Brook Farm: Historic and Personal MemoirsCodman, John Thomas
History
Brook Farm: Historic and Personal Memoirs
Codman, John Thomas
Brook Farm Phalanx (West Roxbury, Boston, Mass.)
A spontaneous regret came from all. Some of the women, who certainly
could not be accused of any amatory love for him, shed tears to think
that he should go, for he was full of kindness to them. Constantly in
contact with their department, he was as gentle as a child, never
complaining and yet full of work. Industrious as the day was long, he
seemed so like a portion of the very atmosphere of the house, and of
the life, that it did not seem that he could be away and the
Association be as it was.
The _morale_ to the fact of the General's departure also disturbed our
people. He was discouraged at the attempt at realization of the new
order at Brook Farm. As long as all clung together there seemed to be
hope; but the first break was dangerous to our well-being, dangerous to
our existence.
Mr. Dwight had gone to New York to deliver lectures on music. When he
went away all was enthusiasm, all was harmony. The great loss by fire
had shaken no one's faith in the principles or the organization, and as
yet the balance of probabilities had not been made or adjusted in men's
minds. The word was then to go on at all cost. When he returned he
found discussion of means, doubts and fears, uppermost everywhere. As a
truth the Association had not prospered financially. Beginning with no
real capital, and mortgaged to the debts of the former "Community," it
had come to a point where without more means or more money in ready
cash it was very difficult to see how it could go on.
The change of social atmosphere in so short a time grated on the
sensitive soul of the man of music, and it was my fortune to be present
at a general meeting of all the Association where I heard his remarks.
He began by stating, as I have done, that when he went away all was
harmony and peace. All seemed united by bonds deep and strong; by a
common purpose and for a common end. We were all striving for a worthy
object, a higher, nobler life than that which surrounded us.
He had been away from this quiet, cheerful, peaceful and just life,
among the noise, dust and discord of a great, unwieldy city, and when
there he had looked forward to his coming home to this devoted little
band with the greatest possible pleasure. He had expected to find them
as harmonious and as united as when he left. He trod the precious soil
and found all external things glowing in beauty. He mounted the hill,
and there came two beautiful white doves flying close to him as he
walked on, circling around and around his head and seeming to rejoice
in his coming. He regarded it as a symbol of the unity and peace that
were with us, as well as a token of welcome.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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