Fruitlands.My dear,Thank you for your sweet note and sweeter poetry. The second verse is very good. Your love of nature is pure and true. It is a lovely school in which good lessons may be learned. The happy industry of birds, the beautiful lives of flowers, the music of brooks all help—"The little fountain flowsSo noiseless thro the wood,The wanderer tastes repose,And from the silent floodLearns meekly to do good."
Fruitlands.
My dear,
Thank you for your sweet note and sweeter poetry. The second verse is very good. Your love of nature is pure and true. It is a lovely school in which good lessons may be learned. The happy industry of birds, the beautiful lives of flowers, the music of brooks all help—
"The little fountain flowsSo noiseless thro the wood,The wanderer tastes repose,And from the silent floodLearns meekly to do good."
In the following letter, a pretty little deference to the child's own personalityis shown by the mother, in that way bringing out in the child respect and deference for others:
Dear Daughter,I hope you will not consider me an intruder for stopping a moment in your "poet's corner" to admire the neatness of your desk, the sweetness of your poetry, the beauty of the prospect from your window. Cherish this love of nature, dear, enjoy all it gives you, for God made these helps to charm contemplation, and they strengthen the noble desire to be or to do all that is sent for our training & our good. Heaven be about you my child, is mother's Sunday prayer.
Dear Daughter,
I hope you will not consider me an intruder for stopping a moment in your "poet's corner" to admire the neatness of your desk, the sweetness of your poetry, the beauty of the prospect from your window. Cherish this love of nature, dear, enjoy all it gives you, for God made these helps to charm contemplation, and they strengthen the noble desire to be or to do all that is sent for our training & our good. Heaven be about you my child, is mother's Sunday prayer.
Louisa Alcott filled her diary with letters from her mother, occasionallyadding in later life annotations of her own. This letter from her mother when Louisa was eleven is an example:
(From Louisa Alcott's Diary.)Concord, 1843.Dear Louy,I enclose a picture for you which I always liked very much, for I have imagined that you might be just such an industrious daughter & I such a feeble but loving mother, looking to your labor for my daily bread. Keep it for my sake, & your own, for you and I always like to be grouped together.Mother.
(From Louisa Alcott's Diary.)Concord, 1843.
Dear Louy,
I enclose a picture for you which I always liked very much, for I have imagined that you might be just such an industrious daughter & I such a feeble but loving mother, looking to your labor for my daily bread. Keep it for my sake, & your own, for you and I always like to be grouped together.
Mother.
Abigail May, Mrs. A. Bronson Alcott. From a daguerreotype. Page 106.Abigail May, Mrs. A. Bronson Alcott.From a daguerreotype.Page106.
Then follows the picture and the lines written by Louisa in her journal:
To Mother.I hope that soon dear mother, you & I may beIn the quiet room my fancy has so often made for thee,The pleasant sunny chamber, the cushioned easy chair,The books laid for your reading, the vase of flowers fair.The desk beside the window where the sun shines warm and bright,And there in ease and quiet, the promised book you write,While I sit close beside you, content at last to see,That you can rest dear mother, & I can cherish thee.
To Mother.
I hope that soon dear mother, you & I may beIn the quiet room my fancy has so often made for thee,The pleasant sunny chamber, the cushioned easy chair,The books laid for your reading, the vase of flowers fair.The desk beside the window where the sun shines warm and bright,And there in ease and quiet, the promised book you write,While I sit close beside you, content at last to see,That you can rest dear mother, & I can cherish thee.
Louisa lived to see her hope realized and the dream of many years a beautiful reality.
Like most writers, Louisa was moody, and in her hours of depression and despondency she looked upon her work as a failure and herself as a useless drag upon the family. At such times Marmee invariably came to the rescue and persuaded her discouraged daughter to use the pen she was ready to lay down. Even in Louisa's childhood, when her only promise of future literary achievement were her tragedies and melodramas of lurid style, little gifts show the mother's faith and pride in her daughter's work. So did her letters, of which this is an example:
Dear Louisa:I sometimes stray about the house and take a peep into the journal. Your pageslately are blank. I am sure your life has many fine passages well worth recording, and to me they are always precious. Anything like intellectual progress in my children seems to compensate for much disappointment & perplexity in my own life. Do write a little each day, dear, if but a line, to show me how bravely you begin the battle, how patiently you wait for the rewards sure to come when the victory is nobly won.Ever yrs.Mother.
Dear Louisa:
I sometimes stray about the house and take a peep into the journal. Your pageslately are blank. I am sure your life has many fine passages well worth recording, and to me they are always precious. Anything like intellectual progress in my children seems to compensate for much disappointment & perplexity in my own life. Do write a little each day, dear, if but a line, to show me how bravely you begin the battle, how patiently you wait for the rewards sure to come when the victory is nobly won.
Ever yrs.Mother.
On her fourteenth birthday the mother accompanies the gift of a pen with this little poem:
Oh, may this pen your muse inspire,When wrapt in pure poetic fire,To write some sweet, some thrilling verse;A song of love or sorrow's lay,Or duty's clear but tedious wayIn brighter hope rehearse.Oh, let your strain be soft and high,Of crosses here, of crowns beyond the sky;Truth guide your pen, inspire your theme,And from each note joy's music stream.
