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MAY ALCOTT 
 A Memoir 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 From the crayon portrait 
 
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 MAY ALCOTT 
 
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 By CAROLINE TICKNOR 
 
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 WITH 
 ILLUSTRATION 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN 
 AND COMPANY 
 
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 Copyright, 1927, 1928, 
 By Caroline Ticknor 
 
 All rights reserved 
 Published February, 1928 
 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 
 
 FEB 1 878 
 
 ©C1A1018865 
 
3° 
 A 
 
 M 
 
 TO 
 
 My Sister 
 
 EDITH SLADE TICKNOR 
 this volume is affectionately dedicated 
 
PREFACE 
 
 Ever since her first entry into the book world, 
 "Amy the Artist" of "Little Women" has held 
 her place as one of the most vivid creations in the 
 field of fiction. A sparkling and appealing per- 
 sonality, who from the start won widespread popu- 
 larity among the lovers of Louisa Alcott's books, 
 she was so much alive that she provoked countless 
 inquiries from interested readers, who begged for 
 further information concerning her, until Miss 
 Alcott's patience was well-nigh exhausted. And 
 now, though sixty years have passed, "Amy" still 
 holds her own among the best-beloved girl heroines. 
 
 Undoubtedly, the secret of her strong appeal lies 
 not so much in the fact that her portrayal by her 
 sister was absolutely true to life, as that it pictured 
 one who was herself so vividly alive. May Alcott 
 possessed a rare capacity for living and enjoying. 
 She loved life, she loved beauty, she loved people; 
 the world of nature and the world of art gave her 
 the keenest pleasure; she loved to walk, run, row, 
 and ride, reveled in strenuous exertion, and worked 
 with tireless energy in the pursuit of her objectives. 
 Unhampered by the heritage of that New England 
 conscience which ruled Louisa with a rod of iron, 
 [vii] 
 

 CONTENTS 
 
 
 
 Preface 
 
 VII 
 
 
 Prelude 
 
 XV 
 
 
 In the Garret 
 
 2 
 
 I 
 
 The Little May Queen 
 
 3 
 
 II 
 
 The Young Artist 
 
 26 
 
 III 
 
 The Sisters 
 
 45 
 
 IV 
 
 May and Louisa Abroad 
 
 69 
 
 V 
 
 London in 1873 
 
 103 
 
 VI 
 
 Marmee and May 
 
 124 
 
 VII 
 
 Marmee's Journal 
 
 162 
 
 VIII 
 
 The Salon of 1877 
 
 191 
 
 IX 
 
 The Magic Circle at Grez 
 
 211 
 
 X 
 
 The Passing of Marmee 
 
 228 
 
 XI 
 
 Clouds and Sunshine 
 
 251 
 
 XII 
 
 May's Romance 
 
 269 
 
 XIII 
 
 Farewell and Hail 
 
 292 
 
 
 Our Madonna 
 
 308 
 
 
 Index 
 
 3 11 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 May Alcott frontispiece 
 
 Bedroom of May and Louis a > Dinan, 1870 72 
 
 Mademoiselle Coste's Salon, Dinan y 1870. Louisa 
 
 at the Fireplace 76 
 
 A Villa in France 1 1 8 
 
 The Salon at rue Mansart, 18// 142 
 
 May's Paris Bedroom, 7877 148 
 
PRELUDE 
 
 One sparkling summer's morning in 1868 a 
 young woman rode into our yard in Concord, 
 Massachusetts, wearing the long skirt and close- 
 fitting bodice which, with plumed hat, made up 
 the picturesque riding habit of that day, setting off 
 her tall and extraordinarily handsome figure to 
 advantage. This was May Alcott. I recall that 
 the impression she made on my mother was one 
 of impatience, for the horse's hoofs sadly marred 
 the lawn; but upon me the impression was one of 
 abounding life and health and spirit which has 
 stayed by me for more than half a century. 
 
 Her face was not beautiful, according to classical 
 standards, but the liveliness of expression and the 
 intelligence and gayety that shone from it led one 
 to overlook any want of harmony in her features. 
 She wore her wavy chestnut hair, luxuriant and 
 glistening, like a crown, I thought. An intimate 
 friend said of her, "If it were the fashion to go 
 without clothes, May would be considered the 
 most beautiful creature in the world." 
 
 Full of the joy of living, her enthusiasm was 
 easily stirred in almost any worth-while direction, 
 whether the matter in hand was the painting of a 
 
 [XV .] 
 
PRELUDE 
 
 picture or the painting of a room in her house, or the 
 getting up of a dance or a picnic on the river — forms 
 of amusement prevalent in Concord in her time. 
 
 The home life of the Alcotts has been so vividly 
 reflected in her gifted sister's books that it would 
 be superfluous to describe it here. I must, however, 
 refer to the spirit of happiness that pervaded it and 
 the cordial hospitality which one always met there. 
 May was fond of her home and a quite ideal relation- 
 ship existed between her and her father and mother 
 and sisters. She, more than the others, contributed 
 to the lively and gay element in the household. 
 
 The house, set well back from the road over 
 which the British marched on their famous visit 
 to Concord in 1775, was a modest dwelling in a 
 setting of elms and shrubbery. The low-ceilinged 
 rooms were furnished very plainly with a mixture 
 of styles resulting from many years of occupancy, 
 but with evidence in pictures and books of the 
 cultivation of the inmates. I once asked a distin- 
 guished architect what constituted homelikeness 
 in a house. "Absence of architecture," he replied. 
 The home of the Alcotts had this precious quality 
 for which the "period room" strives in vain. 
 
 The impress of the artist member of the family 
 was felt in the water colors, charcoals, and oil 
 paintings which were the fruit of her studies with 
 
 [xvi] 
 
PRELUDE 
 
 William Hunt. A bust in plaster of "Mercury" 
 which stood on a pedestal in the "front entry" 
 attested to her course of study with Doctor Rim- 
 mer. Over the entrance door of the room which 
 served as her studio was an inscription: "True 
 genius is infinite patience. — Michael Angelo." My 
 brother tried in vain to find this sentiment among 
 Michael Angelo's recorded writings or sayings. 
 Years afterwards a friend in talking with him 
 said, "You know 'true genius is infinite patience'." 
 He eagerly asked where she found the quotation. 
 "In 'Little Women,' "said she. "Thus," as he said, 
 "I had chased my quotation into the same hole 
 it came out of." I wonder whether Michael Angelo 
 or the philosophical Alcott originated the remark ? 
 At the time of which I speak, I was a youth of 
 eighteen or twenty. I was always included, how- 
 ever, in the frequent invitations to supper or 
 evening gatherings where there were literary games 
 or charades or only conversation. Serene and 
 courtly, his long silver locks curling about his 
 neck, his fresh pink and white complexion set off 
 by an expanse of snowy linen, with white cravat, 
 Mr. Alcott had much the aspect of an old portrait. 
 He looked on at our diversions as from a loftier 
 sphere, occasionally joining in the conversation or 
 smiling approvingly at the humor of it, while 
 [ xvii ] 
 
PRELUDE 
 
 the dear old lady who had not only been his 
 helpmeet, but also a mainstay to the erratic genius 
 through the many anxious years before the talented 
 Louisa came so gallantly to the rescue, lent to the 
 occasion her sweet reasonableness and her ever- 
 quick response. The daughters, however, were 
 most in evidence, as their elders seemed to wish. 
 Miss Louisa's nimble wit and Miss May's gayety 
 were sure to make material for diversion. One 
 felt that here indeed "people were of more impor- 
 tance than things." 
 
 May was eminently social and far more fond of 
 society than her sisters. She entered into the quiet 
 social life of our town with zest, finding, however, 
 a wider field among her friends in Boston. 
 
 I have referred to her studies with Hunt and 
 Rimmer. Both of these talented artists contrib- 
 uted to her art education in ways as different as 
 the men themselves. Mr. Hunt had a class in 
 drawing and painting, conducted much like the 
 classes at the Ecole des Beaux Arts in Paris. A 
 studio was provided where the students worked 
 from casts or still-life or living models, and which 
 was visited from time to time by the master, 
 whose studio was under the same roof. These 
 classes were exclusively for women. By special 
 dispensation, I was once granted the privilege of 
 [ xviii ] 
 
PRELUDE 
 
 joining the class, but I found, after attending once 
 or twice, that I was an embarrassing circumstance 
 and I therefore reluctantly withdrew and never 
 went again. I have regretted this sacrifice ever 
 since, as there was no other place in Boston at that 
 time where a youth could find instruction in draw- 
 ing. Here, however, May Alcott found the instruc- 
 tion and practice she needed and of which she 
 made such good use. Hunt got his training in 
 Paris and among the since famous Barbizon 
 painters. He evidently was a good teacher, as 
 all good painters are not; full of enthusiasm, which 
 provoked a ready response in his pupils. They 
 idolized him and made no secret of their idolatry. 
 Doctor Rimmer, with whom Miss Alcott studied 
 not only drawing but modeling, also had a class 
 composed mostly of young women. His teaching 
 was chiefly of the figure and his method was 
 eminently his own. Swiftly, but with surprising 
 accuracy, he would make outline drawings on a 
 blackboard, in the presence of his class, of parts 
 or the whole of the human frame and these his 
 pupils were required to copy. Meanwhile he dis- 
 coursed most interestingly and instructively, and 
 sometimes managed to convey to his proselytes a 
 part at least of his profound knowledge of anatomy. 
 He was a remarkable man and a gifted sculptor, 
 [xix] 
 
PRELUDE 
 
 That May Alcott's teachers did not in the least 
 understand or appreciate each other was evident, 
 nor did they attempt to conceal their opinions 
 of each other's methods. "The trouble with Mr. 
 Hunt is that he can't draw," said Doctor Rimmer 
 to his class; while Mr. Hunt exclaimed, when 
 I told him that I had drawn under Doctor Rimmer, 
 "Oh, that stuff Rimmer does isn't drawing." 
 They saw nature with different eyes, Doctor 
 Rimmer chiefly interested in line; Mr. Hunt in 
 masses of light and shade and color; yet both were 
 great artists and May Alcott seems to have recon- 
 ciled their conflicting methods in her own work. 
 
 I may be permitted to record the peculiar debt 
 I owe her in introducing me to the potentialities 
 of sculpture. I had been whittling and carving 
 things from wood and gypsum, and even from 
 turnips, as many boys do, and, as usual, "the 
 family" thought the product remarkable. My 
 father spoke about them to Miss Alcott, as the 
 artist of the community, and she, with her ever- 
 ready enthusiasm, immediately offered to give me 
 her modeling clay and tools. I lost no time in 
 harnessing the horse and driving over for them, 
 and in experimenting with the seductive material, 
 although I did n't know even how to moisten it. 
 I still have one of the modeling tools she gave me. 
 
 [XX] 
 
PRELUDE 
 
 While I know of some misguided people who will 
 not consider that she is to be commended for this 
 service to me, / am constantly grateful. 
 
 Miss Alcott went abroad in 1870 with her sister 
 Louisa, and again in 1873 and 1876 alone. She 
 pursued her art studies in Paris and in London, 
 where she was particularly impressed by Turner's 
 paintings. She made copies of a number of them 
 and her success may be judged by the fact that she 
 won the attention of Ruskin. This great critic and 
 admirer of Turner pronounced them the best repro- 
 ductions of Turner's works that had ever been done. 
 
 It was during her third visit abroad that she 
 met Ernest Nieriker. This young Swiss sym- 
 pathized with her artistic ambitions and appreci- 
 ated the promise of her gifts. They were married 
 in 1878, but their happiness was brief, since she 
 died a year later, leaving him with a little daughter. 
 
 Miss Alcott was devoted to her art and gave to 
 it the best of her enthusiastic nature. She had 
 talent and training, and her works, particularly 
 her water colors, have a very distinct charm. Her 
 sketches are still eagerly sought, both for their 
 intrinsic value and for their association with the 
 name of Alcott. 
 
 Daniel Chester French 
 
 Glendale, Massachusetts, 
 June 14, 1926 
 
 [xxi] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 A Memoir 
 
From 
 IN THE GARRET 
 
 By Louisa M. Alcott 
 
 Four little chests all in a row, 
 
 Dim with dust, and worn by time, 
 
 All fashioned and filled, long ago, 
 
 By children now in their prime. 
 
 Four little keys hung side by side, 
 
 With faded ribbons, brave and gay, 
 
 When fastened there with childish pride, 
 
 Long ago, on a rainy day. 
 
 Four little names, one on each lid, 
 
 Carved out by a boyish hand, 
 
 And underneath, there lieth hid 
 
 Histories of the happy band 
 
 Once playing here, and pausing oft 
 
 To hear the sweet refrain, 
 
 That came and went on the roof aloft, 
 
 In the falling summer rain. 
 
 Upon the last lid's polished field — 
 Legend now both fair and true — 
 A gallant knight bears on his shield, 
 "Amy," in letters gold and blue. 
 Within, the snoods that bound her hair, 
 Slippers that have danced their last, 
 Faded flowers laid by with care, 
 Fans whose airy toils are past — 
 Gay valentines all ardent flames, 
 Trifles that have borne their part 
 In girlish hopes, and fears, and shames. 
 The record of a maiden heart, 
 Now learning fairer truer spells, 
 Hearing, like a blithe refrain, 
 The silver sound of bridal bells 
 In the falling summer rain. 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 The Little May Queen 
 
 "A regular snow maiden, with blue eyes, and 
 yellow hair curling on her shoulders, pale and 
 slender, and always carrying herself like a young 
 lady mindful of her manners." In these lines 
 Louisa Alcott flashes the searchlight upon her 
 youngest sister, May, the "Amy" of "Little 
 Women." 
 
 They called her "Little Raphael", for she 
 early developed an intense love of beauty, and 
 displayed a talent for drawing, which convinced 
 them that she possessed unusual artistic gifts. 
 From the first, she was regarded as the lucky 
 child, the mascot of the family, on whom the 
 others delighted to bestow pretty trifles, and 
 who wielded the scepter accorded her, when as 
 a baby she rode upon the shoulders of her 
 sisters, crowned with flowers, their tiny "May" 
 Queen. 
 
 Born in Concord, Massachusetts, on July 26, 
 1840, in the Hosmer cottage, described in "Little 
 Women" as "Meg's first home", this youngest 
 daughter, named after her mother Abba May (or 
 Abigail May), came upon the scene shortly before 
 
 [3] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 the trying experiment at " Fruitlands ", that pitiful 
 Utopia where her father proved the fruitlessness 
 of an attempt at too high thinking coupled with 
 too plain living. From this parent, who through- 
 out his life displayed much skill with pen and 
 pencil, although little has been recorded concern- 
 ing his talent in this direction, the youngest daugh- 
 ter undoubtedly inherited her artistic gift and 
 various other traits; whereas her sister Louisa 
 possessed her mother's characteristics to a great 
 degree. 
 
