating tbe plan." 
 
CHAPTEE III 
 A STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND 
 
 RACIAL prejudice was cherished as a 
 virtue in the Old Colonie and the real, 
 solid Dutch families found it anything but 
 creditable that Van Der Zee children — ^we 
 had the honor of being regarded as Van Der 
 Zees in Beaver street — should be sent to 
 an English school in far off Boston town. 
 Massachusetts was, to them, an English 
 colony, and the people there were English, 
 that is to say, foreigners, strangers, and 
 not to be trusted. However, when it was 
 learned that we were actually going, and 
 mother set about making the elaborate 
 preparations considered necessary for so 
 formidable an undertaking, kind friends 
 came in bringing gifts deemed suitable for 
 the occasion, knitted mittens and mufflers, 
 pies and cakes, apples and cider, and 
 choice stores of the cellar and pantry 
 
 36 
 
A STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND 37 
 
 enough to provision a ship for a long 
 cruise. My nearest boy friend, Gratz Van 
 Eensselaer, gave me Ms knife. How close 
 were our relations may be understood 
 from the fact that we had a private signal, 
 a peculiar whistle of our own which we 
 used to call each other, as boys are wont 
 to do when on terms of exclusive intimacy. 
 To quote Mr. Peggotty, "A man can't say 
 fairer nor that, now, can he?" 
 
 When Gratz went down into his pockets 
 and handed me that knife in solemn 
 silence, I fully realized that he was mak- 
 ing a sacrifice on the altar of friendship. 
 Any critic of this writing will be justified 
 in objecting that I did not probably for- 
 mulate the idea in just these terms, but 
 this is about the size of it, all the same. 
 
 Whether my schoolmate ever afterward 
 used our call, I do not know, as our part- 
 ing was a finality, but for my part, I took 
 it with me to Brook Farm where my new 
 mates adopted it forthwith. Later, the 
 elders took it up, and eventually it became 
 widely known over the face of the earth 
 
38 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 as "th e Brook Far m call." It went to 
 California with a young married couple in 
 the early fifties ; to China with one of our 
 boys who became the Captain of a Pacific 
 steamer; to Spain and to Bussia with an- 
 other in the United States diplomatic serv- 
 ice; to Italy with two girls whose father 
 was an artist; to the Philippines with 
 students returning to their home in 
 Manila, and to all quarters where Brook 
 Farmers found their way, as they seem 
 always to have remembered it. 
 
 A peculiarity which may have helped keep 
 it in mind was that it consisted of two parts, 
 the summons, and the response; the first 
 part differing slightly from the second, to 
 distinguish friend answering friend from 
 the stranger merely imitating sounds ac- 
 cidentally or incidentally heard. Just 
 what the difference was may be learned 
 from the notation here given. 
 
 Another peculiarity of the call was that 
 it had the quality of taking character from 
 the person uttering it. For example, 
 Annie Page was the girl I most devotedly 
 
A STEANGER IN A STRANGE LAND 39 
 
 admired, and when "she gaed me her an- 
 swer true" in response to my signal, her 
 musical little trill sounded to me like the 
 voice of the thrush that sang down in the 
 
 The Brook Farm Call 
 
 ^u J J-. J^ J -J-'. J^TJ j 
 
 # 
 
 BOY'S ANSWERING CALL 
 
 m 
 
 mm 
 
 ! > !{- =}=:= ti Ij- ^t 
 
 GIRL'S ANSWERING CALL 
 
 pine woods. Per contra, there was Frank 
 Barlow, whom we used to call "Crazy 
 Barlow" because of his headlong rush at 
 whatever object he had in view, and he 
 could make the call shrill and thrill like a 
 fife. 
 
 I met Frank one morning ia the later 
 days of the Civil War when he was strid- 
 ing along Pennsylvania Avenue in Wash- 
 ington at his usual breakneck pace. He 
 
40 MY FEIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 was Major General Barlow, then, one of 
 the great generals of the Union Army, but 
 he was, first, last and always, a Brook 
 Farmer, so I signaled to him with the 
 same old call. He came to an abrupt halt, 
 answered my greeting and dashed across 
 the Avenue with both hands extended. 
 Neither of us had more than a short al- 
 lowance of time, but we could do no less 
 than adjourn to a convenient resort for a 
 good hearty talk about the old days in 
 West Koxbury. 
 
 Other experiences with the call have 
 come to me since then but none that I re- 
 member with more pleasure. To-day 
 there are few or none to answer, no mat- 
 ter how earnestly I might sound the old 
 appeal. As may be seen above, the little 
 succession of notes is very simple, but they 
 convey a world meaning to my old ear. 
 
 If two little Dutch boys in the Old 
 Colonie composed this memorable opus 
 they surely did better than they knew, but 
 my notion is they must have heard some- 
 thing like it and repeated the sounds with- 
 
A STEANGER IN A STRANGE LAND 41 
 
 out being aware that they were merely 
 memories, not original inventions. The 
 boatmen on the Erie Canal announced 
 their entry into the Albany basin by blow- 
 ing a horn, commonly a tin horn, harsh 
 and discordant. The passenger packets, 
 however, having to "come into port 
 grandly" sounded a bugle flourish, some- 
 times really melodious. It may have been 
 these bugle notes, impressing their sweet 
 succession on sub-conscious young minds, 
 that afforded the first suggestion of the 
 Brook Farm call. 
 
 As my readers may note with more or 
 less patience, it takes time for New 
 Netherland folk to get started on a long 
 journey. Ours was a long journey, in 
 truth, as it required two days and a night 
 to accomplish it. The express schedule 
 on the Boston and Albany Eailroad is four 
 hours between the two cities; but there 
 was no express travel in the forties except 
 by passenger packets on the Erie Canal, 
 above referred to. These fast flyers 
 
42 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 raced along at the top speed of four miles 
 an hour making stops only at the locks or 
 bridges or to change horses or to take 
 someone on board or to let someone step 
 ashore. If my mother's visits to her rela- 
 tives extended as far as Schenectady, she 
 made the journey in one of these Swift- 
 sure liners, perhaps the Swallow, or the 
 Gleam or the Alida, usually accompanied 
 by one or two of us children; and a very: 
 pleasant journey it was to be sure in fair 
 weather. To glide smoothly along through 
 the country on the deck of a canal boat is 
 a method of locomotion affording oppor- 
 tunities to view the landscape o'er with 
 much comfort and constant though not too 
 irapid changes of entertainment. Neces- 
 sarily running as near the shore as possi- 
 ble, a slight shift of the tiller by an oblig- 
 ing helmsman would enable a small boy to 
 effect a landing and take a quick look into 
 the canal blacksmith shop, or to walk a 
 stretch with the youth driving the horses, 
 and then re-embark without attracting too 
 much attention. In this leisurely prog- 
 
A STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND 43 
 
 ress througli towns and villages and 
 farming neighborhoods, something like a 
 real acquaintance could be made with per- 
 sons and with places not otherwise to be 
 formed except perhaps on a tour afoot. 
 Lasting friendships and even romances 
 have resulted, before now, from the ex- 
 change of greetings and gossip between 
 packet-passengers and people on the canal 
 bank waiting for papers, packages, or mes- 
 sages, or merely interested in seeing the 
 Swiftsure boat go by. 
 
 The last of the Swiftsure boats went by, 
 long, long ago, and the later genera- 
 tions of New Netherlanders know not the 
 joys of journeying on the canal. Fortu- 
 nately in the old Netherlands the water- 
 highways are still ways for travel as well 
 as for traffic. The easygoing people of 
 the Low Countries, never in a hurry, are 
 content to move at a moderate pace, with- 
 out fretting about speed, taking their com- 
 fort as they go. The American, in their 
 country, can find a diversion well worth 
 considering by setting aside a few days 
 
44 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 from the usual routine, and entering the 
 life of these good folk, far enough to take 
 a trip or two in a treckschuyt on the canals 
 that form such an important factor of 
 their transportation system. Landing at 
 Antwerp, for example, one could not do 
 better than to take a treckschuyt excur- 
 sion at once, before the bloom of antici- 
 pation has been rubbed off by the friction 
 of much sight-seeing. Antwerp is in Bel- 
 gium, to be sure, but it is one of the best 
 of fair ports for arrival at the end of a 
 Transatlantic voyage, and from its 
 crowded port a passage can be taken to 
 almost any point in the Netherlands, or, 
 for that matter, in the four quarters of 
 the globe. From here, take a treckschuyt 
 ride to Bruges, and another to Grhent and 
 anywhere else, as fancy dictates. Or sup- 
 pose a stop is made at The Hague — every- 
 one goes to The Hague — short trips can be 
 made to Delft, Rotterdam and Dordricht, 
 right in the middle of Holland, or, in the 
 other direction, to Leyden and on up to 
 Amsterdam. However, it is needless to 
 
A STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND 45 
 
 write out an itinerary, as there are guide 
 books enough already. All places are in- 
 teresting and all are accessible. The one 
 thing to be thought of is the going from 
 one place to another by treckschuyt. To 
 have a good time, the traveler must be 
 capable of adjusting himself to his envir- 
 onment. He must put up with the ways 
 of the people as he finds them and not ex- 
 pect them to adjust themselves to his 
 ways, after the manner of the English- 
 man at the Pyramids, who insisted that 
 his Arabs should give him beef-sand- 
 wiches and Bass for lunch. The Dutch 
 are courteous and hospitable, but they 
 have their own notions, and by these they 
 abide as against anything and everything 
 foreign and strange. If the American 
 traveler can make a treckschuyt voyage in 
 the right spirit, he can have a pleasurable 
 and valuable experience, and he will be 
 thankful for the suggestion here given. 
 
 It was a cold day, literally, and, for me, 
 a cold day, figuratively, when we finally 
 
46 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 set forth on our journey to Boston town. 
 We made the passage of the Hudson by- 
 Van Alstyne's Ferry, landing at Bath, 
 and finding our way, somehow or other, to 
 Greenhush, the terminus of the railroad. 
 iThe friends gathered to see us off, watched 
 on the bank with anxiety until we reached 
 Bath in safety as there was ice running in 
 the river. The ice was about as thick as 
 paper, but it was enough to awaken new 
 fears in the maternal heart as to the 
 perils of the dreaded journey. 
 
 Van Alstyne's Ferry consisted of a 
 scow, propelled by horsepower, and 
 equipped with a hinged platform at each 
 end which, when let down to touch the 
 shelving shore, afforded the means of in- 
 gress and egress. It was a good big scow, 
 big enough, indeed, to carry two teams at 
 once if due care was taken in getting on 
 and off over the swinging platform. It 
 was steered by a great oar in the compe- 
 tent hands of Myndert Van Alstyne who 
 navigated the craft, while his brother 
 Wynant collected the fares and kept the 
 
A STEANGER IN A STRANGE LAND 47 
 
 machinery in motion with the aid of a 
 hickory gad. 
 
 We arrived at Springfield toward even- 
 ing and took rooms for the night at the 
 Massasoit House. It was here we found 
 the first evidences of heing strangers in a 
 strange land, which my Dutch relatives 
 predicted would of necessity prove annoy- 
 ing. We were hungry, and the hotel sup- 
 per was anything but satisfying. As 
 everyone knows, the New Netherlanders 
 are hearty good trencher-folk. At our 
 house, we always had a full table, and at 
 Grandpa Van Der Zee's there had to be 
 more on the board than could possibly be 
 consumed or there was not enough to 
 please the Baas. At the Massasoit, there 
 was a fair show in the dining-room, but 
 on trial the things provided were not ac- 
 ceptable. The milk was thin, and the but- 
 ter and eggs not at all like those at home, 
 fresh from the farm. This, however, 
 could be understood and allowed for. 
 The cows and the hens were English and, 
 therefore, naturally inferior to ours, so 
 
48 MY FKIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 that couldn't be helped. What could not 
 be condoned and what I indignantly re- 
 sented "was the barefaced fraud practiced 
 on unwary travelers in the matter of the 
 "piece de resistance," the main feature of 
 the meal as it appeared to me. This was 
 a good sized cake or possibly plum pud- 
 ding, piled up in round slices on a large 
 salver in the middle of the table. Count- 
 ing on this delectable looking, rich brown 
 confection to make up for the shortcom- 
 ings of the supper, I secured a generous 
 section, and eagerly took a boy's big bite. 
 Consternation and dismay were at once 
 realized for all the words could mean! 
 The cake-pudding did not turn to ashes in 
 my mouth — ^it was already ashes — ashes, 
 sawdust and molasses. Althea, seeing 
 my disappointment and disgust, declined 
 partaking of the delicacy, but father man- 
 aged to eat some of it, explaining that it 
 was Boston brown bread. 
 
CHAPTEE IV 
 A BAD BEGINNING 
 
 ME. JONAS GEEEISH, or famil- 
 iarly, just plain Gerrish, was the 
 United States Mail, the Express, the 
 Freight Line and the rapid transit system 
 for Brook Farm. He made two trips 
 daily between the Hive and Scollay's 
 Square, covering the distance, six miles, 
 in about an hour and a half, going out of 
 his way to accommodate his patrons, as 
 occasion required. "We found Gerrish 
 waiting at the depot when we arrived in 
 Boston, half-an-hour late. He was a little 
 impatient, as he said there was snow com- 
 ing and he feared delay in getting back to 
 the city. Gerrish was apt to be impatient, 
 but that was all on the surface as he was 
 really very kind-hearted and obliging. 
 The snow began to fall before we were 
 beyond the streets, and we reached our 
 
 40 
 
50 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 destination in the midst of a driving 
 storna. 
 
 Father decided to return at once with 
 Gerrish, having business in Boston which 
 might go amiss if he should be storm- 
 stayed in West Eoxbury. His apprehen- 
 sions were only too well founded, the 
 Brook Farm community being snowbound 
 in the Hive during the next three days. 
 He hastily left us in charge of good Mrs. 
 Rykeman, the house-mother at the Hive, 
 promising to come out on Saturday for 
 the week-end at the Farm — though I don't 
 know, come to think of it, that the week- 
 end of our present day outings was known 
 to us at that period. 
 
 Mrs. Eykeman had two forlorn, cold 
 and tired children on her hands, one of 
 whom at most was a very miserable young- 
 ster, indeed, far from mother and home 
 and everything that makes life worth liv- 
 ing. Our hostess took us to her own room 
 and made us comfortable as she could, and, 
 presently, as the bell rang for supper, 
 conducted us to the dining-room. This 
 
A BAD BEGINNING 51 
 
 was a long, bare room, containing ten or 
 twelve square tables, also bare, save for 
 the napkin, knife and spoon and bowl at 
 each place. As we entered at one end of 
 the room, a group of girls came in at the 
 other end bringing pitchers of milk and 
 piles of Boston brown bread. There was 
 also Graham bread or, as we now call it, 
 whole-wheat bread, and apple-sauce, but 
 the meal consisted mainly of brown bread 
 and milk. I then and there learned that 
 the foreign milk was poor and thin because 
 it was skimmed. The idea of putting 
 skimmed milk on the table was unknown 
 in the Old Colonie. 
 
 I could not or would not touch the 
 abominable brown bread, and, while wait- 
 ing for the girls to serve the eggs or chops 
 or whatever there was for supper, passed 
 the time in trying to make out the mean- 
 ing of the chatter and laughter that filled 
 the room with merriment. There seemed 
 to be a gleam of sense discoverable now 
 and then, but, on the whole, it was impos- 
 sible to catch the significance of the rapid- 
 
52 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 fire talk volleying from table to table. 
 Indeed, it was always difficult for a 
 stranger to swing into the current of gen- 
 eral conversation at Brook Farm. The 
 bright young enthusiasts there were all of 
 one mind, in a way; in close sympathy 
 and quick to understand each other. A 
 word, a look, a gesture expressed a 
 thought. An allusion, a memory, an apt 
 quotation suggested an idea which was 
 clearly apprehended by ready listeners; 
 and a flash of wit was instantly followed 
 by a peal of mirth, echoed to the limit. 
 
 It goes without saying that these re- 
 flections were not in my young noddle at 
 the moment, but being of later date, are 
 the findings of longer observation. I 
 must have been in a sort of maze, wonder- 
 ing at the fun going on which I could see 
 and hear but could not comprehend, and 
 wondering too when supper was coming. 
 I was about to ask Mrs. Eykeman how 
 long we would have to wait, when, whiz! 
 the whole business of the meal was over 
 and done with. Everybody sprang up at 
 
A BAD BEGINNING 53 
 
 once, and away they all flew likfe a flock of 
 birds, leaving an astonished little boy 
 looking for something to eat. 
 
