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Life of Father Hecker

Chapter 9 FRUITLANDS

Word Count: 8010    |    Released on: 30/11/2017

s, plainly enough, his tendency to seek a more ascetic and interior life than he could lead there. The step cost hi

and wishes of the latter. Perhaps Fruitlands could never, at any stage of its existence as a corporate home for Mr. Alcott's family and his scanty following of disciples, have been truly described as in running order, but when Isaac Hecker went there, on July 11, 1843, it was still in its incipiency

interior traits. That, in his prime, his persuasive accents and bland self-confidence, backed by the admiration felt and expressed for him by men such as Emerson, and some of the community at Brook Farm, should have induced an open-minded youth like Isaac Hecker to take him for a time at his own valuation, is not strange. The truth is, that it was one of Father Hecker's life-long traits to prove all things, that he might find the good and hold fast to it. There was an element of justice in his make-up which enabled him to

robably by way of reaching the latter's moral sense through shame or pity. This was, doubtless, rather interesting to the pupils, whether or not it was corrective. Mr. Alcott's peculiarities did not stop here, however, and Boston parents, when he began to publish the Colloquies on the Gospels which he held with their children, concluded, on the evidence thus furnished, that his thought was too "advanced" to make it prudent to trust them longer to his care. Miss Elizabeth P. Peabody, since so well known as an expositor of the Kindergarten system, had been his assist

r men. Lane, at all events, who was a simple and candid soul for whom Isaac Hecker conceived a long-enduring friendship, sunk all his private means irrevocably in the futile attempt to establish Fruitlands on a solid basis.

has described his own ideal of what life at Fruitlands ought to be. No directer way of conveying to our readers a notion of his peculiar faculty of seeming to say something of singu

s until the snow leaves the ground clear, the Family cannot so much as look for a locality (which then may

subject, I have much pleasure in communicating with you on the

tion-a complete willingness to be moulded by Divinity. This, as men now are, of course involves self-renunciation and retrenchment; and in enumerating the hindrances which debar us from happiness, we shall be drawn to consider, in the first place, ourselves; and to entertain practically the question, Are we prepared for the giving up all, and taking refuge in Love as an unfailing Providence? A faith and reliance as large a

can be no parley with the tempter, no private pleas for self

es, our state of being-and the best we can do, if disqualified, is either to

as we know them at pre

our own labor to our support; including, of course, a conve

ce in the productions of the spot, under a regimen of healthful labor and recreation; with benignity towards all crea

eing itself determines the law of association; and the particular mode may be spoken of more definitely

s with children, desirous of access to the channels and fountain of wisdom and purity; and we are not without hope that Providence wil

self and little ones may be led

friend, very

ONSON

ich made him independent of them. Still, though "a charlatan," it must not be forgotten that he was "an innocent" one. He was plainly born great in that way, and had no need to achieve greatness in it. As Father Hecker said of him long afterwards, "Diogenes and his tub would have been Alcott's ideal if he had carried it out. But he never carried it out." Diogenes himself, it may be supposed, had his ideal included a family and an audience as well as a tub, might finally have come to hold that the finding of the latter was a mere detail, which could be entrusted indifferently to either of the two former or to both combined. Somebody once described Fruitlands as a place where Mr. Alcott looked benign and talk

as disparaging either Alcott's sincerity or his intelligence, but to affirm that he lacked judgment, that he miscalculated means and ends, that he jumped from th

Alcott. The first bears date February 4, 1882, and occurs in a conversation ranging over the wh

different from Brook

dn't li

not begin to satisf

al here, all right. I

notion of t

animal. 'All right,' I said, 'I agree with you fully. I admire your asceticism; it is nothing new to me; I have practised it a long time myself. If you

cott say whe

the courage to persevere. He's a coward.' But Lane said, 'No; you're

was the occasion of the r

ow many years. We sat together. 'Father Hecker,' said he, 'why can't you make a Catholic of me?' 'Too much rust here,' said I, clappi

is virtues came from that. He never had any virtue beyond what a good pagan has

ver prayed. Whom coul

tt the great

believe

e believed in the Bronson Al

son's master: what d

began life as a pedle

ever principles Emerso

pupil; he was faithfu

n

erent men. Diogenes and his tub would have been Alcott's ideal if he had carried it out. But he never carried it out. Ripley's id

eceive you at

uspected he wanted me because he thought I would brin

knowledge came chiefly from experience and instinct. He had an insin

a Catholic, and tho

naturally and constitutionally so odd. Emerson, Alcott, and Thoreau were three co

d of his impressions made by Isaac Hecker while at Fruitlands. Our first e

s soon as I get there. I will gradually simplify my dress without making any sudden difference, although it would be easier to make a radical and thorough change at once