Louisa Alcott owed much to her mother's example and perhaps even more to her mother's influence. This letter, carefully preserved in the daughter's journal, reveals a wealth of mother-love and of God-given wisdom:
15th Birthday,Hillside.Dearest,Accept this pen from your mother and for her sake use it freely & worthily thateach day of this your fifteenth year may testify to some good word or thought or work.I know there will be born into your spirit new hopes, new gifts, for God helps the loving, trusting heart that turns to Him. Lift up your soul to meet the highest, for that alone will satisfy your yearning, aspiring nature.Your temperament is a peculiar one, & there are few who can really help you. Set about the formation of character & believe me you are capable of obtaining a noble one. Industry, patience, love, creates, endures, gives all things, for these are the attributes of the Almighty, & they make us mighty in all things. May eternal love sustain you, infinite wisdom guide you, & the peace which passeth understanding reward you, my daughter.Mother.Nov. 29th, 1846.
15th Birthday,Hillside.
Dearest,
Accept this pen from your mother and for her sake use it freely & worthily thateach day of this your fifteenth year may testify to some good word or thought or work.
I know there will be born into your spirit new hopes, new gifts, for God helps the loving, trusting heart that turns to Him. Lift up your soul to meet the highest, for that alone will satisfy your yearning, aspiring nature.
Your temperament is a peculiar one, & there are few who can really help you. Set about the formation of character & believe me you are capable of obtaining a noble one. Industry, patience, love, creates, endures, gives all things, for these are the attributes of the Almighty, & they make us mighty in all things. May eternal love sustain you, infinite wisdom guide you, & the peace which passeth understanding reward you, my daughter.
Mother.
Nov. 29th, 1846.
Deeds, not words, characterized Elizabeth Alcott, as readers of "Little Women" will recall. She was about seven when she sent this letter, one of the very few she wrote, to her mother:
May, Friday 29.Dear Mother,I thank you very much for your note. I will try to write better than I have done. I have not always had a good pen. I hope I shall improve in all my studies this summer. I hope I can read German & French very well, and know a great deal about the countries. I must write my journal now so I will bid you good bye.From your lovingElizabeth.
May, Friday 29.
Dear Mother,
I thank you very much for your note. I will try to write better than I have done. I have not always had a good pen. I hope I shall improve in all my studies this summer. I hope I can read German & French very well, and know a great deal about the countries. I must write my journal now so I will bid you good bye.
From your lovingElizabeth.
Birthdays were always celebrated with much rejoicing in the Alcott household, the gift made secondary to the spirit of the day. From the time they were old enough to print, the Alcott children on the mother's birthday made her some little gift, accompanying it with a note. Abba May or May, as she was always called, at nine years old, began in prose but lapsed into poetry:
Dear Mother,I wish you a very happy birthday. I hope you will find my present Useful, and when you wear it think of me. I have taken a great-deal of Pleasure in making it for you. Please take this Present mother on your 49 birthdayWith the dearest Love and wishesof your little daughter A.
Dear Mother,
I wish you a very happy birthday. I hope you will find my present Useful, and when you wear it think of me. I have taken a great-deal of Pleasure in making it for you. Please take this Present mother on your 49 birthday
With the dearest Love and wishesof your little daughter A.
With Mrs. Alcott, hardship, poverty, the grief of seeing her husband misunderstood and often scoffed at, never lessened her love for him, or her contentment in the marriage relation. The year following her marriage in a letter to her brother she wrote: "My father has never married a daughter or son more completely happy than I am. I have cares, and soon they will be arduous ones, but with the mild, constant, and affectionate sympathy and aid of my husband, with the increasing health and loveliness of my quiet and bright little Anna, with good health, clear head, grateful heart and ready hand,—whatcan I not do when surrounded by influences like this?"
Ideals were never shattered; illusions, if so they may be called, were never lost by Mrs. Alcott through the stormy years that laid between the first happy months of her married life and the sunset days when all her burdens were laid down. To her, the husband who was so long denied material success and intellectual sympathy ever remained the lover and friend. Her admiration for him was unbounded, her faith in him complete. So high she held him in heart and mind, that it was difficult even for those who loved him most to appreciate her estimate of him as Poet, Philosopher, and Sage.
Concerning the most famous portrait ever made of Bronson Alcott, done in crayons by Mrs. Richard Hildredth, wife of the historian and aunt of the portrait painter, George Fuller, which, beautiful as it was, did not satisfy the wife's ideal, Mrs. Alcott writes:
A tinge of the incomprehensible lies softly around it, a field of atmosphere, as if she had worked with down from an angel's wing rather than with a crayon,—as if the moonlight had cast a shadow on the lights of her picture, and a divinity had touched with a soft shade, the dark portion of the figure. Mrs. Hildredth has changed the costume from a dress suit to a mantle draped about the shoulders. This, I do not like. The chaste simplicity of Mr.Alcott's dress is more in character and keeping with the severe simplicity and rectitude of his life. Louisa admirably describes her father's appearance as she met him at the cars. "His dress was neat and poor. He looked cold and thin as an icicle, but serene as God." After such a testimony, from such a daughter, he can afford to dress shabbily.
