Part 14 (1/2)
There was with them a never-ending story, and I am reminded of the everlasting confidences of school girls when I recall their being together, excepting only that they did not put their arms around each other's waists.
The Admiral's heart was full of music. He could talk of music, poetry and love, and there was a tender spot in him that I did not venture on, although I knew it was there. He was also a deep admirer of nature.
Truly we could sing together, ”A life in the woods for me!”
It was three miles to the robbers' rendezvous, but what cared we? We dwelt in the bosom of nature, and three miles was but a pastime. We only wanted an excuse of the most feeble kind to start on a tramp, day or night. All along the way we breathed health and vitality; the air was full of singing birds, and our hearts were crying out, ”What is so rare as a day in June?” In fact, our June days lasted longer than they did elsewhere--they ran into September, October and November. It is the harmony of our hearts that makes the force of poetry, and not the mere words; and the June feeling may be present in December.
The entrance to Muddy Pond woods was on high ground, and as we approached it we were a little cautious, for near by was the appointed place to find the haunt of the robbers. Filing along singly, we peered into the underbush. Lo, and behold, I see it! It is a white thing hanging on a bus.h.!.+ Yes! And listen, I hear voices! It is the robbers!
Why, no, these are only children's voices! They are picking berries, the dear things. Poor children! Don't you know that you may be robbed and murdered by some of these infernal rascals who beat innocent men, take their money and come out here into this wilderness and wash the blood off their garments and hang them on these berry bushes to dry?
Slowly we approached the white garment. Why, this is only an old white rag that has hung here for months, all mildewed and half rotten. Come, boys, we are sold! What an old goose that fellow was to get us out here for such a thing as this! I am going home! I am hungry! Feelings of disgust and mirth took possession of us. Were these the robbers, and was this the b.l.o.o.d.y raiment? Ha! ha!
There was no use of going further. The exciting problem was solved, and we turned our feet homeward over the hills, across the fields and by stone walls; shying a stone now and then into some gnarled apple tree, just to knock down a wild apple or two, to try if they contained, as Emerson has said of one of them, ”a pint of cider and a barrel of wind”; whipping off the heads of the wild daisies with our canes and switches; pulling sprigs of sweet fern and bayberry; mocking the crows and the cat-birds; finding choice flowers, and trying to fill the aching void within us with blackberries and whortleberries, and reaching the farm after the dinner was over.
All but one corner of the dining-room was deserted, and there a solitary waiter was placing plates for the ”Waiting Group,” who had not been served with dinner. The ”Waiting Group” was one of the most cheerful, lively, witty and jolly groups on the place. In fact it contained some of the most eminent persons in our midst, and at dinner the waiters were of the masculine gender solely.
We found there would be room for us to join their table, and that our company was welcome. Alas! alas! How can I describe the dinner? I do not mean the things we had to eat--fine eating was of little consequence if we could satisfy hunger; but the merry cheer was indescribable. It was the Professor (Dana) who sat at the head of the board. It was the brilliant and witty ”Timekeeper” (Cabot) who was at one side, and when our party was added to them--”the Hero”
(b.u.t.terfield), with his full, hearty and musical laugh; Glover (Drew) with his funny and apt quotations, and with the other four to six clear-headed fellows, not a dull one among them--the gamut of merriment ran to its highest notes.
Of course the Professor couldn't help making a few remarks about the ”object of our journey” and inquiries about the ”success of the enterprise,” and of course our party didn't answer in parliamentary language, but parried wit with wit, fun with fun, joke with joke. The story had to be told and embellished. The s.h.i.+rt, it was nothing but a rag, and the children were probably ragam.u.f.fins, and hot m.u.f.fins at that! The robber, where could he be! Probably dead, for there was _berrying_ going on, and the children were continually _turning pail_.
But the borrowing of the pistols was the occasion of the most absurdities. Was Glover _half c.o.c.ked_ when he borrowed them? Did he _bear-ill_ against any man? Was he going to _brace_ up his courage? He wanted a little more _stock_ in hand, eh? It was the only way he had of getting a little ”_pop_”! And if he had ”popped” the robber would there have been any _pop-bier_ (beer) there? ”If I had killed him,” he said, ”there wouldn't have been any _sham pain_.” Pooh, pooh, you could only have _hocked_ him! ”I would have made him _whine_ anyhow.” You might have made him whine but--”_Wine b.u.t.t_,” did you say? (Interrupting).
”Glover didn't intend to make any excitement, for where he took the pistols he left the _wholestir_ behind.” ”But when he took them,”
another said, ”he thought he was going to _Needham_ (need 'um).” ”Ah, no,” said another, ”when he took them he felt sure he was going to _Dedham_” (dead 'um).