 Althea took flight with the others, pres- 
 ently returning to look after her forlorn 
 brother, but, finding I had been taken to 
 the kitchen for something that might at 
 least alleviate the pangs of hunger, she 
 rejoined the girls in the parlor, where 
 there was already a dance under way. 
 Althea was a bright-spirited girl, viva- 
 cious, alert, appreciative and companion- 
 able. She forthwith took her place in the 
 Brook Farm community with the best 
 grace. She readily made friends with 
 Abby Ford and her sister, with Annie and 
 Mary Page, with the Barlow brothers and 
 with the Spanish students of about her 
 own age. Of these latter, Kamon Cita or 
 Little Raymond became subsequently her 
 particular cavalier. Eamon was the 
 youngest and smallest of the Spaniards, 
 besides being the best looking according to 
 our standards, and a very charming little 
 gentleman he was, too. There were eight 
 
54 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 of these boys and young men, and they 
 were all courteous and polite to a degree 
 that we American youngsters could ad- 
 mire, but to which we could hardly attain. 
 They must have been members of dis- 
 tinguished families, as they more than 
 once received visits from high officials of 
 the Spanish legation in Washington. 
 
 It may as well be said here that these 
 students were sent from Manila to pre- 
 pare for Harvard in Dr. Eipley's school 
 in Boston ; a school which was of the first 
 repute in the early forties. The Doctor 
 transferred it with several of the teachers 
 to "West Eoxbury, where it became the 
 nucleus of the Brook Farm school. The 
 Ford girls, with their atmt, Miss Kussell, 
 the Barlow boys and their mother, and 
 the Manila youths were, I believe, among 
 those migrating from the Boston school. 
 
 We all liked the young Spaniards very 
 much, and I have ever since liked the peo- 
 ple of their nationality I have met at 
 home and abroad. They can teach us 
 good manners every day in the week; but 
 
A BAD BEGINNING 55 
 
 they have one peculiarity that must strike 
 the average American as certainly rather 
 strange. This is their common and famil- 
 iar use of words and names which we re- 
 gard as sacred and hardly to be spoken 
 outside of the meeting-house. As an 
 example, it may be allowable, at this late 
 day to mention without giving family 
 names, that one of our students was bap- 
 tized Jesus Mary, and another by the same 
 rite was designated Joseph Holy Spirit. 
 
 Before bedtime the snowstorm had risen 
 to the height of a terrific tempest, the heav- 
 iest and hardest of the winter, and what 
 the New England winter can do when it 
 tries can only be known by experience, as 
 no description can convey any adequate 
 idea of the fierce blasts, the drive of hard- 
 frozen snow and the terrible cold forced 
 straight through clothes and flesh and 
 bones by the piercing spears and pound- 
 ing hammers of the Northeast gale fiends. 
 Three days and three nights the raiding 
 powers of the arctics raged about us and 
 
56 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 blockaded all but the hardiest and 
 strongest of us in the close quarters of the 
 Hive. To venture out of the house was 
 to risk life and limb. No one was allowed 
 to run such risks alone, as, in case of a 
 fall, the chances would be against getting 
 up again without help, but parties of twos 
 and threes of the young men went to the 
 barns to look after the cattle or up to the 
 Eyrie, the Cottage and Pilgrim Hall to 
 see that all was right and to bring down 
 a sled-load of bedding for the shut-ins. 
 In their services, the vegetarians matched 
 themselves against the "cannibals" as 
 they disdainfully called those who were 
 still in bonds to the flesh-pots of 
 Egypt, but I do not believe there was beef 
 enough eaten on the place to warrant any 
 comparisons being made, and, at any 
 rate, they all came out alike, pretty much 
 exhausted. 
 
 Next morning I awoke on a sofa in the 
 upper hall, where I had stretched out, 
 along toward midnight, for a moment's 
 rest. Althea had carefully taken off my 
 
A BAD BEGINNING 57 
 
 shoes, and had covered me over with 
 cloaks and shawls, without my knowing it. 
 The swarm in the Hive had exemplified 
 the poet's idea of the tumultuous privacy 
 of storm fairly well as to the tumult, but 
 as to the privacy, that was what could be 
 had in a house overcrowded with excited 
 young folk. Frolic and fun were to the 
 fore, and everybody bore the troubles of 
 that tempestuous evening with high good 
 humor; one weary, cross and fretful little 
 chap being left out of the account. Left 
 out he was, for sure. Always at Brook 
 Farm, anyone not strictly in it, to use a 
 phrase of later date, was absolutely out of 
 it. One had to be aboard the train or find 
 himself standing alone on the platform. 
 
 I was in better case after what had to 
 serve as a morning toilet, as Mrs. Eyke- 
 man had promised to make up for a scanty 
 supper by a treat of good hot brewis. 
 Brewis was a new word and I was more 
 than ready to test the merits of the un- 
 known aliment, as, in my experience, any- 
 thing commended as good to eat, was sure 
 
58 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 to prove palatable. The dining-room was 
 occupied as a shake-down dormitory for 
 women and girls, and breakfast was taken 
 standing in the parlor or hall or anywhere 
 places could be found outside of the 
 kitchen where work was going on. When 
 my bowl was handed me it was filled with 
 the everlasting brown bread boiled in 
 milk. That was brewis. I was just mad! 
 Wednesday and Thursday of that first 
 week at Brook Farm were sad days in- 
 deed. I made a bad beginning! Shut up 
 indoors by the most violent tempest of the 
 year, I sulked in corners, alone in a crowd, 
 the loneliest kind of solitude. The teach- 
 ers did their best to keep classes going 
 in the bedrooms, but, in the irregularity 
 of the sessions, I was allowed to be absent 
 without remark. Althea and some others 
 tried to draw me into the continuous pic- 
 nic performance going on all over the 
 house only to learn there was nothing 
 doing in brother's retreat. At meal time 
 the exasperating brown bread was invari- 
 ably offered for my delectation, and that 
 
A BAD BEGINNING 59 
 
 I regarded as a personal affront. Eesort- 
 ing to alliteration's artful aid, it may be 
 said I seemed bound to be bothered by 
 Boston brown bread. I brooded morn- 
 ing, noon and night over the one idea that 
 when my father came, I would beseech 
 him to take me back home. 
 
 It appeared, later, that I was not being 
 altogether neglected by the authorities 
 during this trying period, as they had kept 
 their eyes on the new boy and were seri- 
 ously considering this same idea, thinking 
 it would perhaps be better to advise his 
 father to take him away. The dour 
 youker was plainly enough so unhappily 
 out of place that they were inclined not to 
 try to keep him. Truly, a bad beginning ! 
 
 This was not a decision adopted to meet 
 the special case in hand, but rather an un- 
 written rule of the community. Brook 
 Farm was a solidarity, a company united 
 to put in practice certain principles and 
 to accomplish certain results, and only 
 those were wanted who could enter into 
 the spirit of the movement and aid in 
 
60 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 carrying on the great work. Those who 
 did not help, hindered, and to hinder the 
 task of reforming society could not be per- 
 mitted. As with the community, so also 
 with the school. The school was an inde- 
 pendent organization, but it was likewise 
 an experimental organization, being, prac- 
 tically, a first attempt to inaugurate in- 
 dustrial education, and only pupils suited 
 for such an education were wanted. It 
 was not a place for the feeble-minded, the 
 deficient or the intractable, but for bright 
 children capable of responding to instruc- 
 tion directed to certain ends. The teach- 
 ers, earnestly devoted to these selected 
 courses of instruction, could not afford to 
 give time and attention to incompetents. 
 
 These matters are worth mentioning for 
 the reason that Brook Farm in general 
 and Dr. Eipley in particular have been 
 censured for refusing to accept members 
 of the community and pupils of the school 
 not suited to the forwarding of undertak- 
 ings held as almost sacred. This exclu- 
 siveness was neither hard-hearted nor 
 
A BAD BEGINNING 61 
 
 uncharitable, but was simply necessary 
 under the circumstances. To charge 
 Brook Farm with being heathenish and 
 unchristian on this account, as certain 
 Puritan critics have done, is as unjust as 
 it would be to blame Luther Burbank for 
 discarding a thousand plants to cultivate 
 the one growth giving promise of answer- 
 ing his purpose. For any experiment the 
 careful selection of material is not only 
 proper but indispensable. 
 
 On Friday the storm abated and things 
 began to mend all around as the skies 
 cleared. In the afternoon Dr. Eipley and 
 Charles Hosmer made their way home 
 from Boston, hailed with rejoicings by 
 everyone except Master Grumpus, who 
 should have been more than thankful for 
 their timely arrival, had he only known it. 
 Saturday morning regular lessons were 
 resumed in the classroom, but I held aloof 
 in out-of-the-way coverts; one hiding 
 place being the cow-stable. Here Charles 
 Hosmer happened to find me, just inci- 
 dentally, as it seemed, but really by kindly 
 
62 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 design no doubt, and gave me a hearty- 
 greeting which I couldn't be so churlish 
 as not to return. 
 
 "Are you the boy who came from 
 Albany?" he asked. 
 
 "From the Old Colonie, in Albany," I 
 replied. 
 
 "I suppose," he continued, "you have 
 not yet been assigned to your classes?" 
 
 I accepted this account of what was in 
 fact absence without leave, and he then 
 suggested that if I had nothing else on 
 hand I might help him in making a tobog- 
 gan-slide. Never having heard of such a 
 thing I accepted the invitation. Securing 
 a couple of shovels we cleared a path to 
 the knoll; and, on the way, Mr. Hosmer 
 explained that Angus Cameron, another 
 new pupil, hailing from Canada, had 
 brought to the school a toboggan, a kind 
 of sled, and we were to make a smooth 
 path or slide for it, so the boys and girls 
 could try it in the afternoon when there 
 were no lessons. 
 
 We went to work with a will, spanking 
 
A BAD BEGINNING 63 
 
 the snow down with the shovels, leveling 
 uneven places and forming a clear, hard 
 track from the top of the Knoll to the 
 brook. On the edge of the bank we piled 
 up an inclined plane, wetting down the 
 snow and building a mound perhaps five 
 feet high. From this elevation, Mr. Hos- 
 mer stated, the toboggan, flying down the 
 slide, would shoot upward and forward 
 and land on the far side of the brook. 
 That seemed to me a very desirable thing 
 to do, and, while I finished up the shovel- 
 work, my companion went back to the 
 Hive and brought out the toboggan. 
 
 This conveniency, well enough known 
 to-day, was new to us, and we did not 
 quite know how to manage it. However, 
 we got onto the thing somehow, and away 
 we went down the slide. The slide was all 
 right and the inclined plane was all right, 
 so we made the descent and the ascent all 
 right, soaring over the brook like a bird, 
 but the landing on the far side was all 
 wrong. We hit the snowbank like a bat- 
 tering ram, the snow piling up in front of 
 
64 MY FKIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 us as hard as stone ; the shock was terrific ! 
 Mr. Hosmer got the worst of it as he cata- 
 pulted into the drift, while I alighted in a 
 heap on his shoulders. He scrambled out 
 of the drift on all fours, concerned only 
 with learning whether I was badly hurt. 
 On my assurance that unless his back and 
 legs and arms were broken, there was no 
 damage done, he straightened up and de- 
 clared he was unhurt but dreadfully 
 humiliated. "How could a man be such a 
 condemned idiot as to plunge head-first 
 against a barricade like that?" This was 
 the question suggested to his mind, only 
 he did not say "condemned idiot" exactly, 
 but he apologized for the emphatic words 
 he did use, and as they do not look well in 
 print, they need not be repeated. 
 
 Despite his bluff I saw he was in pain 
 and wanted him to return to the Hive, but 
 he insisted on finishing our job. Under 
 his direction I wallowed through the 
 snowdrift, back and forth, trampling 
 down a passage, and then pressed the 
 snow hard and flat, using the toboggan 
 
A BAD BEGINNING 65 
 
 like a plank. Meanwhile Mr. Hosmer 
 had turned very white and now dropped 
 onto the toboggan, limp and sick. The 
 shock had upset his digestion. How to get 
 him home? Borrowing rails from the 
 roadside fence I laid them across the 
 streak of open water in the middle of the 
 brook, piled snow over them, and dragged 
 my patient across on the toboggan. I at- 
 tempted to haul him up the Knoll, but he 
 protested, asserting that he was much bet- 
 ter and fully able to walk. He managed 
 to crawl up the hill and left me with 
 directions to find Angus Cameron and 
 join him in taking charge of the slide in 
 the afternoon. 
 
 After making half-a-dozen or more fly- 
 ing leaps over the brook on the new con- 
 veyance, with as many jolts and tumbles 
 in the snow, I managed to get the hang 
 of the thing, and could steer it over the 
 course with delightful ease, suggesting 
 the flight of a bird. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 A GOOD ENDING 
 
 SATURDAY'S dinner dispelled all 
 fears of starvation from Brook 
 Farm's meager fare, the table being 
 abundantly supplied with boiled beef, 
 vegetables, Graham bread and good, sweet 
 butter like home, and, best of all, baked 
 Indian pudding, a real luxury. Mr. Hos- 
 mer did not appear, being confined to his 
 room in the cottage. Learning that Dr. 
 Ripley intended calling there, I asked 
 leave to go with him, and was told to be 
 in the library, which was also the Presi- 
 dent's office, at four o'clock. 
 
 Not being accustomed to Brook Farm's 
 quick changes, my little talk with Dr. 
 Ripley made me a few minutes late at the 
 Knoll, where I found two-score or so of 
 children and half as many grown-ups en- 
 gaged in a snowball scrimmage, Inquir- 
 ing for Angus, I turned over the toboggan 
 
 66 
 
A GOOD ENDING 67 
 
 to him for the first ride. He asked if the 
 slide was all right, if I had made the 
 jump over the brook, and if Mr. Hosmer 
 was badly hurt. As he was a little back- 
 ward about coming forward, so to speak, 
 I took the initiative, inviting any girl to 
 join me who had courage enough to face 
 the music. Urged by my sister Althea, 
 Annie Page took the offered seat, and 
 down the slide we plunged like a shot, all 
 the company watching our venture with 
 intense interest and not a little anxiety. 
 The flight took the breath away, but we 
 sailed over the brook and out to the thin 
 snow on the meadow in one grand swoop, 
 without a bump or a break on the way. 
 Annie was delighted and thanked me, over 
 and over for giving her such a surprising 
 pleasure. 
 
 Under the circumstances I thought 
 Althea might be the next girl to make the 
 trip, and, on the way up the hill, I gave 
 the Old Colonie call, which she recognized 
 and answered. Annie noticed the whistle 
 and the reply, and asked what it meant. 
 
68 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 and when I expliained the signal, she said, 
 "I would like to learn that." I immedi- 
 ately repeated it until she caught the 
 notes, and presently the strain was 
 echoed all over the Knoll, and from that 
 moment it became the call of the school. 
 From that moment, too, Annie Page be- 
 came the one girl of the place for me. She 
 held that position in my regard until three 
 years later, when she and her sister went 
 to live with their parents in Italy. She 
 was a year and a month and a day younger 
 than myself, but was far my senior in the 
 school. That was an advantage to me, as 
 it had the effect of driving me ahead in 
 my studies in order to reach her classes. 
 We were together a good deal out of 
 school hours, taking the same work to do, 
 when that was practicable, as feeding the 
 rabbits in the warren back of the Eyrie, 
 and cultivating the herb-garden where we 
 raised mint, anise and cummin, sage, mar- 
 joram and saffron for the Boston market. 
 One other incident occurred on the 
 Knoll perhaps worth recording, as it gave 
 
A GOOD ENDING 69 
 
 me a name. Annie insisted on helping 
 me pull the toboggan up the slide, and, 
 on the way, she remarked, "I did not 
 know boys liked perfumery." 
 
 "That," said I, "is from the cedar chest 
 our clothes are packed in." 
 
 Just as we reached the group at the top 
 of the hill she answered, "Oh, cedar! So 
 it is." 
 
 As she spoke, a little toddlekins, three 
 or four years old, came running to me, ex- 
 claiming, "Cedar, can't I ride on the 'bog- 
 gan?" 
 
 That settled it ! My Brook Farm name 
 was thenceforth Cedar, and would be 
 Cedar, still, were there any of my com- 
 panions left to remember it. I never had 
 any other nickname, save that of late 
 years some dear and intimate friends 
 have made syllables of my initials and 
 called me Jay Vee. 
 
