“We have labored together in union for material wealth; can we now labor in the same way for spiritual wealth?  If there are sufficient points of accord in us in this higher life, we must come together and live in harmony.  Since my departure from home there has been a change in my mind, or, perhaps more truly, a sudden and rapid growth in a certain direction, the germs of which you must have heretofore perceived in my conduct and life.  On the other hand, I suppose there has been a progress in your minds, and I feel that the 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 strangers by birth, although not altogether strangers in love . . .  Think seriously upon your answer.  Act true.  Life is to me of serious import, and I feel called upon to give up all that hinders me from following this import wherever it may lead.  But do not let this influence you in your judgments.  We have but a short life to live here, and I would offer mine to some worthy end:  this is all I desire.  My health is very good.  I am still at Fruitlands, and will remain here until something further happens.  Accept my deepest love.”

While waiting for an answer to this letter, the diary shows how continuously Isaac’s mind was working over this problem of a final separation from his kindred.  It seems probable that it was, on the whole, the deepest emotional one that he had to solve.  Both filial duty and natural 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 September in answer to a question, Mr. Charles A. Dana incidentally refers to a visit he paid Isaac Hecker at his mother’s house.  “It was a very interesting family,” he writes, “and the cordiality and sweetness of the relations which prevailed in it impressed me very greatly.”

The entry we are about to quote opens with an odd echo from a certain school of mysticism with which Isaac about this time became familiar: 

“July 22, 1843.—­Man requires a new birth—­the birth of the feminine in him.

“The question arises in my mind whether it is necessary for me to require the concurrence of my brothers in the views of life which now appear to demand of me their actualization.

“Can I not adopt simple garmenture and diet without their doing so?  Must I needs have their concurrence?  Can I not leave results to themselves?  If my life is purer than that of those around me, can I not trust to its own simple influence?