A tinge of the incomprehensible lies softly around it, a field of atmosphere, as if she had worked with down from an angel's wing rather than with a crayon,—as if the moonlight had cast a shadow on the lights of her picture, and a divinity had touched with a soft shade, the dark portion of the figure. Mrs. Hildredth has changed the costume from a dress suit to a mantle draped about the shoulders. This, I do not like. The chaste simplicity of Mr.Alcott's dress is more in character and keeping with the severe simplicity and rectitude of his life. Louisa admirably describes her father's appearance as she met him at the cars. "His dress was neat and poor. He looked cold and thin as an icicle, but serene as God." After such a testimony, from such a daughter, he can afford to dress shabbily.
Contentment, whatever her lot, was an attribute of Marmee; she underestimated herself always. Unquestionably, Louisa inherited her literary gift quite as much from mother as from father, and flashes of the quaint humor so delightful in the daughter's books are found in the mother's letters. To a friend she writes: "My gifts are few. I live,love and learn, and find myself more content every day of my life with humble conditions."
Louisa Alcott never laid claim to poetic gift, but on a few occasions her verses take to themselves true poetic beauty. One of the most exquisite of these poems was written by her on the death of her mother, and was first published anonymously in the "Masque of Poets" of 1878:
TransfigurationIn MemoriamMysterious death; who in a single hourLife's gold can so refine,And by thy art divineChange mortal weakness to immortal power:Bending beneath the weight of eighty years,Spent with the noble strifeOf a victorious life,We watched her fading heavenward, through our tears.But ere the sense of loss our hearts had wrung,A miracle was wrought:And swift as happy thoughtShe lived again—brave, beautiful and young.Age, pain and sorrow dropped the veils they wore,And showed the tender eyesOf angels in disguise,Whose discipline so patiently she bore.The past years brought their harvest rich and fair;While memory and love,Together fondly woveA golden garland for the silver hair.
Mysterious death; who in a single hourLife's gold can so refine,And by thy art divineChange mortal weakness to immortal power:Bending beneath the weight of eighty years,Spent with the noble strifeOf a victorious life,We watched her fading heavenward, through our tears.But ere the sense of loss our hearts had wrung,A miracle was wrought:And swift as happy thoughtShe lived again—brave, beautiful and young.Age, pain and sorrow dropped the veils they wore,And showed the tender eyesOf angels in disguise,Whose discipline so patiently she bore.The past years brought their harvest rich and fair;While memory and love,Together fondly woveA golden garland for the silver hair.
THE Alcott children were brought up to think for themselves, to reflect, and to give expression to their thoughts. Never laughed at, they were not afraid to speak or write of what was in their minds. Each kept a diary, and no incident that concerned the little girls was too trivial for mention in the record of the day. These incidents, collected, give a more comprehensive view of the Alcotts as a family than do the father's voluminous journals.
Anna Bronson Alcott. From a daguerreotype. Page 122.Anna Bronson Alcott.From a daguerreotype.Page122.
When Anna was ten, she gravely explains under date of April 13, 1841:
Father was too unwell to come down stairs and mother ironed, Louisa and I helped a little while. I wrote my journal and a journal for Louisa as she thought she could not write well enough. I had no other lessons than that. We watched a little spider and gave it some water to drink. In the afternoon mother read loud the story of the good aunt or part of it while we sewed on the clean clothes I mended up the holes and Louisa and Lizzy sewed on a sheet. In the evening we played mother lets us play in the evening. We went to bed soon.
Father was too unwell to come down stairs and mother ironed, Louisa and I helped a little while. I wrote my journal and a journal for Louisa as she thought she could not write well enough. I had no other lessons than that. We watched a little spider and gave it some water to drink. In the afternoon mother read loud the story of the good aunt or part of it while we sewed on the clean clothes I mended up the holes and Louisa and Lizzy sewed on a sheet. In the evening we played mother lets us play in the evening. We went to bed soon.
This sewing bee recalls the long evenings in the March home, described in"Little Women," when the four girls and the mother sewed dutifully on sheets for Aunt March, dividing seams into countries, discussing Europe, Asia, Africa, and America as they stitched.
When she was twelve, Anna's literary aspirations sought a vent in attempted poetry. Later she collaborated with Louisa in writing the "Comic Tragedies." Anna's confidante and comrade, Louisa, was frequently the victim of these poetic effusions, her reception of which gives quite a line on her ardent temperament. This entry in Anna's journal for April 23, 1843, is eloquent:
This morning I rose pretty early—After breakfast I read and wrote stories. In theafternoon I wrote some letters and the following one to Louisa:Louisa dearWith love sincereAccept this little gift from meIt is with pleasureI send this treasureAnd with it send much love to thee.Sister dearNever fearGod will help you if you try.Do not despairBut always careTo be good and love to try.In the evening I read in a book called 'Stories on the Lord's-prayer.' I talked with Louisa after I went to bed and she pinched me on my leg.
This morning I rose pretty early—After breakfast I read and wrote stories. In theafternoon I wrote some letters and the following one to Louisa:
Louisa dearWith love sincereAccept this little gift from meIt is with pleasureI send this treasureAnd with it send much love to thee.
Sister dearNever fearGod will help you if you try.Do not despairBut always careTo be good and love to try.
In the evening I read in a book called 'Stories on the Lord's-prayer.' I talked with Louisa after I went to bed and she pinched me on my leg.