 At four o'clock my sister and I trudged 
 up to pay our call at the Eyrie. This was 
 a square house of the surburban villa type, 
 two-and-a-half stories high, and the hand- 
 
70 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 somest building on the place, though plain 
 enough, as compared with villas in the 
 neighborhood to-day. Doctor and Mrs. 
 Kipley received us very kindly and gave 
 us a most cordial welcome to Brook Farm. 
 Mrs. Eipley, born Sophia Dana, was a 
 slender, graceful lady, belonging to what 
 Dr. Oliver "Wendell Holmes calls the Brah- 
 min class of Boston; charming in man- 
 ner, animated and blithe, but profoundly 
 serious in her religious devotion to what 
 she regarded as the true Christian life. 
 She had, informally, the general charge of 
 the girls in the school, and she at once 
 made Althea feel at home under her moth- 
 erly care. 
 
 Dr. Eipley gained my confidence by 
 claiming old acquaintance, recalling a 
 . former meeting that I had quite forgotten. 
 Several years previous, when I was a very 
 small boy indeed, my father had taken me 
 with him on a flying trip from New York 
 to Boston, deciding to do so, I suppose 
 rather than to leave mother in a strange 
 city with two children on her hands. 
 
A GOOD ENDING 71 
 
 During that brief visit Dr. Eipley had 
 taken father to call on an illustrious 
 artist, and he now recalled the circum- 
 stances to my mind. With his prompting 
 I could remember riding in a carriage; 
 seeing a tall silvery old gentleman wear- 
 ing a black velvet robe lined with red, and 
 tasting white grapes for the first time ; but 
 I could not think of the silvery gentle- 
 man's name. 
 
 "Well," said my mentor, "perhaps you 
 will be glad sometime to know that the 
 gentleman you saw was Washington 
 Alston." 
 
 Leaving Althea with Mrs. Eipley, we 
 presently went over to the cottage, a small 
 house near the Eyrie, occupied by Miss 
 Eussell and her two nieces ; Mr. Dana, Mr. 
 Hosmer and Mr. Hecker, finding the latter 
 in Mr. Hosmer 's room. 
 
 Isaac Thomas Hecker was a religious 
 enthusiast who came to Brook Farm for 
 the same reason that Emerson left the 
 Unitarian Church, namely, for his soul's 
 
72 MY FEIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 peace. He belonged to a well-to-do fam- 
 ily in New York, engaged in the manufac- 
 ture of flour specialties, but the restraints 
 and the questionable practices of business 
 were irksome to him, and he eagerly- 
 sought a home among the congenial 
 spirits who were trying to live a higher 
 life on their sterile little property in West 
 Eoxbury. Being one of the thorough- 
 going kind, he had learned all the uses of 
 flour from beginning to end, and this 
 knowledge he gladly made available as 
 baker-general for the Brook Farm com- 
 munity. He was a faithful and competent 
 baker for several months; usually happy 
 and cheerfully interested in all that was 
 going on, but occasionally taking a day 
 off for fasting and prayer. Early in the 
 spring, Annie Page and I were hunting 
 arbutus, or Mayflower as we called it, on 
 the far side of the pine woods, when we 
 came upon Mr. Hecker walking rapidly up 
 and down in the secluded little dell that 
 served him as a retreat. He was wring- 
 ing his hands and sobbing so violently 
 
A GOOD ENDING 73 
 
 that we two seared children stole away, 
 awed and mystified. Intruders on a scene 
 that should not have been witnessed, we 
 said nothing about it at the time, and I 
 have never mentioned it until now. 
 (^Not long after this strange happening, 
 Henry D. Thoreau came to the Farm, and 
 Mr. Hecker found in him a sympathetic 
 companion. Presently the two went away 
 together, for the purpose, I think, of de- 
 termining by experiment the minimum 
 amount of nourishment actually required 
 to sustain life. They never came back. 
 Thoreau took to the solitude of Walden, 
 I suppose, and our baker found himself 
 attracted to the Catholic Church, eventu- 
 ally going abroad to study for the priest- 
 hood.} On taking orders he returned to 
 New York, and during the rest of his life 
 was an earnest and influential, though 
 somewhat independent toiler in the vine- 
 yard of Eome ; gaining, unsought. Tame as 
 Father Hecker. His monumental work 
 was the founding of the Paulist Fathers, 
 a strong organization, influential in the 
 
74 MY FRIENDS AT BEOOK FARM 
 
 religious life of New York, though the 
 church and the home of the fraternity are 
 located across the Hudson river, in New 
 Jersey. 
 
 On seeing Dr. Eipley and Mr. Hecker 
 and Mr, Hosmer together, it seemed to 
 me they must be the dearest friends in 
 the world. And they were very near 
 friends indeed, having many vital inter- 
 ests in common. Dr. Eipley was a true 
 minister of the Gospel; Mr. Hosmer had 
 studied for the ministry, and Mr. Hecker, 
 as indicated, was a predestined priest. 
 But, as I learned later, sincere and even 
 affectionate cordiality was the distin- 
 guishing characteristic of the Brook 
 Farmers in their relations with each other. 
 Their communications were yea, yea, and 
 nay, nay, but they were really glad to 
 meet, glad to exchange greetings, glad to 
 give and to take the good word which was 
 always forthcoming, and glad to frankly 
 manifest pleasure in their walk and con- 
 versation together. This was the out- 
 
A GOOD ENDING 75 
 
 ward showing of the inward spirit of 
 Brook Farm. It was lovingkindness ex- 
 emplified; and to appreciative visitors the 
 recognition of this Christian Spirit in the 
 encounters of everyday life was exhilarat- 
 ing as a draught of new wine, wine from 
 the press of Edom and Bozrah. 
 
 After a little chat, Dr. Eipley and Mr. 
 Hecker went away together, leaving me 
 alone with Mr. Hosmer, with whom I 
 stayed until supper-time. He questioned 
 me as to all the details of the toboggan 
 slide venture, which I was quite proud to 
 report as eminently successful and, after 
 I had told him everything, even to my 
 gaining a new name, he said, "Well, you 
 have arrived all right. You have been 
 initiated. These young uns don't take 
 anyone up and give them a name like that 
 unless things go suitably." 
 
 I did not know what being initiated 
 meant, so he explained that while there 
 was no such thing as hazing at Brook 
 Farm, it was sometimes a little hard for 
 
76 MY FKIBNDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 new pupils to take their right places until 
 the older ones found out what they were 
 like. 
 
 Hazing had to be explained, too, so he 
 told me that when he first went to board- 
 ing school, the elder boys teased and tor- 
 mented him, "putting him through a 
 course of sprouts," as they termed it. 
 They made him spend what money he had 
 in buying goodies which he was not per- 
 mitted to taste. They threw him into the 
 canal, to see if he could swim, and then 
 dragged him around in the sand to dry 
 his clothes. These and similar delicate 
 attentions they bestowed upon him to try 
 his metal. 
 
 I ventured to hope that he being, of 
 course, furiously angry, had vented his 
 rage upon them afterwards, as chance of- 
 fered, but he said, no, that would not do 
 at all. The ordeal was to test a boy's 
 temper and to find whether he could stand 
 fire without getting mad or at least with- 
 out showing it. "You have passed your 
 examination," he added, "and have been 
 
A GOOD ENDING 77 
 
 given your place among your companions, 
 and I'm very glad of it." 
 
 Mr. Hosmer had general oversight of 
 the boys as Mrs. Eipley had of the girls. 
 He informed me that I was to be quartered 
 in Pilgrim Hall under the guardianship 
 of Miss Marian Eipley, and my mate was 
 to be Bonico, otherwise Isaac Colburne. 
 Why Bonico? "Well, just because he was 
 Bonico. A good friend he was, too, and 
 Miss Ripley was a kind, judicious and con- 
 scientious guardian; though we called her 
 the grenadier, because she was tall, very 
 straight and rather stern looking. 
 
 On the way down from the Eyrie with 
 the Page girls and John Cheever, Annie 
 informed me that my sister was to be 
 called Dheelish. Mr. Cheever was from 
 Ireland, she said, and he had told the girl 
 that Dheelish was the Irish word for dear, 
 and they had adopted it in place of Althea, 
 which, though a very nice name, very nice 
 indeed, was, as they thought, too old and 
 too formal; and besides, added my com- 
 panion, she is a dear, you know. 
 
78 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 I did know, and knew, too, there was 
 another girl, not far away who was also a 
 dear. Sentimental? Well, yes. All 
 boys are more or less sentimental, only 
 they are, mostly, too shy to admit it or 
 even perhaps to be aware of it. 
 
 On reaching the Hive we found Gerrish 
 arriving bringing father and the Eev. 
 William H. Channing. At supper I 
 bravely disposed of my bowl of brown 
 bread and milk, taking it as a matter of 
 course, but secretly hoping father would 
 notice my improved appetite. 
 
 Sunday proved to be a blessed day in 
 my calendar. Dr. Channing held service 
 in the dining-room and every person on 
 the place was present, with many more 
 from the neighborhood and from Boston. 
 The subject of his sermon was the New 
 Commandment : 
 
 "A new commandment I give unto you, 
 That ye love one another ; as I have loved 
 you, that ye also love one another. By 
 this shall all men know that ye are my dis- 
 ciples if ye have love to one another." 
 
A GOOD ENDING 79 
 
 Father always remembered that ser- 
 mon, and referred to it many times in later 
 years. "What I remember about it is that 
 it awoke a new sense in my dull mind of 
 what practical Christianity really is. I 
 realized that I had been a selfish, stupid 
 cub; trying my worst to make the worst 
 of everything, while every one else was 
 trying their best to make the best of 
 everything. That was a good ending of 
 what had been a threatening phase of my 
 first experience at Brook Farm. 
 
CHAPTEE VI 
 
 ENTERTAINMENTS 
 
 OUR slide down the Knoll proved 
 very popular, and, with occasional 
 repairs, lasted all winter, making a wel- 
 come addition to our outdoor diversions 
 during the season when these were neces- 
 sarily limited. Living in the open was one 
 of the salutary customs of the community, 
 a custom faithfully followed even in com- 
 paratively bad weather. Rain or shine, 
 snow or blow, save only in real storms, 
 every one spent a good many of the 
 twenty-four hours under the broad skies. 
 There was always some work to be done, 
 cutting wood, digging peat — the main reli- 
 ance for fuel — mending stone walls, and 
 attending to the tree-nurseries. Then for 
 fun, there was coasting, skating, sleigh- 
 riding and taking long tramps over the 
 place or to some distant point of interest. 
 
 80 
 
ENTERTAINMENTS 81 
 
 Exposure to the elements seemed to harm 
 no one, and coughs, influenzas and rheu- 
 matics were unknown. 
 
 Withal, however, indoor pleasures took 
 the most prominent place, during the win- 
 ter months. After the reorganization of 
 the Association as a Phalanx, Mr. John 
 Dwight was the Chief of the Festal 
 Series, and as he was, first of all, a musi- 
 cian, it followed that music formed the 
 principal feature of our entertainments. 
 Vocal and instrumental music was thor- 
 oughly taught in the school, and, as nearly 
 all the members of the community were 
 music lovers, and many were singers and 
 players, the place was melodious from 
 morning until night. There was always 
 some new song or perhaps some very old 
 one to be tried, some local composition to 
 be heard, or some preparation for future 
 musical events to enlist attention. Selec- 
 tions from the operas then known and 
 now forgotten, were given in the dining 
 room; parts, with all the characters and 
 choruses, from "Zampa," "Norma" and 
 
82 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 the "Calipli of Bagdad" recur to my mind. 
 (^Two public concerts were given to pay for 
 a new piano, and as the proceeds did not 
 quite fill the bill, we all gave up butter, 
 selling the entire product of the dairy for 
 three months to make up the deficit. 
 That was just like Brook Farm.} The 
 most ambitious performance in my time 
 was the rendition of the Oratorio of Saint 
 Paul, which was given twice by request, 
 but this was in the summer when we had 
 ample room and verge enough in the pine- 
 grove amphitheater. 
 
 We had another theater, a very little 
 one, please, where light plays, tableaux, 
 readings and recitations and similar en- 
 tertainments were offered by the Drama- 
 tic Group during the winter. One mem- 
 ber of this group, Mr. John Glover Drew, 
 was ambitious, and urged the presentation 
 of something more serious and edifying 
 than merely amusing trifles, and, accord- 
 ingly, an excursion was made into the 
 realm of the melodrama. Glover, as he 
 was called, was intensely Byronic, after 
 
ENTERTAINMENTS 83 
 
 the fashion of the times, and he prepared 
 a succession of thrilling scenes from 
 Byron's sensational poem, "The Corsair," 
 for presentation by his fellow players. 
 This melodramatic production was staged 
 with all the pasteboard pomp and second- 
 hand circumstance the little workshop 
 theater could afford and was given with 
 all the fire the high-toned author could 
 impart to his company. The result was 
 disastrous. 
 
 Glover was a very genial, jolly young 
 man, a fellow of infinite jest, and always 
 full of fun, but his play was distinctly 
 dismal. The spirit of Brook Farm being 
 as distinctly joyous, the melancholy drama 
 went against the grain, and the perform- 
 ance fell dolefully flat. It was the one 
 failure among the many successful enter- 
 tainments offered by the Festal series, 
 and the members of the cast including the 
 author, were greatly depressed when the 
 curtain went down with the auditorium 
 already nearly empty. Glover undoubt- 
 edly had his bad quarter-of-an-hour that 
 
84 MY FRIENDS AT BEOOK FARM 
 
 night, but tlie next morning' he regained 
 his usual equipoise, and cast off his cha- 
 grin with a characteristic gibe, at his own 
 expense. A sympathetic friend ventured 
 to ask if the fiasco was caused, perhaps, by 
 too much blood and thunder in the piece. 
 
 "Not blood and thunder, but thud and 
 blunder," was Glover's quick come-back. 
 
 "We had two or three other plays in the 
 shop, that season, in one of which my 
 father took a small part. This was "The 
 Eent Day," by Douglas Jerrold, I think. 
 The play opens with a tableau reproduc- 
 ing Wilkies' picture of "The Eent Day," 
 and the most important thing my father 
 had to do was to sit at the head of the table 
 in the character of Master Crumbs, the 
 steward. Peter Baldwin, who succeeded 
 Mr. Hecker as baker-general — ^being there- 
 fore given the title of General — ^usually 
 did the first old man business, but as he 
 was suddenly called to Boston, my father, 
 who happened to be visiting us at the 
 moment, was asked to fill the role of Mas- 
 ter Crumbs, which he consented to do, on 
 
ENTERTAINMENTS 85 
 
 short notice. There never was such a 
 thing as a theater in the Old Colonic and 
 I can imagine the disturbed feelings of the 
 good Dutch burghers could they have 
 known that their respected fellow citizen, 
 Charles Sears, Esq., of the pier, was actu- 
 ally appearing on the stage as a play 
 actor. 
 
 One play was given by the boys and 
 girls, or rather by two boys and one girl, 
 Dolly Hosmer, Craze Barlow and myself. 
 We did Box and Cox, a short farce, pro- 
 duced to piece out a vaudeville program. 
 
 The first hour of our winter evenings at 
 the Hive was, by common consent, assigned 
 to the younger generation, and story- 
 telling was regularly made its most at- 
 tractive feature. Mr. Dana was one of 
 our best story tellers, and his narrations 
 were instructive as well as interesting. 
 In an extended series he gave us accounts, 
 partly imaginary, of the beginnings of 
 things, of the discovery and the first use 
 of iron, the evolutions of the boat, of 
 primitive pottery, of glass, etc. 
 
86 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 I was never in Mr. Dana's classes, Greek 
 and German being beyond my reach, but 
 I saw something of him in the tree-nursery 
 and the orchard where I worked under 
 him, he being Chief of the Orchard Group, 
 I cannot do better in trying to give an 
 idea of him at Brook Farm than to quote 
 from Mr. John Thomas Codman's Me- 
 moirs, as follows: 
 
 "Charles Anderson Dana, when, from 
 Harvard College he presented himself at 
 the farm, was a young man of education, 
 culture and marked ability. He was 
 strong of purpose and lithe of frame and 
 it was not long before Mr. Eipley found 
 it out and gave him a place at the front. 
 He was about four and twenty years of 
 age, and he took to books, language and 
 literature. Social, good-natured and ani- 
 mated, he readily pleased all with whom 
 he came in contact. He was above the 
 medium height, his complexion was light 
 and his beard, which he wore full but well 
 trimmed, was vigorous and of auburn hue, 
 and his thick head of hair was well cut to 
 
Charles A. Dana 
 
ENTERTAINMENTS 87 
 
 moderate shortness. His features were 
 quite regular, his forehead high and full, 
 and his head large. His face was pleas- 
 ant and animated and he had a genial 
 smile and greeting for all. His voice was 
 clear and musical and his language re- 
 markably correct. He loved to spend a 
 portion of his time in work on the farm 
 and in the tree nursery, and you might be 
 sure of finding him there when not other- 
 wise occupied. Enjoying fun and social 
 life, there was always a dignity remain- 
 ing which gave him influence and com- 
 manded respect." 
 
