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.)
The round of daily life this season was little varied from that of the
past, but there was more activity and more crowding. A great many
makeshifts were had to enable persons who wished to visit the place to
get even lodging for a night, for no one knew who or how many were
coming before the evening coach arrived. Oftentimes it came full, when
it seemed there was not a sleeping place to be found on the domain. The
Association buildings overflowed, and a neighboring house was leased
and occupied just across the road, by the Hive. It was sometimes called
the "Nest," and had been hired in the first days of the "Community."
Even then every corner was filled.
There was some income from this crowd of visitors, and at the same time
the work and system of the place were much retarded, for as carriage
after carriage and vehicle after vehicle came, each one would require
an attendant, who was taken from labor, and when the regular attendants
were all occupied the horn would be sounded to see if anyone of the
shoemakers or printers or farmers or teachers would leave his work and
volunteer for this duty.
Frequently all these visitors would leave as suddenly as they came, and
would only give their thanks, not even being of a single cent's
immediate value to the place for the outlay of time taken from
productive labor. Sometimes a growl would be heard because a trifle was
taken for the expense of meals, or about the absence of feathers in the
beds, by some visitor who intruded himself uninvited. I pitied the
Dormitory Group, running from house to house at edge of evening to find
a stray corner to lodge a guest; seeking out the rooms of absent
members, and hunting up towels, furnishings and fittings, through all
the pleasant summer weather. But this was cheerfully done for "the
cause," and much more had to be done.
Our lecturers were wanted--men who were in practical associative life,
and they were taken from remunerative work to speak to the public. Thus
we entered into the summer, and the beautiful grass waved again on the
meadow; the pleasant lights gleamed again from the Eyry windows; the
pure moon looked down on the summer fields; the merry voices of the
young and happy folks were heard as the farmers came up from the
fields, and the horn sounded its "_toot-toot_" as a signal for all to
join at meals.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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