 The early history of the Alcott family has been 
 so fully chronicled elsewhere that a brief outline 
 here seems all-sufficient. 
 
 Amos Bronson Alcott was born in 1799, on his 
 father's farm, near Wolcott, Connecticut, where 
 his early years were spent amid rural surround- 
 ings, yet, although his parents were hard-working 
 farmer folk, they had behind them distinguished 
 Anglo-Saxon stock, and Alcott counted a Lord 
 Chancellor of England, and other prominent men, 
 among his forbears, the name being spelled Alcocke 
 in former times. Alcott's intense love of books 
 and his desire for education were early manifested, 
 and with small opportunities he prepared himself 
 for the career that he desired, that of a teacher 
 and philosopher. 
 
 [4] 
 
THE LITTLE MAY QUEEN 
 
 In 1830, he married Abigail May, daughter of 
 Colonel Joseph May, of Boston, whose mother, 
 Dorothy Sewall, was a descendant of a family 
 famed in the early annals of Massachusetts. She 
 possessed the keen intellectual qualities of her 
 ancestors, combined with great practical ability. 
 She was a woman of fine physique, full of life and 
 spirit, and her untiring energy was freely expended 
 for the benefit of her family and those about her. 
 Marriage with an idealist who had no faculty for 
 money-making brought her many trials and priva- 
 tions, but she bore them cheerily and never wa- 
 vered in her affection for her husband, or her 
 devotion to her children. 
 
 Of the four "Little Women" — "Meg", "Jo", 
 "Beth", and "Amy" — only the youngest sister 
 was a native of Concord. Anna and Louisa were 
 born in Germantown, Pennsylvania, while Eliza- 
 beth, and a little brother, who died in infancy, were 
 born in Boston. 
 
 May's birth, following close upon her father's 
 grief at the loss of his infant son, and the failure of 
 his school in Boston, seemed to usher in a new and 
 brighter era for the family, which came with their 
 removal from Boston to Concord; and Bronson 
 Alcott wrote in his journal, in the summer of 1840, 
 of this happy event: 
 
 [5] 
 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 "A new life has arrived to us (July 26). She 
 was born with the dawn, and is a proud little 
 Queen, not deigning to give us the light of her 
 royal presence, but persists in sleeping all the 
 time, without notice of the broad world of our- 
 selves. Providence, it seems, decrees that we shall 
 provide selectest ministries alone, and so sends us 
 successive daughters of Love to quicken the Sons 
 of Life. We joyfully acquiesce in the Divine behest 
 and are content to rear women for the future world. 
 As yet their ministry is unknown in the culture 
 of the nations, but the hour draws near when love 
 shall be felt as a chosen Bride for Wisdom, and the 
 celestial pair preside over all the household of 
 mankind." 
 
 The youngest child, who came with the sunrise, 
 seemed made for love, sunshine, and happiness. 
 And as she was at the first designated, so she 
 continued to grow up, the little " Queen", whose 
 qualities were enumerated on her first Christmas 
 Eve by her father, who wrote : — 
 
 For Abba 
 184.0 
 For Abba 
 Babe fair, 
 Pretty hair, 
 [6] 
 
THE LITTLE MAY QUEEN 
 
 Bright eye, 
 
 Deep sigh, 
 
 Sweet lip, 
 
 Feet slip, 
 
 Handsome hand, 
 
 Stout grand, 
 
 Happy smile, 
 
 Time beguile, 
 All I ween, 
 
 Concordia's Queen. 
 Many details of family life during this period 
 may be gleaned from the youthful diaries of the 
 small sisters, who with their pens fulfilled one of 
 their father's pet requirements. The keeping of a 
 journal was viewed by Mr. Alcott as a most vital 
 part of his theory of education, and for this, as 
 well as for the art of letter-writing, he strove to 
 kindle the enthusiasm of his children, setting them 
 an example by numberless epistles written upon 
 their birthdays, at Christmastide, and on innumer- 
 able occasions. And then, with utmost care, he 
 patiently arranged, filed, and preserved all these 
 productions, the earliest of which are from his 
 eldest daughter's pen. 
 
 Anna began her journal at eight years and her 
 example was followed by Louisa, and then by 
 Elizabeth; while baby May, proving less amenable 
 
 [7] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 to educational precepts, was allowed to express 
 her thoughts in the pictorial manner she had early 
 chosen for her own. 
 
 Anna wrote in her journal in October, 1839: 
 
 "We spend an hour or more every morning at 
 our lessons with father, writing, reading, drawing, 
 spelling, dephyning and talking. I have never 
 been to any other school but father's: he has 
 taught me most that I know about myself and 
 other things. I do not know that I shall have 
 any other teacher. . . . We read about Jesus walk- 
 ing on the water and Peter sinking in it. I like to 
 read about Jesus, because he is so good. Father 
 is the best man in the world now." 
 
 In November of the same year, she writes : 
 
 "I read some of the story of little Henri this 
 morning while in bed. Father talked with us 
 about Temperance at breakfast. I think I am 
 temperate. I have few pains." 
 
 A few days later, on November 29th, a double 
 birthday anniversary was celebrated, and Anna 
 wrote : 
 
 "This is father's and Louisa's birthday. We 
 gave them many presents; to father a portfolio 
 [8] 
 
THE LITTLE MAY QUEEN 
 
 for his papers, and a pocket pincushion. To Louisa, 
 a box full of things, and a beautiful doll, with 
 Letters from Father and Mother. She seems 
 very happy playing with them, and we were all 
 happy in making them for her; she is seven 
 years old today, father is forty. I am eight and 
 shall be nine if I live till the 15th of March 
 next, and I hope to write a better journal than 
 this." 
 
 In Anna's journal, which faithfully reflects her 
 father's educational methods, the frequent refer- 
 ences to "baby sister" enable one to picture the 
 ten-year-old assuming the role of little mother to 
 tiny May, and at the same time striving to live 
 up to the moral standards, and to digest the 
 " conversations " which formed the basis of Bronson 
 Alcott's educational regime. 
 
 At the age of nine, Anna is learning to accept 
 the gospel of " going without." She writes: 
 
 "Wednesday I spent the morning with father 
 and sisters; he read to us and we read to him from 
 the New Testament about unclean appetites and 
 evil passions; he read about the Muck-Rake of 
 Selfishness. Father told us how people had treated 
 him, and why he came to Concord, and how we 
 must give up a good many things that we like. 
 
 [9] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 I know it will be hard, but I mean to do it. I 
 fear I shall complain about it." 
 
 In 1834, Mr. Alcott had opened the "Temple 
 School" in Boston, where he put into practice 
 his educational ideas, which, however, proved too 
 far ahead of his time to be appreciated. He made 
 religion and character-building a vital part of his 
 curriculum, and opened his sessions with instruc- 
 tion in manners and behavior, while his plan for 
 punishing the unruly was a reversal of the custom 
 of chastising a pupil; in place of the old method, 
 Alcott insisted that the boy deserving punishment 
 should administer several blows to his teacher in 
 the presence of the school. This experiment when 
 tried worked to a charm. Following a tearful 
 refusal to strike the kind instructor, the pupil in 
 question was forced to administer the punish- 
 ment, a procedure which made so lasting an im- 
 pression on all that from the time of its first 
 application the ferrule was totally discarded. These 
 innovations in the schoolroom, however, did not 
 meet with the approval of those who resented any 
 departure from the old-time methods, and the 
 school proving a failure, the teacher, cheered by 
 the thought of being near his loved friend Emerson, 
 had turned his face towards Concord. 
 
 [10] 
 
THE LITTLE MAY QUEEN 
 
 The idea of "giving up", which was so early 
 instilled into the minds of the elder children, made 
 less impression upon May, the baby of the family. 
 And it was generally her portion to secure the 
 gratification of her youthful wants, perhaps be- 
 cause she wanted things so much, and did not 
 hesitate to voice her needs emphatically. 
 
 May's earliest attendance upon lessons is noted 
 in Anna's journal, in September, 1840, when she 
 writes : 
 
 "We had baby in the school, and she seemed 
 almost to talk, she said 'coo, coo.' She is not 
 quite six-weeks old." 
 
 If at this period May failed to profit by her 
 father's teaching, her ten-year-old sister strove 
 earnestly to do so, and wrote of those endeavors: 
 
 "My long lessons were right this morning and 
 I was glad. I did not feel well and tended baby 
 while father talked with Louisa about prayer. I 
 do not call words prayer, but thoughts — feelings 
 and resolution. . . . Our reading today was upon 
 the New Testament about Jesus talking with the 
 people and answering their hard questions. We 
 read his Parable of the Husbandman and the 
 Vineyard. I should like to talk with Jesus." 
 
 en] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 This early journal is full of suggestions about 
 "tending baby" and having "useful talks" with 
 her father, of whose instruction she says : 
 
 "I hope I shall govern myself and not need 
 father and mother to govern me. Conscience is 
 my best governor. God rules conscience. Govern 
 and gravy were the words of our spelling-lesson 
 which we talked about. . . . We talked with father 
 about obedience. I liked the conversation and I 
 think it will do me good." 
 
 The choice of a name for the little sister is an 
 item chronicled with much interest, and on No- 
 vember 8, 1840, Anna writes, "We are going to 
 name the baby Abby, after Mother." And it was 
 then decided that the youngest child should be 
 called Abba May Alcott, after one who was also 
 the youngest of her family. 
 
 Little May's first Thanksgiving was celebrated 
 by the family with strict simplicity, which must 
 at times have awakened childish longings, for Anna 
 wrote of it, upon November 26, "It was Thanks- 
 giving today but we did not eat as other people 
 do, but we had an apple-pudding for dinner." 
 
 That the enjoyment of their simple repasts was 
 at times regulated in accordance with their atten- 
 tion to their lessons, is evinced by another entry, 
 
 [12] 
 
THE LITTLE MAY QUEEN 
 
 which reads, " I and Louisa did not spell our lesson 
 well, so father let us go without any dinner." 
 
 The privilege of taking care of tiny May was 
 viewed as a much-prized reward, and Anna writes 
 a few weeks later: 
 
 "Father read and talked to us about curing our 
 bad habits. I made a resolution and hope I shall 
 keep it; he said that till we could be gentle and 
 kind to each other we could not have the pleasure 
 of tending baby. I had rather have most any 
 other punishment than that. She is a sweet little 
 thing and I love her very much." 
 
 A characteristic letter from Mrs. Alcott, written 
 to her eldest daughter on Christmas Eve, touches 
 upon this supervision of the little sister: 
 
 Your Christmas day will be a happy one just 
 as far as you make it a good one. The presence of 
 your little baby sister will make it merry if you 
 give her your soft bosom for her pillow, and your 
 sweet voice for her music. She was not with us 
 last Christmas, let us be happier for her sake 
 than we ever were before. Let us be patient be- 
 cause she is tender; let us be gentle because she 
 is an angel and may put out her little wings and 
 flutter back to God who only gave her to us to 
 
 [13] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 make us happy on Earth. Love your sister Louisa 
 
 and be patient, love Elizabeth and be gentle, love 
 
 Abby and be kind, love Father and be obedient, 
 
 love Mother and be dutiful. Love your duty and 
 
 you will be happy. 
 
 Mother 
 Christmas Eve — 1840. 
 
 Mrs. Alcott's suggestion, "let us be happier for 
 her sake than ever before", strikes the keynote 
 of May's relationship to the others. Her special 
 contribution was to be one of joy, brightness, and 
 cheer. They were happier and gayer because of 
 May, her talents, her lively enthusiasm, and her 
 love of beauty. Her vivid personality radiated 
 sunshine, energy, and abundant life, which more 
 than compensated for those faults which belonged 
 to an impetuous nature prone to express itself in 
 occasional bursts of anger or impatience, and ani- 
 mated by an intense determination to carry out 
 its own pet projects. 
 
 May was indeed the "Queen", and in Louisa's 
 early descriptions of childish pranks the baby sister 
 seemed naturally to mount the throne, while the 
 others assumed humble positions. One recalls with 
 amusement the picture of that memorable occa- 
 sion when Margaret Fuller and Emerson had spent 
 the afternoon discussing education with the elder 
 
THE LITTLE MAY QUEEN 
 
 Alcotts, at the close of which conversation Miss 
 Fuller exclaimed: "Well, Mr. Alcott, you have been 
 able to carry out your methods in your own family, 
 and I should like to see your model children." 
 And Louisa writes : 
 
 "She did in a few minutes, for as the guests 
 stood on the doorsteps a wild uproar approached, 
 and round the corner of the house came a wheel- 
 barrow holding baby May arrayed as a queen; I 
 was the horse, bitted and bridled, and driven by 
 my elder sister Anna ; while Lizzie played dog, and 
 barked as loud as her gentle voice permitted. 
 
 "All were shouting and wild with fun, which, 
 however, came to a sudden end as we espied the 
 stately group before us; for my foot tripped, and 
 down we all went in a laughing heap; while my 
 mother put .a climax to the joke by saying, with a 
 dramatic wave of the hand, 'Here are the model 
 children, Miss Fuller'." 
 
 Baby May's first journey to the community at 
 Fruitlands was in later years pictured by her sister 
 Louisa in "Transcendental Wild Oats," where the 
 writer describes the removal of the family, in June, 
 1843: 
 
 "A large wagon, drawn by a small horse and 
 containing a motley load, went lumbering over 
 
 [15] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 certain New England hills with the pleasing ac- 
 companiment of wind, rain and hail. A serene 
 man, with a serene child upon his knee, was driv- 
 ing, or rather being driven, for the small horse 
 had it all his own way. A brown boy, with a 
 William Penn countenance, sat beside him, firmly 
 clasping 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 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. 
 