 Later in life, as all the world knows, 
 Mr. Dana attained high rank among the 
 great editors of this country, and that at 
 a period when personality counted for 
 much more in the conduct of a newspaper 
 than it does to-day. He served this na- 
 tion during the Eebellion as Assistant 
 Secretary of War, and was one of the 
 counselors implicitly trusted by President 
 Lincoln in that trying time. 
 
 Charles Hosmer was another first class 
 
88 MY PEIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 raconteur, his musical delivery in reciting 
 apt bits of poetry and other quotations 
 adding to the pleasure of hearing his ac- 
 counts rendered. He gave us modern 
 versions of the Greek myths and hero 
 legends, of Cadmus and Thebes, of Jason 
 and the Golden Fleece, of the Trojan epic, 
 of the Delphic Oracle, etc. 
 
 Several years after leaving Brook Farm 
 I was presented with a copy of Nathaniel 
 Hawthorne's "Wonder Book," and was 
 surprised and indignant to find the author 
 had actually taken our Brook Farm sto- 
 ries, told us by Charles Hosmer and printed 
 them, and that, too, without a word of 
 credit. Of course familiar renditions of 
 the Greek legends have been common 
 property with English speaking people, 
 for ages, but the ignorant youngster who 
 heard them at Brook Farm firmly believed 
 the copyright belonged to Charles Hos- 
 mer. 
 
 The young folk and children were not 
 only told stories but were encouraged to 
 exercise their own talents in the same 
 
ENTERTAINMENTS 89 
 
 direction. Manuel Portales gave an in- 
 teresting account of native life in Luzon; 
 and Angus Cameron told us about the 
 French, habitants and their narrow little 
 strips of farms fronting on the Canadian 
 streams, every farmer wanting a littoral 
 right, if only a few yards wide. 
 
 Our evening talks were often mono- 
 logues, anyone with a word to say having 
 attentive hearers, if interesting, otherwise 
 — ^not. A young lady, distinguished as 
 a public speaker, came to us with what 
 was doubtless an eloquent discourse on 
 Woman's Rights, and was much put out, 
 after orating awhile, to note that her 
 glowing periods were falling on dull ears. 
 Our women-folk had all the rights of our 
 men-folk. They had an equal voice in our 
 public affairs, voted for our officers, filled 
 responsible positions, and stood on ex- 
 actly the same footing as their brethren. 
 If women were not so well off in the outer- 
 world, they had only to join our com- 
 munity or to form others like ours. 
 
 A leading temperance advocate under- 
 
90 MY FEIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 took to lecture us on the terrible evils of 
 rum drinking and the crying need of pro- 
 moting the great cause of total abstinence. 
 We were all total abstainers. There was 
 not a drop of rum on the Farm. In the 
 exhilarating life of our community there 
 was no call for stimulants. We had none 
 and wanted none. Eum was a curse in 
 civilized society but that was because 
 society was disorganized. Let reformers 
 come and help us reform society and this 
 evil with many others would be remedied. 
 So it was that the popular lecturer after 
 an hour's earnest discourse came to the 
 conclusion that these Brook Farmers were 
 very impolite indeed as they were all 
 talking together about plans for the new 
 Phalanstery or some other equally im- 
 portant subject. 
 
 Lectures were not on the list of our 
 favorite pastimes. This indifference to 
 the attractions of the Lyceum was all 
 the more noticeable as there were sev- 
 eral lecturers of repute among our own 
 members. In the decade 1840-1850 a 
 
ENTERTAINMENTS 91 
 
 wave of interest in what was then known 
 as Social Eeform swept over Europe and 
 America, and in the public discussions of 
 the time the teachings of Brook Farm 
 practical reformers were in constant de- 
 mand. Dr. Eipley, John Dwight, John 
 Allen, Ephraim Chapin, Charles A. Dana 
 and others were called out on lecturing 
 tours extending all over the Northern 
 states, and, as most of this service was 
 gratuitous, the cost to the community was 
 a heavy tax on our limited resources. 
 The socialistic propaganda was an educa- 
 tional movement of unquestionable value, 
 and, while the immediate objects contem- 
 plated were never realized and are now 
 lost to sight, yet the agitation had a per- 
 manent influence in awakening intelli- 
 gence, giving an impetus to thought and 
 enlarging the liberality of the public 
 mind. 
 
 Oftentimes the long dining room was 
 promptly cleared after supper for some 
 minor entertainment, a dance, in which 
 everyone took part, being always in order 
 
92 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 when nothing else demanded more im- 
 mediate attention. Miss Eussell was a 
 most efficient teacher of dancing and we 
 all took lessons, from the gaunt and 
 grizzled old General to the little ones just 
 able to learn their steps. It was a marked 
 characteristic of the Farmers that they all 
 joined hands in whatever was going on. 
 With unfailing unanimity they all moved 
 together, flocking like birds in whatever 
 direction happened to be taken at the mo- 
 ment, even those of the most pronounced 
 individuality preferring to go the way of 
 the others rather than go his own way 
 alone, r The lovers of solitude, self cen- 
 tered folk, egoists and searchers into the 
 mysteries of their own souls — Emerson, 
 Hawthorne, Hecker and Margaret Fuller 
 were out of place in this united associa- 
 tion where each person wanted, first of 
 all, to be in harmony with the common 
 mind^ 
 
 The dance was so much a matter of 
 course that no preparations were needed 
 save the putting away of the tables and 
 
ENTERTAINMENTS 93 
 
 benches. The music was always ready, a 
 dozen or more players of the violin and 
 piano relieving each other in render- 
 ing sets of cotillons, waltzes and pol- 
 kas, the latter dance being then just in 
 fashion. 
 
 Next to the dance, some form of musical 
 diversion was in favor. After the reor- 
 ganization Mr. Dwight was Chief of the 
 Festal Series, and as he and his fiancee, 
 Mary Bullard, were, in a way, profes- 
 sionals there was always a musical pro- 
 grame in reserve that could be brought 
 forward at a moment's notice. We often 
 had musicians of distinction visiting the 
 place, and these gave us of their best, 
 knowing their virtuosity would be recog- 
 nized and appreciated. Carlo Bassini, 
 an eminent violinist, played for us with 
 great acceptance. His daughter, Frances 
 Ostinelli, who boarded at the Farm sev- 
 eral weeks, sang most delightfully. She 
 had a glorious voice and, as Madame Bis- 
 cacianti, subsequently attained fame as a 
 cantatrice. 
 
94 MY FEIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 The Hutchinson Family, once widely 
 known at home and abroad, but now 
 pretty much forgotten, made a one-night- 
 stand with us; and a company of Swiss 
 Bell Eingers also favored us in the same 
 way. 
 
 The star artist who pleased us young- 
 sters more than any other was Christopher 
 P. Cranch. He was not a professional, 
 at that time, having just completed his 
 course of study for the ministry, but he 
 was certainly a most successful enter- 
 tainer. There was nothing he could not 
 do. He was a painter of more than fair 
 ability, a sweet singer, a poet, a mighty 
 good story-teller — and we knew a good 
 story-teller when we heard one — and he 
 could play on any instrument from an or- 
 gan to a jewsharp. Whatever he under- 
 took he did well, and his range of accom- 
 plishment was amazing. As Miss Eussell 
 remarked his versatility amounted to uni- 
 versatility. We liked and admired Mr. 
 Cranch very much, and with all his super- 
 ficial levity he possessed sterling qualities 
 
ENTERTAINMENTS 95 
 
 that commanded our respect. As an old 
 school song says: 
 
 "True winter joys are many 
 With many a dear delight 
 We frolic in the snowdrift, 
 And then the Winter night." 
 
 The many winter joys were all that such 
 joys could he, and young folk, not afraid 
 of the weather, made the most of them. 
 The winter nights at the Hive were fairly 
 filled with dear delights, and the youngest 
 of the young folk had their due share of 
 the evening pleasures until nine o'clock 
 when they went to hed, except on special 
 occasions like the giving of a play, or a 
 concert with some celebrity from Boston 
 as a star attraction. The winter had its 
 pleasures, but it was summer that was 
 the real joyous season. There was a dear 
 delight then, in just living in the open air, 
 as most of us did the greater part of every 
 day. Work in the fields with interesting 
 companions, was an exemplification of the 
 socialistic doctrine of attractive industry. 
 
96 MY FRIENDS AT BEOOK FARM 
 
 Men and women, boys and girls, drawn to- 
 gether in groups by special likings for the 
 work to be done, made labor not only light 
 but really pleasant. 
 
 Our entertainments, too, were in these 
 happy days almost exclusively free from 
 the limitations of four walls and a ceiling. 
 Eambles in the woods and fields, excur- 
 sions to Chestnut Hill or Cow Island, 
 rowing parties on Charles Eiver, ball- 
 games, athletic contests, swimming 
 matches, everything the Greeks ever did 
 and more than they ever thought of. 
 Even our meals conveniently simple as 
 they were, frequently took the form of 
 impromptu picnics on the Knoll. 
 
 The center of summer festivities was a 
 natural amphitheater in the beautiful pine- 
 woods. Here was a little hollow, clear of 
 trees which served admirably well as an 
 auditoriuiA, and a bank at one end, leveled 
 down with very little artifice, made a 
 spacious stage, or, if required, a suitable 
 rostrum. Here we had plays worth see- 
 ing and concerts worth hearing. Here, 
 
ENTEKTAINMENTS 97 
 
 too, Sunday services were sometimes held, 
 to the scandalizing of our Puritan neigh- 
 bors, though when Dr. Channing preached 
 a saintly sermon and Mr. Dwight's quar- 
 tet rendered the Gregorian chants, the 
 service was an appropriate and impres- 
 sive expression of sincere religious senti- 
 ment. 
 
 Some of our Puritan neighbors called 
 us heretics because we did not believe in 
 infant damnation or some equally profit- 
 able and comforting doctrine of the ortho- 
 dox faith, and, furthermore, we actually 
 sang hymns in Latin. All that was very 
 bad to be sure, but then we kept the com- 
 mandments, eleven of them, ten in the old 
 testament and one in the new, and we 
 dealt fairly with all men. We went to 
 church too, either having Sunday services 
 at home or attending Theodore Parker's 
 church in Brookline. However, both 
 Theodore Parker and Dr. Kipley were 
 Unitarians, so that did not help us very 
 much in the opinion of our critics. 
 
 It may almost be said that Brook Farm 
 
98 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 was as much an outgrowth of Unitarian- 
 ism as of Transcendentalism. Nearly all 
 the first members were Unitarians and 
 many of the later comers were of the same 
 faith. The congregation of the Unitarian 
 church at Brookline usually contained a 
 considerable percentage of Brook Farm- 
 ers, and at times a Unitarian minister 
 from the Farm ofiSciated in that sacred 
 edifice. Eev. Dr. Eipley, Eev, John S. 
 Dwight, Eev. George P. Bradford, Eev. 
 Warren Burton, Eev. John Allen and Eev. 
 Ephraim Chapin were resident ministers, 
 and Eev. Ealph Waldo Emerson, Eev. 
 William H. Channing and Eev. James 
 Freeman Clarke were warmly interested 
 in the Association. Charles K. Neweomb 
 and Christopher P. Cranch also immediate 
 friends, were educated for the Unitarian 
 ministry. Dr. Codman in his "Eeeollec- 
 tions" speaks of seeing five Unitarian 
 clergymen dancing in the pine-grove at 
 once. 
 
 One of the features of our holiday 
 doings was the procession which spontan- 
 
ENTERTAINMENTS 99 
 
 eously came into order, after dinner, when 
 there was anything to the fore in the pine- 
 woods. Then a parade took place like 
 unto the wedding march of the villagers in 
 an old fashioned opera. There was al- 
 ways some display of decoration on such 
 occasions, usually floral, the girls, wear- 
 ing garlands and wreaths or sprays of 
 vine and chaplets of leaves. Headed, 
 perhaps by the boys with fife and drum, 
 or by the members of the cast if a play 
 was to be given, the whole community, 
 young men and maidens, old men and chil- 
 dren, went singing from one end of the 
 place to the other, that is from the Hive 
 near the entrance to the Amphitheater 
 near the far side of the grove. 
 
 When a high festival was to be cele- 
 brated, the procession took on the pic- 
 turesque dignity of a pageant. A real 
 pageant we dearly loved, but the show was 
 too expensive to be offered more than 
 once or twice annually. We had to hire 
 musicians as our own were too busy to 
 serve. Then the costumes and banners 
 
100 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 and hangings took a good bit of money, 
 though artistic ingenuity helped out 
 amazingly. Where all the magnificence 
 came from was a mystery, the splen- 
 dors of purple and gold, of rich drap- 
 eries, fine furbelows, shining garments 
 and glittering adornments being really 
 splendid, Bonico and I, as Heralds, 
 for example, once were superbly ar- 
 rayed in white tabards emblazoned with 
 red dragons and gold embroidery, cut 
 from paper and pasted on white mus- 
 lin. There was a deal of real, genuine, 
 sumptuous finery brought out from 
 family wardrobes for the pageant, but 
 the hint as to the Heralds indicated how 
 an effect could be produced at small 
 cost. 
 
 f The finest pageant we ever had was ar- 
 ranged by the Festal Series, after the re- 
 organization. It was historic in design, 
 illustrating the Elizabethan period in 
 England. Dr. Eipley personated Shakes- 
 peare; Miss Ripley, Queen Elizabeth, in 
 a tissue paper ruff, which I helped to 
 
The Pageant 
 
ENTERTAINMENTS 101 
 
 make; Mr. Dana, Sir Walter Raleigh; 
 Mary BuUard, the most beautiful of our 
 young women, Mary Queen of Scots, and 
 Charles Hosmer, Sir Philip Sidney. The 
 programme sent home to mother, at the 
 time, gives a list of the characters repre- 
 sented but it need not be further quoted 
 here. 
 
 The parade was formed on the Knoll 
 and the line of march was up the road to 
 Pilgrim Hall, over to the Cottage, around 
 the Eyrie, and down the woodland way to 
 the theater. The whole course was lined 
 with spectators, coming from Boston and 
 from all the neighboring towns. At the 
 grove a series of historic tableaux pre- 
 sented the principal personages in signifi- 
 cant pictures, and these were accompanied 
 by Old English ballads and Shakespear- 
 ian songs. The finale was a stately min- 
 uet, beautifully danced by four couples. 
 They had been drilled for weeks by Miss 
 Eussell and as she was more than satis- 
 fied with the performance, it was, no 
 doubt, nearly perfect. The audience 
 
102 MY FEIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 seemed to be of that mind as they refused 
 to disperse until the minuet had been re- 
 peated. 
 
 The following season we had a smaller 
 pageant, the costumed personages being 
 the characters in Shakespeare's comedy 
 "A Midsummer Night's Dream." This 
 was the most important play ever given in 
 the grove, and as an out-door production, 
 it antedated any similar performance in 
 America. I have seen "A Midsummer 
 Night's Dream" given in the open 
 several times since, but the magic of 
 the first impression has never again been 
 felt. 
 
