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.)
Like many of his countrymen, he carried things to extremes. Extremes in
language were the most common, for he had all the oiliness and glibness
of an Emeraldic tongue, and in conversation, when a little excited, the
words tumbled out with headlong velocity or flowed like molten brass
into the mould of the founder, and, to carry the simile farther, some
would sputter over. He had in his storehouse of language, many queer
phrases and sayings that he brought out to embellish his conversation,
some of which were only used as a _corps de reserve_, or brought into
action when all others failed in argument.
He prophesied that all people, no matter how high they might carry
their heads, would sooner or later "find their level." He believed in
the practical. All "folly" and "nonsense" were eschewed by him, and yet
no one was more fond of a joke than he, excepting when it was played on
himself. John professed great love for the mother church if you
attacked it; but if anyone spoke earnestly in its favor he was equally
persuaded by him not to believe in such "Jesuitical nonsense and
folly." His tunic dress, instead of being a blue one like what most of
the men wore, was made of green plaid, but on Sundays, a dark blue
"swallowtail" coat with brass buttons made its appearance, and with
shoes newly polished he was ready for church.
Unlike the majority of the men, who wore the hair moderately long, his
was cut short to his pate, not a straggling hair protruding itself
beyond the others. In deference to the seventh day, he exchanged his
shirt of blue cotton for a white, well-starched linen one, and donned a
high black lasting neck-stock and dark vest, and shaved his face so
clean that it reflected his own sunshine if not the solar ray. In
person he was of medium height, with a head of thick, dark, almost
black hair, slightly sprinkled with gray, and his small dark eyebrows
were high above his full eyes which were set almost flush with his
forehead. The muscles of his face were prominent, and deep lines were
marked around his large mouth with its long under lip, which half the
time was on a broad grin.
He walked with a headlong sort of gait, his body slightly bent forward,
deriving its motion from the lower portion of his frame, without that
swaying of arms and chest so common, and which gives grace to motion.
He was ever moving, bustling about; ever inquiring--now for this one,
then for another; occasionally taking from his pocket a small paper
parcel into which he thrust finger and thumb mysteriously and
guardedly, and turning half away from you would make the cabalistic
motions common to imbibers of "old Rappee"; and having satisfied the
desire of that extraordinary pug nose of his, would be off in a
twinkling to some distant part of the farm, where you may be sure that
he was edifying his hearers with a specimen of good-nature, and the
peculiar intonations of a mellow voice flavored with genuine brogue.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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