Louisa May Alcott, dreamer and worker : a story of achievement

Front matter

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Introduction

LOUISA MAY ALCOTT occupies £ niche peculiarly her own in the hearts of American girls. No writer of fiction, before her time or since, has been able to touch the responsive chord that Miss Alcott struck in " Little Women " and the many succeeding girls' stories. Her charm lay, not in plot nor excitement, but in the natural, healthy, everyday life she spread out before her readers. Incidents drawn freely from her own and her sisters' lives formed the framework of " Little Women," and through her stories, long or short, runs this vein of reality.

From her obscurity as a struggling author she sprang to the first place, and her name has since become a household word. And so I should like to introduce Miss Alcott to her girl friends as a girl like themselves, who worked, who struggled, and who conquered by sheer force of energy and perseverance, not by the great things she did, but by the little things that counted most. Forty years ago " Little Women " made its bow to the world, and forty years hence it will still be found on our girls' bookshelves, as fresh and vigorous as ever.

viii INTRODUCTION.

Miss Alcott wrote as Shakespeare did, for all time and all generations. The element of immortal youth is in all her work, and abounds throughout the story of her life, which the following pages will strive to tell.

In the preparation of the book I have been indebted to Messrs. Little, Brown & Co., The Ladies' Home Journal, my brother, Montrose J. Moses, and the writings of Mrs. Cheney, Mrs. Porter, Mrs. Clarke, F. B. Sanborn, Miss Cate, and others, whose intimate knowledge of the author and her life has been of great assistance to me.

BELLE MOSES.

NEW YORK, June, 1909.

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I. — LOUISA MAY ARRIVES i

II. — A SIMPLE LIFE 19

Chapter I. Louisa May Arrives

JOVEMBER'S child of many moods arrived on the 2Qth day, 1832, sharing- the birthday of her father and Christopher Columbus, if we can believe the records, and she first opened her eyes in a large, square, old-fashioned house in old-fashioned Germantown, not far from Philadelphia. It was somewhat off the main street, and was known as The Pinery or Pine Place, because of the pines surrounding it, so Louisa's tiny nose sniffed the sweet, pungent odor before she even thought it worth while to take a peep at the world.

Her father and mother, being old-fashioned people, were delighted with the new baby, who would be such a fine playmate for little Anna, just two years old, and though they were as poor as poor could be, they welcomed the newcomer with all their loving hearts, little dreaming that she would prove to be a regular fairy luck child.

The first thing she did of any consequence was to send her regards to her grandfather, Colonel May, to whom Mr. Alcott wrote at once, announcing her arrival. At the end of the letter he says:

"With Abba's [Mrs. Alcott's], Anna's, and Louisa's regards, allow me to assure you of the sincerity with which I am,

" Yours,

" A. BRONSON ALCOTT."

How quaint and stiff and formal those old-time letters were !

By all accounts Louisa was a beautiful baby, a delight to play with, to cuddle, and to kiss. And though Germantown happened by accident to be her birthplace, she was — from the crown of her head to the toes of her active feet — of sturdy New England stuff.

Her father, Amos Bronson Alcott, was born in 1799, thirty-three years before Louisa came, at the foot of Spindle Hill, in the region called New Connecticut. His family name in the old English records had been Alcocke, and belonged to a line of English gentlemen who came over to America and took up farming in New England. Some called the name Alcox, but when Amos Bronson and his cousin William set out to seek their fortunes, they changed it to Alcott; while another branch of the family called themselves Olcott.

Mrs. Alcott was the twelfth and youngest child of Colonel Joseph May, and was related also to the Quinceys and Sewalls of Massachusetts fame. Her brother, Samuel J. May, was a Unitarian minister, and a very prominent man in his day — a day of many great men. Mrs. Alcott was a woman of grace and refinement, so little Louisa and her sisters, the four " Little Women " — Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy — so dear to every girl's heart, had a rich heritage by birth, no matter how little they had of other riches.

Mr. Alcott was teaching school when Louisa was born, but he had new ways of teaching which the stolid Germantown people did not like, so his school was not successful, and he moved to Boston when Louisa was two years old — a chubby little mischief, who " got lost " on her very first journey.

They traveled by boat from Philadelphia to Boston ; Anna and Louisa, spick and span, in clean nankeen suits, when it was suddenly discovered that Louisa was missing. High and low they searched, until at last they found her in the engine room, placidly poking into places that were " all nice and dirty " — looking, no doubt, " all nice and dirty," too. How she came there she never explained ; she might have been on a voyage of discovery, or made friends with the engine man, or wanted to " see the wheels go round," for she was of a most inquiring mind, but at any rate she had enjoyed herself.