You will appreciate the difficulty I have in making any one realize the snap, the vivacity and the quickness of the repartees. Things that seem frivolous when written down----separate from all their connections, with the personality dropped out of them----with the connection unbroken; with youth, friends.h.i.+p and love to join them together, and all the surroundings in keeping, were lively and bright, and added a glow to the toil that made all the difficult surroundings easier to bear. The affair acted over to-day in sober earnest would hardly provoke a smile, but there most trivial incidents were worked up and the result was an increase of happiness for all.
CHAPTER XI.
THE GREAT CATASTROPHE.
Things were looking up in the Phalanx at this time, for money was coming from some sources to finish a portion of the ”Phalanstery.” Not that it resembled one, but more out of deference to the idea of one did it receive its name. This would admit of additional members.h.i.+p, as well-to-do and able families were to embark in the enterprise, who could not and would not join it in the crowded state of the houses. The feeling among all was particularly hopeful and cheerful at the prospect, as we knew it was the cramped condition of the finances that had prevented the finis.h.i.+ng of the building before this time.
Monday, March 2, 1846, was the day of recommencement of labor on it. On the Sat.u.r.day previous carpenters had put a stove into the building for the purpose of drying it, as it had gathered dampness all through the severe winter. It was now Tuesday, the day after our sweet singer left us, and as we were all cheerful in our new hopes, it was proposed that we should celebrate our good luck with a social dance at the Hive. I shall call on my imagination to people the hall with those who were Brook Farmers, though not all of them were there in person on that occasion, in order to give the effective picture of such an a.s.sembly; the realization of it to the mind, rather than the absolute facts.
The first usually to occupy the hall were the young folks living at the Hive, whose labors ended early. The dance commenced without ceremony when one or two sets were ready. The pupils of the school from the Eyry soon arrived, with the young Spanish boys and the well-dressed maidens.
Then the ”Pilgrims” came, and the few who resided at the Cottage completed the a.s.sembly. It was later when the members of the Direction were seen looking in the room. They had been to some of the interminable meetings.
The cotillion was the ruling dance; the plain waltz and hop waltz came in for their share of favor. The polka was new, and hardly yet danced.
What fun, what pleasure was there then in that old dining hall among the blue tunics! There the General loomed above the rest, not in tunic, however, but staggering about with his new acquirement, interested and ungraceful; and the old gardener entertained us with a Danish waltz with his fair-haired, plump, round-shouldered daughter. Now they cling together, then swing apart, holding each other by the fingers' ends; now they whirl and twirl in and out, and then come together and waltz around the hall, as all gaze and wonder at the old man's suppleness.
Now the spirit of fun takes possession of all as we see Irish John sitting quietly conversing with ”Dora,” and he must dance a jig! By some chance there may be a girl of his nationality on the place to dance with him; if not, he goes it alone--forward and back, shuffling backward and around; then dancing up as to his partner, and having gone through all the varied motions in grand heel-and-toe style, sits down again or rushes out of the hall door with his giggling laugh, and a loud round of applause for his reward.
I might go on painting various characters and personages, but could not paint the enthusiasm that was catching--how one after another of the older ones put on again the youthful habit long since laid off. There was no selfishness either, in the dancing, because there was plenty of it, and when one of the older persons essayed the graces of youth, instead of its being looked on as an intrusion, it was applauded. I have seen five men whose education was for the ministry enjoying themselves on that small floor at one time.
It was the old courtliness over again. It was the spirit of chivalry revived under a new form, and it was chivalry with interior pride instead of exterior pride--pride of character instead of pride of birth. Did any of these accomplished men and women deem that they lowered themselves by dancing with those who did manual labor? If they had, they would not have been there to do it. And did the ”producers of wealth” think that there were those who danced in their company as a favor to them? If they had, it would have been a favor they would not have accepted. The atmosphere was that of mutual respect and mutual good-will.
There was no dancing of clothes-pins from the pockets of the dancers, as Emerson has said, or if it once happened it was probably the intentional freak of a happy schoolboy--a bit of farcical fun, too unworthy even to be mentioned by the ”Sage of Concord” in his ”Historic Notes.” It was poor history and undignified in its connection.
But the reader wishes to know if certain men whose names he has seen and whose reputations he knows took part in these amus.e.m.e.nts! He may be sure that the ”Professor” (Dana) was there, for those charming black eyes and raven hair, and the quick, nervous, volatile, lovely owner of them, with her southern accent, was there to charm him. And he may be sure that the ”Poet” (Dwight) was there, for the man of music and song could not despise the poetry of motion, neither could his social soul neglect the opportunity of seeing so much enjoyment, and feasting his eyes on those developing buds of womanhood, those fair-haired, clear-eyed, joyous young girls who were present. And the curly-headed, witty ”Time-Keeper” (Cabot) was there because he enjoyed dancing and fun. And the tall, manly, handsome-faced, clear-complexioned ”Hero”