 "There was no road leading to the house, which 
 could be seen that rainy afternoon through the 
 blur of the landscape, and there is no doubt that 
 the large wagon and the small horse floundered 
 helplessly in the mud many times on the journey, 
 until they drew up at last before the old red farm- 
 house, which was to be their home, just as a beau- 
 tiful rainbow broke through the gray sky at the 
 close of the day. So, looking on this as an omen 
 of good cheer, the little girls sprang from the wagon 
 in high spirits, and the older people followed, with 
 baskets, bundles, umbrella and baby." 
 [16] 
 
THE LITTLE MAY QUEEN 
 
 Thus did baby May make her entry into that 
 visionary Utopia, which was relinquished after two 
 years of pitiful effort to live there the life of the 
 spirit with very little physical sustenance. One by 
 one, Alcott' s associates slipped away, and he, worn 
 out in body and broken in spirit at the failure of 
 the project, completely collapsed, and would hardly 
 have survived the disappointment had not his 
 brave wife and his little daughters rallied about 
 him and helped to banish his despair. And then 
 once more, baby May set forth on a journey back 
 to the world that they had temporarily forsaken 
 for the higher plane of "Fruitlands." This time 
 there was no June rainbow with its promise of 
 golden realization, but only fields of snow, when, 
 on a bleak December day, the Alcott family 
 emerged from the deep drifts that shut in the red 
 farmhouse, bound for the nearest village of Still 
 River, where Mrs. Alcott had engaged rooms for 
 them in a house shared by their friends, the Love- 
 joys. They proceeded on their way with all their 
 worldly goods piled on an ox-sled, on the top of 
 which were perched the four little daughters while 
 the parents trudged behind. "Fruitlands", which 
 Mrs. Alcott with her never-failing sense of humor 
 had christened "Apple Slump", was a thing of the 
 past. 
 
 [17] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 Of its untimely passing, the author of "Little 
 Women" said: 
 
 "The world was not ready for Utopia yet, and 
 those who attempted to found it only got laughed 
 at for their pains. In other days men could sell 
 all and give all to the poor, lead lives devoted to 
 holiness and high thought, and after the persecu- 
 tion was over find themselves honored as saints 
 and martyrs. But in modern times, these things 
 are out of fashion. To live for one's principles, 
 at all costs, is a dangerous speculation; and the 
 failure of an ideal no matter how humane and noble, 
 is harder for the world to forgive and forget than 
 bank robbery, or the grand swindles of corrupt 
 politicians." 
 
 If at this time the family fortunes were at the 
 lowest ebb, the baby girl was too young to be 
 conscious of the cares and responsibilities that 
 weighed upon her mother and sisters. Meanwhile, 
 the eldest daughter, Anna (known to the world of 
 little readers as "Meg"), from early childhood 
 shared her mother's burdens, and from the first 
 almost adopted May as her own baby, giving her 
 the care and attention which Mrs. Alcott's many 
 household duties made it impossible for her to 
 render. 
 
 [18] 
 
THE LITTLE MAY QUEEN 
 
 These responsibilities so willingly assumed by 
 Anna were early shared by Louisa, who was two 
 years her junior. In her quaint little journals, the 
 younger sister writes of that busy life at "Fruit- 
 lands", when she was ten years old: 
 
 "I rose at five, and after breakfast washed the 
 dishes, and then helped mother with the work. 
 Miss F. is gone, and Anna in Boston with cousin 
 Louisa. I took care of Abby in the afternoon. In the 
 evening I made some pretty things for my dolly." 
 
 The menu which accompanied their idealistic 
 regime she later described: 
 
 "Unleavened bread, porridge, and water for 
 breakfast; bread, vegetables and water for dinner; 
 bread, fruit, and water for supper was the bill-of- 
 fare ordained by the elders. No teapot profaned 
 that sacred stove, no gory steak cried aloud for 
 vengeance from her chaste gridiron; and only a 
 brave woman's taste, time and temper were sacri- 
 ficed on that domestic altar." 
 
 The hours for play were very limited in those 
 days when the struggle for existence was so acute 
 as to place on the shoulders of the two eldest 
 daughters many duties which even their little 
 
 [19] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 sister Beth strove to share with them. Yet, despite 
 household tasks and strict economies, coupled with 
 numerous small privations, the children learned to 
 escape from daily drudgeries into a world of ro- 
 mance and imagination, and after the failure of 
 the community at "Fruitlands" and their return 
 to Concord, they roamed the fields and woods, 
 enjoying all the natural beauties, taking part in 
 games with their small neighbors, and acting little 
 plays in the old barn at "Hillside", where they 
 reveled in fancied luxury and splendor. 
 
 "Hillside", later the home of Hawthorne, who 
 rechristened it "The Wayside", was purchased in 
 1845, with a small amount of money which had 
 been left to Mrs. Alcott by her father, to which 
 their ever-generous friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson, 
 had added five hundred dollars. This house was 
 only a short distance from Emerson's, and there 
 Louisa and her sisters enjoyed the happy days 
 described in "Little Women." 
 
 Beth's journal, which begins soon after their 
 removal to this home, also describes her play-days 
 with her little sister, May, then five years old. 
 
 Sunday, April 19, 1846. 
 Father walked in the woods with us. We saw 
 some pretty trees to set out in the yard. I read 
 
THE LITTLE MAY QUEEN 
 
 in the "White Rose", and cleared my trunk. We 
 went on the hill to see the rainbow, it was very 
 beautiful. Abba and I went to the brook. I sewed 
 a little in Louisa's room. ... I read to Abba about 
 Oliver Twist. She cried because he was so poor. 
 
 The following day she writes: 
 
 "I picked blue violets and dandelions. At ten I 
 came in to school and wrote my journal for Sunday, 
 and this morning I did some sums in Division, and 
 read a piece of poetry. It was the 'Blind Boy.' 
 In the afternoon, Abba and I sewed. She invited 
 Mary Gill to come in to see her. I knit a little, and 
 played with my dollies. Ellen and Edith [Emerson] 
 came to see us. I went home with them. When 
 I got back, I walked by Mr. Bull's with Abba to 
 Mrs. Richardson's and drew her baby in the little 
 wagon. The air was very cool." 
 
 "We were going to trim the May-Pole for to- 
 morrow which is the first of May, but it rained. 
 I was very sorry. I played with Abba a while, then 
 came into school. My sums did not come right. 
 I wrote the Multiplication Table on my slate from 
 .memory, and found I knew it all, and could think 
 of it quick. Abba and I played house. 
 
 "Miss Foord came with Ellen to trim the May 
 
 [21] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 Pole, for it had cleared off. Ellen and I picked 
 violets on the hill." 
 
 The Maypole exercises are further described: 
 
 "After breakfast Miss Foord, and Cary Pratt, 
 and Ellen, came to march with the May Pole, but 
 Father took us in Mr. Watt's hay-cart to Mr. 
 Emerson's. We danced round the May Pole, and 
 I had a very pleasant time. Mr. Emerson said he 
 would take us to ride in the woods. It rained, so 
 we came back home. After the shower, Abba and 
 I played in the barn. We made dirt-cakes, and a 
 little wagon to draw our dollies in." 
 
 Beth's journal goes on to picture those happy 
 summer days when she and Abba, who at this 
 time seemed to be her special charge, played games 
 together, and visited their friends, spending much 
 time with the small Emersons, and at one period 
 going to their home to study with their teacher, 
 Miss Foord, regarding whom she writes: 
 
 "Miss Foord told us about the parts of straw- 
 berries. I told her one of my thoughts, which was 
 'I thought it was very shady at Sleepy Hollow.' 
 Abba and I did not go to school this morning. 
 We dressed our dollies and made the beds. We 
 
 [22] 
 
THE LITTLE MAY QUEEN 
 
 buried a little bird. Abba and I played school and 
 made a little garden. We planted some corn and 
 beans in it. . . . We all went again to Mr. Emer- 
 sons. Father read to us about 'Maho and Zalmi.' 
 I liked it very much. He talked with us about 
 Contentment, and asked us when we were con- 
 tented, and we all told. Mother, Louisa and 
 Llewellyn were there and told. I said, I was, last 
 winter in school. ... I read Abba a story of a 
 Fairy and a Golden Tree. We painted a good 
 while." 
 
 One may fancy little Abba at this time, paint- 
 brush in hand, foreshadowing her subsequent vo- 
 cation, and frequent references to the children's 
 enjoyment of drawing, figure in the journal, where 
 Beth notes: 
 
 "My next lesson was drawing. I drew a flower, 
 and two Angel kisses with long hair and wings, and 
 robes. After dinner I played with Abba, and 
 sewed till four." 
 
 The ending of the lessons at the Emerson's is 
 mentioned : 
 
 "Abba and I are not going to Miss Foord's 
 school any more, so Anna kept school for us at 
 
 l*3l 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 home. ... At recess Louisa wheeled us in the 
 wheelbarrow down the hill. . . . After dinner I 
 washed the dishes and read a little in 'Arabian 
 Nights', about a Prince. ... I read Abba a 
 story in the evening. Abba and I played in Moth- 
 er's chamber. I was a sick lady and Abba was a 
 doctor." 
 
 The journal for the year ends with the words, 
 "I now have finished my journal and am going to 
 give it to Mother." 
 
 Mrs. Alcott shared her husband's belief in the 
 efficacy of keeping a diary of daily doings, and she 
 faithfully followed her husband's example in this 
 respect. She pens her commendation of Beth's 
 work in the following words : 
 
 "It helps you to express them [your thoughts] 
 and to understand your little self. Remember, dear 
 girl, that a diary should be an epitome of your life. 
 May it be a record of pure thoughts and actions, 
 then you will indeed be the precious child of your 
 loving mother." 
 
 If the education of the Alcott children was 
 desultory and lacking in thoroughness in certain 
 branches, it was in other ways inspiring and stimu- 
 lating, developing their powers of imagination, and 
 
 [2 4 ] 
 
THE LITTLE MAY QUEEN 
 
 love of beauty in art and literature as well as 
 nature, while teaching them to feel and to think 
 justly, and to express their thoughts and feelings 
 clearly and forcibly, even if they knew little of the 
 rules of grammar and rhetoric. 
 
 [25] 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 The Young Artist 
 
 Although the ownership of "Hillside" provided 
 the Alcott family with a pleasant abiding-place 
 and a roof over their heads, yet there were six 
 mouths to be fed, and Mr. Alcott's social ideals 
 and exalted philosophy failed to secure the neces- 
 sary wherewithal to feed and clothe the members 
 of his household. Both Anna and Louisa strove 
 hard to reinforce the family exchequer, but Con- 
 cord offered little opportunity for work such as 
 they seemed best fitted to perform, and so in 
 1848 the family removed to Boston, where for 
 almost a decade the struggle for existence con- 
 tinued. 
 
 During this time, Bronson Alcott began to hold 
 "Conversations" in West Street, where he as- 
 sembled a small circle of intellectual persons who 
 enjoyed his inspiring talks, discussed his theories, 
 and a few of whom paid him a modest fee. Mean- 
 while Mrs. Alcott established an intelligence bu- 
 reau, which had grown out of her interest in helping 
 the needy to find positions, and at the same time 
 Anna and Louisa were able to earn something by 
 teaching and sewing, the latter, in 1852, receiving 
 
 [26] 
 
THE YOUNG ARTIST 
 
 five dollars for her first published story, written 
 some years before. At this time, Lizzie was called 
 the "little housekeeper" and aided her mother in 
 the domestic tasks, while the youngest daughter 
 was sent to school. 
 
 May's earliest letters, written about this time, 
 are very characteristic, and at the age of eight 
 reflect her keen sense of the beautiful, her warmly 
 affectionate nature, and her desire for pretty 
 things. Throughout them, one discerns a little 
 touch of the spoiled child, flashes of childish im- 
 patience, and keen displeasure at any failure to 
 receive what she regarded as her rightful due. 
 
 The following letter, written prior to their re- 
 moval to Boston, was sent to Mrs. Alcott during a 
 visit made by her at Waterford, Connecticut. The 
 writing seems to be in Mr. Alcott's hand, to whom 
 the letter was evidently dictated : 
 
 July s, 1848. 
 My dear Mother, — O mother, it is so beautiful 
 this morning as I sit in the schoolroom by Father; 
 such bright sunshine all about. Is it pleasant at 
 Waterford as it is here? I will tell you about my 
 lessons this morning. I came in right after break- 
 fast, and read three stories in the book Mr. Farrer 
 gave me: one of them was a long story about 
 
 C27] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 John's being run away with in the chaise and 
 having his leg and arm broke. 
 
 I spelt 30 words all right and wrote down 22 on 
 my slate and numbered them in figures. Father 
 read me some pretty stories about Roses, how the 
 little boy was impatient to have the buds open, 
 and see the colors, and so picked the bud open, 
 and the leaves withered. I like to have Father 
 read stories to me and talk to me. I mean to have 
 my lessons quick after breakfast while the girls 
 are doing up the work. Father has your miniature 
 on his desk where he can see it as he opens his 
 desk every morning. And you look stately. I 
 have just been looking at it. I wish you would 
 come home soon; when will you come? I guess 
 Father wants to see you now too. We went to the 
 fire-works last evening. They were before Col. 
 Shattuck's house on the Gommon, and all the 
 Concord people (to say "folks" seems countryfied) 
 were there; some came in chaises and sat in them 
 to see the fire-works go up. Father took us all to 
 see them, and we stood before the Court House by 
 the wall to look. I liked the whirligigs. The boys 
 cracked off powder-crackers all about us. One 
 almost hit my heel. We have beautiful tableaux 
 now in the barn. One was William Tell. I was 
 the little boy, and Louisa the Father. We had 
 
 C28: 
 
THE YOUNG ARTIST 
 
 the cross man and wife, and the "Margiana." 
 How does Mason do? He is very handsome. You 
 told me about my little hood and coat. You do 
 not write to me. Is it because you have so much 
 to do ? Do you care nothing about me ? I do for 
 you. 
 
 This is a long letter; longer a great deal than I 
 wanted to write, but Father kept asking me more 
 and more questions, till it seemed as if he would 
 never be done, and so filled this letter — I am 
 glad he has got through. 
 
 Good bye, Good Mother. 
 
 From Abby 
 
 At the end of this letter Mr. Alcott writes, after 
 the words, "From Abby", "with her feet on the 
 table by the window, laughing through her tears; 
 and father laughing at the fun too." 
 
 This youthful production was followed by an 
 aggrieved note, dictated the following afternoon, 
 when the mail had brought no letter for "Abba 
 May." 
 
 Dear Mother, — O, I was so disappointed when 
 Father told me there was no letter for me that I 
 cried right out. I could not help it. I felt jealous. 
 The girls all had letters, but there was no letter 
 for me._ You said I should have one next week and 
 
 [29] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 I am waiting for it. I wish you would come home. 
 But Anna has come and we have such good times 
 to have her teach us. We had a nice ride by the 
 cottage chamber where I was born. I remember 
 Fruitlands, and Mr. Lovejoy; we were scalded. 
 The house at Fruitlands was long and red. My 
 memory is short. I had a pretty ride and pleasant. 
 The strawberries and cream were very nice. I 
 picked one row of strawberries. I wanted the gilt 
 greyhound lying on the white marble that Anna 
 brought home and gave to Elizabeth, it was so 
 handsome. 
 
