She seated herself on a rock, and remained there
until Hollingsworth came up; and when he took her hand and led her
back to us, she rather resembled my original image of the wan and
spiritless Priscilla than the flowery May-queen of a few moments
ago. These sudden transformations, only to be accounted for by an
extreme nervous susceptibility, always continued to characterize
the girl, though with diminished frequency as her health
progressively grew more robust.
I was now on my legs again. My fit of illness had been an avenue
between two existences; the low-arched and darksome doorway,
through which I crept out of a life of old conventionalisms, on my
hands and knees, as it were, and gained admittance into the freer
region that lay beyond. In this respect, it was like death. And, as
with death, too, it was good to have gone through it. No otherwise
could I have rid myself of a thousand follies, fripperies,
prejudices, habits, and other such worldly dust as inevitably
settles upon the crowd along the broad highway, giving them all one
sordid aspect before noon-time, however freshly they may have begun
their pilgrimage in the dewy morning. The very substance upon my
bones had not been fit to live with in any better, truer, or more
energetic mode than that to which I was accustomed. So it was taken
off me and flung aside, like any other worn-out or unseasonable
garment; and, after shivering a little while in my skeleton, I
began to be clothed anew, and much more satisfactorily than in my
previous suit. In literal and physical truth, I was quite another
man. I had a lively sense of the exultation with which the spirit
will enter on the next stage of its eternal progress after leaving
the heavy burden of its mortality in an early grave, with as little
concern for what may become of it as now affected me for the flesh
which I had lost.
Emerging into the genial sunshine, I half fancied that the
labors of the brotherhood had already realized some of Fourier's
predictions. Their enlightened culture of the soil, and the virtues
with which they sanctified their life, had begun to produce an
effect upon the material world and its climate. In my new
enthusiasm, man looked strong and stately,—and woman, oh, how
beautiful!—and the earth a green garden, blossoming with
many-colored delights. Thus Nature, whose laws I had broken in
various artificial ways, comported herself towards me as a strict
but loving mother, who uses the rod upon her little boy for his
naughtiness, and then gives him a smile, a kiss, and some pretty
playthings to console the urchin for her severity.
In the interval of my seclusion, there had been a number of
recruits to our little army of saints and martyrs. They were mostly
individuals who had gone through such an experience as to disgust
them with ordinary pursuits, but who were not yet so old, nor had
suffered so deeply, as to lose their faith in the better time to
come. On comparing their minds one with another they often
discovered that this idea of a Community had been growing up, in
silent and unknown sympathy, for years. Thoughtful, strongly lined
faces were among them; sombre brows, but eyes that did not require
spectacles, unless prematurely dimmed by the student's lamplight,
and hair that seldom showed a thread of silver. Age, wedded to the
past, incrusted over with a stony layer of habits, and retaining
nothing fluid in its possibilities, would have been absurdly out of
place in an enterprise like this. Youth, too, in its early dawn,
was hardly more adapted to our purpose; for it would behold the
morning radiance of its own spirit beaming over the very same spots
of withered grass and barren sand whence most of us had seen it
vanish. We had very young people with us, it is true,—downy lads,
rosy girls in their first teens, and children of all heights above
one's knee; but these had chiefly been sent hither for education,
which it was one of the objects and methods of our institution to
supply. Then we had boarders, from town and elsewhere, who lived
with us in a familiar way, sympathized more or less in our
theories, and sometimes shared in our labors.
On the whole, it was a society such as has seldom met together;
nor, perhaps, could it reasonably be expected to hold together
long. Persons of marked individuality—crooked sticks, as some of us
might be called—are not exactly the easiest to bind up into a
fagot. But, so long as our union should subsist, a man of intellect
and feeling, with a free nature in him, might have sought far and
near without finding so many points of attraction as would allure
him hitherward. We were of all creeds and opinions, and generally
tolerant of all, on every imaginable subject. Our bond, it seems to
me, was not affirmative, but negative. We had individually found
one thing or another to quarrel with in our past life, and were
pretty well agreed as to the inexpediency of lumbering along with
the old system any further. As to what should be substituted, there
was much less unanimity. We did not greatly care—at least, I never
did—for the written constitution under which our millennium had
commenced. My hope was, that, between theory and practice, a true
and available mode of life might be struck out; and that, even
should we ultimately fail, the months or years spent in the trial
would not have been wasted, either as regarded passing enjoyment,
or the experience which makes men wise.
Arcadians though we were, our costume bore no resemblance to the
beribboned doublets, silk breeches and stockings, and slippers
fastened with artificial roses, that distinguish the pastoral
people of poetry and the stage. In outward show, I humbly conceive,
we looked rather like a gang of beggars, or banditti, than either a
company of honest laboring-men, or a conclave of philosophers.
Whatever might be our points of difference, we all of us seemed to
have come to Blithedale with the one thrifty and laudable idea of
wearing out our old clothes. Such garments as had an airing,
whenever we strode afield! Coats with high collars and with no
collars, broad-skirted or swallow-tailed, and with the waist at
every point between the hip and arm-pit; pantaloons of a dozen
successive epochs, and greatly defaced at the knees by the
humiliations of the wearer before his lady-love,—in short, we were
a living epitome of defunct fashions, and the very raggedest
presentment of men who had seen better days.
1 comment