 With all our love of recreation, there 
 were no sedentary games in our reper- 
 toire. Cards were unknown. The General 
 was said to like a quiet game of whist 
 in his own room, but if he had a pack of 
 cards, it was probably the only one on 
 the Farm. There was no prejudice 
 against cards or chess or any other game 
 so far as I know, but no one cared for any 
 form of amusement that separated two or 
 
ENTERTAINMENTS 103 
 
 four from all the others. I imagine that 
 even courting, the divine solitude of two, 
 must have been handicapped by this per- 
 sistent penchant for all being together. 
 '^The spell that drew these sympathetic 
 associates like a magnet was in great 
 part that charm of the general conversa- 
 tion, the memory of which still lingers 
 wherever tuaditions of Brook Farm are 
 cherished. The never failing succession of 
 entertainments especially in summer were 
 enjoyed to the full by the happy Farm- 
 ers, but it was conversation, the mutual 
 exchange of bright ideas that afforded 
 their chiefest enjoyment. Not literature, 
 not the drama, not the dance, but the 
 fascination of human speech in its best 
 employ attracted and held their enthralled 
 attention. It is impossible to report in 
 writing even the heads of this discourse, 
 pervading as it did the atmosphere of 
 Brook Farm as currents of electricity 
 pervade the air in breaths. In a college- 
 student's ditty is a strain conveying some 
 hint of such parley: ; 
 
104 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 "We'll sing to-night with hearts as light 
 And joys as gay and fleeting 
 As the bubbles that swim on the beaker's brim 
 And break on the lips at meeting." 
 
 The bubbles that break on the lips are 
 past mending. The effervescence and 
 sparkle of wine can only be known as the 
 glass is filled. The fine art of conversa- 
 tion can be perfected only by choice spirits 
 whose hearts are light, whose sprightly 
 wit, gay good hnmor and alert intelli- 
 gence make their utterances almost in- 
 toxicating. 
 
 Some attempts have been made to 
 chronicle famous Brook Farm conversa- 
 tions but the best record could hardly be 
 more than a jest book. The alert sallies 
 and quick retorts, the pat allusions and 
 apt quotations, the exaggerations, the ab- 
 surdities, the shrewd witticisms, the 
 searching satires, the puns and improvised 
 nonsense verses might possibly have been 
 registered on paper, but the spirit of 
 merriment, of good fellowship and mutual 
 
ENTERTAINMENTS 105 
 
 understanding that made thoughts to live 
 and words to sing — ^the spirit of Brook 
 Farm — no snap-shot camera could ever 
 have caught. 
 
 These talks were not all for fun, either. 
 Happy and blithesome, the Farmers were, 
 at heart, earnestly devoted to purposes 
 held sacred. They were inspired by high 
 ideals. Noble conceptions and beautiful 
 beliefs found expression in fitting phrase. 
 Eippling mirth flowed in an undercurrent 
 of serious, sincere faith and hope and 
 love. 
 
 One more matter may be referred to in 
 connection with our recreations, namely, 
 there was no hunting over our acres. The 
 woods became a refuge for birds and 
 small game. No gun was ever heard 
 there, and the shyest creatures learned 
 they were safe, among friends who loved 
 them. Eabbits excepted. Under Mr. 
 Hosmer's direction we boys trapped rab- 
 bits industriously, not for sport but to 
 prevent them overrunning the place. 
 From the traps they were transferred to 
 
106 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 the warren and thence either to the 
 kitchen or to market. 
 
 Gray squirrels troubled us some by raid- 
 ing the cornfield next the woods but their 
 depredations were not very extensive. 
 Ex-president Jefferson had the same 
 trouble at Monticello, the squirrels de- 
 stroying the outside rows of his cornfield. 
 His feeble-minded brother conceived the 
 brilliant idea of checkmating the little 
 robbers by not planting any outside rows. 
 The Farmers improved on this plan by 
 planting an extra outside row for the gray 
 thieves to feed on. 
 
CHAPTEB VII 
 THE SCHOOL 
 
 EDUCATION at Brook Farm began in 
 the kindergarten — only we did not 
 know it. The word was not in the dic- 
 tionaries of that period, and Froebel was 
 yet to be heard of in Massachusetts; but 
 the rudiments of the kindergarten system 
 were devised and put in practice by our 
 folk in response to a new demand. The 
 little ones, too old for the nursery and too 
 young for the school, demanded some 
 adequate provision for their care while 
 their mothers were at work. In the com- 
 munity the one person best suited to fill 
 any requirement was directed to the un- 
 dertaking by natural selection. This was 
 one of the normal though scarcely recog- 
 nized results of the organization of in- 
 dustry Among the many workers there 
 was always one who could do whatever 
 
 107 
 
108 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 was to be done better than any of the 
 others, and to this one, young or old, man 
 or woman, full charge of the work was 
 given. 
 
 The one person best qualified to take 
 charge of these toddlers was a charming 
 young lady, Miss Abby Morton, whose 
 sincere interest in children invariably 
 gained their young affections. Miss Mor- 
 ton gathered her group of older babies on 
 the grass or under the elms whenever 
 weather permitted and at other times in 
 the parlor of Pilgrim Hall. Her first ob- 
 ject was to make them happy and con- 
 tented, and to this end she invented and 
 arranged games and songs and stories, 
 contrived little incidents and managed 
 little surprises with never failing in- 
 genuity. Learning as well as teaching, 
 she gradually gave a purposeful bent to 
 her song-and-dance diversions, making 
 them effective lessons as well as pleasant 
 pastimes. Health and strength for the 
 growing babies were promoted by proper 
 exercises, a good carriage and graceful 
 
A Pioneer Kindergarten 
 
THE SCHOOL 109 
 
 movement of little arms and legs being 
 duly considered. Polite manners, and the 
 correct use of language were taught by- 
 precept and example. More than all, the 
 juvenile minds were, directly and in- 
 directly, drilled to acquire the habit of 
 paying attention. 
 
 The power of paying attention, of con- 
 centrating the whole force of the mind on 
 one object, is a native gift. Those who 
 are endowed with this gift are the men 
 and women destined for high careers. 
 They command confidence. They are 
 leaders in great undertakings. Success 
 attends them, humanly speaking, with 
 certainty. There is, also, the faculty of 
 taking notice, of becoming consciously 
 aware of the impressions received by the 
 senses. This faculty man shares with the 
 animals below him in the scale of being, 
 and, in both man and brute, it is suscep- 
 tible to cultivation. Training the faculty 
 of observation develops the habit of pay- 
 ing attention, and this habit, though less 
 efficient than the inborn gift, may be so 
 
110 MY FEIBNDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 confirmed as to become second nature. 
 
 Whatever the community accomplished 
 or failed to accomplish, the Brook Farm 
 School rendered important service in 
 educational progress by demonstrating 
 the practicability of cultivating the habit 
 of attention. The teachers in all classes 
 and in all lessons throughout the school 
 made ceaseless efforts to win and hold at- 
 tention. This was not incidental or ac- 
 cidental, but was an integrate part of the 
 educational plan, intelligently designed 
 and deliberately pursued, with intent to 
 train the pupils in the practice of concen- 
 trating their minds on the one thing be- 
 fore them until it became a fixed habit. 
 
 Years after the Brook Farm School had 
 closed its doors, I was called to enter an- 
 other school — the awful school of war. 
 The first word I had to learn in that school 
 was the command, "Attention!" 
 
 Attention means life or death to the 
 soldier ; victory or defeat to the army. In 
 civil life it aids incalculably in promoting 
 prosperity, the ability to give instant at- 
 
THE SCHOOL 111 
 
 tention to matters coming up for consid- 
 eration being one of the first qualifications 
 of tlie successful business man. And if 
 he has not such ability originally it may 
 be imparted to him as a habit, by early 
 training. Miss Morton did not begin too 
 early; and the teachers who followed 
 her did not persist too earnestly in the 
 endeavor to impress this habit deeply on 
 the minds of their pupils. 
 
 When my own children were beginning 
 to be interested in juvenile literature, 
 they found great pleasure in reading 
 again and again "The William Henry 
 Letters" and other stories by Mrs. Abby 
 Morton Diaz. On making inquiry I was 
 much gratified to learn that Mrs. Diaz 
 was our Abby Morton of the Brook Farm 
 Kindergarten. It was no wonder she 
 could write letters and stories appealing 
 to children. Her understanding and her 
 sympathies brought her in close touch 
 with them. She knew their minds and 
 their hearts, their likes and their dislikes 
 and what she wrote of them and for them 
 
112 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 they accepted, knowing that every word 
 was true to nature. It is observable too, 
 that in her writings she still holds to the 
 purpose of illustrating to her young 
 readers the necessity of early acquiring 
 the habit of paying attention. 
 
 Brook Farm was practically an indus- 
 trial school, though not so named. It was 
 the first I ever heard of where instruction 
 in the useful arts was regularly given as 
 a part of the educational course. The 
 fine arts were not very extensively taught 
 at the time, and all we had was literature, 
 drawing, music, and dancing. These four 
 studies were very well supplied with good 
 teachers, everything the school promised 
 to do being well done, but they were not 
 given nearly so much time as the indus- 
 trial arts. Every pupil old enough to 
 work was expected to give two hours 
 every Monday and Tuesday, and every 
 Thursday and Friday to work under an 
 instructor in the shops on the farm, in 
 the garden or the household. The pupils 
 could select their own work and could 
 
THE SCHOOL 113 
 
 make a change of occupation with con- 
 sent of the instructor. No one was 
 obliged to take the Industrial course, but 
 very few declined, even the aristocratic 
 Spaniards taking hold of work like good 
 fellows as they were. Idling was not in 
 fashion. 
 
 I worked, for a while, four hours every 
 day in the week. Cedar was found com- 
 petent to act as first assistant to the presi- 
 dent — ^in the cow-stable. Care of the cow 
 being regarded as a disagreeable duty, 
 Dr. Eipley took it upon himself, just as 
 Mrs. Eipley took the scrubbing of the 
 kitchen floor. Mrs. Eipley had other little 
 matters to look after, general oversight 
 of the girls, teaching Greek, entertaining 
 distinguished guests, writing clever mu- 
 sical plays for the Festal Series, etc., but 
 she kept the floor clean all the same. 
 
 In my honorable office I succeeded 
 Nathaniel Hawthorne. The president and 
 Cedar arose at 5 A. M., fed and milked 18 
 or 20 cows, and cleared up the stable. 
 We bathed, dressed and breakfasted at 8 
 
114 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 A. M. At 9 A. M. Dr. Ripley was in his 
 office and I in the school room. In the 
 evening two hours more were given to the 
 cows. I liked the work, liked the cows, 
 and especially liked to be with Dr. Ripley. 
 His flattering report that Cedar could 
 milk like a streak secured for me the 
 maximum wage, ten cents an hour, so that, 
 at twelve years of age or thereabouts I 
 was earning nearly enough to pay the cost 
 of board and lodging. 
 
 The milkers were necessarily late at 
 breakfast and supper and these meals we 
 took with the waiters, the pleasantest com- 
 pany in the dining room. Dr. and Mrs. 
 Ripley were charming table companions 
 and the bright girls were merry as happy 
 children. Perhaps Cedar did not fill 
 Hawthorne's place quite so well at table 
 as in the stable, but there were no intima- 
 tions given to that effect. Making the 
 most of the present moment was in order. 
 Looking backward was not. 
 
 Nathaniel Hawthorne was one of the 
 first members to join the community and 
 

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 Nathaniel Hawthorne 
 
THE SCHOOL 115 
 
 was one of the first to leave it. He 
 thought he could do better than to spend 
 his time and energy in digging over a 
 manure-pile with a dung fork. Do better 
 he certainly did, for himself and for the 
 world. 
 
 I have been asked more than once if the 
 illustrious, poetic and romantic Haw- 
 thorne did actually feed the pigs at Brook 
 Farm. My answer is that I do not know 
 as I was not there during his residency, 
 but I think he did not, my reason for 
 thinking he did not being that there were 
 no pigs to feed. The suggestion may have 
 arisen from a passage in his Notes when 
 he speaks of going out with Eev. John 
 Allen to buy a litter of pigs. Minot 
 Pratt, our head farmer, had some sort 
 of interest in a place across the brook, and 
 there may have been a pig-pen there, but 
 if there was one on our place it was un- 
 known to sharp-eyed youngsters who 
 knew every rabbit-run in the woods, and 
 every swallow's hole in the sand banks. 
 Many of the farmers were vegetarians 
 
116 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 and most of them had a Hebraic aversion 
 to pork. That viand was never seen on 
 the table except with the baked beans al- 
 ways served on Sunday; Mother Eykeman 
 managing to keep on hand a supply of 
 middlings for the bean-pot. 
 
 Hawthorne cherished kindly memories 
 of Brook Farm and these memories em- 
 bodied in the Blithedale Romance show 
 his warm and appreciative interest in the 
 life of the community. I fail to find any- 
 thing like the portrait-painting which 
 others have discovered in the delineations 
 of Blithedale characters. There are per- 
 sonal traits alluded to suggestive of Dr. 
 Eipley, of Georgiana Bruce, of Orestes 
 Brownson and others, but these hints are 
 not definite enough to identify them with 
 the personages of the book. As to the 
 assumption that Margaret Fuller served 
 as a model for Zenobia, that seems to me 
 so far fetched as to be near absurdity. 
 
 Hawthorne visited Brook Farm occa- 
 sionally, and I remember seeing him, a 
 large, handsome man, walking up and 
 
THE SCHOOL 117 
 
 down the Knoll or seated under the big 
 elm, alone. He had not then attained 
 fame and did not attract attention as a 
 celebrity. 
 
 My industrial education was not con- 
 fined to the cow-stable. At different 
 times I worked in the green-house with 
 John Codman, in the fields and meadows 
 with everybody, and in the orchard and 
 tree-nursery with Mr. Dana. On one 
 occasion teacher and pupil were sitting 
 on the ground, budding peach-seedlings, 
 when a stranger approached and de- 
 manded a hearing. Gerrish had brought 
 him out and had directed him to Vice 
 President Dana as the authority he should 
 consult. "Free speech, here," said the 
 vice-president, without looking up from 
 his work. 
 
 Speaking freely, the visitor announced 
 that his mission was to save souls, and he 
 had a message of warning to deliver to 
 sinners in danger of eternal punishment. 
 What he wanted was to have the people 
 called together that he might exhort them 
 
118 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 as to the terror of the wrath to come. 
 "Our people do not need to be called. 
 They come together every evening with- 
 out calling." 
 
 "Can I have an opportunity to address 
 them this evening?" asked the mission- 
 ary. 
 
 "You can," said Mr. Dana, still busy, 
 "but they have a way of not listening, 
 sometimes. I'll tell you what, if you are 
 able and willing to preach a sound, old- 
 fashioned, blue-blazes, and brimstone ser- 
 mon, you will get an audience. I would 
 like to hear a real scorcher, once 
 more." 
 
 So far from being encouraged the mis- 
 sionary hastily sought Gerrish and de- 
 parted on that worthy teamster's return 
 trip to Boston. 
 
 How right was wise old Dogberry in his 
 dictum that reading and writing come by 
 nature. Nature surely favors some mor- 
 tals, but to others she is not so generous. 
 I was one of the others. My sister Althea 
 picked up reading from the floor of the 
 
THE SCHOOL 119 
 
 nursery, littered with our blocks and pic- 
 ture books. She needed no lesson in 
 Webster's First Keader, but Juferouw 
 Van Antwerp had troubles of her own in 
 elucidating to one, at least, of her little 
 boys, the mysteries of a, b, ab and c, a, t, 
 cat. Althea could write a fair hand while 
 her slow brother was still struggling with 
 pot hooks and hangers. She could al- 
 ways spell correctly without the aid of a 
 book, while to me the spelling lesson was 
 the hardest of tasks. Her studies at the 
 Farm were easy and light — ^mine, heavy 
 and difficult. 
 
 One advantage of the high place of 
 president's assistant was that it gave 
 Cedar two free hours when other pupils 
 were doing their industrial stunts. These 
 hours were devoted to study, and they 
 were surely needed. Manual training 
 came, perhaps, by nature and in the in- 
 dustrial course I progressed rapidly, but 
 for the rest Miss Eipley was justified in 
 her remark that Cedar was not a "smart" 
 scholar. However, steady Dutch persist- 
 
120 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 ence compensated somewhat for lack of 
 alert facility, and the dull boy's lessons 
 were fairly well learned, though at the 
 cost of patient toil. In these out-of-school 
 labors I was constantly assisted by kindly 
 teachers. More than willing to aid a 
 pupil trying to get on, these helpful in- 
 structors gave me many an hour during 
 the four years I was with them, taking 
 time from their own precious leisure to 
 assist a scholar who could not be "smart" 
 but who could be grateful, as he always 
 has been. 
 
