of the mass; they may therefore be reformed or done away with
entirely."

These grand words and this powerful logic, if even too strong for some
of the readers of this book, were not so for the brave hearts of the
leaders of Brook Farm, and for Mr. Ripley in particular. The tentative
feeling, the search for science to back up the social impulses, seemed
at last to have found something solid in a society conceived by the
Creator; the man created by him, fitted to it by him; the society
fitted to the man; the one the counterpart of the other. Albert
Brisbane, Parke Godwin and Horace Greeley, with the _Tribune_,
were arousing the thinkers in New York; Gerritt Smith was agitating the
land question and giving away to actual settlers vast tracts of land
owned by him. The works of the communist Owen and others were read.
Antislavery, anti-war and non-resistance societies were vigorously
prosecuting their claims. It was an era of great social activity.
Thousands were aroused. "Communities," "Associations" and "Phalanxes"
were springing up in various quarters. It seemed that the tide of
change from social chaos to order was fast rising. A great wave of
reform was sweeping over the land. Should the Community moor itself
where it was, or be borne on with the flood?

This was the question of moment; and while the young danced or played,
acted in charade or masquerade, and the youths wove garlands of green
around their straw hats, and amused themselves by wearing long tresses
and tunics, the sedater heads were solving this important question. And
they must decide it, but first of all Mr. Ripley's wishes must be
consulted: the key to the situation was in his hands. What would he do?
Would he, and should they, take among them men and women endowed only
with practical, everyday talents, able to be honest and make shoes and