 I should like to see Charlotte Dingley and send 
 her my love. I wish I had staid with you. Father 
 asked me if I worried you, and that made me cry; 
 it seemed unkind. It seems as if I did not very 
 often. I don't want to tell him any more to write. 
 I shall not send the least bit of love till you write 
 to me. 
 
 From Abby to Mother. 
 
 Those that are prone to think of Mrs. Alcott 
 merely as a warm-hearted practical woman, ab- 
 sorbed in household tasks, fail to realize her su- 
 perior intellectual qualities. She wielded a gifted 
 pen, kept pace with her husband's philosophy and 
 ideals, and could dwell on his plane of thought 
 [30] 
 
THE YOUNG ARTIST 
 
 even while keeping her own feet firmly planted on 
 the level ground of everyday living. 
 
 Her gifted husband meanwhile was, as his 
 daughter Louisa remarked, up in a balloon, with 
 all the family holding the strings and trying to 
 pull him down to earth. 
 
 "Little Raphael's" gift for drawing, which de- 
 veloped early, gave her family much satisfaction 
 as well as some anxiety at times, as her experi- 
 ments in certain instances threatened the safety 
 of the household, experiences later recorded by 
 her sister in the descriptions of "Amy's artistic 
 efforts": 
 
 "She was never so happy as when copying 
 flowers, designing fairies, or illustrating stories with 
 queer specimens of art. Her teacher complained 
 that instead of doing her sums she covered her 
 slate with animals; the blank pages of her atlas 
 were used to copy maps on, and caricatures of the 
 most ludicrous description came fluttering out of 
 her books at unlucky moments. She got through 
 her lessons as well as she could, and managed 
 to escape reprimands by being a model of deport- 
 ment. She was a great favorite with her mates, 
 being good-tempered, and possessing the happy 
 art of pleasing without effort. Her little airs and 
 
 [30 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 graces were much admired, so were her accom- 
 plishments; for beside her drawing she could play 
 twelve tunes, crochet and read French without 
 mispronouncing more than two-thirds of the words. 
 She had a plaintive way of saying 'When papa 
 was rich, we did so and so', which was very touch- 
 ing; and her long words were considered ' perfectly 
 elegant', by the girls." 
 
 Her little vanities were also humorously touched 
 upon: 
 
 "If anybody had asked Amy what the greatest 
 trial of her life was, she would have answered at 
 once, 'my nose' ... It was not big, nor red, like 
 poor Petrea's; it was only rather flat, and all the 
 pinching in the world could not give it an aristo- 
 cratic point. No one minded it but herself, and 
 it was doing its best to grow, but Amy felt deeply 
 the want of a Grecian nose, and drew whole sheets 
 of handsome ones to console herself." 
 
 No better picture of May's early efforts in the 
 field of art can be supplied than that penned by 
 her sister, who continues: 
 
 "It takes people a long time to learn the dif- 
 ference between talent and genius, especially am- 
 bitious young men and women. Amy was learning 
 
 [32] 
 
THE YOUNG ARTIST 
 
 this distinction through much tribulation; for, mis- 
 taking enthusiasm for inspiration, she attempted 
 every branch of art with youthful audacity. For 
 a long time there was a lull in the c mud-pie' 
 business, and she devoted herself to the finest pen- 
 and-ink drawing, in which she showed such taste 
 and skill, that her graceful handiwork proved 
 both pleasant and profitable. But over-strained 
 eyes soon caused pen-and-ink to be laid aside for a 
 bold attempt at poker-sketching. While this attack 
 lasted, the family lived in constant fear of a con- 
 flagration; for the odor of burning wood pervaded 
 the house at all hours; smoke issued from attic 
 and shed with alarming frequency, red-hot pokers 
 lay about promiscuously, and Hannah never went 
 to bed without a pail of water and the dinner-bell 
 at her door, in case of fire. Raphael's face was 
 found boldly executed on the under side of a 
 mouldering board [this clever burnt-wood picture 
 may now be seen at Orchard House], and Bacchus 
 on the head of a beer-barrel; a chanting cherub 
 adorned the cover of the sugar-bucket, and at- 
 tempts to portray 'Garrick buying gloves of the 
 grisette', supplied kindlings for some time. 
 
 "From fire to oil was a natural transition for 
 burnt fingers, and Amy fell to painting with un- 
 diminished ardor. An artist friend fitted her 
 
 l33l 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 out with his cast-off palettes, brushes, and colors, 
 and she daubed away, producing pastoral and 
 marine views, such as were never seen on land 
 or sea. 
 
 "Her monstrosities in the way of cattle would 
 have taken prizes at an agricultural fair; and the 
 perilous pitching of her vessels would have pro- 
 duced sea-sickness in the most nautical observer, 
 if the utter disregard of all known rules of ship- 
 building and rigging had not convulsed him 
 with laughter at the first glance. Swarthy boys 
 and dark-eyed Madonnas staring at you from one 
 corner of the studio, did not suggest Murillo; oily 
 brown shadows of faces, with a lurid streak in the 
 wrong place, meant Rembrandt; buxom ladies and 
 dropsical infants, Rubens; and Turner appeared in 
 tempests of blue thunder, orange lightning, brown 
 rain, and purple clouds, with a tomato-colored 
 splash in the middle which might be the sun, or a 
 buoy, a sailor's shirt or a king's robe, as the 
 spectator pleased." 
 
 May's early admiration for Turner's paintings, 
 here touched upon, was destined to find expression 
 in some of her best work, for her most admirable 
 copies of this master's pictures, made during faith- 
 ful study at the National Gallery in London, won 
 
 [34] 
 
THE YOUNG ARTIST 
 
 highest commendation from Ruskin, and caused 
 her copies to be later used as guides for students. 
 Her early attempts at portraiture are also enter- 
 tainingly set forth by her sister: 
 
 "Charcoal portraits came next; and the entire 
 family hung in a row, looking as wild and crocky 
 as if just evoked from a coal-bin. Softened into 
 crayon sketches, they did better; for the likenesses 
 were good, and Amy's hair, Jo's nose, Meg's 
 mouth, and Laurie's eyes were pronounced 'won- 
 derfully fine.' A return to clay and plaster fol- 
 lowed, and ghostly casts of her acquaintances 
 haunted corners of the house, or tumbled off closet 
 shelves on to people's heads. Children were enticed 
 in as models, till their incoherent accounts of her 
 mysterious doings caused Miss Amy to be regarded 
 in the light of a young ogress. Her efforts in this 
 line, however, were brought to an abrupt close by 
 an untoward accident, which quenched her ardor. 
 Other models failing her for a time, she undertook 
 to cast her own pretty foot, and the family were 
 one day alarmed by an unearthly bumping and 
 screaming; and, running to the rescue, found the 
 young enthusiast hopping wildly about the shed, 
 with her foot held fast in a pan full of plaster, 
 which had hardened with unexpected rapidity. 
 
 l35l 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 With much difficulty and some danger, she was 
 dug out; for Jo was so overcome with laughter 
 while she excavated, that her knife went too far, 
 cut the poor foot, and left a lasting memorial of 
 one artistic attempt at least." 
 
 This semi-tragic episode was often recalled with 
 mirth by members of the Alcott family, and the 
 cast of May's foot may still be seen at Orchard 
 House, among the varying examples of the young 
 artist's early work. Louisa's recital of her sister's 
 further efforts continues : 
 
 "After this Amy subsided, till a mania for 
 sketching from nature set her to haunting river, 
 field and wood, for picturesque studies, and sigh- 
 ing for ruins to copy. She caught endless colds 
 sitting on damp grass to book 'a delicious bit', 
 composed of a stone, a stump, one mushroom and 
 a broken mullein stalk, or a 'heavenly mass of 
 clouds ', that looked like a choice display of feather- 
 beds when done. She sacrificed her complexion 
 floating on the river in the midsummer sun, to 
 study light and shade, and got a wrinkle over her 
 nose, trying after 'points of sight', or whatever 
 the squint and string performance is called. 
 
 "If 'genius is eternal patience', as Michael 
 Angelo affirms, Amy certainly had some claims to 
 
 [36] 
 
 
THE YOUNG ARTIST 
 
 the divine attribute, for she persevered in spite of 
 all obstacles, failures and discouragements, firmly 
 believing that in time she should do something 
 worthy to be called 'high art'." 
 
 The above quotation, referred to in his intro- 
 ductory sketch, by Mr. French, is in truth highly 
 applicable to May, whether it emanated from the 
 brain of an Alcott or an Angelo. Louisa ends her 
 summary of her sister's " artistic attempts" with a 
 brief reference to her personal attributes: 
 
 "She was learning, doing and enjoying other 
 things, meanwhile, for she had resolved to be an 
 attractive and accomplished woman, even if she 
 never became a great artist. Here she succeeded 
 better; for she was one of those happily created 
 beings who please without effort, make friends 
 everywhere, and take life so gracefully and easily 
 that less fortunate souls are tempted to believe 
 that such are born under a lucky star. Everybody 
 liked her, for among her good gifts was tact. She 
 had an instinctive sense of what was pleasing and 
 proper, always said the right thing to the right 
 person, did just what suited the time and place, 
 and was so self-possessed that her sisters used to 
 say, 'If Amy went to court without any rehearsal 
 beforehand, she'd know exactly what to do'." 
 
 [37] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 May's social gifts, here truthfully portrayed, 
 doubtless had much to do with her success in 
 later years, in winning friends upon all sides, wher- 
 ever she might be. And though she never figured 
 at the court of St. James, her charm and quick re- 
 sponsiveness brought her a widespread popularity 
 at home, and also among her fellow artists abroad. 
 
 Few characters in fiction have secured such a 
 following as that accorded to the impetuous, affec- 
 tionate, and gifted "Amy" of "Little Women", 
 who, from her first appearance in the world of 
 letters, was recognized as being so veritably alive 
 that hosts of youthful readers came to regard Jier 
 as a household friend, followed her doings with the 
 keenest interest, and showered Louisa Alcott with 
 inquiries as to her origin and subsequent career. 
 Thousands of times the authoress was forced to 
 respond to such demands, with the assurance that 
 "Amy" was absolutely true to life, and that she 
 did not marry "Laurie." 
 
 If, as depicted in the book, the other sisters 
 were in truth little "women", May was undoubt- 
 edly a little "lady", a fact that all the others 
 recognized and respected. From earliest childhood, 
 as has been stated, she was continually striving 
 towards her ideal of elegance and beauty, the 
 absence of which qualities in her home life caused 
 
 [38] 
 
THE YOUNG ARTIST 
 
 her considerable distress and mortification. Mean- 
 while, the others, conscious of her fastidiousness, 
 strove to supply these painful deficiencies. And 
 from the first there was a species of unwritten 
 law which decreed that although her sisters wore 
 shabby frocks, May must, if possible, have some- 
 thing new. And the returns from Louisa's earli- 
 est stories, scant though they were, seldom failed 
 to supply some purchase for the little sister. The 
 following extract from a letter written by the 
 young authoress to Anna, in 1855, presents this 
 point of view: 
 
 "I have eleven dollars, all my own earnings, 
 five for a story, and four for the pile of sewing I 
 did for Dr. Gray's society, to give him as a present. 
 ... I got a crimson ribbon for a bonnet for May, 
 and I took my straw and fixed it nicely with some 
 little duds I had. Her old one has haunted me all 
 winter, and I want her to look neat. She is so 
 graceful and pretty and loves beauty so much, it 
 is hard for her to be poor and wear other peoples' 
 things. You and I have learned not to mind much; 
 but when I think of her, I long to dash out and 
 buy her the finest hat the limited sum of ten 
 dollars can procure. She says so sweetly in one of 
 her letters, 'It is hard sometimes to see other 
 
 [39] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 people have so many nice things and I so few, but 
 I try not to be envious, but contented with my 
 poor clothes and cheerful about it'." 
 
 Louisa concludes: 
 
 "I hope the dear will like the bonnet and the 
 frill, and some bows I made from some bright 
 ribbons L. W. threw away. I get half my rarities 
 from her rag-bag, and she does n't know her own 
 rags when fixed over. I hope I shall live to see the 
 dear child in silk and lace with plenty of pictures 
 and 'bottles of cream', Europe and all she longs 
 for." 
 
 And by Louisa's gifted pen this hope was subse- 
 quently realized, as was her ambition to give her 
 mother the ease and comforts she longed to bestow, 
 and concerning which she wrote: 
 
 "I think often what a hard life she has had since 
 she married, so full of wandering and all sorts of 
 worry. So different from her early days, the young- 
 est and most petted of the family. I think she is a 
 very brave, good woman; and my dream is to have 
 a lovely quiet home for her, with no debts or 
 troubles to burden her. But I 'm afraid she will be 
 in Heaven before I can do it." 
 
 [40] 
 
THE YOUNG ARTIST 
 
 During this strenuous epoch in Boston, when 
 their modest home was converted into a shelter for 
 lost girls, abused wives, and friendless children, not 
 to mention weak and wicked men, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Alcott, who had no gold to give, gave their time, 
 sympathy, and help, and in return for their un- 
 selfish deeds acquired a number of contagious dis- 
 eases for their own children. 
 
 Although too young to share in lifting the finan- 
 cial burdens that early rested on her elder sisters' 
 shoulders, little May, who had a keenly practical 
 mind, was conscious of the fact that her father's 
 philosophy failed to bring in material returns, and 
 the thought that he lectured and then brought 
 home no money, aroused her youthful indigna- 
 tion. That she, more than the others, was ready 
 to urge him to be more businesslike was evident 
 from the first. She was only twelve when he re- 
 turned from a trip to the West, which has been 
 frequently described. A hungry, weary, and half- 
 frozen wanderer, he appeared late one wintry 
 night after his family had retired, and as they 
 sprang from their beds to minister to his bodily 
 needs, none dared to voice the thought that hov- 
 ered in all their minds, namely, "Had he made any 
 money on this trip?" Then it was that the voice 
 of little May was heard inquiring, "Well, did the 
 
 [41] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 people pay you ? " In response to which, he opened 
 his pocketbook and showed them one lonely dollar 
 bill, saying, "My overcoat was stolen and I had 
 to buy a shawl. Many promises were not kept, and 
 traveling is costly, but I have opened the way, and 
 another year shall do better." 
 
 Then, as has often been recorded, the loving 
 wife, who had only words of sympathy to offer, 
 exclaimed, "I call that doing very well. Since you 
 are safely home, dear, we don't ask anything more." 
 
 But there was bitter disappointment in the 
 hearts of the children, who were expecting much 
 from their father's trip; and one may rest assured 
 that "Little Raphael's" pillow was that night wet 
 with tears. 
 