Two or three years later Anna writes:
Monday.Mother went to Boston and Louisa and I cleaned house all day. I love order above all things and I take great pleasure in seeing all neat about the house.Tuesday.I worked hard till 2 o'clock when we all met to sew while mother read aloud from "Miss Bremers Brothers and Sister's." It is most beautiful such a happy family. I think Miss Bremer would make a lovely mother the mothers in her books are so sweet and she has beautiful idear's about family's. I love to read natural stories.Wednesday 30th.We rose very early and eat breakfast. I think it is a dreadful thing to grow old andnot be able to fly about, but then I suppose I shall not care about flying when I grow older, still it is horrid to think about being an old woman all wrinkled and blind. I wish I could keep young forever. I should love to live among all those I love and be with them all the time.
Monday.
Mother went to Boston and Louisa and I cleaned house all day. I love order above all things and I take great pleasure in seeing all neat about the house.
Tuesday.
I worked hard till 2 o'clock when we all met to sew while mother read aloud from "Miss Bremers Brothers and Sister's." It is most beautiful such a happy family. I think Miss Bremer would make a lovely mother the mothers in her books are so sweet and she has beautiful idear's about family's. I love to read natural stories.
Wednesday 30th.
We rose very early and eat breakfast. I think it is a dreadful thing to grow old andnot be able to fly about, but then I suppose I shall not care about flying when I grow older, still it is horrid to think about being an old woman all wrinkled and blind. I wish I could keep young forever. I should love to live among all those I love and be with them all the time.
Reading was a part of the daily routine in the Alcott household, and Anna's taste for German recalls vividly certain episodes between Meg and John Brooks in "Little Women."
Friday 18th.I read one of Krummacher's parables in German. I think they are very beautiful, the language is so elegant. I love to hear beautiful words and these stories are told so simply and are full of such sweet thought.I found a great many which have never been translated and I intend to try myself to translate them. I think it is the pleasantest thing I do to read German. It is such a splendid language. I mean Elizabeth shall learn to read it, she will enjoy it so much.Saturday 19th.In the afternoon I sewed and Louisa read me a very silly story called 'The Golden Cup.' I think there is a great deal of nonsense written now a days, the papers are full of silly stories.Sunday 20th.I have been reading lately a very beautiful book given me by my mother. It is "Characteristics of Women" by Mrs. Jameson. I like it very much. It is a description of Shakespear's Heroines, Portia is my favorite, she was so noble and I liked the Trial scenebetter than any of Shakespears that I ever read. I think this part is beautiful.'Let music sound while he doth make his choice;Then if he love he make a swan like endFading in music.'I think this was a beautiful idea.I passed a pleasant morning in school, translating one of Krummacher's beautiful parables. I find great pleasure in this. I like German better than I do French. I want much to study Italian. I have tried myself several times but cannot manage it without help. I think I should be very happy if I could go to school. I think about it most all the time and when I am in bed I imagine myself in Boston going to Miss Peabody's school with other girls and knowthat I am learning something. And I think I lead rather too solitary a life. I love to see people. Mother read in the afternoon from Miss Sedgwick's Letters. It was about the Germans. She says they are a very cheerful people and though poor yet they always have a happy smile and cheerful face. That their manners are beautiful. They are so kind and simple. I know I should love them, for I like everything German, except their food, which I think must be horrid, greasy cabbage and sour bread. That seems bad. I should think they are so fond of beautiful things; music, poetry and flowers, that they would not like such stuff.September, 1845.Friday 1st.I walked before breakfast, the sun was bright and there was a cool wind. Thelane was full of beautiful flowers and the grass was green and fresh. I had a lovely walk and gathered a bunch of goldenrod, spirian and gerandia. Everything was so beautiful that all my unhappy thoughts of last night flew away. I sometimes have strange feelings, a sort of longing after something I don't know what it is. I have a great many wishes. I spent the day in the usual manner, sewing and studying. In the evening Louisa and I walked through the lane and talked about how we should like to live and dress and imagined all kinds of beautiful things.Sunday 3rd.I sewed all day and mother read from "Miss Sedgwick's Letters." I will write a piece of poetry, as I have nothing very pleasant to write about:"Oh when thy heart is full of fearsAnd the way is dim to HeavenWhen the sorrow and the sin of yearsPeace from thy soul has drivenThen through the mist of falling tearsLook up and be forgiven."And then rise up and sin no moreAnd from thy dark ways fleeLet Virtue o'er thy appetitesHave full and perfect masteryAnd the kindly ones that hover o'erWill ever strengthen thee."And though thou art helpless and forlornLet not thy heart's peace goAnd though the riches of this world are goneAnd thy lot is care and woeFaint not, but journey ever onTrue wealth is not below."Oh, falter not but still look upLet Patience be thy guideBless the rod and take the cupAnd trustfully abideLet not temptation vanquish theeAnd the Father will provide."Louisa composed these lines, which I think are beautiful. She is a beautiful girl and writes as good poetry as Lucretia Davidson, about whom so much has been written. I think she will writesomething great one of these days. As for me I am perfect in nothing. I have no genius. I know a little of music, a little of French, German and Drawing, but none of them well. I have a foolish wish to be somethinggreatand I shall probably spend my life in a kitchen and die in the poor-house. I want to beJenny Lind or Mrs. Seguin and I can't and so I cry. Here is another of Louisa's pieces to mother."God comfort thee dear mother,For sorrow sad and deepIs lying heavy on thy heartAnd this hath made thee weep."There is a Father o'er us, mother,Who orders for the bestAnd peace shall come ere long, mother,And dwell within thy breast."Then let us journey onward, mother,And trustfully abide,The coming forth of good or illWhatever may betide."