In Boston the real home life began. It would have been hard to find a happier couple than Mr.

Alcott and his wife, and the two little girls grew and expanded in an atmosphere of love and intelligence. Mr. Alcott became head of the Temple School, where he felt free to teach his new ideas in his own way; but Louisa was too young to attend school except for an occasional visit, though her education began at an unusually early age. Kindergartens were unknown in those days, yet Mr. Alcott was ahead of his time and had real kindergarten ideas about making study pleasant for the children, whose quick minds flew to knowledge. Two more little girls were added to the family group. Elizabeth, the Beth of " Little Women," was born during the six years spent in Boston; there was also a tiny boy who never lived; then came Abbey May, the baby and pet of the family, Amy in the story, who was born in the happy Concord days that immediately followed the unfortunate years in Boston.

Louisa at a very early age began to have " thinks," one could scarcely call them thoughts, for they went on all the time and were too large and indefinite to classify. This small person, in moments when her animal spirits were not leading her into paths of strange adventure, was much given to reflection ; her little soul was a turbulent, unruly thing ; she was often sad because of it, and had her fits of gloom like many an older person. But a whiff of fresh air, a kindly word, the sense of human companionship and sympathy, worked a magic cure, and she would be once more the hearty, happy child, who " loved everybody in dis whole world."

Such a nature as hers could not have had two better guides. Her father encouraged this habit of reflection, and discussed her small troubles with her as gravely as he handled heavier matters, while her mother steered her safely through the practical details of her daily life, each fired with the unselfish desire to give the best to the little girl.

From the time they could guide their pens and put their thoughts on paper, the Alcott children were required to keep a journal and write down freely their thoughts and doings from day to day. These journals were always open for inspection and guiding criticism from both father and mother, and became fine records of the growth of mind and character.

Food for the mind was placed first in Mr. Alcott's ideas of education. It was his conviction that the simplest food for the body produced the highest thinking and living, and the children were brought up on this principle. " Goodies " such as children love never came their way, unless in the shape of fruits. What was plucked from trees or plants or dug from the ground was healthy, natural food in his opinion, while he considered it wrong to eat and enjoy anything which had to be killed for the purpose. But during the Boston days, when the children were too young to be reasoned with, they found that rice without sugar, and Graham meal minus butter or molasses, was most uninteresting fare and extremely tiresome. A lady friend, who chanced to be living in luxury at a hotel in Boston, fell into the habit of saving delicious bits of pie and cake for the young Alcotts, and Louisa often carried j. -n home in a bandbox, which she brought for tn<tt purpose. Years afterwards, when she became famous, she met this friend in the street and greeted her cordially.

" Why, my dear ! " exclaimed the old lady, " I did not think you would remember me."

" Do you think I shall ever forget that bandbox ? " replied Louisa quickly.

Still it seems highly improbable that Mr. Alcott deprived his children entirely of meat, for in his diary, in speaking of their healthy appetites, he says of Louisa : " She enjoys her food, partaking of animal food with great relish."

Her first memory of herself is of playing with the books in her father's study, " building houses and bridges of the big dictionaries and diaries, looking at pictures, pretending to read, and scribbling on blank pages, whenever pen or pencil could be found."

" On one occasion," she says, in a sketch of her childhood, " we built a high tower around baby Lizzie, as she sat playing with her toys on the floor, and being attracted by something out of doors, forgot our little prisoner. A search was made, and patient baby at last discovered curled up and fast asleep in her dungeon cell, out of which she emerged so rosy and smiling after her nap, that we were forgiven for our carelessness."

The Alcotts always celebrated their birthdays with great enthusiasm. The gifts were hidden from vie*/, the queen of the festival was escorted to the seat of honor to the sound of a march, always a moment of overwhelming embarrassment, until the packages were opened and thanks and kisses sprinkled liberally. Louisa's memory of her fourth birthday is very vivid; she celebrated it in her father's schoolroom at Masonic Temple. She wore a crown of flowers and stood on a table to receive congratulations from all the children. As each of her guests passed by, the " birthday girl " bestowed a small cake, but by some accident the cakes fell short, and when Louisa came to the last one it was suddenly borne in upon her that if she gave it away she would have none left for herself. This seemed most unjust as it was her birthday, but a few wise words from her mother turned the scale.

" It is always better to give away than to keep the nice things; so I know my Louy will not let the little friend go without."

" So," writes Miss Alcott, " the little friend received the dear, plummy cake, and I a kiss, and my first lesson in the sweetness of self-denial."