 While this daughter's youth freed her from shar- 
 ing the financial responsibilities during these years 
 of stress, it did not bring her immunity from the 
 various diseases acquired by the Alcott children as 
 a result of philanthropic zeal on the part of their 
 parents. There was a siege with smallpox, con- 
 tracted in the efforts to shelter the afflicted, and 
 in 1856, May and Elizabeth ("Beth") were stricken 
 with scarlet fever, from the effects of which the 
 latter never fully recovered, dying two years later 
 after months of failing health. This contagion was 
 brought into the household by some poor children 
 
THE YOUNG ARTIST 
 
 who were nursed by Mrs. Alcott, when they fell 
 ill from living in a wretched unsanitary hovel. 
 Their landlord (alas, a deacon!) had refused to 
 improve conditions, but was finally forced to do so 
 by Mrs. Alcott, who paid too dearly for her act of 
 kindness. 
 
 The autumn of this year, 1856, found Louisa in 
 Boston, settled in a tiny bedroom at Mrs. David 
 Reed's boarding house in Chauncy Street, de- 
 scribed in "Little Women" as "Jo's Garret." A 
 happy winter for her followed, as well as one of 
 strenuous work; and at this time she enjoyed the 
 friendship of Theodore Parker, who advised and 
 encouraged her in the pursuance of her literary 
 work, for which there was an increasing demand. 
 It was a satisfaction to Louisa to have her sister 
 May also in Boston for the winter, and it was 
 arranged that she should meanwhile study art, 
 making her home with an aunt who lived in the 
 city. 
 
 And on November 14, 1856, Louisa wrote: 
 
 "May came full of expectation and joy to visit 
 good Aunt Bond, and study drawing. We walked 
 about and had a good home talk, then my girl 
 went off to Auntie's to begin what I hope will 
 be a pleasant and profitable winter. She needs 
 
 [43] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 help to develop her talent, and I can't give it to 
 her." 
 
 A few days later, she speaks of attending a little 
 party at her Aunt's house, where May looked very 
 pretty and seemed to be a special favorite. 
 
 And now Louisa was beginning to prove the 
 truth of assertion, that "though an Alcott, she 
 could support herself." Her literary gift was 
 steadily gaining recognition, although it was to be 
 almost a decade before she could achieve the hoped- 
 for success, and realize her ambition to make her 
 dear ones comfortable and free from monetary anx- 
 iety. Especially did she desire to give the gifted 
 May the longed-for opportunities. 
 
 At this time May was studying music, French, 
 and drawing, thus preparing herself to be, as this 
 sister desired, "an accomplished Alcott." Her skill 
 with pen and pencil became more and more evident, 
 and when she returned to Concord in the spring, 
 she had completed a season of successful work, and 
 brought back with her, among many other sketches, 
 an admirable crayon head of her mother, a gift 
 which filled the heart of "Marmee" with pride and 
 joy. 
 
 [44] 
 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 The Sisters 
 
 The opening months of the year 1857 saw the 
 young writer of twenty-five ensconced in her attic 
 room at Mrs. Reed's boarding house in Boston, 
 and slowly gaining a foothold in the field of letters ; 
 there she was temporarily free from household 
 cares, which were assumed by Anna, the domestic 
 angel; while May, at sixteen, was rapidly proving 
 that faith in her artistic gift was not misplaced. 
 Meanwhile, the increasing illness of the gentle and 
 unworldly Elizabeth cast a gloom over all. 
 
 The passing of Beth, as told in "Little Women", 
 presents with truthfulness the story of her gradual 
 decline, and the great sorrow of the family in 
 watching this delicate girl fade from their sight; 
 although she lingered until March, 1858, they had 
 learned months before that they must let her go. 
 
 In September, 1857, Orchard House was pur- 
 chased, but it was not ready for occupancy until 
 the following spring. This purchase marked an 
 epoch in the history of the Alcott family, for in 
 this house they spent their happiest years; there 
 Mr. Alcott founded his famous School of Philoso- 
 phy, and there Louisa produced her masterpieces. 
 
 [45] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 There, also, May established her studio, and traces 
 of her household decoration throughout the house 
 still attest to her early accomplishments in the 
 artistic field. The well-preserved old structure, 
 occupied by the Alcotts for twenty years, is now a 
 permanent literary shrine, filled with the Alcott 
 memorabilia, and likely to be visited for years to 
 come by countless pilgrims. 
 
 But Beth was not destined to dwell beneath 
 the friendly roof of Orchard House, which was at 
 the time of its purchase so sadly out of repair that 
 months must needs pass ere it could be ready for 
 occupancy. In consequence, the family rented a 
 portion of another house, and there Beth spent 
 the last of her brief life, lying upon her couch be- 
 fore the fire, reading, and singing softly to herself, 
 patient and sweet, while Anna did the house- 
 keeping, and Mrs. Alcott and Louisa devoted 
 themselves to ministering to the wants of their 
 invalid. 
 
 Beth slipped away on March 14, 1858, after 
 bidding them all good-by, and murmuring with a 
 happy smile, " All here." So peaceful was her pass- 
 ing that after she had gone Louisa wrote, "Death 
 never seemed terrible to me, and now is beautiful; 
 so I cannot fear it, but find it friendly and won- 
 derful." 
 
 [46] 
 
THE SISTERS 
 
 At the moment of Beth's passing, a curious 
 psychic phenomenon was noted by the watchers, 
 Louisa and her mother, which was immediately 
 recorded in the former's journal of March 14, 1858. 
 
 Louisa wrote that after bidding all good-by, the 
 sick girl lapsed into unconsciousness, and then she 
 added: 
 
 "A few moments after the last breath came, as 
 Mother and I sat silently watching the shadow 
 fall on the dear little face, I saw a light mist rise 
 from her body, and float up and vanish in the air. 
 Mother's eyes followed mine and when I said, 
 'What did you see?' she described the same light 
 mist. Dr. G. said it was life departing visibly." 
 
 The death of the lovely, unworldly Beth cast a 
 gloom over all the household, and saddened the 
 days preceding the settling in the new home; a 
 process destined to furnish plentiful occupation and 
 diversion. 
 
 Following Beth's passing, came the announce- 
 ment of the engagement of Anna to John Pratt, 
 which meant the slipping from the family circle 
 of another sister. From this time May and Louisa 
 drew still more closely together, and the latter 
 found much comfort in the companionship of the 
 lively young artist, whose swift responsiveness and 
 
 [47] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 cheery personality did much towards banishing the 
 heavy clouds that rested on the household. May 
 was warmly affectionate and adored her sister's 
 brilliant qualities, believing at the same time in her 
 own gifts, and being quite convinced that some 
 day she would show the world a second famous 
 Alcott sister. 
 
 In July, 1858, the family took possession of the 
 new house, which was in truth a very old one — so 
 old that when the place was purchased by the 
 Alcotts, the house (built about 1650) was thought 
 to be so antiquated and out of repair that it was 
 practically thrown in as a bargain, in the belief 
 that it was only fit for firewood. 
 
 But Mr. Alcott, who had a decided architec- 
 tural gift, realized its possibilities, and finding the 
 old beams and rafters firm, felt no hesitation in 
 attempting the renovation of the structure. He 
 set about converting old ovens and ash holes into 
 arched alcoves and attractive nooks, and the re- 
 sult was a surprise and satisfaction to all con- 
 cerned. And to the father's architectural efforts 
 the daughters added countless practical touches 
 and bits of decoration. They painted, papered, and 
 carpentered, preparing the interior with their own 
 hands, while Mr. Alcott expended his ingenuity on 
 the exterior. In nooks and corners, ,May placed 
 
 C43] 
 
THE SISTERS 
 
 effective panels on which she painted birds and 
 flowers; over the fireplaces, she inscribed mottoes 
 in Old English characters, choosing for the chim- 
 ney piece in her father's study, the lines of Ellery 
 Channing : 
 
 The Hills are reared, the Valleys scooped in vain, 
 If Learning's Altars vanish from the Plain. 
 
 May fairly reveled in the process of working 
 decorative wonders, and those that to-day visit 
 Orchard House delight to study the many remain- 
 ing traces of her brush, pen, and pencil, as well as 
 the examples of her work in clay. Walls, doors, 
 and window-casings in several rooms still bear 
 her outline drawings, while other memorabilia re- 
 main upon the walls. 
 
 During the summer of 1858, May worked indus- 
 triously, and illustrated her first book, a little story 
 by Louisa, entitled "Christmas Elves." The au- 
 tumn saw the latter again in Boston, engaged in 
 literary work, and there May joined her, continu- 
 ing her drawing lessons, and attending the School 
 of Design. There her productions were highly 
 praised, and she returned to Concord filled with 
 enthusiasm for her work, which was an ever- 
 increasing satisfaction to the family. While they 
 depended upon Louisa as their mainstay, they 
 were particularly proud of the young artist, whose 
 
 [49] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 modeling, as well as drawing, seemed to betoken 
 a successful future in the world of art. About this 
 time, May executed for Louisa a fine bas-relief copy 
 of Mr. Emerson's favorite, "Endymion", of which 
 her sister was very fond. In the spring of i860, 
 Anna's marriage to John Pratt took place, upon 
 May 23 d, her mother's wedding day. This was a 
 great event for all the family, and in describing 
 it Louisa wrote: 
 
 "A lovely day; the house full of sunshine, 
 flowers, friends and happiness. Uncle S. J. May 
 married them with no fuss, but much love; and we 
 all stood round her. She in her silver gray silk, 
 with lilies-of-the- valley (John's flower) in her bosom 
 and hair. We, in gray thin stuff, sackcloth I called 
 it and ashes of roses; for I mourn my Nan, and 
 am not comforted. We have had a little feast, 
 sent by good Judge Shaw; then the old folks 
 danced around the bridal pair on the lawn in the 
 German fashion, making a pretty picture to re- 
 member, under our Revolutionary Elm. 
 
 "Then with tears and kisses, our dear girl, in 
 her little white bonnet, went happily away with 
 her good John; and we ended our first wedding." 
 
 So Louisa parted from her second sister, not 
 dreaming that at the wedding of the remaining one 
 
 C50] 
 
THE SISTERS 
 
 the bride would be alone in a far land, without 
 one of her own present to wish her happiness or to 
 see her settled in her new home across the sea. 
 
 Louisa shared May's love of horseback riding, 
 and they spent many invigorating hours together 
 in the enjoyment of this pastime, of which the 
 former wrote, in i860: 
 
 "Made two riding-habits, and May and I had 
 some fine rides. Both needed exercise, and this 
 was really good for us. So one of our dreams came 
 true, and we really did Mash away on horse- 
 back'." 
 
 May's great enthusiasm for riding left in many 
 minds the picture of the youngest Alcott daughter 
 dashing about the country upon her favorite horse, 
 often accompanied by local cavaliers, with whom 
 she was most popular. 
 
 Louisa took an ever-increasing pride in the per- 
 sonal charms of her young sister, recording in her 
 journal, "Made my first ball-dress for May, and 
 she was the finest girl at the party, my tall, blonde, 
 graceful girl! I was proud of her." 
 
 Her pleasure in this sister's "lucky star" (under 
 which, all the family believed, she had been born) 
 is noted by her in the following autumn, November, 
 i860: 
 
 [SO 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 "Kind Miss R. sent May $30 for lessons, so 
 she went to Boston to take some of Johnston. She 
 is one of the lucky ones and gets what she wants 
 easily. I have to grind, or go without it. Good 
 for me doubtless, or it would not be so. Cheer up, 
 Louisa, and grind away!" 
 
 December brought more luck for May. She 
 wanted to go to Syracuse to teach, and in answer 
 to her wish, a friend of the family sent for her, 
 at the suggestions of her uncle Samuel J. May, 
 while Louisa sewed "like a steam-engine" for 
 a week, getting her sister's things ready, and 
 on December 17th accompanied her to Boston to 
 see her off by rail on this her first venture away 
 from home. 
 
 In August, she returned, very tired, but satisfied 
 that her first experiment away from home had 
 proved successful; Louisa noted her growing popu- 
 larity, of which she wrote, "May is quite a belle 
 now, and much improved, — a tall blonde lass, 
 full of grace and spirit." 
 
 Among the Concord memories that cluster about 
 this period, those pleasant evenings may be re- 
 called when the Alcott girls joined with the Haw- 
 thorne household in playing games and in compos- 
 ing nonsense rhymes, a pastime much in vogue at 
 
 [52] . 
 
THE SISTERS 
 
 that time. On one of these occasions Nathaniel 
 Hawthorne took a piece of paper and scratched off 
 the following lines, intended to amuse the daugh- 
 ters of Bronson Alcott: 
 
 There dwelt a Sage at Apple-Slump, 
 
 Whose dinner never made him plump; 
 Give him carrots, potatoes, squash, parsnips and peas, 
 Some boiled macaroni, without any cheese, 
 And a plate of raw apples to hold on his knees, 
 And a glass of sweet cider, to wash down all these, 
 And he 'd prate of the Spirit as long as you 'd please, 
 
 This airy Sage of Apple-Slump. 
 
 This production no doubt furnished the Sage's 
 daughters with a burst of merriment, which helped 
 to lighten those gloomy days when war clouds 
 were gathering and many of Concord's brave sons 
 were leaving for the front. 
 
 At this time, Mrs. Hawthorne wrote to her 
 daughter Una, who was at Beverly: 
 
 "Great events seem thickening here. Louisa 
 Alcott has had her summons to the Washington 
 Hospitals; and Abbey came to ask me about some 
 indelible ink she had, and I offered doing anything 
 I could for Louisa. She said if I could mark her 
 clothes it would assist her very much. So I went 
 over, in the divine afternoon, and marked till 
 dusk, and finished all she had." 
 
 C53] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 What a touching picture these two notable 
 mothers must have made, bending lovingly over 
 those simple garments so soon to be transported to 
 the scene of war, and marking each piece with the 
 name, not of the author, but the soldier, "Louisa 
 Alcott." 
 
 Sophia Hawthorne concludes her letter to Una 
 with the words : 
 
 "Mrs. Alcott says she shall feel helpless without 
 Louisa, and Mr. Alcott says he sends his only son. 
 Louisa is determined to make the soldiers jolly, 
 and takes all of Dickens that she has, and games. 
 At supper-time Julian came in with the portentous 
 news that the battle has at last begun, and Fred- 
 ricksburg is on fire from our guns. So Louisa goes 
 to the very mouth of the war. I carried to Mrs. 
 Alcott early this morning some maizena blanc- 
 mange, which Ann made for papa, and turned out 
 of the sheaf-mould very nicely." 
 
