LETTERS AND CONVERSATIONS WITH CHILDREN
HAPPINESS reigned in the Alcott home, and poverty seldom brought with it
a shadow. The girls had toys and a variety of them,--rag dolls, kittens,
gingerbread men, and barnyard animals (the latter skillfully cut out of
cake dough by the mother, who had a genius for inventing surprises). As
they grew older, they delighted in private theatricals. Some of their
plays, written by Anna and Louisa, have been published under the title
of "Comic Tragedies." They are thrillingly melodramatic, thickly
sprinkled with villains and heroes, witches and ruffians, lovely ladies
in distress, gallant knights to the rescue, evil spirits and good
fairies, gnomes and giants. All are direfully tragic and splendidly
spectacular. Louisa as a child showed the dramatic quality which later
found artistic expression in her stories. On a rainy afternoon the
children were never at a loss for entertainment. They "acted" in the
attic or played dolls in their own playroom, and such dolls! Old Joanna,
of whom Louisa has drawn a lifelike picture in "Little Women," is to-day
in existence, battered, scarred, but none the less precious, one foot
carefully bandaged, after the army-nurse method.
Poverty was made interesting. At Christmas a tree was hung with apples,
nuts, and popped corn, and small trifles made by the children were
fastened to the branches. Father and mother made much of the spirit of
the Christ birthday, which was celebrated in simple, wholesome fashion,
in vivid contrast to the modern Christmas festival.
The Alcott letters and journals show tremendous intellectual activity on
the part of the small atoms of humanity who came to grace the Alcott
home. Anna and her father held moral and intellectual discussions when
Anna was four. Louisa was writing a daily journal before she could more
than print. As soon as a child could read, family reproofs were
administered by notes from father and mother to the erring one, not only
pointing out the fault, but how to correct it.
The father encouraged his daughters to study themselves and to write
down their thoughts. Their journals, in consequence, reflect the
characteristics of each one and are storehouses of information. Louisa,
poor little soul, in her happy, hoydenish childhood, found time one day
in a fit of mentality to set down in black and white her chief faults.
One of her most serious, according to the self-imposed confession, was
"love of cats," a sin which easily beset her all her days, for she
inherited her father's love of animals and of children.
Widely varied in character and temperament were the four Alcott girls.
Anna, the first, reflected the beauty, the happiness, and the romance of
the Alcotts' first year of married life. Louisa, born some eighteen
months later, when father and mother had grown even closer together
through the new bond formed by the love of their little daughter,
embodied a deeper, stronger, surer character. She was decisive, with a
determination and surety of self and brilliancy of mind that reflected
the best in both parents. Elizabeth, the third child, was, in some
respects, the most beautiful character of all. About her, from the hour
of her conception, seemed to hover a spiritual, protecting love.
Seemingly from earliest infancy she stood on the borderland of the
spiritual world, in flesh all too fragile to retain the spirit which
remembered and longed, notwithstanding the love with which she was
surrounded, to return to the mystical beauty from which she had come. A
child of dreams and fancies, loving all that was harmonious, she entered
this life at twilight, she left it at the dawn, a coming and going
typical of this dream child, who was lent for a little time to make the
world more glad.
The birth of Amy is also symbolical, the one sunny-haired, sunny-hearted
girl of the family, who came with the rising of the sun. She seemed made
for love, sunshine, and happiness, and had them all, but she was brave
to face hardships and equally ready to accept comfort and luxury. A
queen, the father called her the morning of her birth, and so they
brought her up, the Little Snow Queen.
The wise, fostering love of the father, the helpful, understanding
watchfulness of the mother, are reflected in their letters to their
children. Time was not considered wasted that was devoted to these
letters of gentle admonition and kindly counsel. There was no discussion
of faults or mistakes in the Alcott household; reproofs remained little
secrets between father and daughter, or mother and daughter, and the
effect of this wise and constant watchfulness grows more apparent as the
children advance from childhood to girlhood and on to womanhood. They
were taught to know themselves. They were taught, too, the relation of
the Christ child with their own childhood, beautifully expressed in some
of the letters from Bronson Alcott to his eldest daughter.