I have ever had. I have had that of leaving kindred, but now I have that of leaving those whom I love from affinity. If I wished to live a life the most gratifying to me, and in agreeable company, I certain

ened to an m, and the e dotted, both with a care which overshot their mark by an almost imperceptible hair's-breadth. If the nature of this attachment were not so evident from other sources, we should have left such passages unquoted; fearing lest th

. We returned and had a conversation on Clothing. Some very fine things were said by Mr. Alcott and Mr. Lane. In most of their thoughts I coinci

dship and its laws and conditions. Mr. Alcott placed Innocence

Lane, Progressive being; Larned, Annihilation of self; Bower, Repulsion of the evil in us. Then there was a confession of the obstacles which

it is that leads me, or what I am

d others tell me that it is so, and will be so, in an unconscious way, as Larned did on Sunday last, and as others have before him? Will I be led home? It strikes

-denial, and the unselfishness of Mr. Lane in money matters. In both these they are far my superiors. I would be meek, humble, and sit at their feet that I might be as they are. They do not understand me, but if I am what my consciousness, my heart, lead me to feel-if

trengthen my resolution. Let me not waver, and continue my life. But I am sinful. Oh, forgive my sins! What shall I do, O

of living with them again-can I entertain that idea? Still, I cannot conceive how I can engage in business, share the practices, and indulge myself with t

n and enjoy them both, I could not hesitate a moment, for they would not compare-there would be no room for choice. What I do I must do, for it is not I that do it; it is the spirit. What that spirit may be is a question I cannot answer, What it leads me to do will be the

I have noted since coming here. I told him candidly they were: 1st, his want of frankness; 2d, his disposition to separateness rather than win co-operators with the aims in his own mind; 3d, his family, who prevent his immediate plans of reformation; 4th, the fact

to the spirit, it is very doubtful how far those at home will be willing to second it. I have written them a letter asking for their own aims and views of life, and I am anxious for their answer. Th

quoted in full, but it contains some striking passages. It was written at Fruitlands, July 17, '43. After inquiring

ize will be colored by his own peculiar tendencies, still, in substance,

life, making it finally impossible for him not to see and recognize the visible Church, notwi

he w

cious of being led by a higher spirit than our own, we should and would sacrifice all that hinders us from the divine calling. That demands implicit, uncompromising obedience. It speaks in the tone of high authority. The dead must bury their dead. That which offends it must be got rid of at all costs, be it wife, parents, ch

have any desire or intention in your minds to alter or make a radical change in your external circumstances for the sake of a higher, bett

time has arrived when we should see where we are, so that we may either come together or separate. Our future relation cannot be a wilful one. It must be based on a unity of spirit, for the social, the humane instincts cannot bind us together any longer. . . . Have we the spiritual as well as the natural brotherhood? this is the question which deeply concerns us now. . . . I do not know what the spirit has done for you since my departure. If it has led you as it has led me, there is no reason why I should be amongst stran

ural affection were strong sentiments with him. One notices in these letters how courteous and urbane is the tone he uses, even when insisting most on the necessity which lies upon him to cut all the ties which bind him. This was a family trait. In a letter written to us last

odd echo from a certain school of mysticism wi

ires a new birth-the bir

me to require the concurrence of my brothers in the views

s have their concurrence? Can I not leave results to themselves? If my life is

ould rather suffer evils from a dependence on the spirit of love than permit that of selfishness to exist between us. I ask not a cent above what will supply my immediate, necessary wants. . . They may demand ten times more than I, and it would be a happiness to me to

eel that I cannot live at this place as I would. This is not the place for my soul. . . My life is not theirs. They have

he returned to his home in New York. Before following him thither, it may be well to give at once such furth

When I resolved to become a Catholic I was boarding at the house of

Thoreau sa

ers, some fifteen miles. We stayed over night, and all the way there and back he was fishing for my reasons, with the plain purpose of dissuading me. Then Alcott and he arranged matters so that they cornered me in a sort of interview, and Alcott frankly developed the subject. I finally said, 'Mr. Alcott, I deny your inquisitorial right in this matter,' an

to Concord to lecture, and wanted Eme

problem solved, the universe and the reason of his existence known as they actually are. Well, there were those two men in my soul. I had to get rid of them, so I preached them of to the people. Some wept, some laughed, all were deeply moved. That night came the lecture. It rained pitchforks and pineapples, but the hall, a large one, was completely filled. Multitudes of Yankees were there. Emerson was absent, but Alcott was present. I had my lecture all cut and dried. 'Why I became a Catholic' was the subject. But as I was about to begin, up came those two men again, and for the life of me I couldn't help fi

cence of George Ripley, the man whom Father He

If you have views you think true, and which we ought to have, let us hear them.' I answered, 'No; I haven't the truth, but I am trying to get it. If I ever s

d me; I know well he did. When I came back a Redemptorist from Europe, I went to see him at the Tribune office. He asked

id at once, 'Send for Father Hecker or some other Catholic priest.' I am persuaded that the fear of facing his friends hindered George Ripley from becoming a Catholic. He sent for me wh