 Thus with many little kindnesses did the Con- 
 cord neighbors minister to one another in those 
 anxious days when each New England town was 
 contributing its best and bravest to its country. 
 
 On December 12, 1862, Louisa Alcott, whose 
 patriotic spirit and tireless energy had made it 
 impossible for her to sit at home while she felt that 
 
 [54] 
 
THE SISTERS 
 
 her country needed her, began her career as a war 
 nurse after a brave farewell to her dear ones in Con- 
 cord. To the members of her household who de- 
 pended upon her strength and spirit, and realized the 
 risk she was about to take, the parting was a harrow- 
 ing one; but they did not attempt to alter her decision. 
 
 Just at the last, her courage almost failed her, 
 and she embraced her mother crying, "Shall I 
 stay?" To which Mrs. Alcott answered through 
 her tears, "No, go! and the Lord be with you." 
 
 Then she departed in the December twilight, 
 being escorted to the station by May and her young 
 friend, Julian Hawthorne, who waved a sorrowful 
 farewell as she courageously set out upon her 
 journey to Washington to take her place in the 
 Union Hospital at Georgetown, where for six weeks 
 she worked untiringly, under those hard and pain- 
 ful conditions later described by her in "Hospital 
 Sketches." 
 
 Then as a result of overwork and unsanitary 
 conditions she broke down, stricken with typhoid- 
 pneumonia, from which she slowly crawled back to 
 life, never again to be the same hardy, robust 
 Louisa. Before that time, she had never known 
 what it was to be ill, and after it she was never 
 again absolutely well. So she gave to her country 
 ungrudgingly, as to her family, her very best. 
 
 [55] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 After those strenuous weeks of ministering to 
 the sick and dying had culminated in her own 
 breakdown, Louisa's journey homeward remained 
 to her but a vague memory; her father brought her 
 back, and she recalled the vision of her sister May's 
 shocked face as she stood waiting for her on the 
 platform, at the Concord station, just where she 
 had taken leave of her, as if perchance she might 
 have been there watching all the while. 
 
 Then followed three weeks of delirium, and a 
 slow convalescence; long nights and idle days with 
 the devoted mother in attendance, and May sing- 
 ing or reading to entertain her. In March, Louisa 
 rallied and sat up, cleaned up her piece bags, 
 dusted her books, and mourned the cutting off of 
 her beautiful hair, which had been one and a half 
 yards long. 
 
 In April, she was able once more to take some 
 pleasant walks and drives, and a month later re- 
 sumed her work and aided May in putting the 
 house in order during the absence of her mother, 
 who was visiting her married daughter. Mean- 
 while May painted and papered the parlors, while 
 Louisa bought rugs and a new carpet, thus furnish- 
 ing a pleasant surprise for Mrs. Alcott on her 
 return. 
 
 And now the publishers were more and more 
 
 [56] 
 
THE SISTERS 
 
 desirous of contributions from Louisa's pen, and 
 her literary earnings became more plentiful so that 
 she made the cheery entry in her journal for 
 October: 
 
 "There is a sudden hoist for the meek and lowly 
 scribbler, who was told to 'stick to her teaching', 
 and never had a literary friend to lend a helping 
 hand. Fifteen years of hard grubbing may be com- 
 ing to something after all; and I may be able 
 to pay all the debts, fix the house, send May to 
 Italy, and keep the old folks cozy." 
 
 The dream of sending her sister to Italy was not 
 yet to be realized, but she could now bestow upon 
 her more advantages; and in October, May began 
 to take lessons of Doctor Rimmer, who was un- 
 excelled as a teacher of anatomical drawing. 
 
 The new year found Louisa busy with her writ- 
 ing, and thankful that her past year's work had 
 helped to pay the family expenses and to aid May's 
 art studies, but a month later she was forced to 
 relinquish her pen for household duties, as Nan 
 was taken ill and Mrs. Alcott was again called 
 away from home to nurse her. 
 
 During this time Louisa wrote of May's good 
 fortune : 
 
 [57] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 "Mrs. S. takes a great fancy to May, sends her 
 flowers, offers to pay for her to go to the new art 
 school, and arranges everything delightfully for 
 her. She is a fortunate girl, and always finds some 
 one to help her as she wants to be helped. Wish 
 I could do the same, but suppose as I never do that 
 it is best for me to work and wait and do all for 
 myself." 
 
 Louisa's acceptance of drudgery and sacrifice 
 as her special portion was at times productive of 
 selfishness in others, who, had she been less self- 
 effacing would have undoubtedly done more to 
 conserve her strength. 
 
 One can feel only exasperation at reading in her 
 journal : 
 
 "I feel very moral today, having done a big 
 wash alone, baked, swept the house, picked the 
 hops, got dinner, and written a chapter in 'Moods.' 
 — May gets exhausted with work, though she 
 walks six miles without a murmur." 
 
 Such jottings do much to convince one that if 
 May was a little spoiled, Louisa had a hand in 
 bringing this about. 
 
 May loved the things of life, and their possession 
 brought her a joy so genuine that it fairly radiated 
 
 [58] 
 
THE SISTERS 
 
 from her, and shed its brightness on all about her, 
 and their relinquishment, or any failure to attain 
 them, meant bitter disappointment; whereas Louisa 
 cared for things only when she knew they would 
 contribute to some one's happiness and comfort. 
 Money she wanted to buy freedom from care and 
 peace of mind, not money to buy jewels, clothes, 
 or works of art, which would have given May such 
 
 joy- 
 Louisa reveled in May's delight and loved to 
 give her pretty things, though for herself they did 
 not greatly matter; and May, in turn, desired with 
 all her heart to win success with her artistic gift, 
 which she felt was no mean endowment, and to 
 repay her sister in generous measure. She had 
 implicit confidence in her own powers and in her 
 lucky stars, — which were to aid her to come into 
 her own. 
 
 And her stars shone propitiously, the sunlight 
 danced about her path, and she moved happily and 
 confidently on towards the goal which she was not 
 destined to reach. She wanted fame and success in 
 the world of art, and felt that she could win them; 
 Louisa wanted neither, and they were hers without 
 the asking. Yet if, as Stevenson has said, "It is 
 better to travel pleasantly, than to arrive", no 
 doubt May's portion was more to be desired. 
 
 l59l 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 And when, upon occasion, Louisa also " traveled 
 pleasantly", she had invariably May's cheery com- 
 panionship. In August, 1864, the sisters spent a 
 delightful fortnight with friends at Gloucester, 
 where a family of six pretty daughters added to 
 the joys of the lively household. Louisa found 
 their genial host a reminder of the " brothers 
 Cheeryble"; and she and May indulged in a con- 
 tinual round of summer festivities, boating, danc- 
 ing, picnicking, and taking part in the old-time 
 charades. On one mild night, they camped out 
 on the rocks, singing, talking, or napping, and 
 there saw the moon rise and set in splendor, re- 
 maining to view the glories of the sunrise, which 
 was a memorable experience. 
 
 Louisa's growing fame, and her endeavors to 
 increase her literary output, while also shouldering 
 home burdens, told on her health, already im- 
 paired by severe illness, and she longed for a change 
 of scene. Her great desire was to see Europe, and 
 when the chance arose to travel as the companion 
 for a young friend, a semi-invalid, she promptly 
 grasped the opportunity, and they journeyed for 
 some months on the continent. Ere long, however, 
 the care proved too much for Louisa Alcott, and 
 she was forced to relinquish her charge, for al- 
 though devotedly kind and unselfish she had not 
 
 [60] 
 
THE SISTERS 
 
 the temperament suited to the needs of a nervous 
 invalid. After nine months, she gave up the posi- 
 tion and traveled on alone to Paris and London, 
 where she was greeted by many of her father's 
 friends, and where her weeks of freedom found her 
 "happy as a bird." 
 
 It was at this period that, at Vevay, she became 
 well acquainted with an attractive Polish youth, 
 Ladislas Wisinewski, who was a fellow boarder at 
 the pension where she was staying. He had suf- 
 fered imprisonment and hardship in the Polish 
 Revolution, and he made her his confidant, and 
 became an ardent adorer, bringing her flowers and 
 calling her his "little mother." Although he was 
 then twenty-five, and she but eight years older, she 
 declared herself "a lofty spinster who loved him 
 like a half-dozen grandmothers." She called him 
 "Laddie", and sometimes "Laurie", acknowledg- 
 ing in after years that he was the model for the hero 
 of "Little Women", although the widely beloved 
 "Laurie" was really a composite of the dark-eyed 
 foreigner and the flaxen-haired Alfred Whitman, 
 who had come to Concord in 1857 to attend Mr. 
 Sanborn's school. The latter youth lived in the 
 home of the Pratt family and came to know the 
 Alcotts shortly before Beth's death. He acted in 
 the Concord Dramatic Club with Louisa, with 
 
 [61] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 whom he kept up a correspondence long after his 
 return to his home in Kansas. And she afterwards 
 wrote him regarding the hero of her book, "Bless 
 your heart, I put you into my story as one of the 
 best and dearest lads I ever knew. Laurie is you 
 and my Polish boy jointly." 
 
 This trip abroad ended with a few happy weeks 
 in London, where the traveler from Concord en- 
 joyed association with many persons of distinction, 
 who later became May's friends when she took up 
 her art studies in London. 
 
 While visiting at Aubrey House, the lovely 
 English home of Mr. and Mrs. Peter Taylor, Louisa 
 met Jean Ingelow, Frances Power Cobb, Matilde 
 Blinde, John Stuart Mill, Gladstone, John Bright, 
 Thomas Hughes, and many others. 
 
 She also visited Mr. and Mrs. Moncure D. Con- 
 way, who were close family friends, and who later 
 took the warmest interest in May's life in London. 
 
 On July 7, 1866, Louisa sailed back to her own 
 country, having realized in part her dream of 
 European travel, though little freedom in its en- 
 joyment. After a stormy voyage she reached home 
 considerably improved in health and ready once 
 more to assume the family responsibilities. 
 
 She wrote of her return: 
 [62] 
 
THE SISTERS 
 
 "Father at the station, Nan and the babies at 
 the gate, May flying wildly round the lawn, and 
 Marmee crying at the door. Into her arms I went 
 and was at home at last. Happy days, talking and 
 enjoying one another. Many people came to see 
 me and said I was much improved, of which I 
 was glad, for there was, is, and always will be room 
 for it. Found Mother looking old, sick and tired; 
 Father as placid as ever. Nan poorly, but blest in 
 her babies; May full of plans as usual." 
 
 Then followed a year of strenuous literary work 
 for Louisa, while May pursued her art studies, and 
 together they assumed the added household du- 
 ties, which Mrs. Alcott's frail health made more 
 confining. 
 
 The autumn of 1867 found Louisa hard at work, 
 after a brief vacation trip, striving to supply the 
 family with money and the publishers with copy. 
 Then in September, Mr. Thomas Niles, a partner 
 of the firm of Roberts Brothers, asked her to write 
 a book for girls. It was a crucial question and she 
 replied, "111 try." 
 
 A few weeks later she was settled in Boston for 
 the winter, where she could work uninterruptedly, 
 and where she enjoyed better health than in Con- 
 cord. The picture of her journey thither well sup- 
 
 [63] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 plements that earlier vision of the Alcott family 
 riding to Fruitlands with their household gods. 
 
 In "An Old-Fashioned Girl" she has described 
 the latter trip taken in company with her nephew 
 Fred: 
 
 "You ought to have seen my triumphal entry 
 into the city, sitting among my goods and chattels, 
 in a farmer's cart, on my little sofa, with boxes and 
 bundles all around me, a bird-cage on one side, a 
 fishing-basket, with a kitten's head popping out of 
 the hole on the other side." 
 
 She tells of many bumps and jolts experienced in 
 the unconventional equipage, and of the bookshelf 
 tumbling on to her head during a steep descent, 
 while a pet rocking chair slid off behind them as 
 they ascended another hill. And with these house- 
 hold furnishings, Louisa arranged her sunny room 
 at Number 6 Hayward Place, where she was joined 
 by May, who soon established several drawing 
 classes which brought her a satisfactory return. 
 They enjoyed their "light housekeeping", and 
 often entertained their friends at twilight, around 
 a cheerful blaze, dispensing tea and buttered toast. 
 Dickens was at this time delivering his final Boston 
 readings, and for him they both cherished an in- 
 tense enthusiasm. Louisa, who always delighted in 
 
 [6 4 ] 
 
THE SISTERS 
 
 theatricals, was able to indulge her taste in that 
 direction, and also to figure in her favorite role of 
 Mrs. Jarley, who, with her famous waxworks, was 
 a popular feature in many entertainments at that 
 period. 
 
 In January, 1868, Louisa wrote: 
 
 "The year begins well and cheerfully for us all. 
 Father and Mother comfortable at home; Anna 
 and family settled in Chelsea; May busy with her 
 drawing classes, of which she has five or six, and 
 the prospect of earning $150 a quarter; also she is 
 well and in good spirits. I am in my room, spending 
 busy, happy days, because I have quiet, freedom, 
 work enough, and strength to do it." 
 
 She concludes with the words : 
 
 "For many years we have not been so comfort- 
 able. May and I are both earning. Anna with her 
 good John to lean on, and the old people with a 
 cozy home of their own. Today, my first hyacinth 
 blossomed, white and sweet, — a good omen, — a 
 little flag of truce, perhaps, from the enemies whom 
 we have been fighting all these years. Perhaps we 
 are to win after all, and conquer poverty, neglect, 
 pain and debt, and march on with flags flying into 
 the New World with the New Year." 
 
 1*5^ 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 In view of the present much-deplored social 
 conditions among those of the youthful generation, 
 it may be edifying to record Louisa's anxiety con- 
 cerning a member of her younger sister's social 
 circle at this period: 
 
 "Talked half the night with H. A. about the fast 
 ways of young people nowadays, and gave the 
 child much older sisterly advice, as no one seems 
 to see how much she needs help at this time of her 
 young life." 
 
 In these days when May was conducting her 
 drawing classes in Boston, she often traveled back 
 and forth upon the train in company with Mr. 
 French, a family friend, and the father of Daniel 
 Chester French, who was already showing surpris- 
 ing artistic talent. The two discussed the youth's 
 unusual ability and his skill with a jackknife. A 
 grotesque figure of a frog in clothes, carved from a 
 turnip, had greatly impressed the boy's family, 
 and upon viewing it, Mrs. French had exclaimed, 
 "Daniel, there is your career." 
 