Little Louisa had one sad habit; she was fond of running away, and on one of these interesting occasions she spent the day with some Irish children, who shared a very frugal and a very salty dinner with her, after which they played in the ash heaps, and later took a trip to the Common. Presently her friends deserted her; it grew dark, and she began to long for home. She finally sat down on a welcome doorstep beside a friendly big dog, who kindly allowed her to use his back as a pillow. She was roused from sleep by the town crier, who had been sent in search of her by her distracted parents. She says : " His bell and proclamation of the loss of ' a little girl six years old, in a pink frock, white hat, and new green shoes ' woke me up,, and a small voice answered out of the darkness : ' Why, dat's me ' ! "

Very much the same thing happened to Naughty Nan in " Little Men," when she and Rob got lost, and it seems that Louisa's escapade was punished as Nan's was. The runaway was tied to the arm of a sofa next day, to cure her of the wandering habit. She was an athletic little soul; she loved to climb trees and leap fences and run races like a young deer or colt. It was nothing unusual for her to drive her hoop around the Common, and her friendships were always based on powers of achievement. Barring her own sisters, girls were nothing to her unless they were tomboys, but boys appealed to her through their prowess; the boy who could not equal her in lively sports deserved no place in her friendship; he who excelled was worshiped as a hero, and Louisa had many heroes in her active youth.

At the age of seven her particular idol was a certain Frank, who was a lord of creation and loftily permitted her devotion. He used to amuse himself by slapping her hands with books, hoopsticks, shoes, or anything which could give a good stinging blow, hoping to make her cry; but she bore the pain with fortitude, quite repaid when she heard him tell the other boys " she's a brave little thing and you can't make her cry." There were long days of romping, and happy evenings snuggled in sofa corners, planning tricks and eating stolen " goodies," and " sometimes," she tells us in "My Boys," a jolly little story of her early loves, "Frank would put his curly head in my lap and let me stroke it when he was tired." But this boy, alas! proved treacherous and gave his adorer up to a punishment which she had justly deserved, but which she had tried to escape by locking herself in the dining room; this false friend, with the twinkling eyes and the curly hair, climbed in at the window and unlocked the door, adding insult to injury by helping to bear her off to imprisonment. This was a sad blow to Louisa; she would have been stanch and true under any circumstances, and she never forgave this first love of hers, though he tempted her with offers of peanuts and candy, ginger snaps and car rides. She had lost faith in his loyalty.

Loyalty was a star characteristic of the Alcott family. No matter what the cause or how forlorn the hope, if he deemed it just and wise, and for the benefit of his fellow-creatures, Mr. Alcott fought for it with his whole soul, and clung to it with his whole strength. Shoulder to shoulder with him stood his brave wife loyally supporting him, while her capable hands toiled to make the burdens lighter, and the little girls — each early impressed with the responsibility of looking after her soul — were always loyal to the trust and to each other, and to the father and mother, to whom they so freely brought their small troubles and perplexities.

So the home of the Alcotts was rich in love and loyalty, -but poor in worldly goods. Mr. Alcott's Boston school began to dwindle sadly, until he found himself at last with but five pupils, three of whom were his own daughters. This was unfortunate, for he was a born teacher, enthusiastic, cultured, and devoted to young people. He has said himself : " When one becomes indifferent to women, to children and to young people, he may know that he is superannuated, and has withdrawn from whatsoever is sweetest and purest in human existence." The cause of his unpopularity was to be found in the very strong views he held on antislavery. Boston had not yet put on her war paint, and the singleminded gentleman almost lost caste on account of his advanced opinions. He was compelled to give up his school, and the " Pathetic Family," as Louisa often called them in later years, moved to historic old Concord, where the three little girls found another little sister and spent the happiest years of their lives.

Going to Concord, away from big and busy Bos-

LOUISA MAY. ARRIVES. n

ton, was like going into the country, and the three young ones always enjoyed that when they went on brief summer outings to Scituate. In Concord they had a pleasant house, a garden full of trees, and a big barn, which was their delight, and where they produced many marvelous plays, products of their own busy brains. Both Anna and Louisa had a wonderful gift for acting, and the old barn was the scene of many triumphs. They dramatized the fairy tales in fine style — " Jack and the Beanstalk," " Cinderella " and others. That moral tale of the foolish woman who wasted her three wishes was admirably illustrated by a big black pudding, which was lowered by invisible hands until it fastened itself upon her nose.

Playing pilgrims was a favorite amusement when they were little. " Sometimes," as Miss Alcott tells us in her recollections, they " journeyed over the hill with scrip and staff and cockle-shells in their hats." At other times, so vividly described in " Little Women," their mother tied her piece-bags on their backs for burdens, gave them hats, sticks, and rolls of paper, and sent them from the cellar, which was the City of Destruction, to the housetop, which was the Celestial City, and being nothing if not dramatic, as well as little earnest, toiling Christians, they acted out their progress during their upward journey. There was plenty of religion in the Alcott household, moments of holy enthusiasm, born of Nature and the love of it.