early manhood, we will terminate the record of this period with two letters, one from each community, which were written him soon afte

so much in your own mind to compensate for the evils of a city environment, and that your aspirations are not quenched by the sight of the huge disorders that daily surround you. I hardly dare to think that my own faith or hope would be strong enough to reconcile me to a return to common society. I should pine like an imprisoned bird, and I fear I should grow blind to the visions of loveliness and glory which the future promises to humanity. I long for action which shall realize the prophecies, fulfil the Apocalypse, bring the new Jerusalem down from heaven to earth, and collect

k in the faith of a divine idea, to toil in loneliness and tears for the sake of the kingdom which God may build up by our hands. All here, that is, all our old central members, feel more and more the spirit of devotedness, the thirst to do or die, for the cause we have at heart.

mbs. Are there not five men in New York City who would dare to venture $200 each in the cause of social reform, without being assured of a Phalanx for themselves and their children for ever? Alas! I know not. We are willing to traver

ut ourselves. But what else should I speak of? And w

times have I begun it, and as often have been interrupted. Pray write me now and th

GE RI

letter of the 1st came duly to hand, and we are making ar

ns; in return for a barrel of superfine wholesome wheat-meal, I am going to submit to you a peck of troubles. Out of as many of these as you lovingly and freely can, you may assist me; but, of course, you will understand that I feel I have no claim upon you. On the contrary, indeed, I see that I run the

at once this $300 note, as unless that is done the place must, I fear, fall back into individuality and the idea be suspended. Now, if as much cash is loose in your pocket, or that of some wealthy friend, there shall be parted off as much of the land as will secure its return, from the crops alone, in a few years; or, I would sell a piece until I can redeem it; or, I would meet the loan in any other secure way, if I can but secure the land from the demon usury. This mode seems to me the most desirable. But I could get along with the instalment of $75, and would offer like security in proportion. Or, if you can do it y

t I can scarcely hold the pen. If I could find employment in a more southern position that would support me and the boy, and leave a little to be appli

e last month, brought on, I believe, by excessive work.

uncture would be indeed serviceable. If the journey were not so long and so costly I would ask you to come. Be assured that whatever may be your decision in any of these relatio

RLES

take much interest in our life. Have you seen the last Dial? The Present is good, but surely not

more universal letter" he announces that the experiment is ended in consequence of Mrs. Alcott's refusal to remain on the place through the winter. Lane went over to the neighboring Shaker community, and from there to England, where Father Hecker met him

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1 Chapter 1 CHILDHOOD2 Chapter 2 YOUTH3 Chapter 3 THE TURNING-POINT4 Chapter 4 LED BY THE SPIRIT5 Chapter 5 AT BROOK FARM6 Chapter 6 INNER LIFE WHILE AT BROOK FARM7 Chapter 7 On its second page occurs the following account of his impressions while in church on Easter Sunday 8 Chapter 8 STRUGGLES9 Chapter 9 FRUITLANDS10 Chapter 10 SELF-QUESTIONINGS11 Chapter 11 AT HOME AGAIN12 Chapter 12 STUDYING AND WAITING13 Chapter 13 THE MYSTIC AND THE PHILOSOPHER14 Chapter 14 HIS SEARCH AMONG THE SECTS15 Chapter 15 HIS LIFE AT CONCORD16 Chapter 16 AT THE DOOR OF THE CHURCH17 Chapter 17 AT THE DOOR OF THE CHURCH-CONTINUED18 Chapter 18 ACROSS THE THRESHOLD19 Chapter 19 NEW INFLUENCES20 Chapter 20 YEARNINGS AFTER CONTEMPLATION21 Chapter 21 FROM NEW YORK TO ST. TROND22 Chapter 22 BROTHER HECKER23 Chapter 23 HOW BROTHER HECKER MADE HIS STUDIES AND WAS ORDAINED PRIEST24 Chapter 24 A REDEMPTORIST MISSIONARY25 Chapter 25 SEPARATION FROM THE REDEMPTORISTS26 Chapter 26 BEGINNINGS OF THE PAULIST COMMUNITY27 Chapter 27 FATHER HECKER'S IDEA OF A RELIGIOUS COMMUNITY28 Chapter 28 FATHER HECKER'S SPIRITUAL DOCTRINE29 Chapter 29 No.2930 Chapter 30 THE PAULIST PARISH AND MISSIONS31 Chapter 31 FATHER HECKER'S LECTURES32 Chapter 32 THE APOSTOLATE OF THE PRESS33 Chapter 33 THE VATICAN COUNCIL34 Chapter 34 THE LONG ILLNESS35 Chapter 35 On this occasion he suffered much pain, for which, he says, the joy of the final agreement amply repaid him.36 Chapter 36 THE EXPOSITION OF THE CHURCH 37 Chapter 37 IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH38 Chapter 38 CONCLUSION