 On learning of the young man's gift, May Alcott 
 promptly offered to lend him her modeling tools, 
 and it was a memorable evening in the French 
 family when Dan was bidden by his father to 
 harness the horse and bring back from the village 
 [66] 
 
THE SISTERS 
 
 Miss Alcott's material. On his return the family 
 gathered round the dining-room table, to share in 
 an evening of modeling, Dan making a dog's head 
 in his first attempt with the sculptor's clay. This 
 was as crucial a moment in young French's career 
 as was that in the life of Louisa Alcott when she 
 was asked to write a story for young girls and 
 answered doubtfully, "I'll try." And Mr. French's 
 grateful memory of the friend who gave him his 
 first lump of clay has been voiced in his charming 
 word picture embodied in the opening pages of 
 this book. 
 
 During this busy winter, the "book for girls" 
 desired by Louisa's publishers did not materialize, 
 and in the spring they again made a request for it. 
 Then it was that she set herself the task, which in 
 two months' time was practically completed, — 
 that of embodying the story of her own household 
 and youthful experiences in a volume entitled 
 "Little Women." In July, 1868, the book was 
 ready to go to press, and it was published in 
 October, when its immediate success lifted, once 
 and for all, the financial burden which up to this 
 time had weighed heavily upon Louisa Alcott's 
 shoulders. 
 
 She wrote in her journal, on July 15, 1868, "Have 
 finished 'Little Women', and sent off 402 pages. 
 
 [67] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 May is designing pictures for it. Hope it will go." 
 She little guessed how magnificently this hope was 
 to be realized. 
 
 In the "Amy" of "Little Women", as has been 
 stated, May's artistic career is truthfully depicted, 
 and with the proceeds of this book the elder sister 
 was able to gratify her ardent wish to give May 
 the art training in Europe which she desired. 
 
 [68] 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 May and Louisa Abroad 
 
 The crucial year 1868, which had witnessed the 
 birth of "Little Women" and the turning of the 
 tide in the financial fortunes of its author, closed 
 with the completion of the sequel to the much- 
 praised book. The second volume, like the first, 
 was written in two months' time, and the opening 
 of the new year, 1869, saw the manuscript deliv- 
 ered to the eager publishers. 
 
 The new year also witnessed a scattering of the 
 Alcott family. Orchard House was temporarily 
 closed, and Mr. Alcott started on a journey west- 
 ward, while his wife went to visit her married 
 daughter and May resumed her work in Boston, 
 joining Louisa, who, with the coming of her younger 
 sister, forsook her quiet boarding place in Brookline 
 Street for more pretentious quarters. This change, 
 however, failed to give the satisfaction that both 
 desired, and in describing its drawbacks, Louisa 
 wrote : 
 
 "May and I went to the new Bellevue Hotel in 
 Beacon Street. She does n't enjoy quiet corners as 
 I do, so we took a sky-parlor, and had a queer 
 
 [69] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 time whisking up and down in the elevator, eating 
 in a marble cafe, and sleeping on a sofa-bed that 
 we might be genteel. It did n't suit me at all. A 
 great gale nearly blew the roof off. Steam-pipes 
 exploded, and we went hungry. I was very tired 
 with my hard summer, with no rest for the brains 
 that earn the money." 
 
 This experiment not proving satisfactory, the 
 following month they left the Bellevue and moved 
 to rooms in Chauncy Street, there to spend the 
 next two months before returning to Concord, 
 where they were forced to reopen Orchard House 
 for Mrs. Alcott, who was anxious to return to her 
 home. 
 
 After the completion of the much-needed spring 
 cleaning and the carrying on of household duties, 
 summer found Louisa worn out with care and work, 
 and much in need of rest. In July, she joined her 
 cousins the Frothinghams, in Canada, spending a 
 month there, and then she accompanied May to 
 Mount Desert, where during the month of August 
 the sisters enjoyed both rest and recreation before 
 resuming their home responsibilities. The autumn 
 found the whole family in Boston, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Alcott staying with their married daughter, and 
 the "workers", May and Louisa, pursuing their 
 
 [70] 
 
MAY AND LOUISA ABROAD 
 
 individual vocations in rooms which they had 
 taken in Pinckney Street. 
 
 In January, 1870, Louisa suffered the loss of her 
 voice, and her general health was so poor that it 
 required a heroic effort to supply the persistent 
 demands for her literary work; but despite ill 
 health she was able to produce "An Old-Fashioned 
 Girl", which appeared the following March. 
 
 Then, in April of this year came a long-hoped- 
 for opportunity : a chance for the two sisters to take 
 a European trip together. Louisa's previous taste 
 of foreign travel had whetted her appetite for a 
 leisurely visitation of many places from which, in 
 the capacity of a companion for an invalid, she 
 had obtained but scant enjoyment. Now there was 
 an opportunity to travel without financial worry, 
 and in the company of the cheerful and enthusiastic 
 young sister to whom she might have the pleasure 
 of showing the chosen spots that had most appealed 
 to her sense of beauty. 
 
 This plan was made possible through the gener- 
 osity of a friend, Miss Alice Bartlett, who invited 
 May to take the trip with her, on the condition 
 that Louisa should also accompany them; thus, the 
 lucky May was as usual provided for, and the 
 ample returns now coming from Louisa's books 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 convinced the authoress that she could afford to 
 allow herself a well-earned holiday across seas. 
 
 On April 2, 1870, the sisters and their friend 
 sailed in the French steamship Lafayette for Brest, 
 and on arrival took a delightful trip through France 
 before carrying out their plan to settle in Italy for 
 the winter, where May could profit by a sojourn 
 in the artist's Paradise. The younger sister was as 
 usual the life of the party, and with sketchbook 
 in hand, eagerly embraced every chance to capture 
 picturesque bits. They stopped at Vevay and at 
 Bix, and the latter part of April saw them at 
 Morlaix, where May was enraptured by gables, 
 turrets, fountains, and churches, and was soon 
 sketching in the town of St. Melanie, surrounded 
 by admiring circles of small boys. 
 
 Another week found them at Dinan; there they 
 slipped into delightful quarters at Madame Coste's 
 pension, and though it was Good Friday when 
 they took possession, they found themselves in a 
 veritable realm of summer, with birds singing and 
 flowers blooming in the fields ; and from their win- 
 dows the view of the beautiful valley proved a 
 delight to all, while, to their greater satisfaction, 
 view, birds, flowers, good food, and comfortable 
 quarters were procured for the modest sum of a 
 dollar a day each. 
 
 [72] 
 

 BEDROOM OF MAY AND LOUISA, DINAN, 1870 
 From a pen sketch by May Alcott 
 
MAY AND LOUISA ABROAD 
 
 Of her first impressions of this stopping place 
 May wrote enthusiastically : 
 
 "I am in such perfect bliss that I must write 
 and tell you all about things here and our goings 
 on generally, that you may see why I am so happy. 
 In the first place, air soft and lovely like early 
 June at home. We sit with open windows and 
 wear spring clothes, are out the greater part of 
 the day, seeing such enchanting old ruins, pictur- 
 esque towers and churches, and crumbling fortifica- 
 tions, that it seems almost like a dream, and if I 
 did n't see Lu admiring the landscape, I should 
 often doubt if I were myself. It seems impossible 
 that less than three weeks has transported us here, 
 after seeing Morlaix and doing so much beside. 
 This air makes me very sleepy all the time, so I 
 don't get up as early as I should like to; but get 
 dressed before coffee is brought up to us, then do 
 some French exercises and study verbs till ten, 
 when we have breakfast. Then I take my big 
 sketch-book and wander forth perching about 
 on my pretty little camp-stool Alice has given 
 me, whenever anything strikes me as especially 
 lovely. 
 
 "With the exception of ancient Rome, this town 
 is as old as anything we shall see, and Murray says 
 
 [73] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 ' affords as much for the painter's-easel and brush, 
 as anything on the continent.' Yesterday, we went 
 to some lovely gardens surrounding the most beau- 
 tiful Gothic church, old and gray, with vines cling- 
 ing about the stone ornaments and running over 
 the great roof, almost to the top of the spire, and 
 all this on a level with the principal part of the 
 town, the whole being built on very high ground 
 with fortifications and moat, which in old times 
 made Dinan almost impregnable, but now the 
 crumbling walls are overhung with the soft lux- 
 uriant ivy and clinging vines in all parts; even the 
 stone archways of the town have little verdant 
 plateaux on top, and women with immaculate caps 
 sit about looking so picturesque that I long to make 
 pictures on every hand." 
 
 May repeatedly expresses her joy in this life 
 that so truly appeals to her, writing to her sister 
 Anna: 
 
 "You ask if after dreaming of foreign parts for 
 so many years I am not a little disappointed in the 
 reality. But I can truly say that everything so 
 far has been quite as picturesque, new, and lovely 
 as I expected: and what surprises me is that so 
 many things should be so nearly what I thought to 
 find them." 
 
 [74] 
 
MAY AND LOUISA ABROAD 
 
 She is impatient to reproduce the new scenes 
 with brush and pencil, exclaiming: 
 
 "I get angry with myself for not having the 
 power of delineating the enchanting views and 
 objects which you would all enjoy so much. If I 
 could only use colors easily it would all go well, 
 but never having painted from nature, I am timid 
 about beginning; but think I must come to it and 
 plunge along the best I can, going on the principle 
 of its being better to try and fail than not to try 
 at all. I am so happy I often say to myself, 'If 
 this be I, as I think it be, I have a little dog at 
 home and he'll know me', to make sure it is not 
 all dreams, and I shall wake up to find myself in 
 my own little room at 'Apple Slump V 
 
 At this time May sends a little sketch of their 
 apartment, of which Louisa writes: 
 
 "May has drawn our Salon, for you, with Alice 
 on the sofa, and me reading by the fire. It is very 
 good, only it gives the idea of a larger room than 
 it is. The dark oak panels are very effective, and 
 the bird-cage in the window introduces little Dribble 
 the bird, who is a funny mite and a great pet of 
 ours. . . . 
 
 "May is well and jolly, and very good to her 
 
 [75] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 crooky old sister. Alice is kind and funny, and we 
 rub on nicely as can be. If I can only get my bones 
 right all will be so nice and pleasant." 
 
 A few days earlier, May had sent another sketch, 
 of which she wrote: 
 
 "Here I have sketched in the roughest way, our 
 abiding-place for the present, just to give mother 
 an idea of the most modern house in Dinan, from 
 the upper window of which she will see Lu nodding 
 at her, as that is our little Salon, furnished prettily 
 with blue damask and looking quite homelike with 
 our pictures and books about. I study my French 
 every day and sketch a little, but the ruined castles, 
 bell-towers and churches are so lovely it seems 
 absurd to try to draw them, and I long to use 
 color for the pretty flowers, ferns and trailing ivy 
 running over the gray stones, all about is truly 
 enchanting, and is nothing done with the pen- 
 cil. 
 
 "I long to try painting a fine row of arches in a 
 shadowy light that makes the effect very beautiful, 
 but don't dare sit long in these dreadfully damp 
 places, for when one enters from the outside air, 
 it is like going into a refrigerator, and sends a 
 dreadful chill to one's bones. I can't understand 
 how old women I see kneeling on the cold stones 
 
 [76] 
 
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MAY AND LOUISA ABROAD 
 
 for hours, can stand it, though such real devotion 
 makes an impression on me." 
 
 They remained at Dinan for two happy months, 
 while May sketched industriously, her friend, Alice 
 Bartlett, hunted antiques and curios, and Louisa 
 wrote, rested, and reveled in the beauty of their 
 surroundings. They rode about in curious donkey 
 carts, visiting ruined chateaux and quaint villages 
 and taking river excursions. 
 
 One of these old chateaux in particular was en- 
 tertainingly described in the home letters, in which 
 the sisters shared their doings with the family 
 circle. It was "inhabited by a farmer who kept 
 his hog in the great banqueting-hall, his grain in 
 the chapel, and his hens in the lady's chamber." 
 A picturesque old castle, with ivy climbing up the 
 broken towers, and with it went the story of the 
 lady of the chateau, who was "starved to death 
 by her cruel brothers, and buried in the moat, 
 where her bones were found long afterwards, and 
 whose ghost still haunted the place." 
 
 More than one of these ruined castles had fallen 
 from its high estate, and some were haunted by less 
 desirable occupants than the great lady's ghost, 
 for on a subsequent occasion the sisters, when ex- 
 ploring a dignified ruin, encountered a truly terri- 
 
 [77] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 fying apparition in the guise of an infuriated sow 
 with a family of twelve small pigs. This unlooked- 
 for occupant charged at them so fiercely that they 
 fled in dismay, recalling the dreadful vision of a 
 woman whom they had once seen whose nose had 
 been bitten off by an angry pig. Taking to their 
 heels they flew to cover, and Louisa jumped over a 
 hedge and pulled May after her, later describing 
 the attacking pig; as "tall, round-backed wretches, 
 who ran like ra-t horses, and were no respecter of 
 persons." 
 
 From Tours, May sent a glowing account of their 
 surroundings, declaring that words failed to de- 
 scribe the wonderful cathedral, that they occupied 
 a most palatial apartment, and that it was all "too 
 good to be true", although when June 21 finds them 
 at Amboise, she interjects the comment that she 
 finds herself fairly sated with grandeur, writing: 
 
 "I am a little tired of Castles and wish I could 
 only visit one a month, and then I could fully 
 appreciate them. However, the view from this one 
 is truly perfect looking off on one side over the 
 winding Loire with the little town beneath its high 
 walls." 
 
 The memories of Catherine de' Medici and of 
 the ill-fated Mary Queen of Scots kindle May's 
 
 [78] 
 
MAY AND LOUISA ABROAD 
 
 imagination, while Louisa suggests that the old 
 stones should be able to tell wonderful tales of the 
 scenes they had witnessed, remarking that "The 
 Reminiscences of a Rook" might be the title for a 
 good story, dealing with these long-lived birds 
 which in such numbers inhabited the old towers. 
 The viewpoints of the two sisters are interestingly 
 contrasted in their varying descriptions, Louisa 
 finding "stories in stones", w lile May only dis- 
 cerned numberless charming pxttitires. 
 
 The latter experienced special delight in the 
 chateau at Chenonceaux, where everything re- 
 mained just as it was when all its chambers were 
 tenanted by kings and queens, and May declares: 
 
 "I never have enjoyed anything more in my life, 
 and arranged my hat in Mary Queen of Scots' 
 mirror with great satisfaction. Such tapestries and 
 pictures as they did have, and such taste as we 
 don't have now. I don't expect to see anything 
 more interesting in all our travels. The long gallery 
 of fine portraits in this curious place seemed to be 
 alive, and the surroundings, even to the smallest 
 things, like pen-and-ink stands, hand-mirrors, etc., 
 used by the Queens kept up the illusion so per- 
 fectly that I began to feel a crown sprouting from 
 my head, and ermine trailing behind me, and it 
 
 [79] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 was not till we were whirling along a very dusty- 
 road to the hotel, that I could bring myself to 
 think of, or look at, anything short of royalty." 
 