It was the father's habit to write each child on her birthday
anniversary and at Christmas. Anna was six years old when he gave her
this beautiful description of the coming of the Christ:
For Anna
1837
To my Daughter Anna.
A longer time ago than you can understand, a beautiful Babe was
born. Angels sang at his birth. And stars shone brightly.
Shepherds watched their flocks by their light. The Babe was
laid in his Manger-cradle. And harmless oxen fed by his side.
There was no room for him nor his mother in the Inn, as she
journeyed from her own home.
This Babe was born at this time of the year. His name was Jesus.
And he is also called Christ. This is his birth night. And we
call it Christ-mas, after him.
I write you this little note as a Christmas Gift, and hope my
little girl will remember the birth night of Jesus. Think how
beautiful he was, and try to shine in lovely actions as he did.
God never had a child that pleased him so well. Be like a kind
sister of his, and so please your Father, who loves you very
much.
Christmas Eve,
December 24th, 1837.
From your
Father.
Again on Christmas Eve, two years later, he describes to his little
daughter of eight years her own coming into the world of material
things.
The belief in prenatal influence is strongly indicated, for the father
tells his little girl that they thought just how she would look and
pictures to her the joy and the love with which she was surrounded
before her coming into the land of the material and first seeing with
her baby eyes the light of a world day.
For Anna
1839
You were once pleased, my daughter, with a little note which I
wrote you on Christmas Eve, concerning the birth of Jesus. I
am now going to write a few words about your own Birth. Mother
and I had no child. We wanted one--a little girl just like you;
and we thought how you would look, and waited a good while for
you to come, so that we might see you and have you for our own.
At last you came. We felt so happy that joy stood in our eyes.
You looked just as we wanted to have you. You were draped in a
pretty little white frock, and father took you in his arms every
day, and we loved you very much. Your large bright eyes looked
lovingly into ours, and you soon learned to love and know us.
When you were a few weeks old, you smiled on us. We lived then
in Germantown. It is now more than eight years since this
happened, but I sometimes see the same look and the same smile
on your face, and feel that my daughter is yet good and pure. O
keep it there, my daughter, and never lose it.
Your Father,
Christmas Eve,
Beach Street,
Dec. 24, 1839.
On her birthday some three months later, he continues the thought in
this exquisite letter:
March 16, 1840.
My dear Daughter,
With this morning's dawn opens a new year of your Life on Earth.
Nine years ago you were sent, a sweet Babe into this world, a
joy and hope to your father and mother. After a while, through
many smiles and some few tears, you learned to lisp the names
of father and mother, and to make them feel once more how near
and dear you were to their hearts whenever you named their
names. Now you are a still dearer object of Love and hope to
them as your love buds and blossoms under their eye. They watch
this flower as it grows in the Garden of Life, and scents the
air with its fragrance, and delights the eye by its colours.
Soon they will look not for Beauty and fragrance alone, but for
the ripening and ripe fruit. May it be the Spirit of Goodness;
may its leaves never wither, its flowers never fade; its
fragrance never cease; but may it flourish in perpetual youth
and beauty, and be transplanted in its time, into the Garden of
God, whose plants are ever green, ever fresh, and bloom alway,
the amaranth of Heaven, the pride and joy of angels. Thus
writes your Father to you on this your birth morn.
Monday, 16 March, 1840.
Beach Street,
Boston
For
Anna,
in the Garden of Life.
This letter and his allusion to "your life on earth" show plainly his
belief in life eternal, for Bronson Alcott considered earthly existence
merely a period in the evolution of the soul.
On Christmas Eve, 1840; when Anna was nearly ten, Louisa just past her
eighth birthday, May, the golden-haired baby of the Alcott household,
and Elizabeth the little shadow child of four, he wrote Christmas
letters to his daughters, which show his appreciation of their special
needs, and his respect for their individualities. The letter to
Elizabeth is missing; to Anna he wrote:
For Anna
1840
BEAUTY or DUTY
which
loves Anna best?
a
Question
from her
FATHER
Christmas Eve
Dec. 1840
Concordia.
For Louisa, the father's message was this:
For Louisa
1840
Louisa loves--
What?
(Softly)
FUN
Have some then,
Father
says.
Christmas Eve, Dec. 1840
Concordia.
For the baby of the household, the father's love message took poetic
form:
For Abba
1840
For Abba
Babe fair,
Pretty hair,
Bright eye,
Deep sigh,
Sweet lip,
Feet slip,
Handsome hand,
Stout grand,
Happy smile,
Time beguile,
All I ween,
Concordia's Queen.
Almost without the dates, one could keep track of the development of the
Alcott girls through their father's letters. This one demonstrates his
gift of teaching by the use of suggestion:
For Anna
1842
_A Father's Gift_
to his
_Daughter_
on her
_Eleventh Birthday_.
Concordia
16th March
1842
My dear daughter,
This is your eleventh birthday, and as I have heretofore
addressed a few words to you on these interesting occasions, I
will not depart from my former custom now.
And my daughter, what shall I say to you? Shall I say something
to please or to instruct you--to flatter or benefit you? I know
you dislike being pleased unless the pleasure make you better,
and you dislike all flattery. And you know too, that your father
never gave you a word of flattery in his life. So there remains
for you the true and purest pleasure of being instructed and
benefited by words of love and the deepest regard for your
improvement in all that shall make you more happy in yourself
and beautiful to others. And so I shall speak plainly to you of
yourself, and of my desire for your improvement in several
important things.
_First--Your Manners._ Try to be more gentle. You like gentle
people and every one is more agreeable as he cultivates this
habit. None can be agreeable who are destitute of it and how
shall you become more gentle? Only by governing your passions,
and cherishing your love to everyone who is near you. Love is
gentle: Hate is violent. Love is well-mannered; Selfishness is
rude, vulgar. Love gives sweet tone to the voice, and makes the
countenance lovely. Love then, and grow fair and agreeable.
_Second: Be Patient._ This is one of the most difficult things to
everyone, old or young. But it is also one of the greatest
things. And this comes of Love too. Love is Patient: it bears;
it suffers long; it is kind; it is beautiful; it makes us like
angels. Patience is, indeed, angelic; it is the Gate that opens
into the House of Happiness. Open it, my daughter, and enter in
and take all your sisters in with you.
_Third: Be Resolute._ Shake off all Sluggishness, and follow your
Confidence as fast as your feelings, your thoughts, your eye,
your hand, your foot, will carry you. Hate all excuses: almost
always, these are lies. Be _quick_ in your obedience: delay is a
laggard, who never gets up with himself, and loses the company
of confidence always. Resolution is the ladder to Happiness.
Resolve and be a wise and happy girl.
_Fourth: Be Diligent._ Put your heart into all you do: and fix
your thoughts on your doings. Halfness is almost as bad as
nothing: be whole then in all you do and say.
But I am saying a great deal and will stop now with the hope of
meeting you on the 16th March, 1843 (the good God sparing us
till then) a gentler, a meeker, more determined and obligent
girl.
Your friend
and
_Father_
Concordia
16 March
_1842_
For
_Anna Bronson Alcott._
Such a gift to an eleven-year-old girl on her birthday! One would expect
not kindly counsel, but a toy, a picture book, something pretty for her
body, not much for her mind. The spirituality and the wisdom of the
poet-philosopher are shown in this letter with its "excuses, almost
always lies," and "delay is a laggard."
When Louisa was seven years old, her mother was ill, and the child was
sent away from home for a time. To his little absent daughter the father
sends this letter, printed so that she might read it for herself:
For Louisa.
1839
My dear Little Girl.
Father hopes you are well and happy. Mother will soon be well
enough we hope for you to come home. You want to see us all I
know. And we want to see you very much. Be a good girl and try
to do as they tell you. You shall see us all in a few days.
You were never away from home so long before. It has given you
some new feelings.
I have printed this note. I hope you can read it all yourself.
Good Bye
From Father.
Saturday
11 o'clock in the School Room.
1839
On her seventh birthday he writes her one of the most wonderful letters
of the many that have been preserved in the volumes of the Alcott
manuscripts:
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
For Louisa
1839
My Daughter,
You are Seven years old to-day and your Father is forty. You
have learned a great many things, since you have lived in a
Body, about things going on around you and within you. You know
how to think, how to resolve, how to love, and how to obey. You
feel your Conscience, and have no real pleasure unless you obey
it. You cannot love yourself, or anyone else, when you do not
mind its commandments. It asks you always to BE GOOD, and bears,
O how gently! how patiently! with all endeavors to hate, and
treat it cruelly. How kindly it bears with you all the while.
How sweetly it whispers Happiness in your HEART when you Obey
its soft words. How it smiles upon you, and makes you Glad when
you Resolve to Obey it! How terrible its PUNISHMENTS. It is GOD
trying in your soul to keep you always Good.
You begin, my dear daughter, another year this morning. Your
Father, your Mother, and Sisters, with your little friends, show
their love on this your Birthday, by giving you this BOX. Open
it, and take what is in it, and the best wishes of
Your Father.
Beach Street,
Friday morning, Nov. 29, 1839.
His explanation to a seven-year-old girl that conscience is "God in your
soul," and the lines, "since you have lived in a body," are eloquent
manifestations of his belief. It is not surprising that, given such
thoughts at seven, Louisa at ten or eleven wrote that she was sure in
some previous life she must have been a horse,--she loved so to run. A
month before May Alcott was born, little Louisa, then eight, again away
from home, received this letter from her father:
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Cottage, Sunday June 21st,
1840.
We all miss the noisy little girl who used to make house and
garden, barn and field, ring with her footsteps, and even the
hens and chickens seem to miss her too. Right glad would father
and mother, Anna and Elizabeth, and all the little mates at
School, and Miss Russell, the House Playroom, Dolls, Hoop,
Garden, Flowers, Fields, Woods and Brooks, all be to see and
answer the voice and footsteps, the eye and hand of their
little companion. But yet all make themselves happy and
beautiful without her; all seem to say, "Be Good, little Miss,
while away from us, and when we meet again we shall love and
please one another all the more; we find how much we love now we
are separated."
I wished you here very much on the morning when the Hen left her
nest and came proudly down with six little chickens, everyone
knowing how to walk, fly, eat and drink almost as well as its
own mother; to-day (Sunday) they all came to see the house and
took their breakfast from their nice little feeding trough; you
would have enjoyed the sight very much. But this and many other
pleasures all wait for you when you return. Be good, kind,
gentle, while you are away, step lightly, and speak soft about
the house;
Grandpa loves quiet, as well as your sober father and other
grown people.
Elizabeth says often, "Oh I wish I could see Louisa, when will
she come home, Mother?" And another feels so too; who is it?
Your
Father.
I forgot to write how much _Kit_ missed you.
On her eighth birthday, her father writes:
For Louisa
1840
Two Passions strong divide our Life,
Meek gentle Love, or boisterous Strife.
Love--Music Anger--Arrow
Concord Discord
From her Father
On her eighth birthday Nov. 29th.
At ten, her birthday greeting from her father is this:
For Louisa
1842
My daughter,
This is your birthday: you are ten years of age to-day. I sought
amidst my papers for some pretty picture to place at the top of
this note, but I did not find anything that seemed at all
expressive of my interest in your well-being, or well-doing, and
so this note comes to you without any such emblem. Let me say,
my honest little girl, that I have had you often in my mind
during my separation from you and your devoted mother, and
well-meaning sisters, while on the sea or the land, and now that
I have returned to be with you and them again, meeting you daily
at fireside, at table, at study, and in your walk, and
amusements, in conversation and in silence, being daily with
you, I would have you feel my presence and be the happier, and
better that I am here. I want, most of all things, to be a
kindly influence on you, helping you to guide and govern your
heart, keeping it in a state of sweet and loving peacefulness,
so that you may feel how good and kind is that Love which lives
always in our breasts, and which we may always feel, if we will
keep the passions all in stillness and give up ourselves
entirely to its soft desires. I live, my dear daughter, to be
good and to do good to all, and especially to you and your
mother and sisters. Will you not let me do you all the good that
I would? And do you not know that I can do you little or none,
unless you give me your affections, incline your ears, and
earnestly desire to become daily better and wiser, more kind,
gentle, loving, diligent, heedful, serene. The good Spirit comes
into the Breast of the meek and loveful to abide long; anger,
discontent, impatience, evil appetites, greedy wants,
complainings, ill-speakings, idlenesses, heedlessness, rude
behaviour and all such, these drive it away, or grieve it so
that it leaves the poor misguided soul to live in its own
obstinate, perverse, proud discomfort, which is the very _Pain of
Sin_, and is in the _Bible_ called the worm that never dies, the
gnawing worm, the sting of _CONSCIENCE_: while the pleasures of
love and goodness are beyond all description--a peacefulness
that passes all understanding. I pray that my daughter may know
much of the last, and little of the first of these feelings. I
shall try every day to help her to the knowledge and love of
this good _Spirit_. I shall be with her, and as she and her
sisters come more and more into the presence of this Spirit,
shall we become a family more closely united in loves that can
never sunder us from each other.
This your
Father
in Hope and Love
on your
Birthday
Concordia,
Nov. 29, 1842.
To little Elizabeth the letters were few. The child was so constantly
the companion of father and mother, that by speech rather than written
word, their messages were given. But on her fifth birthday, her father
carefully printed this letter:
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
For Elizabeth
1840
I I I I I Years
one two three four five
BIRTH-DAY
in the
COTTAGE
My very dear little girl,
You make me very happy every time I look at your smiling
pleasant face--and you make me very sorry every time I see your
face look cross and unpleasant. You are now five years old. You
can keep your little face pleasant all the time, if you will
try, and be happy yourself, and make everybody else happy too.
Father wants to have his little girl happy all the time. He
hopes her little friends and her presents and plays will
make her happy to-day; and this little note too. Last birthday
you were in Beach Street, in the great City, now you are at your
little cottage in the country where all is pretty and pleasant,
and you have fields and woods, and brooks and flowers to please
my little Queen, and keep her eyes, and ears, and hands and
tongue and feet, all busy. This little note is from
FATHER,
who loves his little girl very much, and knows that she loves
him very dearly.
Play, play,
All the day,
Jump and run
Every one,
Full of fun,
All take
A piece of cake,
For my sake.
His wish to encourage the little girl in her efforts to be good, kind,
gentle, and patient, and his appreciation of her accomplishment, is set
forth in this characteristic little note:
Concord, Cottage,
February 2nd, 1842.
My dear Elizabeth,
You give me much pleasure by your still, quiet manners, and your
desire to do things, without asking impatiently and selfishly
for others to help you without trying first to help yourself.
Trying is doing; doing is but trying; try then always and you
will do; and every one loves to help those who try. I will print
a little sentence for you in large letters and you who have
already found it so easy to do things for yourself will, I dare
say, remember it, and follow it too--This is it--
TRY FIRST: AND
THEN ASK: AND
TRY PATIENTLY TILL
YOU HAVE TRIED
YOUR BEST: AND
YOU WILL NOT NEED
TO ASK AT ALL.
Trying is the only
Schoolmaster
whose
Scholars
always
Succeed.
Your Father.
Cottage,
Feb. 2nd.
Little May, the youngest, was the pet, not only of the Alcott household,
but of all the Alcott kin. This quaint little dolly letter, written to
her by her Uncle Junius, has been framed and hangs to-day in the library
of May Alcott's nephew, John:
Gift of Junius S. Alcott
to
Abby.
A
Little Face
once smiling
woke
to
greet, the day,
with sport and play,
Hands) on her Birthday, in shaking (Hands
with her sisters,
and, her visitors,
that, came, to, chime,
a, happy, time, with, Lizzy,
To, give, you, pleasure, uncle,
gives, this, treasure, to you, so, sweet,
So, keep, it, neat, and please, my,
Brother, & your Mother, by always,
finding that, by, minding, you
are, the kindest, little girl, that,
that, ever
stood d, in,
(Shoes) (Shoes)