One can fancy Louisa's restless feet taking her over the hills at dawn one summer morning; the rest in the silent woods, the glimpse of the sun rising over the hills, were awe-inspiring to the thoughtful child. She tells us herself that she felt as she had never felt before, God's presence near her, and, as she says, she got religion in that quiet hour.

Here, in the open, they learned their lessons, charming nature lessons, with their father as teacher. Their mother was generally with them in their hours of recreation ; she was an admirable manager and she made it a rule to rise early in the morning, to finish all the work in the forenoon, so that the afternoon could be devoted to the children. This was a time of wandering in the woods under clear summer skies, telling stories, playing games, and spouting poetry. There were friends, too, to share these pleasures, the young Emersons, the Hawthornes, the Channings, and the Goodwins — all children of remarkable parents.

Dr. Edward W. Emerson, one of the " boys," gives us a delightful glimpse of Mrs. Alcott in her relations with her children : " She was not only loving and sympathetic, but she had a well-stored and fertile mind. From her they learned to depend on themselves for good times, and their imaginations were quickened. The zeal of the mother in helping on her children's little plans appears in a touching sentence in a story of Louisa's, describing a school masquerade such as we had later. The fathers might grudge the expense. ' But the mothers, whose interest in their children's pleasure is a sort of evergreen that no frost of time can kill, sewed spangles by the bushel, and made wildernesses of tissue paper blossom like the rose, kept tempers sweet, stomachs full, and domestic machinery working through it all, by that maternal magic which makes them the human providences of this naughty world.' "

Louisa became the devoted mother of a doll at the age of seven, and her mother wrote the following letter to go with the birthday gift :

" MY DEAR LITTLE GIRL :

" Will you accept this doll from me on your seventh birthday? She will be a quiet playmate for my active Louisa for seven years more. Be a kind mamma and love her for my sake.

"YOUR MOTHER.

"Beach Street, Boston, 1839."

Dolls were always a source of pleasure to the Alcott children, they became living things in their possession. Louisa put hers through every experience of life, and at twelve she was a regular doll's dressmaker, hung out her sign and invited custom.

Those early Concord days saw the first dawning of creative power in the little girl, and the poem written to the half-starved robin they found in the garden one cold morning, and warmed and fed, was

Louisa's first effort. It was written when she was eight years old.

To THE FIRST ROBIN.

Welcome, welcome, little stranger, Fear no harm and fear no danger; We are glad to see you here, For you sing "Sweet Spring is near."

Now the white snow melts away ; Now the flowers blossom gay : Come, dear bird, and build your nest, For we love our robin best.

Mrs. Alcott was so delighted that she predicted that Louisa would become a second Shakespeare. And indeed from this time the little girl's many thoughts took shape in verse, and the pen which her mother gave her on her tenth birthday was thereafter put into active service. Perhaps the best record of these little " pilgrims' progress " is found in their father's diaries. He knew each child, to the core of her innocent heart. Louisa and Anna, so near of an age, were totally different in character. Anna was spirited, but sweet and tractable at most times, but Louisa was turbulent. If Anna had anything she, Louisa, wanted, she claimed it at once, with " entreaties, tears, even blows."

On one occasion the subject of dispute was a certain rocking chair, in which both wanted to sit.

They were very angry, and the fight was hot, when Mr. Alcott interfered.

" Anna, can you not give up the chair to your sister? " he asked.

" No, I cannot," was her prompt reply.

" I will leave you to try then," he went on.

" Very well, father, I will try," she answered coolly, " and now I think we can get along without you."

Mr. Alcott retreated to his study, but the noise grew so unbearable that he was forced to rush again to the rescue. This time he separated the combatants, and the bribe of an apple lured Anna peaceably to the study.

" And now, Anna," said her father, as she sat placidly nibbling the rosy fruit, " did you give up the chair to Louisa because you loved your sister, or because you wanted the apple ? "

" Because I wanted the apple," she calmly replied.

Thinking to make more impression on the victorious Louisa, he paid a third visit to the nursery — the seat of battle. Of this visit he made no record, beyond the brief statement that —

" Louisa had taken the chair ! "

The nursery was a place of delight to the youngsters for acting out the stories Father told them in the twilight — the children's hour. They would go to bed with their eager young minds full of sprites and fairies, good and bad angels, smiling skies, crystal raindrops, gurgling waters, and beautiful gardens with bright walls around them, and the next day they would remember the stories in their own fanciful way. One of these tales they called " The Garden of Goodness." Another favorite was " The Story of a Little Feeling," a tale in which Love and Hate fought for a little girl's heart. This was acted with great success.