Friday 18th.
I read one of Krummacher's parables in German. I think they are very beautiful, the language is so elegant. I love to hear beautiful words and these stories are told so simply and are full of such sweet thought.I found a great many which have never been translated and I intend to try myself to translate them. I think it is the pleasantest thing I do to read German. It is such a splendid language. I mean Elizabeth shall learn to read it, she will enjoy it so much.
Saturday 19th.
In the afternoon I sewed and Louisa read me a very silly story called 'The Golden Cup.' I think there is a great deal of nonsense written now a days, the papers are full of silly stories.
Sunday 20th.
I have been reading lately a very beautiful book given me by my mother. It is "Characteristics of Women" by Mrs. Jameson. I like it very much. It is a description of Shakespear's Heroines, Portia is my favorite, she was so noble and I liked the Trial scenebetter than any of Shakespears that I ever read. I think this part is beautiful.
'Let music sound while he doth make his choice;Then if he love he make a swan like endFading in music.'
I think this was a beautiful idea.
I passed a pleasant morning in school, translating one of Krummacher's beautiful parables. I find great pleasure in this. I like German better than I do French. I want much to study Italian. I have tried myself several times but cannot manage it without help. I think I should be very happy if I could go to school. I think about it most all the time and when I am in bed I imagine myself in Boston going to Miss Peabody's school with other girls and knowthat I am learning something. And I think I lead rather too solitary a life. I love to see people. Mother read in the afternoon from Miss Sedgwick's Letters. It was about the Germans. She says they are a very cheerful people and though poor yet they always have a happy smile and cheerful face. That their manners are beautiful. They are so kind and simple. I know I should love them, for I like everything German, except their food, which I think must be horrid, greasy cabbage and sour bread. That seems bad. I should think they are so fond of beautiful things; music, poetry and flowers, that they would not like such stuff.
September, 1845.Friday 1st.
I walked before breakfast, the sun was bright and there was a cool wind. Thelane was full of beautiful flowers and the grass was green and fresh. I had a lovely walk and gathered a bunch of goldenrod, spirian and gerandia. Everything was so beautiful that all my unhappy thoughts of last night flew away. I sometimes have strange feelings, a sort of longing after something I don't know what it is. I have a great many wishes. I spent the day in the usual manner, sewing and studying. In the evening Louisa and I walked through the lane and talked about how we should like to live and dress and imagined all kinds of beautiful things.
Sunday 3rd.
I sewed all day and mother read from "Miss Sedgwick's Letters." I will write a piece of poetry, as I have nothing very pleasant to write about:
"Oh when thy heart is full of fearsAnd the way is dim to HeavenWhen the sorrow and the sin of yearsPeace from thy soul has drivenThen through the mist of falling tearsLook up and be forgiven.
"And then rise up and sin no moreAnd from thy dark ways fleeLet Virtue o'er thy appetitesHave full and perfect masteryAnd the kindly ones that hover o'erWill ever strengthen thee.
"And though thou art helpless and forlornLet not thy heart's peace goAnd though the riches of this world are goneAnd thy lot is care and woeFaint not, but journey ever onTrue wealth is not below.
"Oh, falter not but still look upLet Patience be thy guideBless the rod and take the cupAnd trustfully abideLet not temptation vanquish theeAnd the Father will provide."
Louisa composed these lines, which I think are beautiful. She is a beautiful girl and writes as good poetry as Lucretia Davidson, about whom so much has been written. I think she will writesomething great one of these days. As for me I am perfect in nothing. I have no genius. I know a little of music, a little of French, German and Drawing, but none of them well. I have a foolish wish to be somethinggreatand I shall probably spend my life in a kitchen and die in the poor-house. I want to beJenny Lind or Mrs. Seguin and I can't and so I cry. Here is another of Louisa's pieces to mother.
"God comfort thee dear mother,For sorrow sad and deepIs lying heavy on thy heartAnd this hath made thee weep.
"There is a Father o'er us, mother,Who orders for the bestAnd peace shall come ere long, mother,And dwell within thy breast.
"Then let us journey onward, mother,And trustfully abide,The coming forth of good or illWhatever may betide."
Helpfulness was encouraged in the Alcott household; habits of industrywere carefully fostered. The Alcott children worked when they worked, played when they played, but wasted hours were unknown. They were taught to make the most of every day. When Anna was seventeen she wrote in her diary:
August, 1848.Thursday 17th.Lizzy and I are making plans for spending our days usefully. Here is mine.Plan.Rise at half past 4, bathe, dress and walk till half past 5.Dress and bathe the children.Breakfast at 7. Work till 9. School till 12. Work till 2.Sew till 4. Practice till 5.
August, 1848.Thursday 17th.
Lizzy and I are making plans for spending our days usefully. Here is mine.
Plan.
Rise at half past 4, bathe, dress and walk till half past 5.
