Part 3 (2/2)
”Persons wis.h.i.+ng to become members must first reside on the place as applicants for one month.”
”Applicants who have pa.s.sed acceptably through their term may become candidates, and remain in this new relation a month more, when they may be admitted as a.s.sociates.”
”Personal property may be received as stock by the Direction of Finance when it shall be deemed advantageous to the a.s.sociation.”
”Persons shall, on becoming residents on the domain, deliver an exact inventory of all the furniture and implements which they may retain as private property, to be filed for reference in the office of the Direction.”
”New groups and series may be formed from time to time for the prosecution of different and new branches of industry.”
”Three hundred days shall be considered a year's labor. The hours of labor shall be from the first of October to the first of April at least eight hours daily, and from the first of April to the first of October at least ten hours daily, and no person shall be credited for labor beyond that time.”
”No debt shall be contracted in behalf of the a.s.sociation by any person whatever.”
”Articles furnished to the a.s.sociates shall be charged at cost as nearly as the same can be ascertained.”
”The period of education shall extend from birth to the age of twenty years, and shall be divided into three stages: Infancy to six years, Pupilage from six to sixteen years, and Probation from sixteen to twenty. The education during probation shall be in the practical duties of a.s.sociates.”
”No public meeting for business or amus.e.m.e.nt shall be protracted beyond the hour of ten P. M.”
Many persons who have heard of the Community life at Brook Farm have idealized it into a little coterie of choice spirits who sat around the study lamp at early eve, after the light toil of the day had ceased, and discussed the intellectual problems of the German philosophers who had given much of the impulse to the Transcendental Club, and brought so many young men forward as leaders of thought; but this was only partially true.
Mr. Ripley at first endeavored to instruct the a.s.sembly and impart to them some of his own intellectual enthusiasm. Evening cla.s.ses were formed; readings took place from some of the prominent poets--Goethe, Schiller, Shakespeare; from Carlyle and Cousin as well as Emanuel Kant; but when the industrial period began, he had more than his hands full, and he laid his books on the shelf. They were his tools--they were the ladders on which he had mounted to his high estate. Why should he wors.h.i.+p them? They had taught him, as had the Hebrew writers, faith in the Creator; faith in His best creation, man; faith in reason, faith in right, faith, in a magnificent human destiny. Why should he spend his life in singing praises of them? To work! To begin to shape society to higher ends! That was indeed the worthiest end in life, and his worthiest homage to the writers and their books.
CHAPTER III.
PERSONAL EXPERIENCES AND DESCRIPTIONS.
It was a pleasant afternoon in March, 1843, when I left Boston, in a small omnibus, that started from Brattle Street for West Roxbury Village and Brook Farm. My father's family of three had preceded me, he remaining behind to close his business; it was a question of but a few days when we should be all embarked in the new and untried life to which we were looking forward with pleasurable emotions.
The nine miles of interval was pa.s.sed, riding through an undulating country, by pleasant farms surrounded with the stone walls so common in Ma.s.sachusetts and the eastern states, and by pretty white houses, with green window blinds and little front flower gardens, with fruit and shade trees standing sentinels on their borders. Here and there a ledge of ”pudding-stone” cropped out, and the scenery grew more primitive as we neared the vicinity of the farm. Slowly we rode on, leaving pa.s.sengers and parcels by the way until it showed signs of deepening twilight, when we reached by a slight acclivity the door of the farmhouse that was at the entrance of the place, where I was soon joined by my relatives who took me in charge and made me presentable for supper; but I was too late to join with the family, and took my first meal with them the following day.
Looking out of the window the next morning, I found it overlooked the farm-yard and the broad meadow that lay south of the house. What awakened me was the sound of a trumpet or horn, blown by some one for rising or breakfast. I dressed leisurely, as I found it was the first or ”rising horn,” and went out of the front door for a survey. Before me was the driveway. A wooden fence, and a row of mulberry and spruce trees stood guarding the two embankments that were terraced down to the brook and meadow. On the embankments were shrubs and flower beds. A couple of rods to the right stood a graceful elm, beside a gateway that opened on a pathway to the garden and fields.
Pa.s.sing by the front of the house I found that two wings had been added to it in the rear, leaving shed and carriage room beneath. Directly in front of me, and facing due east, was a large barn raised upon stone posts, which was open on the south side to the large barnyard, and between the barn and house was a driveway or road, leading over the premises.
In the kitchen, which was directly in the rear of the dining room, there was a clatter of dishes, and a few persons were going from place to place outside.
Some one was in the barn attending to the cattle. He had on a tarpaulin straw hat, and a farmer's frock of blue mixture that hung down below the tops of his cowhide boots. I looked sharply at the man, and found it was Mr. George Ripley. The ”second horn” sounded; it aroused the dog, who howled pitifully or musically--in bad unison with it. Soon the persons from the other houses came to breakfast, strolling leisurely along.
I found that all the people, unless ill, took their meals at the farmhouse dining room. A little quaintness of dress, some picturesque costumes--such as the blue tunics with black belts of leather, that the men wore; the full beards, that were not common then as now; the broad hats and graceful, flowing hair of the young ladies; the varied style of garments of the students and the boarders--all interested me.
The long, low dining room had rows of tables, some six in number, seating on an average fourteen persons each. White painted benches supplied the place of chairs. The tables were neatly set in white ware; white mugs served for both cups and drinking gla.s.ses. There were white linen table cloths, and everything was scrupulously neat.
At the farther end of the room sat Mr. Ripley. The garments of the husbandman and farmer had all been laid aside, and, neatly dressed, he was smiling and laughing, his gleaming eyes seeming to reflect their brilliancy on the golden bows of his spectacles. At his right sat his wife, and near by his sister, who poured the morning libation of tea or coffee. Most of the pupils were at this table. Mrs. Ripley, tall, graceful and slim, was, like her husband, near-sighted, but only on occasions would she raise a gold-bowed eye-gla.s.s to look at some distant object or person. The fare at the table was plain; good bread, b.u.t.ter and milk from the farm were present. It is hardly necessary to say that I looked around with peculiar interest on those who were to be my new friends and companions. It was not a dismal or sober meal. There was a happy buzz that indicated to me a probability of great future happiness.
How well do I remember the old dining-room with its familiar forms and faces--too many to describe now! There were the young and pretty Misses Foord; the one a dimpled blonde, lovely, rosy-complexioned, with large, wonderful blue eyes; and her sister with her clear skin and dark hair and eyebrows, both wearing their contrasted and unbound tresses flowing over their graceful shoulders. And hark! 'tis Dolly, dear Dolly Hosmer, with her rollicking, noisy laugh. And pretty Mary Donnelly--oh, how pretty! with the dimples and the peach-bloom on her face, her white teeth and coal-black hair--ever pretty whether she was smiling at you or peeling potatoes. And Charles Newcomb, the mysterious and profound, with his long, dark, straight locks of hair, one of which was continually being brushed away from his forehead as it continually fell; with his gold-bowed eye-gla.s.s, his large nose and peculiar blue eyes, his spasmodic expressions of nervous horror, and his cachinnatious laugh. There were st.u.r.dy Teel, and heavy Eaton, and frisky Burnham, and bluff Rykman, with round-eyed f.a.n.n.y Dwight and another graceful f.a.n.n.y, and oh! so many more men and women, friends and workers striving for a sublime idea. I could describe very many of them and the minute details of all the houses and surroundings, but it would unwisely overcrowd these pages.
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