 The class rooms were in the Cottage, 
 Pilgrim Hall and Dr. Eipley's library. 
 We were allowed five minutes to go from 
 one class to another but that was all. The 
 day was not long enough for all we 
 wanted to do, and to be sharp on time was 
 an absolute necessity; in the classes, at 
 meals, at work, at play, everywhere and 
 always punctuality was required by rule 
 and enforced by the pressure of circum- 
 stances. There was no hurry-skurry to 
 disturb the even tenor of the way but there 
 
THE SCHOOL 121 
 
 was not a moment lost, and, while every 
 movement was rapid, there were no false 
 starts made. Undivided attention was 
 given to the matter in hand at the moment 
 and when that was disposed of, instantly 
 the next thing in order was taken up in 
 the same efficient fashion, as if it were the 
 shutting of one hook and the opening of 
 another. 
 
 School work was done as far as prac- 
 ticable, out of doors. Teachers and 
 pupils, like everyone else at Brook Farm, 
 loved to be in the open. We lived in the 
 free air so habitually that to be shut up in 
 the house was an irksome restraint. All 
 summer long classes were held in the 
 amphitheater, under the elms, on the rocky 
 or the grassy slopes of the Knoll. Of 
 course there were many lessons that could 
 be given only in class rooms, but recita- 
 tions, examinations and mental exercises 
 generally were relegated to regions beyond 
 the threshold. Botany, geology, natural 
 history and what was then called natural 
 philosophy were taught among the rocks, 
 
122 MY FEIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 in the woods and in the fields with illus- 
 trations from nature. 
 
 In the winter the school had to be 
 housed, hut except in stormy weather we 
 managed to see a good deal of the sky. 
 Study of the stars with the whole popula- 
 tion of the place standing around in the 
 snow while Dr. Eipley discoursed on the 
 constellations — that was indeed an out- 
 door lesson worth remembering. Such a 
 lesson might involve exposure to cold, but 
 we were hardy and no one was harmed 
 either at the moment or afterward by a 
 little touch of temperature down toward 
 the frost line. 
 
 Trees and plants were studied in the 
 woods and fields. The botany class made 
 excursions, gathering specimens of the 
 flora on the Farm and in the neighbor- 
 hood, with peripatetic lectures by the way. 
 Instruction in geology was given on the 
 rocks, hammer in hand. Birds and the 
 animal life of the locality we became ac- 
 quainted with at close quarters. They 
 were tame and friendly, being protected, 
 
THE SCHOOL 123 
 
 cared for and never disturbed, and we 
 learned their ways habits and character- 
 istics by intimate association. Kindness 
 to animals was taught and practiced first, 
 last and all the time, and every living crea- 
 ture from the ox at the plow to the swal- 
 low building in the sandbank was gentle 
 and not afraid. 
 
 The only cruel thing we ever did was 
 to cut down througb. the middle of an ant's 
 nest in the pine woods. Our Natural 
 History Club, of which both old folk and 
 young folk were members, made quite a 
 thorough study of ants, at one time, and, 
 for the purpose of illustrating a lesson, 
 John Cheever drove a spade through the 
 center of a nest and shoveled away, one 
 half of it. There were several of these 
 nests in the pines, each consisting of a 
 pile of sand about two feet high and per- 
 haps a yard across at the base, and the 
 structure we examined was filled with 
 chambers and galleries which we found 
 were also extended a foot or so under 
 ground. The destruction of the ant hill 
 
124 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 was regretted by some of the more scrupu- 
 lous students, but the exhibit gave us more 
 real knowledge of the industries, the 
 habits of life, the architecture, the skill 
 and the intelligence of the Formicidae, 
 than we gained in any other way. We 
 were immensely interested in these ant 
 studies, and bought all the books about 
 them we could find. Afterward I made 
 a little book myself, giving the results of 
 our investigations set forth in papers read 
 at meetings of the Club, notes of experi- 
 ments, and of Mr. Hosmer's lectures or 
 rather talks on the wonderful works of the 
 Formicidae. The publication of this book 
 marked my first appearance in the liter- 
 ary world. 
 
 Charles Hosmer was a born naturalist. 
 Every form of life was of surpassing in- 
 terest to him. In our walks abroad he 
 saw everything there was to be seen. 
 His observation was not only alert but 
 was minute and accurate. He seemed to 
 know every plant and insect and bird and 
 animal on the Farm, and had something 
 
THE SCHOOL 125 
 
 worth while to tell us about anything and 
 everything that attracted attention. 
 
 Instruction was not confined to the 
 studies of the classes. Except in the 
 hours when pupils were left to their own 
 devices, there was always a teacher or a 
 guardian at hand giving intelligent direc- 
 tion to whatever was going on, maintain- 
 ing discipline in the fundamental require- 
 ment of paying strict attention, and im- 
 parting information respecting the sub- 
 ject in hand. 
 
 By way of illustration it may he noted 
 that Minot Pratt was the head farmer 
 during the early days and a good farmer 
 he proved to be. He not only worked 
 wonders with the poor soil of the place but 
 managed at the same time to give a deal 
 of thought and care to his industrial 
 classes. The boys and girls who elected 
 to work in the fields and gardens with 
 Minot Pratt received many a valuable 
 lesson in botany, agricultural chemistry, 
 and the planting, cultivating and harvest- 
 ing of crops. 
 
126 MY FEIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 Mr. Pratt and his family left Brook 
 Farm when the association was reorgan- 
 ized as a FoTirierite Phalanx, and was suc- 
 ceeded by John Codman, who, under the 
 new order, was made Chief of the Agricul- 
 tural Series, a post which he filled with 
 signal ability during the remaining years 
 of the community's existence. The Cod- 
 mans were important members of the 
 Phalanx taking responsible places in the 
 management of affairs, and fully demon- 
 strating the practicability of abiding by 
 Christian principles in every day life. 
 They were the last to leave the place, re- 
 maining to assume the sad task of wind- 
 ing up the details of final settlements. 
 
 At one time I worked in the flower gar- 
 den and the conservatory with one of the 
 Codman boys whom I called Baas, as he 
 was my elder and my superior in the busi- 
 ness of raising plants, shrubs and flowers 
 for market. The economic worth of kind- 
 ness to animals is shown by our daily use 
 of a prize bull as a draught animal to 
 draw the cart in hauling manure, to drag 
 
THE SCHOOL 127 
 
 the cultivator in the garden and similar 
 tasks. He was a magnificent creature, a 
 gift from Francis George Shaw and was, 
 at most seasons so gentle and docile that 
 the Baas used to ride on his back between 
 the barn and the garden. 
 
 Wednesdays and Saturdays were half- 
 holidays not only for the school but for 
 the entire community. On "Wednesday 
 and Saturday afternoon the whole place 
 was en-fete. Work was suspended except 
 the simple household duties and the care 
 of the animals, and the hours were de- 
 voted to having a good time. The pupils 
 were allowed to do as they pleased, and it 
 pleased us boys sometimes to be robbers 
 and brigands and smugglers in a cavern 
 behind the Eyrie. Here we could build 
 a fire on condition that no fire was ever to 
 be built elsewhere. This dark and dismal 
 cave occupied a conspicuous place in my 
 memories of Brook Farm for many years 
 until in later life, I took my daughter to 
 visit the old place, when puffed up pride 
 had a bad fall. When we came to the 
 
128 MY FKIBNDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 cave, I could hardly believe my own eyes. 
 That spacious den of thieves, that resort 
 of bold outlaws was a cleft between two 
 great boulders. One could crawl into it 
 and turn around and that was about all. 
 It surely must have shrunk or filled up 
 or contracted or something, such a poor 
 little quart-pot of a cavern it proved to 
 be. 
 
 There was another boulder which, on 
 the same occasion, served me a better 
 turn, enabling me to identify the site 
 where Pilgrim Hall had stood. This one 
 of the many big rocks scattered about the 
 place was located immediately in front of 
 Pilgrim Hall, and I recognized it by a 
 certain little pouch or pocket next the 
 ground on its southerly side; a circum- 
 stance I had cause to remember as it cost 
 me money. The pupils of the school were 
 allowed a trifle of money, weekly, which 
 we could spend in any way we liked. Oc- 
 casionally we went over to the street and 
 bought oranges or plantains — ^bananas — 
 rarely sweets, as the sticks of candy. 
 
THE SCHOOL 129 
 
 striped like a barber's pole in a glass jar 
 on the end of the store counter were not 
 very tempting. Often we chipped in our 
 pennies, boys and girls together, and 
 commissioned Grerrish to purchase some 
 book we wanted or perhaps some bit of 
 finery for festal decoration. 
 
 There was one boy who did not take 
 part in our financial ventures. What he 
 did with his money we did not know, but 
 we never saw a cent of it. He was ready 
 enough to share our goodies but carefully 
 kept his cash in his own hands. One day 
 when we were playing three-old-cat in 
 front of Pilgrim Hall, we lost the ball 
 and searched for it in vain. Steediwink, 
 as one of the older boys was familiarly 
 called, in groping around the foot of the 
 boulder above referred to, found a hole 
 in the rock into which he thrust his hand. 
 At the far end of the hole was a sort of 
 shelf and thereon was piled a hoard of 
 small change. If everyone knew whose 
 treasury we had opened, no one named 
 any names, and the find was forthwith con- 
 
130 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 fiscated for the benefit of the festival 
 fund. 
 
 Some days later, Mr. Hosmer in his 
 evening talk to the children very signifi- 
 cantly stated that one of the scholars had 
 lost a sum of money and asked us to try 
 and find it and bring it to him that he 
 might restore it to the rightful owner. It 
 took all our allowances for several weeks 
 to make up the needed amount, but finally 
 the lost cash was found, and Mr. Hosmer 
 thanked us, again very significantly, for 
 aiding him in squaring up a somewhat 
 grievous account. The miserly boy was 
 of course to be commended for thrift, 
 but he was not of our kind and did not re- 
 main long in our company. He took care 
 of his pence and his pounds took care of 
 themselves, no doubt in later life, but that 
 is only surmise as he was one of the few 
 that we others did not try to keep track 
 of after Brook Farm became a thing of 
 the past. 
 
CHAPTER Vni 
 ODDMENTS 
 
 JOHN CHEEVER was our eccentric 
 character; not a crank, not an 
 egotist, not an enthusiast and not a Social- 
 ist, but just a plain, good-natured, shrewd- 
 witted Irishman, who, for some reason, 
 liked to live at the Farm. He never 
 joined the Association or the Phalanx but 
 just stayed on as a permanent boarder. 
 He was the newsman and general gossip 
 of the place, going about from house to 
 house and from group to grou}), working 
 a little here and a little there, as he 
 pleased, and always having something in- 
 teresting or amusing to tell, his brogue 
 giving a comic twist to his ever ready 
 jest. Taking no part in the regular in- 
 dustries except as his humor dictated, he 
 was yet a very busy person and very help- 
 ful in many ways. When there was any 
 out-of-the-way job to be done it was John 
 
 131 
 
132 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 Cheever who did it, and especially in the 
 work of preparing for entertainments, he 
 was the handy man of the Festal Series, 
 Stage carpenter, scene shifter, door 
 keeper, painter and utility man on the 
 stage. Though not attached to any of the 
 industrial groups, he took upon himself 
 certain duties which he never neglected. 
 In winter he took care of the fires at night, 
 going the rounds from the Hive to the 
 Eyrie, the Cottage and Pilgrim Hall in 
 all kinds of weather with faithful regu- 
 larity. Our main dependence for fuel 
 was peat, or turf, as John Cheever called 
 it, and to keep the rooms warm with this 
 low-grade fuel, the fires had to be renewed 
 every five or six hours. 
 
 Another of John Cheever 's self-imposed 
 tasks was the care of cranks. Though 
 somewhat peculiar himself he had no use 
 for odd fish — queer folk and the like — and 
 kept a sharp look-out for erratic strangers. 
 Of these there was a constant succession 
 coming to the Farm; reformers of 
 everything under the sun; fanatics de- 
 
ODDMENTS 133 
 
 manding the instant adoption of their 
 nebulous theories; mental aliens not quite 
 crazy but pretty near it; egotists, wild to 
 be noticed, freaks and fakirs and humbugs 
 of every description, and, worst of all, 
 wrecks of humanity seeking refuge from 
 the slings and arrows of outrageous for- 
 tune. These creatures, all and sundry, 
 John Cheever made it his business to look 
 after. The moment G^rrish landed one 
 of the tribe at the Hive, the watchman 
 spotted him, so to speak, and presently 
 managed to steer him off the place. 
 
 Gerrish brought a chap to the Hive one 
 cold winter evening who announced to the 
 assembly gathered in the parlor after 
 supper, that he had discovered a method 
 of living without sleep. Sleep was un- 
 necessary, a habit that could be overcome 
 and he had succeeded in demonstrating 
 that life could be sustained perfectly well 
 without that needless waste of time. He 
 had not slept during more than a year 
 past and he purposed to remain wide 
 awake during the years to come. 
 
134 MY FEIBNDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 It may be taken for granted that John 
 Cheever kept an eye on this fellow. He 
 was treated as a favored guest, his host 
 accepting his theory and putting it in prac- 
 tice with him that same night. Toward 
 morning he was comfortably settled in the 
 library with an interesting book to while 
 away an hour when his entertainer made 
 the rounds to look after the fires. Ee- 
 turning to the library, the fireman found 
 the theorist sound asleep in Dr. Ripley's 
 big armchair. Giving the man a vigorous 
 shake, John Cheever politely requested 
 him not to snore quite so loud as he was 
 disturbing the family. After that there 
 was nothing for the sleepless person to do 
 but wait for Gerrish to take him away. 
 
 Bonico and I trapped another fakir soon 
 afterward though by accident rather than 
 design. This specimen was a genius in- 
 spired by the belief that cooking is the 
 source of all the ills that flesh is heir to. 
 He lectured us on the folly of eating 
 boiled and roasted and toasted food, de- 
 claring that we must subsist on nature's 
 
ODDMENTS 135 
 
 products as she gives them to us, just as 
 other animals do. Nature affords an 
 abundant supply of grains and fruits and 
 nuts and roots, and it is our place not to 
 change these things by fire but to take 
 them as they are offered to us. 
 
 As heretofore noted, our fare was 
 simple enough, and after our spare meals 
 there was very little left on the tables to 
 be cleaned away. What small leavings of 
 scraps and crumbs there happened to be, 
 were brushed onto a big salver and placed 
 outside the kitchen door. My chum and I 
 had to go out in the evening and take this 
 salver out to the chicken run behind the 
 barn. We had seen the dietetic reformer 
 wandering about the place for a day or 
 two, constantly chewing wheat which he 
 carried in a bag hanging conspicuously 
 from his belt. He did not come into the 
 dining room or take regular meals, claim- 
 ing to be sufficiently nourished by the raw 
 wheat he masticated so industriously. 
 We had not noticed him especially — no one 
 took much notice of pretentious faddists 
 
136 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 — ^but on going around to the back door for 
 the chicken-feed one evening Bonico and 
 I recognized the wheat-muncher bending 
 over the salver eagerly picking np what- 
 ever bits and pieces he could find to eat. 
 He was so engaged in this employ that we 
 did not disturb him but quietly slipped 
 away and reported the case to John 
 Cheever. That guardian of the peace im- 
 mediately trotted off to the kitchen, 
 gathered up a plate of food and rushed 
 out to the diet reformer, exclaiming: 
 "Here is your supper! No one need go 
 hungry at Brook Farm." That was the 
 last of this particular specimen; but there 
 were others, so many others that they 
 would have been intolerable but for the 
 watchful care that protected us from too 
 troublesome invasions. 
 
 John Cheever 's most appreciated serv- 
 ice to the community was his addition of 
 Irish oatmeal to our scanty bill of fare. 
 He did not care for brewis and brown 
 bread any more than I did and for his own 
 satisfaction he wrote to friends in the old 
 
ODDMENTS 137 
 
 country to send him a consignment of 
 Irish oatmeal. In due time Gerrish de- 
 livered a hundred weight of this new prov- 
 ender, sealed in tin cans. It made such 
 a surprisingly good breakfast that we went 
 through those tins cans in short meter. A 
 larger supply was sent for at once, and 
 thereafter oatmeal was always on the 
 breakfast table. We presently found that 
 when a can was opened the contents very 
 soon turned rancid; and thereupon Glover 
 Drew hunted up a grist-mill that ground 
 our own oats for us. Making more than 
 we needed. Glover Drew tried to find a 
 market for the surplus, but no one would 
 have it at any price. 
 