Dress and bathe the children.
Breakfast at 7. Work till 9. School till 12. Work till 2.
Sew till 4. Practice till 5.
Hear Lizzy recite German and French till 6. Supper.This will keep me pretty busy, but I find I accomplish so much more when I have a plan and certain times for certain things. I never can do things without order. I like to have something planned for every moment of the day, so that when I get up in the morning I may know what to do. I wish I could be learned.
Hear Lizzy recite German and French till 6. Supper.
This will keep me pretty busy, but I find I accomplish so much more when I have a plan and certain times for certain things. I never can do things without order. I like to have something planned for every moment of the day, so that when I get up in the morning I may know what to do. I wish I could be learned.
An entry in Louisa's diary during the Fruitlands period gives this insight into one of her average days, when a child of eleven:
I rose at five, and after breakfast washed the dishes and then helped mother work. I took care of May in the afternoon. In the evening I made some pretty things for mydolly. Father and Mr. Lane had a talk and father asked us if we saw any reason for us to separate. Mother wanted to, she is so tired. I like it, but not the school part or Mr. L.
I rose at five, and after breakfast washed the dishes and then helped mother work. I took care of May in the afternoon. In the evening I made some pretty things for mydolly. Father and Mr. Lane had a talk and father asked us if we saw any reason for us to separate. Mother wanted to, she is so tired. I like it, but not the school part or Mr. L.
Note, too, that when it came to a conference concerning family affairs, the father asked the advice of his eleven-year-old daughter, instead of following the more customary method of withholding from her the family confidence and deferring discussion of plans until the children had gone to bed.
"Know Thyself," was ever the aim of Bronson Alcott in the training of his children, and Mr. Lane at Fruitlands followed this same line of mental development. This is one of his samplelessons which Louisa Alcott has copied into her journal:
Sample of our Lessons"What virtues do you wish more of," asked Mr. L. I answer:PatienceObedienceIndustryLoveGenerosityRespectSilencePerseveranceSelf-denial"What vices less of?"IdlenessImpatienceSelfishnessWilfulnessImpudenceActivityVanityPrideLove of cats
Sample of our Lessons
"What virtues do you wish more of," asked Mr. L. I answer:
"What vices less of?"
In this same lesson comes the twelve-year-old Louisa's explanation of the difference between faith and hope:
Faith can believe without seeing; hope is not sure, but tries to have faith when it desires.
Faith can believe without seeing; hope is not sure, but tries to have faith when it desires.
Louisa's love of nature, her trained habits of thought, her poetic imagination, and her keen appreciation of beauty are indicated in this entry in her journal, written at Fruitlands in 1843 or 1844, when she was a child of ten or eleven:
I wrote in my imagination book, and enjoyed it very much. Life is pleasanter than it used to be, and I don't care about dying any more. Had a splendid run, and got a box of cones to burn. Sat and heard the pines sing a long time. Had good dreams, and woke now and then to think, and watch the moon. I had a pleasant time with my mind, for it was happy.
I wrote in my imagination book, and enjoyed it very much. Life is pleasanter than it used to be, and I don't care about dying any more. Had a splendid run, and got a box of cones to burn. Sat and heard the pines sing a long time. Had good dreams, and woke now and then to think, and watch the moon. I had a pleasant time with my mind, for it was happy.
FAMILIAR to every reader of "Little Women" is the March family's quaint brown house with its many windows, its old-fashioned garden, its homely, homelike air, its unfailing hospitality. This home, as described by Louisa M. Alcott, is a picture of the Alcott home at Concord, the scene of the girlhood and young womanhood of the Alcott children. Many of Louisa's books were written there; "Little Women" was lived there. In Concord,Anna met John Pratt, and the first love story in "Little Women" is Anna's life romance. There little Beth passed from the material to the spiritual life, and Amy first developed the artistic talents which later caused her work to be sought for by art museums and private collectors.
Anna's marriage was a great trial to Louisa, for from early childhood the two girls had been inseparable companions, and after Anna's marriage Louisa learned to look upon John as her brother.
Louisa's diary in the April following the passing of Elizabeth touches upon the change of homes in Concord, the absence of May, who was studying art in Boston, of Elizabeth and of Anna:
April.
Came to occupy one wing of Hawthorne's house (once ours) while the new one was being repaired. Father, mother and I kept house together, May being in Boston, Anna at Pratt farm, & for the first time Lizzy absent. I don't miss her as I expected to do, for she seems nearer & dearer than before, & I am glad to know she is safe from pain & age in some world where her innocent soul must be happy.Death never seemed terrible to me, & now is beautiful, so I cannot fear it, but find it friendly and wonderful.
Came to occupy one wing of Hawthorne's house (once ours) while the new one was being repaired. Father, mother and I kept house together, May being in Boston, Anna at Pratt farm, & for the first time Lizzy absent. I don't miss her as I expected to do, for she seems nearer & dearer than before, & I am glad to know she is safe from pain & age in some world where her innocent soul must be happy.
Death never seemed terrible to me, & now is beautiful, so I cannot fear it, but find it friendly and wonderful.
Abba May Alcott. From a photograph. Page 142.Abba May Alcott.From a photograph.Page142.
