Part 11 (2/2)

as Mr. Brisbane was called by us. I made a memorandum of it at the time, which aids my memory in presenting it.

The day had been pleasant; it was one of the last in March. The farm work had progressed as usual. Old Kate was at the plough and Cyclops at the wagon. Who was Cyclops? She was a large, raw-boned, gray-white mare, whose feeding did not show well; the more oats and meal and hay she had, the more ribs we counted in her sides--you have seen such an animal! But she was wonderful, because she stepped longer, than any other of the horses; worked harder without showing fatigue, and made the nine miles to Boston in a practical if not a graceful way.

She had a fault, and hors.e.m.e.n had to admit it (you know they seldom admit a fault but what is very visible). This was a visible fault, and yet at the same time it was a want of visibility. She had but one eye.

And so Glover it was, I am quite sure, named her Cyclops.

By the by, she had one other fault that I had almost forgotten, and that was of elevating her heels against the dashers of wagons, when she had an ugly fit, which took place semi-occasionally, and the peculiarity of it was that she was not particular as to time or place where she made her exhibitions. It might be in Dock Square or State Street, or it might be on the farm, just as all were starting out. It was not over pleasant to be near her when she flung those long hind legs some six feet in air, and the dash-board was flying in pieces.

The ”General,” with some others, was about to take a ride one day, when she put a hind foot over the dasher, which caused him to dismount precipitately. ”For,” he said he, when speaking of it, ”I thought if she was g-going to _g-get_ in, it was time for _me_ to get out!”

The horn, as usual, rang out its cheerful tones for meals. There were but few notes of preparation shown outside the rooms, for the event of the evening. Up in the greenhouse the gardener and myself were busy picking out choice flowering plants, and clipping off a stray dead leaf or twig, and scouring the pots until they shone; and as the other teams were busy, I harnessed my ”Prince” to his cart and carried them to the Hive where we made the best display of them we could in the dining room.

We had some mottoes on the walls, as ”The Series distribute the Harmonics of the Universe,” ”Attractive Industry,” ”Universal Unity,”

etc.

At half past eight o'clock everything was in order. Side tables were spread with a simple repast, and around the room were flowering plants, azaleas, camellias, heaths, geraniums, etc. When the company had a.s.sembled, the choir sang some glees, after which Mr. Brisbane made a speech, and gave as a sentiment, ”Unity of the Pa.s.sions.” Let me here explain a little of what is meant by this sentiment. The twelve pa.s.sions are what are generally called ”the human feelings or sentiments.” They are divided into the intellectual ones, the social ones and the sensitive ones or those pertaining to the five senses.

There are three intellectual ones, viz., a.n.a.lysis, Synthesis and the Composite. These exhaust the powers of the intellect; or, in other words, the mind separates things, puts things together and compounds things, and that is all that it can do in its primary intellectual capacity.

There are four social ”pa.s.sions,” viz., Friends.h.i.+p, Love, Familism (i.

e., the family sentiment) and Ambition; and all our social life is based on one or more of these four sentiments.

Then there are five sensitive pa.s.sions, which are aids and attendants of the body--”sight, smelling, hearing, touch and taste.”

”The five sensitive pa.s.sions tend to material riches, refinement and harmonies. The four affective pa.s.sions govern social relations and those of individuals. Friends.h.i.+p tends to social equality and to the levelling of ranks. Love regulates the relations of the s.e.xes, Paternity those of ages and generations; Ambition produces hierarchy of ranks and distinctions among individuals; it establishes in society gradations of all kinds based upon skill, merit, talent, etc.; it is opposite in its effects from friends.h.i.+p.”--”Social Destiny of Man,”

page 453.

The four social pa.s.sions correspond to the four primary prismatic colors of the Newtonian system, to the common chord in music and to various other natural things. The three intellectual pa.s.sions correspond to the other three notes of the musical scale and to three other prismatic colors; and the five sensitive pa.s.sions correspond to the five semi-tones, and also to five intermediate colors of the prism.

Now this at first sight looks very much like a scheme or a notion, but the founder of this doctrine lays his claim to a higher judgment. He says practically, ”These are facts founded in nature by G.o.d himself.”

Let me give you his own words, often reiterated: ”I give no theory of my own, I deduce. If I have deduced erroneously let others establish the true deduction.” Can words be more simple or more modest?

These ”pa.s.sions,” or ”faculties,” if you like the last word better, as taught in the general schools of theology, are all at war with one another, but as taught by the school of Fourier will all work harmoniously together when right material conditions exist. Or in other words, there is no inherent discord among these twelve sister faculties residing in the nature of man. It is the duty of man on this earth, and his destiny also, to bring them into harmonious relations, first by organizing industry, and bringing man into right relation with nature and his fellows, so that they can commence their natural action; and this is what is meant by the ”Unity of the Pa.s.sions,” and is the first step towards universal happiness. Let me give a quotation from the same author:--

”The impulses (pa.s.sions) have a right and a wrong development. The right development produces harmony, good, justice, unity. The wrong development produces selfishness, injustice, duplicity.”

I have no memorandum of what was said by the speaker, but I remember he was enthusiastic beyond bounds, and that he went in fancy from this earth up into the starry vault of spheres that he fancied were peopled by living beings----Jupiter and Saturn being in harmony--and in his enthusiasm cried out, ”I _love_ those great worlds up there!” looking upwards with outstretched arms and uplifted hands; and it was telling, for he was eloquent as well as enthusiastic.

After this warm gush of rapture came quiet Dwight in one of those sweet, calm, choice, dignified, exact speeches for which he was noted, and gave as a sentiment, ”The marriage of love and wisdom,” the idea being that present society, however much it may be filled with love--love for the poor, the needy, the slave and the outcast--can never avail much towards universal happiness until it marries itself to wisdom: wisdom to do justice, to adapt means to ends, to exchange charity, which is a curse to him that gives and him that takes, for even-handed justice, divine law and social order; so that pauperism and its kindred vices may be done away with forever, and in its place the reign of peace and harmony prevail.

Mr. Dwight was an admirer of Swedenborg's poetic fancies. He thought many of them more than fancies. He believed that he gained through unknown sources some glimpses of a higher life; and some of his doctrines, as that of ”correspondences” bore so strong a resemblance to Fourier's ”universal a.n.a.logy” that it was quite striking; but his claims to special theological inspiration, he did not admit. I speak of this because some one might accuse him of plagiarism, the phrase of Mr.

Dwight's sentiment being similar to Swedenborg's words. Pardon this digression, and we will return to our party.

Mr. Ripley followed in his free and graceful style, and brought things slowly down to our own door with pleasant word and wit (Ripley was a punster with the rest; one of our wags one day called him a Pumpkin--Pun-King--a paraphrase on New England p.r.o.nunciation of the word), and in conclusion gave us a sentiment: ”The Hive! May it be a hive, full of working bees, who make a little noise, a great deal of honey, and sting not at all.”

Mr. Dana, the youngest of the four, then followed with a glowing speech, in earnest, clear and chosen words. Not as fluent as either of the other speakers, he yet commanded full attention, and we all knew he meant what he said; there was no doubt about it--the frank manner, the natural gesture, the glowing face, proved it. He gave as a sentiment, ”Ambition, the greatest of the four social pa.s.sions!” He admired it! It was that which carried life onward and made youth able and strong; the ambition for higher things, for higher life and higher opportunities.

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