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.)
There was great roaring and noise in the fracas, which was of short
duration, but long enough to bring out the men from the Hive to witness
the affair. The General, who had been sleeping a little late--probably
he had been baking bread the night before--made his appearance from his
little room on the ground floor, with boot on one foot and shoe on the
other, just as it was all over, with the impatient inquiry, "W-w-what
is it all about?" On an explanation of the affair being made, the next
question he asked, in all earnestness, soberness and simplicity, was
"W-h-o-i-c-h came out ahead?" The personal appearance and manner of the
General, and the absurd question, uttered in a vehement and stammering
way, touched a ludicrous spot in the minds of the spectators so
permanently that should you ask one of them to-day, "Which came out
ahead?" he will smile or give you a shout of laughter in return.
It took but little to amuse, sometimes, for on one of the beautiful
summer days at nooning time, a group of men were resting in the shade
of the arbor that was on an island artificially made in the brook below
the terraces in front of the Hive, breathing the pure, balmy air of
outdoors instead of the indoor air of the workshop, reclining on the
thick greensward, when some two or three essayed the not very difficult
feat of jumping the merrily running brook, from embankment to
embankment, and dared Tirrell, one of the number, to follow. He was the
oldest and a little less supple than the others; and in trying the jump
deliberately landed about three inches short of the opposite bank, knee
deep in the water. It was, as the young people say, "too funny for
anything," but equally funny to the lookers-on to see the amused
Chiswell, one of his mates, roll over and over on the greensward in
repeated convulsions of side-splitting laughter, whilst the others,
standing up, had hard work to keep their perpendicular and writhed in
awful shapes as they joined in chorus with him, as Tirrell was slowly
wading out of the water up the embankment.
Trouble in financial affairs still existed. Cash in large amount was
not received, and it was perilous times with the Direction. When the
fall of the year came, it was announced that we must retrench our
meagre diet, to enable us to go on until our labor could pay us
better--until we could improve our employments and enlarge the
institution so that there could be more producers--and it was submitted
to without much complaint.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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