Amy's artistic efforts and her failures in "Little Women" are taken from May's actual experiences in Concord. Turning the career of the youngest of theAlcott girls into a romance earlier in "Little Women" than it actually occurred in life, doubtless prevented Louisa Alcott from chronicling the artistic success of her youngest sister, a success to which she largely contributed and in which she took great pride.
May Alcott's pictures are found to-day in art museums and in leading private collections in this country and abroad. Her copies of Turner are remarkable. In the Kensington Gallery in London students are given them to study in preference to the originals. Several fine examples are in American museums, and a few are owned by members of the Alcott family.
When the Alcotts moved into OrchardHouse, the girls painted and papered the interior themselves. May filled the nooks and corners with panels, on which she painted birds and flowers. Over the fireplaces she inscribed mottoes in Old English characters.
The study in Orchard House was the real center of the household. For the chimney piece Ellery Channing wrote an epigram, which May Alcott painted upon it, and which has been used in the stage reproduction of "Little Women":
"The Hills are reared, the Valleys scooped in vain,If Learning's Altars vanish from the Plain."
"The Hills are reared, the Valleys scooped in vain,If Learning's Altars vanish from the Plain."
In Orchard House to-day, walls, doors, and window casings are etched with May Alcott's drawings, many preserved underglass, including a miniature portrait of a little girl, naïvely and modestly inscribed "The Artist."
High thoughts and cheerful minds triumphed over poverty in those Concord days. Shortly after the family's return from Fruitlands, Louisa wrote for Ellen Emerson the fairy stories, "Flower Fables." She was at the time only sixteen. This was her earliest published work, and it was many years before she achieved literary fame, although, as did Jo in "Little Women," she materially helped in the support of the family by writing lurid tales.
Literature rather than commerce freed the Alcotts from the burden of debt. Louisa's fame was the result, neither ofaccident, nor of a single achievement, but had for its background the whole generous past of her family. Her "Hospital Sketches" were her letters home, when she was serving as hospital nurse during the Civil War. "Little Women" is a chronicle of her family. Louisa certainly made good use of the vicissitudes of the Alcotts. She always saw the funny side and was not afraid to make book material of the home experiences, elevating or humiliating. Her books number between twenty-five and thirty. Nearly every one takes its basic idea from some real experience. The books written by the Alcott family, including some eight or ten published by Mr. Alcott, Louisa's output, and one ortwo written by May, fill two shelves of an alcove devoted to Concord authors in the Alcott town library.
Anna's little sons, familiarly known in the Alcott household as Freddie and Johnnie, or Jack, gave to Bronson Alcott in his later days fresh opportunity for his favorite study—childhood. To both boys came frequent messages and gifts from Grandpa, Grandma, and Aunt Louisa.
Louisa Alcott sent to Freddie this poem on his third birthday:
A song for little FreddieOn his third Birthday.Down in the fieldWhere the brook goes,Lives a white lammieWith a little black nose.He eats the grass so green,He drinks the "la la" sweet,"Buttertups" and daisies,Grow all about his feet.The "birdies" they sing to him,The big sun in the sky,Warms his little "Toe-toes,"And peeps into his eye.He's a very gentle lammie,He never makes a fuss,He never "saps his marmar,"He never says "I muss."He hops and he runs,"Wound and wound" all day,And when the night comes,He goes "bye low" on the hay.In a nice little barn,Where the "moo-moos" are;Freddie says "Good night,"But the lammie he says "Baa!"To be sung by Marmar with appropriate accompaniment of gesture, etc.
A song for little FreddieOn his third Birthday.
Down in the fieldWhere the brook goes,Lives a white lammieWith a little black nose.
He eats the grass so green,He drinks the "la la" sweet,"Buttertups" and daisies,Grow all about his feet.
The "birdies" they sing to him,The big sun in the sky,Warms his little "Toe-toes,"And peeps into his eye.
He's a very gentle lammie,He never makes a fuss,He never "saps his marmar,"He never says "I muss."
He hops and he runs,"Wound and wound" all day,And when the night comes,He goes "bye low" on the hay.
In a nice little barn,Where the "moo-moos" are;Freddie says "Good night,"But the lammie he says "Baa!"
To be sung by Marmar with appropriate accompaniment of gesture, etc.
On the outside of the letter appears:
A little song for Freddie,On his third birthday,With "lots" of loving kisses,From his Wee-wee far away.
A little song for Freddie,On his third birthday,With "lots" of loving kisses,From his Wee-wee far away.
On his sixth birthday Grandpa contributes:
Concord, Freddie's6th Birthday,1869.Dear Freddy,I give you for your Birth Day Present this new Picture Book. It has plain words for you to pick out and read. The stories are short and about things that you know. Now, my little scholar, look among the leaves every day, and see how many words you can tell,—Very soon you will find you can read whole pages, spell the whole book through, and write the stories, word for word on your slate or in your little writing book. Then you will not be a little Dunce, and when Grandpa comes to see you, you will be glad to show him how well you can read.Grandma gives the top to Johnny.From Grandpa.
Concord, Freddie's6th Birthday,1869.
Dear Freddy,
I give you for your Birth Day Present this new Picture Book. It has plain words for you to pick out and read. The stories are short and about things that you know. Now, my little scholar, look among the leaves every day, and see how many words you can tell,—Very soon you will find you can read whole pages, spell the whole book through, and write the stories, word for word on your slate or in your little writing book. Then you will not be a little Dunce, and when Grandpa comes to see you, you will be glad to show him how well you can read.