Indeed, whatever particularly impressed them they acted out at once, Louisa taking the principal parts, as soon as she had overcome her baby lisp, Anna slipping good-naturedly into the second place.

On their nursery bookshelves could be found all the best reading for children in those days, and to the girls of to-day the following list of well-selected books must look queer and old-fashioned.

LIST OF THE ALCOTT BOOKS.

Frank.

Cherry Orchard. }• Miss EDGEWORTH.

Liar and Boys of Truth.

Lessons for Children.

MRS. B ARBOUR.

Little Henri.

Original Poems for Infant

Rhymes for the Nursery Familiar Tales.

The Rosebud.

The Daisy. [• MRS. CRABB.

The Cowslip.

Little Rhymes. 1 MRS. POLLEN.

The Child's Gem. )

Hannah Lee. \

Little Woman and Pedlar. > WILSON.

Mother Goose. )

Poems for Children. MRS. HALES.

Babes in the Woods.

Cinderella.

The Looking Glass.

A funny collection, but gems to the Alcott children, who made the best use of them, acting out each story to their own satisfaction. " The Old Woman and the Pedlar " was a special favorite, and called forth much applause.

Louisa's earliest responsibility, a responsibility which fell heavily on each of the " Little Women," was her conscience. The careful father had early taught them that conscience consisted of a mind and a soul. The mind was a round room, and the soul a little creature with wings, that lived in it. The walls were full of shelves and drawers, in which they kept their thoughts, and there were goodness and badness and all sorts of things. The goodness could always be seen, and the badness was always locked up tight. But it got out somehow and they had a hard time putting it back and squeezing it down, it was so strong. Louisa often played with her thoughts when she was alone or in bed, and many a night she would wake up to see the moon streaming through her window, and turn to her thoughts for company. Every Sunday she put her room in order, and talked with the little spirit that l8 LOUISA MAY ALCOTT.

lived there, in very much the grown-up way that her father talked to her. Though at times she shook her head despondently because her room was in disorder, and though the lock was not always strong enough to keep the badness shut up, there was always Father to consult about putting better things in the drawer, and Mother to help clear away cobwebs from the nooks and corners where the badness lay hidden, and an earnest, ardent little girl, who was beginning to have high thoughts and noble purposes, and her own opinion of men and things.

Chapter II. A Simple Life

[EN Louisa was nearly ten years old, Mr. Alcott went to England where he met a great many people who agreed with his peculiar ideas of education and of living. For a long time he had been thinking of a plan which would enable a large number of people to live under the same roof in absolute harmony and brotherly love. It was to be a little community, each member of which, by the work of his or her hands, was to add a share to the " family " support. Their watchwords were to be love and purity ; simple living and high thinking were to mark their daily lives. In his great, loving mind, arose a picture of this ideal home, and he presented it so beautifully to the eyes of his friends that they became enthusiastic and many promised to join him in this scheme.

One of these, a Mr. Lane, came back to America with Mr. Alcott, and for many months he made his home with the Alcott family, while plans were discussed and kindred spirits were drawn into the experiment. After much talk they decided to secure a small estate of about a hundred acres, suitable for 19 agriculture and fruit growing, and this they found at last near the village of Harvard, Mass., called no doubt after that same John Harvard who gave his name to the college at Cambridge. This property was situated most beautifully on a hillside sloping to the river, with lovely views to the west, while in the background rose the towering, tree-covered summit of Prospect Hill. The eager philosophers named the place Fruitlands in anticipation of harvests to come, and from Miss Alcott herself, in a clever little story called " Transcendental Wild Oats," we have the following account of the journey of the Alcott family to their new home:

" On the first day of June, 184 — , a large wagon, drawn by a small horse and containing a motley load, went lumbering over certain New England hills with the pleasing accompaniment of wind, rain, and hail. A serene man, with a serene child upon his knee, was driving, or rather being driven, for the small horse had it all his own way. A brown boy, with a William Penn sort of countenance, sat beside him, firmly embracing a bust of Socrates. Behind them was an energetic-looking woman, with a benevolent brow, satirical mouth, and eyes full of hope and courage. A baby reposed upon her lap, a mirror leaned against her knee, and a basket of provisions danced about at her feet, as she struggled with a large, unruly umbrella. Two blue-eyed little girls, with hands full of childish treasures, sat under one old shawl, chatting happily together."