 John Cheever was the one person in all 
 "West Eoxbury who sympathized with my 
 sister and myself in the most grievous 
 trial we ever encountered as children. 
 The Brook Farmers and all their neigh- 
 bors ignored Christmas. They knew 
 nothing and cared nothing about that 
 wondrous season of joy for the little ones, 
 and could not in the least understand how 
 
138 MY FEIENDS AT BROOK PAEM 
 
 it was that Althea and I were so sorely 
 hurt by such a trifle as the neglect of an 
 old and forgotten custom. John Cheever 
 did understand. He was a Catholic and 
 while not at all devout, he still held in 
 reverence the sacred observances of the 
 church. He it was who explained to us 
 that the New England Puritans were bit- 
 terly hostile to anything and everything 
 savoring of what they called Popery, im- 
 posing severe penalties on misguided 
 wretches who dared to show respect for 
 old beliefs. He said that the General 
 Court of Massachusetts had enacted a 
 special law against the keeping of Christ- 
 mas, visiting with fine and imprisonment 
 the transgressors who dared to celebrate 
 that Popish festival. It was the misfor- 
 tune and not the fault of the Brook Farm- 
 ers that the Bethlehem Birthday was no 
 more to them than Saint Jude's day or the 
 Feast of the Tabernacles. 
 
 In the Old Colonic Christmas was the 
 one great day of all the year for children. 
 We did not have the Christmas tree, but 
 
ODDMENTS 139 
 
 we had the Bethlehem manger in the Dutch 
 Reform Church at the foot of the high 
 pulpit and dominie Bogardus told us the 
 story of the Birthday of Our Lord in 
 simple words which we could all under- 
 stand. Early in the morning we ran down 
 to the sitting room where our stockings 
 were hanging from the mantel shelf filled 
 by Santa Claus with Christmas gifts, with 
 more piled on the table for our friends 
 and for poor families. That was what 
 an effusive writer once called the "hal- 
 cyon and vociferous" beginning of the 
 day. 
 
 In the afternoon the boys went abroad 
 bearing gifts, and the girls kept open 
 house at home receiving visitors bringing 
 more Christmas presents. In the evening, 
 children's parties were in order, with 
 traditional games brought over from the 
 old country by the Walloons. Old fash- 
 ioned costumes were worn at these par- 
 ties, Utrecht velvet being much in favor. 
 My velvet suit proved available in more 
 than one of our Brook Farm costume 
 
140 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 shows — only it was not worn at Christmas 
 time. 
 
 It must have been one of the last days 
 of December when Gerrish brought us a 
 belated Christmas box and Christmas let- 
 ters from home. That was the first in- 
 timation coming to Althea and myself that 
 our most precious holiday was at hand. 
 Dumfounded, we realized too late that 
 Christmas Day had passed without our 
 knowing it. It was simply incredible! 
 We could not comprehend, much less be re- 
 conciled to, such an inconceivable state of 
 affairs. Our trouble, however, was all 
 our own. No one else had any part or 
 lot in it except John Cheever. Our dear- 
 est friends and companions were politely 
 sorry we had missed something, they did 
 not know what — and that was all. They 
 had no more conception of what Christ- 
 mas meant to us than of what the Pass- 
 over means to Israel. 
 
 Our box was filled Christmas goodies, 
 olecokes and crullers, candies and cookies 
 and all the fifty-seven varieties of Dutch 
 
ODDMENTS 141 
 
 dainties proper to the season ; and on New 
 Year's eve good Mrs. Eykman made this 
 store of sweets the nucleus of an im- 
 promptu feast designed for our comfort 
 and consolation. It was well meant and 
 well managed and the kindly feeling mani- 
 fested made up in part for the disappoint- 
 ment we had experienced; but the Christ- 
 mas of that year was a dead loss — a loss 
 that I regret to this day. 
 
 At Brook Farm, however, there was 
 small chance to indulge in regrets and the 
 Christmas trouble had to give place to 
 more immediate interests. The Farmers 
 were, first of all, Trancendentalists which 
 is to say they were philosophers and not 
 given to repining. Their philosophy was 
 not stated in their public announcements 
 but was expressed in their lives. It may 
 be formulated as the philosophy of Here 
 and Now. 
 
 / Here and Now; on the spot, with the 
 goods, at the moment. Not yesterday; 
 not to-morrow, but to-day, this hour, this 
 instant is the appointed time to live for 
 
142 MY FEIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 all you are worth. Put your heart in your 
 work right Here. Give your mind, your 
 skill, your energy to whatever you have 
 in hand just Now. Respect for the past, 
 for its traditions and its memories is all 
 right but never look back intently enough 
 to prevent seeing what is before you Here 
 and Now. Hope for the future is all 
 right, but let not dreams of the good time 
 coming becloud clear comprehension of 
 the realities at hand Here and Now. 
 That was the philosophy of the Brook 
 Farmers, not set forth in words, but set 
 forth in deeds. To be on the spot, with 
 the goods at the moment — this was their 
 ideal and they lived up to it every day and 
 all day long.J 
 
 Their Puritan neighbors professed a 
 philosophy of the hereafter, and although 
 they did not live up to it constantly, they 
 proclaimed it all the more vehemently. 
 Not in the life of this wicked and weary 
 world but in the life of the world to come 
 their hopes and especially their fears were 
 centered. Miserable sinners, born into 
 
ODDMENTS 143 
 
 total depravity could only employ their 
 brief sojourn on earth in striving to save 
 their souls. Mortifying the flesh and hold- 
 ing all pleasures to be foolish if not im- 
 pious, they deferred happiness to the 
 realms beyond the skies. To them Here 
 was nothing and Now was nothing. The 
 eternal hereafter was all. Looking at life 
 as merely a preparation for death, their 
 point of view was diametrically opposite 
 to that of the Farmers who looked upon 
 life as a phase of existence to be made 
 the most of and to be enjoyed to the full 
 with every breath from first to last. Nat- 
 urally enough, perhaps, the devout pietists 
 regarded the cheerful worldlings as lost 
 beyond hope of redemption. The same 
 sentiments that prompted the whipping 
 and hanging and persecuting incidents of 
 Puritan history were entertained by the 
 orthodox elect of Eoxbury and were mani- 
 fested Brook Farmward sometimes with 
 sullen hostility. The young folk of the 
 neighborhood came to our entertainments 
 gladly enough, but some of the harsh-vis- 
 
144 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 aged elders would have found greater sat- 
 isfaction in administering stern old-fash- 
 ioned discipline if their power to deal with 
 malighants had only been what it was in 
 the days when their kind ruled Mas- 
 sachusetts Bay Colony with a rod of iron. 
 
 It was these pleasurings of ours that 
 brought down on us the severest anathe- 
 mas. We were idlers forever singing and 
 fiddling and dancing when honest folk 
 were at work. This criticism was in part 
 true. We certainly did devote more time 
 and more attention to recreation than was 
 customary among working folk. The two 
 half-holidays of the week were set apart 
 for diversions. All care and toil came to 
 a full stop, and everyone was free to do ex- 
 actly as he or she pleased. Usually all 
 hands pleased to be together, after the 
 Brook Farm fashion, everyone joining in 
 whatever scheme of amusement was on 
 foot for the day. 
 
 After the reorganization the Festal 
 Series took systematic charge of the holi- 
 days and there was always something 
 
ODDMENTS 145 
 
 worth, while provided for the afternoon or 
 evening or both, in which all of us were 
 ready to take part and eager to enjoy. 
 
 The Brook Farm Association was at; 
 first organized as a joint stock company. 
 The stated objects of this company were 
 the conduct of a school, a farm, a print- 
 ing and publishing business and other 
 light industries. The unstated purpose 
 was the carrying out of a social experi- 
 ment; a practical attempt to form a com- 
 munity living what we would now call the 
 Simple Life. Incidentally there was a de- 
 liberate intent to make the most of oppor- 
 tunities for promoting happiness. These 
 bright, intelligent, cultured young people 
 set out to have a sane, sensible, joyous 
 good time in the world, and they cer- 
 tainly succeeded wonderfully well in this 
 endeavor. I can truly say I have never 
 known any company anywhere who en- 
 joyed this earthly existence more thor- 
 oughly than did these Brook Farmers. 
 They believed the Good Lord meant this 
 life to be beautiful and harmonious and 
 
146 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 they set out in good faith to make it con- 
 form to the Divine idea. .They were 
 happy, on principle, so to speak. To this 
 end they consistently demonstrated the 
 worth of good cheer, good companionship 
 and good entertainment. Eecreation and 
 amusement were as much a part of their 
 programme as tilling the soil, teaching 
 school or keeping house. To wake up every 
 morning eager to begin an active, inter- 
 esting, joyful day, without a thought of 
 anxiety — that was their ideal, and, like 
 their other ideals, this was fairly realized. 
 Our critics held that we had no moral 
 right to give up a whole day each week 
 just for fun. This might have been true 
 had we been trying to get rich, but getting 
 rich was not the first object we contem- 
 plated. Other things came before wealth- 
 seeking, but, all the same, in competition 
 with those who thought ill of our ways, 
 we beat them all to pieces. In Boston 
 markets Brook Farm products were at a 
 premium and found quicker sale at better 
 prices than the West Eoxbury farmers 
 
ODDMENTS 147 
 
 and gardeners conld command. They sent 
 potatoes in the bottom of a wagon; apples 
 in a soap box; berries in a battered tin 
 pail and butter in an old cracked crock; 
 none of these things being particularly 
 clean. Our girls put up our garden stuffs 
 in neat, regular parcels. The quality of 
 the orchard and farm and dairy products 
 Was invariably the best; and everything 
 was fresh as possible, and neat and at- 
 tractive in appearance. I will venture to 
 say we got more money from an acre of 
 ground in five days than any of our neigh- 
 bors did in six. Perhaps that was another 
 reason why they did not like us. ) 
 
CHAPTEE IX 
 FOURIEE AND THE FARMEES 
 
 IN the language of the time the Farm- 
 ers were Socialists, but the Social- 
 ism of 1840-50 was a very different prop- 
 osition from the Socialism of to-day. The 
 earlier socialists were not in politics. 
 They had no party, politically speaking, 
 and took only a remote and indirect in- 
 terest in political affairs. What they 
 wanted was to reform the world; to re- 
 construct civilization on a scientific basis. 
 That was what President Lincoln was 
 wont to call a big job. However, faith 
 will move mountains, and the socialists 
 certainly had faith. Their purpose was 
 far reaching, to be sure, but, after all, it 
 rested on a very simple basis. Reduced 
 to a syllogism it might be stated as fol- 
 lows : Major premise : Every human being 
 desires happiness. Minor premise : Social- 
 
 148 
 
FOURIER AND THE FARMERS 149 
 
 ism provides for the happiness of every 
 human being. Conclusion: Demonstrate 
 this truth and every human being will be- 
 come a socialist. Q. E. D. 
 
 The socialists were at first called 
 Fourierites but this rather long title very 
 soon gave place to the more convenient 
 word here used. The science of right liv- 
 ing was evolved by Charles Fourier, a 
 French savant who gave his life to human- 
 itarian studies. His fundamental concept 
 was that the Creator and Euler of the 
 iUniverse instituted one law; one edict of 
 the Divine Will, one all-inclusive order, 
 regulating and controlling everything that 
 is. This is the Law of the series. The 
 stars in their courses move in the serial 
 order, and the leaves clothing the trees 
 obey the same cosmic code. Fourier's 
 first axiom was: The series distribute the 
 Harmonies. That is to say, the opera- 
 tion of the Law of the series brings about 
 harmonious results. The stars traverse 
 serenely their proper orbits, influencing 
 each other in a perfect balance of harmo- 
 
150 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 nious relations. The leaves burgeon on the 
 branches in the serial order that gives to 
 each its share of sun and rain. Human 
 society to reach its highest development 
 must come into harmonious relations with 
 the stars, with the leaves, with everything 
 that exists in the universe, under the 
 Divine Law of the series. To this end 
 society must be reconstructed in the or- 
 der of the series. 
 
 Organization of Labor 
 
 Labor is the prime factor of human 
 affairs. By Labor the race is to subdue 
 the earth that the earth may be our herit- 
 age. This is the first command with a 
 promise given in the Bible. To fulfill the 
 Divine purpose Labor must be brought 
 imder the Divine Law, the Law of the 
 series. 
 
 Disorganized Labor cannot subdue the 
 earth, hampered as it is by waste, by loss, 
 by repulsive and dangerous tasks, by 
 fruitless toil, by class hostilities, by war- 
 ring communities, by the monopoly of 
 
FOURIER AND THE FARMERS 151 
 
 gains, and by the thousand penalties in- 
 curred by disorderly opposition to Law. 
 
 The Organization of Labor will evolve 
 Attractive Industries; Harmonious Com- 
 munities, and will ensure the Equitable 
 Distribution of Gains and the protection 
 afforded by Mutual Guarantees. 
 
 These communities will illustrate Four- 
 ier's second axiom. Attractions are Pro- 
 portioned to Destinies. Every being born 
 into this world has a place in the work of 
 subduing the earth, suited to his abilities 
 and to his tastes. In the Organized Com- 
 munity this place will be open to him. He 
 will be attracted to those industries in 
 which he is destined to do his best work. 
 
 The Series Distribute the Harmonies, 
 and, under the Law communities will be 
 drawn together by natural attraction. 
 The Law ensures harmonious relation and 
 there will be no competitions, no grasping 
 monopolies, no clashing of opposing 
 forces. The welfare of each individual 
 will be identified with the welfare of all. 
 The community of Organized Laborers, 
 
152 MY FEIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 living together and working together in 
 Attractive Industries, will be a solid 
 Phalanx of united interests. The Phalanx 
 will assume responsibility for the welfare 
 of each member from birth to death. The 
 provision of Mutual Guarantees will in- 
 sure to each a good home, good living, 
 good education for the young, good care 
 for the aged and good opportunities for 
 work and for recreation while life lasts. 
 Each one will be perfectly free to follow 
 those congenial pursuits the attractions of 
 which are proportioned to his destiny. 
 The final consummation as announced by 
 Fourier in his third axiom, will be the 
 Unity of Man with God, with Man, and 
 with Nature. 
 
 The apostle of Fourierism in America 
 was Albert Brisbane. By nature a human- 
 itarian and by earnest study a profound 
 scholar, he recognized a germ of truth in 
 the theory of the Transcendentalists that 
 humanity is suffering from evils which if 
 not remedied must result in disaster. The 
 remedy he found in Socialism. While so- 
 
FOURIER AND THE FARMERS 153 
 
 journing in France he came under the per- 
 sonal influence of Charles Fourier and, 
 was a member of the circle of converts 
 drawn around the founder of Socialism — 
 not the political Socialism of to-day, be it 
 again said, but the Socialism of 1840, de- 
 voted to the reorganization of civilized 
 society, on a scientific basis ; the re-forma- 
 tion of human institutions under the uni- 
 versal Serial Order. 
 
 Eeturning home, Mr. Brisbane estab- 
 lished a socialistic propaganda which for 
 ten years or more exercised a wide in- 
 fluence on the public mind of this country 
 and awakened an intense interest in the 
 socialistic movement. He translated the 
 works of Fourier and published them at 
 his own cost. He had a column in Horace 
 Greeley's Tribune where he expounded the 
 new doctrines and gave practical instruc- 
 tion to his followers. An eloquent and 
 persuasive speaker, he lectured constantly 
 all over the country, and formed socialist 
 clubs and societies and made converts with 
 whom he maintained an active correspond- 
 
154 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 ence. At flood tide lie estimated that the 
 socialists in the United States numbered 
 more than 200,000. I believe the records 
 show forty-two communities organized on 
 the socialistic plan during the decade 
 above referred to. There were two in the 
 state of New York; two in Pennsylvania, 
 two in Ohio; two in New Jersey, and two 
 in Massachusetts, namely Hopedale and 
 Brook Farm. 
 
 Of course Mr. Brisbane came to Brook 
 Farm. I remember him as a tall, rather 
 slender young man, somewhat bent for- 
 ward, alert and impulsive in manner, quick 
 of gesture and of speech, and a charming 
 talker. Filled with enthusiasm, glorying 
 in the great cause he stood for, self- 
 sacrificing, giving himself absolutely to 
 the redemption of humanity, he con- 
 verted the Farmers to the Fourierite 
 theories and induced them to put these 
 theories to the test of actual experi- 
 ment. Minot Pratt and one or two 
 other skeptics left the Association, but 
 the rest of the members unanimously 
 
FOURIER AND THE FARMERS 155 
 
 voted to reorganize as a Fourierite 
 Phalanx. 
 