Grandma gives the top to Johnny.
From Grandpa.
Grandma, not to be outdone, sent this:
Dear Freddy,If worms give us the silk thread—can't we find time enough to find out how the Fabric is made which dresses are formed of—minutes and days—ours. Days and Years are passing away—let us be busy—and I guess we will get to the Vienna Exposition—"How doth the little busy Bee"Improve each shining hour—Be a Bee—and your hours will be too few for the Flowers of Science and the Wheels of Use. Grandma will help you with her one dim eye and Grandpa will explain a great deal to you with his Shining Light—Mama with your help will make you a true, good man.—
Dear Freddy,
If worms give us the silk thread—can't we find time enough to find out how the Fabric is made which dresses are formed of—minutes and days—ours. Days and Years are passing away—let us be busy—and I guess we will get to the Vienna Exposition—
"How doth the little busy Bee"
Improve each shining hour—Be a Bee—and your hours will be too few for the Flowers of Science and the Wheels of Use. Grandma will help you with her one dim eye and Grandpa will explain a great deal to you with his Shining Light—Mama with your help will make you a true, good man.—
1873.
On his twelfth birthday Aunt Louisa again lapsed into poetry:
F. A. P.Who likes to read a fairy tale,Or stories told of sword and sail,Until his little optics fail?Our boy.Who loves his father's watch to wearAnd often draw it out with careUpon its round white face to stare?Our boy.Who rather proud of his small feetWhen wearing slippers new and neat,And stockings red as any beet?Our boy.Who in his pocket keeps his handsAs round the house he "mooning" standsOr reads the paper like the mans?Our boy.Who likes to "boss" it over Jack,And sometimes gives a naughty whack,But gets it heartily paid back?Our boy.Who likes to have a birthday frolicAnd eats until he has a colic,That for the time is diabolic?Our boy.Who is the dearest little lad,That aunt or mother ever had,To love when gay and cheer when sad?Our boy.May angels guard him with their wings,And all brave, good and happy things,Make nobler thou than crowned kings.Our boy.March 28th, 1875.
F. A. P.
Who likes to read a fairy tale,Or stories told of sword and sail,Until his little optics fail?Our boy.
Who loves his father's watch to wearAnd often draw it out with careUpon its round white face to stare?Our boy.
Who rather proud of his small feetWhen wearing slippers new and neat,And stockings red as any beet?Our boy.
Who in his pocket keeps his handsAs round the house he "mooning" standsOr reads the paper like the mans?Our boy.
Who likes to "boss" it over Jack,And sometimes gives a naughty whack,But gets it heartily paid back?Our boy.
Who likes to have a birthday frolicAnd eats until he has a colic,That for the time is diabolic?Our boy.
Who is the dearest little lad,That aunt or mother ever had,To love when gay and cheer when sad?Our boy.
May angels guard him with their wings,And all brave, good and happy things,Make nobler thou than crowned kings.Our boy.
March 28th, 1875.
John, the original of Daisy in "Little Women," received in his babyhood days from Aunt Louisa, some tiny blue stockings with this verse:
Two pair of blue hose,For Johnny's white toes,So Jack Frost can't freeze em,Nor darned stockings tease em,So pretty and neatI hope the small feetWill never go wrong,But walk straight and strong,The way father went.We shall all be content,If the dear little sonBe a second good John.
Two pair of blue hose,For Johnny's white toes,So Jack Frost can't freeze em,Nor darned stockings tease em,So pretty and neatI hope the small feetWill never go wrong,But walk straight and strong,The way father went.We shall all be content,If the dear little sonBe a second good John.
On his tenth birthday, both Grandpa and Grandma Alcott sent these characteristic greetings to their younger grandson:
Grandma Alcott to Johnny.10th birthday.June 24th. 1875.Giving song, all day long,Under the elm or willow;With sunshine shedOn the little headThat rests on Grandma's pillow.To and fro,Let it go,While inside piping cheery,As he takes his restIn his hang-bird's nestLies Grandma's little deary.Grandpa Alcott to Johnny.June 24th. 1875.A fine little swordFor gallant Capt. Jack,As he marches down the hillHis army at his back.No giants will it killSince its only made for show,And the best way to fight,Is a kiss for a blow.
Grandma Alcott to Johnny.
10th birthday.June 24th. 1875.
Giving song, all day long,Under the elm or willow;With sunshine shedOn the little headThat rests on Grandma's pillow.To and fro,Let it go,While inside piping cheery,As he takes his restIn his hang-bird's nestLies Grandma's little deary.
Grandpa Alcott to Johnny.June 24th. 1875.
A fine little swordFor gallant Capt. Jack,As he marches down the hillHis army at his back.
No giants will it killSince its only made for show,And the best way to fight,Is a kiss for a blow.
In these days of private secretaries, labor-saving devices, and specialization,it is difficult to comprehend the obstacles that Louisa Alcott encountered in writing. Her day was filled with other tasks, housework, sewing, teaching, nursing—yet the pen was never idle, the busy brain was never still. Her power of concentration made it possible for her to write under harassing conditions. This is her own description of her methods of work: