Whose Stories of Real Life Are A Delight to Girls and Boys

When Louisa Alcott peeped into her journal on the morning of her tenth birthday, she found a little note from her mother filled with loving messages. It read: “I give you the pencil-case I promised, for I have observed that you are fond of writing, and wish to encourage the habit.” Louisa’s mother often wrote little messages in her daughter’s journal, urging her to keep on trying to be good. Very often the notes encouraged Louisa to go on writing. On both her fourteenth and fifteenth birthdays her mother’s gift was a pen, with a poem and a loving letter.

As Louisa, at eight years of age, had written a little verse about a robin, Mrs. Alcott hoped that her daughter would some day be a great writer. It was a hope that was realized, for Louisa M. Alcott’s books have become famous, delighting each succeeding generation.

Little Women, her first great success, is the story of the Alcott family. It tells of their jolly times and their hard times at the Orchard House at Concord, Massachusetts. The lively outspoken “Jo” of the story, writing in the attic, is Louisa herself; the other “March” girls are her own dear sisters, Anna, Elizabeth, and Abba May. “Marmee,” of course, is the beloved mother, and Mr. March, the father.

Louisa May Alcott was born at Germantown, Pennsylvania, November 29, 1832, but most of her girlhood was spent in Boston and Concord, Massachusetts. It was a happy life that she led even though the food was plain and her clothes were generally “made over.” There was never enough money to go around in the Alcott family, but there was no lack of love, kindness, good conversation, and good reading.

Louisa and her sisters received their education chiefly from their father, a man of rare intellect. Mr. Alcott was devoted to his children and he took great pleasure in teaching them. In addition to these daily lessons there often were long, hard tasks of sewing and ironing, but there was plenty of time for play, too.

What fun they had! In the old barn at Concord with their playmates, the children of Ralph Waldo Emerson and of Nathaniel Hawthorne, they acted out their favorite fairy tales and also The Pilgrim’s Progress. Their giant tumbled off the loft when Jack cut down the bean stalk, and there was a real pumpkin for Cinderella’s coach.

Their mother’s birthday was always a great event. When that day arrived Louisa would say to herself as soon as she awoke, “It’s Mother’s birthday: I must be very good.” After breakfast the children always gave their mother her presents. One year Louisa’s gift was a cross made of moss with a bit of poetry attached. That day there were no lessons, and everybody was very jolly and happy.

Two great joys of Louisa’s life were books and the outdoors. She enjoyed a quiet corner with a good book. She also loved to run in the woods in the early morning before the dew was off the grass. She liked to feel the velvety moss under her feet and to look up into the green branches overhead. Once, when she was a child, she paused in her running and stood still listening to the rustle of the pines.

“It seemed as if I felt God,” she wrote in her journal, “and I prayed in my heart that I might keep that happy sense of nearness all my life.”

Louisa had a quick temper and found difficulty in managing it. At fourteen years of age she wrote a poem about her struggles entitled, “My Little Kingdom.” It began:

She kept on trying, however, and never let her little kingdom control her.

As Louisa Alcott grew older she began to realize very keenly all the cares that burdened the dear “Marmee” because of their lack of money. None of Mr. Alcott’s ventures in teaching or lecturing had added much to the family treasury.

Louisa was determined to help and she willingly did any kind of work that would enable her to earn a little money for her dear ones. Sometimes she taught school, sometimes she helped a relative with the housework, and sometimes she took care of an invalid child. Often she did fine needlework.

While her hands were busy with her daily tasks, her brain was active planning stories. She wrote them late at night, and soon publishers began to accept them and pay her small sums of money. For her first story, written when she was sixteen years old, she was paid five dollars.

Writing was a joy to Louisa Alcott and sewing a tiresome task. However, she continued her sewing because at first the needle paid better than the pen. It was a pleasure to her to earn enough money to buy a new shawl for “Marmee,” a crimson ribbon for May’s bonnet, or a new carpet for the whole family. Cheerfully she wore her old bonnet and her shabby shoes.

During her spare moments, the young author continued to write happily in her attic. To her delight the mail often brought her the news that her stories had been accepted. This greatly encouraged her.

Then came the Civil War. Louisa realized that no matter how greatly she desired to write, her first duty was to her country. Therefore, she went to the Union Hotel Hospital at Georgetown, D. C., as a nurse. The letters that she wrote home telling of her experiences were later published as a book called Hospital Sketches.

By this time Miss Alcott’s work had become so well known that she was asked to write a book for girls. She began to write Little Women to prove to the publisher that she could not write for girls. What she did prove everybody knows. Young people and their elders as well, not only in this country but also abroad, were soon laughing and crying over the doings of the “March” girls. Miss Alcott had become famous.

Little Men and other books followed rapidly and proved so popular that Miss Alcott received many thousands of dollars from her writings. She was happy because now she could fulfill her dream of giving her dear mother some of the comforts that she had never had. It was but small return, she felt, for all the help and encouragement that her mother had given her.

Miss Alcott’s books have lived because they show people as they really are. They tell, too, how jolly and happy life can be if people think less about money and more about living unselfishly and enjoying the outdoors and the simple and beautiful things of life. Louisa M. Alcott could not help writing in this way, for it was the way in which she herself lived.