 When this was accomplished Mr. Bris- 
 bane made Brook Farm a sort of head- 
 quarters for the Socialistic propaganda, 
 and enlisted several of the members as lec- 
 turers and teachers of humanitarian 
 science. The Harbinger was established 
 as the Fourierite organ in this country. 
 Dr. Eipley and Mr. Dana were the editors, 
 and it was a Brook Farm publication. 
 There was, however, very little of Brook 
 Farm news in its columns, and no adver- 
 tising. Besides the exposition of socialis- 
 tic doctrine there were book reviews, mu- 
 sical notes, and fiction, the most important 
 novel being George Sands' "Consuelo," 
 translated for the paper by Francis 
 George Shaw. The Harbinger never 
 paid expenses, and the editors and con- 
 tributors gave their services in aid of the 
 cause it advocated. Among those who 
 wrote for the journal were Ralph Waldo 
 Emerson, Albert Brisbane, Wm. H. Chan- 
 ning, Elizabeth Peabody, and Margaret 
 Fuller. 
 
156 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 Elizabeth Peabody, though, not a mem- 
 ber of the Association was warmly inter- 
 ested in its work and in its welfare. In 
 one of her contributions to The Dial, the 
 organ of the Transcendentalists, she 
 wrote, in part, as follows: "There are men 
 and women who have dared to say to one 
 another, 'Why not have our daily life or- 
 ganized on Christ's own idea? Why not 
 begin to remove the mountain of custom 
 and convention?' In order to live a re- 
 ligious and moral life, they feel it is nec- 
 essary to come out in some degree from 
 the world and form themselves into a com- 
 munity of property so far as to exclude 
 competition and the ordinary rules of 
 trade, while they preserve sufficient pri- 
 vate property for all purposes of inde- 
 pendence and isolation at will. They make 
 agriculture the basis of their life, it being 
 most direct and simple in relation to na- 
 ture. A true life although it aims beyond 
 the stars, is redolent of the healthy 
 earth. The perfume of clover lingers 
 about it. The lowing of cattle is the nat- 
 
FOURIER AND THE FARMERS 157 
 
 ural bass to the melody of liuman voices." 
 Miss Peabody was one of the children's 
 friends at the Farm. She was much in- 
 terested in the school and when she had 
 something to say to us, the classes all came 
 together and listened to her pertinent 
 words with earnest attention. I cannot 
 say as much for her co-worker, Margaret 
 Fuller. Her monologues in the parlor at 
 the Hive failed to attract the notice she 
 evidently thought they deserved, and I am 
 afraid, on the whole, her experiences at 
 the Farm were rather disappointing to 
 her. She occupied a room in the cottage, 
 and I have heard that the little house has 
 since been called the Margaret Fuller 
 Cottage, but no one ever thought of so 
 naming it in the early days. 
 
 Let -not this record of a boy's impres- 
 sions be read as detracting from the lus- 
 ter shining about the memory of Margaret 
 Fuller. She was highly respected and 
 esteemed by all Brook Farmers and the 
 friends of the community during her life 
 of faithful service, and her tragic death 
 
158 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 was a source of grief deep and sincere to 
 all who knew her worth. After the com- 
 munity broke up, she went to live in Italy, 
 and there was happily married to the 
 Count d'Ossoli. Keturning .to America 
 with her husband and child, a happy wife 
 and proud mother, the vessel on which they 
 were passengers was wrecked off Fire Is- 
 land, and all on board were drowned. Al- 
 most within sight of home, and almost 
 within reach of help from the shore, Mar- 
 garet Fuller and her dear ones perished 
 together. There was no Life Saving Serv- 
 ice at that time, and watchers on the beach 
 had no means of rescuing the voyagers 
 who met death as they were drawing near 
 to the end of their journey. 
 
 When the Brook Farm Association be- 
 came the Brook Farm Phalanx, the indus- 
 tries of the place were organized in the 
 serial order. The tilling of the soil was 
 conducted by the Agricultural Series, with 
 special work assigned to different groups, 
 as the Farming group, the Orchard group, 
 the Garden group, etc. The household 
 
FOUEIER AND THE FARMERS 159 
 
 affairs were in charge of the Domestic 
 Series, comprising the Kitchen group, the 
 Laundry group, the Waiters' group — a 
 very jolly group, that, and two or three oth- 
 ers. The Manufacturing Series directed 
 the work of the trades ; and the Festal Se- 
 ries had charge of recreations and enter- 
 tainments. The last named series had 
 attractions proportioned to the des- 
 tinies of every member of every group in 
 the industrial organization, and a deal of 
 care and attention were deliberately given 
 to its functions. Six days we labored and 
 did all our work and did it well. We did 
 not labor the same number of hours each 
 day but took two half -holidays every week 
 for having a royal good time under the 
 management of the Festal Series. 
 
 No one was closely confined to any of 
 the specialized groups but, as a rule, every 
 one found his right place and attended 
 strictly to business therein; subject, how- 
 ever, to an emergency call in case of need. 
 In the planting season and the harvesting 
 season, for example, we could put fifty 
 
160 MY FEIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 hands in the field, or more if required. 
 Agriculture was our main interest and 
 farming became a very attractive industry 
 when potatoes were to be quickly put in 
 the ground or when hay was to be rushed 
 to the barns. 
 
 On the whole it can be truly said that 
 the serial order worked first rate in agri- 
 culture, which I happened to know most 
 about, and the practical experiment of or- 
 ganizing industry was immensely success- 
 ful so far as getting work done was con- 
 cerned. As to profit and loss that is a 
 matter about which I am not informed. 
 
 Agriculture is the basis of support for 
 the human family and will continue to be 
 the basis in the new dispensation. The 
 Organization of Labor in agriculture will 
 necessitate the drawing together of work- 
 ers in communities, each neighborhood 
 uniting to dwell at a convenient central 
 location. At this central home, all the 
 problems of the isolated household will be 
 provided for by this organized community, 
 by the conduct of domestic affairs in the 
 
FOURIER AND THE FARMERS 161 
 
 scientific order of the series. Such a com- 
 munity will be a Phalanx, and the Phalanx 
 will be the unit of Organized Society. 
 
 Fourier anticipated many inventions, 
 mechanical deviqfes for taking the place of 
 handiwork in-the household, among others. 
 The hard and the disagreeable tasks now 
 assigned to servants, would in the Pha- 
 lanx be performed on a large scale by ma- 
 chinery. 
 
 There were no servants at Brook Farm. 
 Every one served but no one was hired 
 to serve. Household drudgery was re- 
 duced to the lowest practicable minimum. 
 We did not live on the fat of the land, and 
 that made a wonderful difference in the 
 kitchen work, — that was at first. Later 
 we had to employ farm-laborers and me- 
 chanics and as they needed meat for strong 
 men, it became necessary for greasy Joan 
 to keel the pot, and Joan was imported for 
 that purpose. 
 
 Our plain fare — ^very plain indeed it 
 was — occasioned a good deal of comment 
 among our friends. They were afraid we 
 
162 MY FEIBNDS AT BROOK FAEM 
 
 would starve but we didn't. We were all 
 splendidly well, kept in fine condition and 
 in the best of high spirits. The very few 
 cases of sickness on the place were every 
 one of them brought there from elsewhere, 
 until the advent of the scourge — and that 
 too, we brought or was possibly sent, from 
 outside our healthful borders. 
 
 On the whole, again, from the social 
 point of view, the Brook Farm experiment 
 was eminently successful. We were 
 happy, contented, well-off and care-free; 
 doing a great work in the world, enthu- 
 siastic and faithful, we enjoyed every mo- 
 ment of every day, dominated every mo- 
 ment of every day by the Spirit of Brook 
 Farm. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 UNTO THIS LAST 
 
 THEEE were two funerals at Brook 
 Farm, during my time, and I think 
 there were no more afterward. A young 
 woman named Williams came there with 
 incipient tuberculosis and after being ten- 
 derly cared for and made as comfortable 
 as possible for several months, peacefully 
 passed away. That was the only death. 
 The deceased was buried with simple but 
 impressive services in a quiet nook at the 
 far end of the pine woods. This was the 
 retired spot where the members of the 
 community expected to be interred when 
 their labors in this world came to aii end. 
 That expectation was not fulfilled. The 
 Brook Farmers have nearly all joined the 
 congregation of the beyond, but they are 
 sepulchred in the four quarters of the globe. 
 Theodore Parker's monument is visited 
 
 163 
 
164 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 by tourists in Italy. Captain Jolin Steel 
 made his last voyage to the port of Hong 
 Kong. John S. Dwight lies in Mount Ver- 
 non; Dr. and Mrs. Eipley in Greenwood. 
 The young couple who went to California 
 never came back and never will. Robert 
 Shaw fell at Fort Sumter and shares a 
 place in the trenches with his men ; and the 
 battlefields of the South hold all that was 
 mortal of three others. Not one found 
 final shelter under the sod of Brook Farm. 
 
 The Eev. John Allen on resigning his 
 pastorate to become a member of our com- 
 munity, was detained for a time by the ill- 
 ness of his wife. When she died he 
 brought her remains for burial in the 
 little cemetery among the pines. This 
 was the second funeral I witnessed, and 
 I think there were no others during the ex- 
 istence of the community. 
 
 Some years since I visited the old place 
 with Dr. Codman, and, among the other 
 well remembered localities we sought out 
 the place where we had attended two 
 funerals in the long-ago of our boyhood, 
 
UNTO THIS LAST 165 
 
 but the mementos of these two occasions 
 were not to be found. During the war of 
 the Rebellion Brook Farm had been used 
 as a convalescent camp, and many of the 
 sick and wounded were mustered out there 
 by the last general orders which we must 
 all obey. Among the numberless soldiers' ' 
 graves it was impossible to identify the 
 two mounds for which we were looking. 
 
 As noted, the Phalanx had several of 
 its members in the lecture field to aid in 
 forwarding the socialist movement. The 
 cost of this propaganda and the publica- 
 tion of the Harbinger, the Socialistic or- 
 gan, must have been a tax on the slender 
 resources of the community, but to make 
 sacrifices for the great cause was quite in 
 accordance with the spirit of Brook Farm, 
 and, so far as I know the burden was 
 cheerfully borne. The Eev. John Allen 
 was one of those engaged in this educa- 
 tional work and much of his time was 
 given to it. He was affectionately de- 
 voted to his motherless child, a charming 
 
-f 166 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 little girl of perhaps four years, and when 
 the conditions favored he took her with him 
 on his lecturing tours. One evening he 
 came home unexpectedly, bringing the 
 child as she was not feeling well, and leav- 
 ing her in Mrs. Eykeman's care. The 
 baby and I were dear friends, and, the 
 next day, she being confined to Mrs. Eyke- 
 man's rooms, I spent the afternoon trying 
 to entertain her. Toward night, as she 
 was evidently very sick, a doctor was 
 called in from Brookline. The physician 
 examined the little one and pronounced 
 the dreadful verdict that we had on our 
 hands a case of virulent smallpox. 
 \ That was the beginning of the end.^ 
 
 As Mrs. Eyekman and I had been ex- 
 posed to contagion, we were quarantined 
 in her rooms and every precaution was 
 taken to prevent the spread of the disease. 
 Neither Mrs. Eykeman nor I had a single 
 symptom of the disorder, but presently, 
 other cases appeared, one after another, 
 and during the next few months, the 
 scourge ran through the community. 
 
UNTO THIS LAST 167 
 
 Thanks, no doubt, to the sturdy good 
 health of our people, the invasion by this 
 enemy of mankind — and a terrible enemy 
 the smallpox then was — did not prove 
 directly calamitous. The baby was the 
 only one seriously sick, and she made a 
 rapid recovery, as indeed did all the 
 others who were attacked. There were 
 not more than a dozen eases from first to 
 last and not one suffered much more than 
 inconvenience, and not one had a pit or 
 spot such as the smallpox leaves to mark 
 its victims. 
 
 After the first shock of surprise and 
 alarm, the affliction was endured without 
 a murmur. It was a hard trial and we 
 all knew it, but it was borne with courage 
 and equanimity as all trials and hardships 
 were borne by this high-souled company, 
 imbued with the true spirit of Brook 
 Farm. 
 
 There were seldom more than two or 
 three on the sick list at a time — these, by 
 the way, usually taking care of themselves 
 or of each other — and the rest of us went 
 
168 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 about the daily affairs of life very mucli 
 as though all was well with us. There was 
 no more seclusion, and work and study 
 were presently resumed in regular order. 
 
 We were, however, shut off from com- 
 munication with the outer world. Ger- 
 rish left the mail and other things at the 
 bridge, but he took nothing away, as we 
 were not allowed to send anything off the 
 place. No one could cross the brook from 
 our side, and no one came to us from the 
 other side. That was a grievous misfor- 
 tune, but it was not the worst. 
 VThe smallpox killed the school. / 
 
 Several of the elder pupils fled on the 
 first alarm, before we were shut in, and 
 these did not return. No others came to 
 take the vacant places and, presently, the 
 higher classes were suspended. At the 
 end of the term the Brook Farm School 
 was permanently closed. 
 ^This was the second step toward the 
 final dissolution of the community. Like 
 unto the first, the second step was forced 
 upon us as one of the results following 
 
UNTO THIS LAST 169 
 
 the return home of Mr. Allen's stricken 
 daughter.^ 
 
 (How was it that such an aflBiction could 
 have come to this poor innocent little vic- 
 tim? No one ever knew. She was her 
 father's darling and he watched over her 
 with the most faithful care. He was 
 obliged to leave her during lecture hours 
 but always in charge of trustworthy- 
 friends. At no time, so far as he could 
 find, had she been in danger of contagion. 
 Of course that danger might possibly 
 have been incurred without his knowledge, 
 but another possibility was that the 
 scourge might have been visited upon us 
 through her infection by malignant de- 
 sign. 
 
 We knew there was bitter feeling 
 against us among the old Puritans of 
 Eoxbury. They hated us and took oc- 
 casion to annoy and injure us in many 
 mean ways. Very little heed was given 
 to these neighborly attentions and very 
 likely the matter would not have been 
 thought of in connection with the smallpox 
 
170 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 had that been all we had to suffer, but it 
 was not. 
 
 When three mysterious fires occurred, 
 one after another, destroying the three 
 principal houses on the domain. Pilgrim 
 Hall, the Eyrie and the Phalanstery, it was 
 impossible to account for the origin of 
 any of them. Then it was that memory 
 inevitably recalled manifestations of hos- 
 tility that could be accounted for with ab- 
 solute certainty. \ 
 
 Pilgrim Hall was the main dormitory 
 for pupils, a plain but substantial struc- 
 ture, the first one erected for school pur- 
 poses. The Phalanstery was intended to 
 be the home of the Phalanx. It was a 
 comparatively large and costly wooden 
 building, with public rooms on the first 
 floor and accommodation for about one 
 hundred and fifty people on the second and 
 third floors. To put up the Phalanstery 
 was the biggest job undertaken by the 
 community and it taxed all available re- 
 sources to the last dollar. When nearly 
 finished it was set on fire and burned to 
 
UNTO THIS LAST 171 
 
 ashes. This last loss bankrupted Brook 
 Farm. There was no money left to go on 
 with, and the socialistic organization at 
 West Eoxbury had to be abandoned. The 
 Fonrierite experiment was a failure. 
 The joyous life of the happy companions, 
 grown so dear to each other, was ended. 
 The congenial company, united by such in- 
 timate ties was broken up. The loving 
 brothers and sisters said farewell to their 
 trusted friends and to their sunny home, 
 going their widely separated ways, few of 
 them ever to meet again. 
 
 The failure of Brook Farm was rightly 
 attributed to a succession of inexplicable 
 disasters. That was true as to direct 
 causes, but it seems apparent to-day that 
 the Socialistic movement could not pos- 
 sibly have been carried to ultimate suc- 
 cess. The world was not ready to accept 
 Fourier's theories far enough to abandon 
 civilization and live the Simple Life. The 
 era of the millennium had not arrived. 
 That era has not yet arrived, for that mat- 
 ter, and while there are enthusiasts who 
 
172 MY FRIENDS AT BROOK FARM 
 
 assure us the dawn of the glorious morn- 
 ing is almost within sight, we others are 
 not quite able to see it. There are not 
 many of the Socialists of 1840 now living, 
 but the few of us left to those later days 
 have not much interest in the Socialistic 
 dogmas now current. None the less, we 
 who can look back to the Socialism of the 
 early times, still cherish memories of 
 Brook Farm as among the dearest this 
 earth affords. 
 
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