 These days of recreation and wandering in 
 Europe, with May and her companion, were per- 
 haps the happiest in Louisa's life, for she loved the 
 foreign scenes, reveled in freedom from family 
 cares, and best of all was receiving a generous 
 income from her books, which she exulted in, not 
 for herself, but for those whose welfare was far 
 dearer than her own. 
 
 At this time she wrote of her royalties : 
 
 "A nice letter with July account of $6,212, a 
 neat little sum for the Alcotts, 'who can't make 
 money'! With $10,000 well invested, and more 
 coming in all the time, I think we may venture to 
 enjoy ourselves, after the hard times we have had." 
 
 Two months at Dinan were followed by more 
 wanderings and explorations of cathedrals and 
 chateaux, and the end of June found them at 
 Geneva, where Louisa had stayed five years before, 
 and where she felt much at home; from there they 
 moved in to Bex, a quiet little place among the 
 mountains, where they enjoyed warmth and a 
 lovely view. May, who was always ready for a 
 [8o] 
 
MAY AND LOUISA ABROAD 
 
 strenuous outing, took an exciting trip to the pass 
 of St. Bernard, which thoroughly appealed to her 
 love of adventure, and regarding which she wrote 
 at length to her family : 
 
 "I am almost afraid to begin a description of my 
 trip to the pass of St. Bernard, but as Lu did n't 
 go, and so cannot tell the tale, I must do my best 
 to put before you our adventures by field and 
 flood and fire, for really a more exciting time I 
 never had, as we were in danger many times and 
 even the guide thought us very courageous and 
 plucky. Well, to begin, I must tell you that last 
 Thursday, Lena Warren and I determined on doing 
 the great excursion by ourselves if nobody turned 
 up to join us, and as that did n't happen, we 
 decided to go immediately while we had fine 
 weather and moonlight. So we telegraphed to 
 Martigny (an hour's ride in the cars from here) 
 to have a carriage and the guide, Maurice, ready 
 for us at 4 o'clock next morning, and taking our 
 bundles, of waterproof and thick sacques, we bade 
 our sisters an affectionate farewell, as they evi- 
 dently thought we never should return, and that 
 it was the height of rashness to attempt a three 
 days' trip alone. 
 
 "However, we felt sure, after studying Murray 
 [81] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 carefully, and finding out all particulars from a 
 Polish gentleman here who had just returned from 
 the Pass, that we could do it. So we turned 
 our backs upon our friends and went at nine 
 o'clock p.m. to Martigny finding our room ready at 
 the hotel and tumbled directly into bed for a four 
 hours' sleep, as we were to be called so early. 
 Then before sunrise we were up, had coffee, and 
 mounted our open barouche with a nice man to 
 drive and guide, and rode through the loveliest 
 valley and along the most turbulent little river, 
 for eight hours till we stopped at a little town, 
 for some refreshments, and to rest the mule, then 
 having been gradually ascending all the way we 
 now began to wind along the edge of a fearful 
 precipice, but the road was so perfect that I was 
 continually wondering how they ever built such a 
 one on the straight edge of the mountains. We 
 kept meeting loads of tourists all in gay costumes 
 with Alpenstocks, and the general bowing and bon- 
 jouring seemed so friendly and sociable that, though 
 it had now begun to rain and the cover of our 
 carriage was buttoned down, yet our spirits rose 
 higher and higher until we reached the Cantine (as 
 they call the place for leaving the vehicles and 
 mounting mules). 
 
 "We were ready for anything, and lucky for us 
 
 [82] 
 
MAY AND LOUISA ABROAD 
 
 that we were, for things looked a little dubious. 
 The rain poured in torrents, and it now being 
 about 4 o'clock p.m. we might either spend the 
 night in this horrid little house already filled with 
 people caught in the rain, and afraid to go on, or 
 boldly plunge along in the storm, climbing for two 
 hours to reach the Hospice. We persuaded the 
 guide to take us along, and Lena mounted the 
 mule, while I, in my waterproof with thick boots 
 and my sun umbrella over me, marched up and up, 
 plowing through the mud and wading the river 
 (which had burst all bounds and carried away the 
 road in places) up to my knees in the ice-cold 
 water. The lightning flashed and the tremendous 
 claps of thunder seemed so near us, that the mule 
 stopped and could n't be persuaded to go on, till a 
 hard beating and yanking obliged him not only 
 to start again, but to carry us through several 
 places where the water came up to his belly, and a 
 false step would have sent us over a fall in one 
 place, and been certain death. 
 
 "All this I really enjoyed intensely and began 
 to think I was a little courageous, when the guide 
 told me he had never been in such a storm on 
 the mountains before, as the thunder was always 
 so near the peaks that people were often killed by 
 lightning, and it was considered dangerous, very 
 
 [83] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 dangerous to travel these mountain passes at such 
 times. My heart sank within me, my clothes clung 
 to me so that it was like dragging a leaden weight 
 after me every step I took. Ladies all ride up from 
 the Cantine, and Lena, like the rest, took her 
 mule, and though very wet, having no waterproof, 
 was saved the immense exertion of the very steep 
 climb in soaking garments. One can never calcu- 
 late about the weather here, as it often rains on 
 the mountains when perfectly clear below, and 
 when we left Martigny a more lovely morning I 
 never saw, not a cloud in the sky, and we hardly 
 expected a tempest a few hours later. But I 
 would n't have missed seeing the mountains in the 
 storm, for it was more fearfully beautiful than 
 anything I ever imagined. 
 
 "At last thoroughly wet to our skins, we reached 
 the Hospice, where a handsome, kindly Priest met 
 us and conducted us to a room with two pretty 
 curtained beds in it, and a grated window looking 
 on the lake and towards Italy. A woman appeared, 
 and helped us off with our clothes, which stuck 
 tightly to us, being so wet, and brought us plain 
 warm flannels, peasant's dresses and underclothes. 
 These we put on with rapture, being chilled with 
 the cold air of the immense stone building. It 
 was hard to find any skirt long enough for me, and 
 
 [84] 
 
MAY AND LOUISA ABROAD 
 
 we had great fun arranging one skirt over another 
 in a kind of over-dress, and then my velvet jacket 
 to cover up the waist, and putting on a pair of 
 cloth slippers the size of mud-scows, my toilet was 
 finished. 
 
 "We descended to the salle-a-manger where our 
 handsome Priest awaited us and complimented 
 us immensely on our having accomplished such a 
 feat; then seating us before an immense open fire, 
 with an old English lady, who spends her summers 
 there, we all sat around and talked and warmed 
 ourselves till tea was served for our benefit, [and 
 a delicious dinner followed. Fine pictures hung 
 about, presents from different visitors, and a piano 
 from the Prince of Wales stood in a corner. The 
 priests charge nothing for food and lodgings, but 
 people leave what they choose behind them, and 
 some tourists are very mean, slinking away without 
 giving anything after receiving the lordly hospi- 
 tality of the devoted brotherhood. From all the 
 numbers at the Cantine, none dared the storm 
 but three Englishwomen and ourselves, all the 
 gentlemen who started up, turned back in fear of 
 the storm. 
 
 "The priest, for there is only one who sees and 
 entertains the thousands of visitors who come every 
 year, told us a great deal about how the Hospice 
 
 [85] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 was carried on, and the adventures he had had in 
 ^ the eleven years he had been there, through sum- 
 
 mer and winter. Beside the average 13,000 tourists 
 that visit the establishment, they rescue from the 
 snow and storms great numbers of peasants yearly. 
 They know what ladies need up there, for on going 
 to our room we found the beds had been warmed 
 that we might not take cold, every comfort was 
 provided for us, and I never slept more delightfully 
 than I did there after all our adventures, and 
 knowing also that we were only separated by a 
 little grating from a host of priests. At five next 
 morning we were up to hear service in the chapel 
 and I enjoyed the unific very much, as I always 
 do in these Catholic churches. On going out for 
 a clamber on the rocks, we were startled by a 
 tremendous howling and baying and suddenly out 
 from a kind of cellar rushed six or seven great dogs, 
 who all bounded towards us licking our hands and 
 smelling to see if we were hurt. They had the most 
 human eyes I ever saw and I could well imagine 
 their wonderful feats in the winter when they 
 rescue so many travelers from the snow, for they are 
 very powerfully built and look immensely strong 
 though so affectionate and gentle. I was glad to 
 have seen the real St. Bernard dogs, and quite proud 
 to have them slobber over and caress me. 
 [86] 
 
MAY AND LOUISA ABROAD 
 
 "We walked into Italy, which was an operation 
 of ten minutes only, and I should have liked to 
 have gone down on the Italian side. . . . We saw 
 the lovely lakes close to the Hospice, and snow 
 surrounded us everywhere, and we picked up some 
 of the immense hail-stones which fell the night 
 before. After a good hot breakfast we were shown 
 photographs and various souvenirs which visitors 
 like to carry away with them, and I bought several. 
 We left a large piece of gold in the chapel and gave 
 a good bit to each waiter, then bade our friends 
 good-bye, and trotted down the mountain in the 
 clear bracing air, and could hardly believe with 
 our thick coats on we should find it scorching hot 
 in the town below. Our guide followed with the 
 mule and bundles, and on my way I picked some 
 Alpine flowers to press for mother. We could hardly 
 realize that the way which seemed so easy in the 
 sunlight, could have been so fearfully difficult the 
 night before, for the roaring river had diminished 
 to a brook, and everything seemed peaceful and 
 perfectly grand. I much preferred the wild stormy 
 scene and blessed my stars that everything had 
 happened as it did." 
 
 At this time, the breaking out of the Franco- 
 Prussian War found an echo in the home letters, 
 C8 7 ] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 and the Alcott family, whose anxiety was beginning 
 to be aroused, were reassured by the travelers that 
 Switzerland was an absolutely safe stopping place, 
 and they were charged not to grow uneasy if 
 foreign mails were delayed. 
 
 Throngs of visitors were then seeking refuge in 
 Switzerland, and the suppression of newspapers by 
 government orders cut off the sojourners from all 
 but the vaguest reports, and left them in consid- 
 erable uncertainty as to their future plans. But 
 August found them at Vevay, settled at a com- 
 fortable pension, where the gay season was in full 
 blast, despite the war, and the travelers wrote of 
 the presence there of the ex-queen of Spain and 
 her family, also of Don Carlos, the rightful heir 
 to the Spanish throne. 
 
 Reports of the defeat of the French in two 
 battles seemed to give Louisa some satisfaction, as 
 she wrote to her family, " I side with the Prussians, 
 for they sympathized with us in our war. Hooray 
 for old Pruss." 
 
 During that August stay at Vevay, Louisa and 
 May spent many restful days among the hills, 
 and the former's health improved so much that 
 she was able to take five-mile tramps and to sleep 
 twelve hours at a stretch, an accomplishment 
 seldom attained by her. One may picture the 
 [88] 
 
MAY AND LOUISA ABROAD 
 
 sisters in company with other friends driving up 
 in a big landeau to the picturesque chalet of M. 
 Nicaud, the owner of their pension, to be regaled 
 with a " tip-top Swiss dinner", and entertained by 
 a view from this farm perched high among the 
 hills, sitting on rustic seats and peering out through 
 drifting fog and summer showers, to catch the 
 fleeting glimpses of the landscape below them, and 
 finally tramping home late in the evening over 
 muddy roads. Such an achievement for Louisa 
 betokened a return to her old-time robust health, 
 which, had she spared herself in later years, might 
 have once more been hers; but she was born to 
 consume every ounce of vital energy in her de- 
 termination to secure everything in her power for 
 those she loved. 
 
 While they remained at Vevay, the war news 
 became more and more thrilling, and the Alcott 
 daughters felt that it was not wise to linger, so 
 they prepared to cross the Alps, bound for Milan 
 and the lakes. Paris had been bombarded and 
 Vevay was crowded with refugees from that city, 
 and from Strasbourg. Meanwhile, Louisa and May, 
 who had determined to make the most of their 
 opportunities to master French, worked at their 
 lessons with an obliging teacher whom they had 
 found. In this endeavor to concentrate upon their 
 
 [89] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 studies, May seems to have succeeded best, for 
 her sister found the process too exhausting, and 
 gave up the task, exclaiming that she "never could 
 study", adding, "the little brains I have left I 
 want to keep for future works, and not exhaust 
 them on grammar — the invention of Satan." 
 
 October, 1870, found them at Lake Como, where 
 the charm and beauty of their surroundings brought 
 compensation for those years of drudgery which 
 had at last ended in this release from household 
 burdens and financial cares. 
 
 Of their trip into Italy May wrote enthusiastically : 
 
 Dearest Mother: I want to write you a cir- 
 cumstantial account of our triumphal entry into 
 Italy over the Simplon Pass. 
 
 From Vevay past the dear old Castle of Chillon 
 standing out in the water, gray and solemn in the 
 early light, by our old friend the white-capped 
 Dent de Midi and up the lovely valley of the 
 Rhone is something to remember . . . 
 
 All the party were up at four the next morning 
 and, lighted by lanterns, for it was pitch dark, we 
 were surrounded by our own luggage and waited 
 patiently until it was announced that there were 
 no places in either of the immense diligences which 
 stood before us ready to start immediately. This 
 
 [90] 
 
MAY AND LOUISA ABROAD 
 
 was enough to dampen the ardor of a less gay 
 crowd than ours, but we fell upon the official and 
 smiled to such an extent that he suddenly ordered 
 out a caleche with two horses and a superb driver 
 dressed in a red coat, cocked hat with gold lace 
 and yellow small clothes, who whirled us out of 
 the square, and then though it was still starlight, 
 we began the steady ascent. 
 
 The air grew colder and colder, till at last having 
 plied the bottle many times in vain, I got out and 
 walked to warm myself. The other two remained 
 in the carriage wrapped up to such an extent that 
 only eyes were visible, and the sketch I took looks 
 like a portrait of Egyptian women. They hardly 
 dared uncover their hands enough to eat a bit of 
 chicken with comfort for fear of a nipped finger 
 and it was funny to see the horses covered with a 
 little hoar frost. I tingled when Monte Rosa 
 opened before us with its dazzling white snow 
 against a perfectly clear blue sky and behind us the 
 Bernese Alps and the glaciers. This was something 
 to have lived for. . . . 
 
 We had a miserable dinner at Simplon and then 
 I nearly stood on my head with delight at the 
 intense beauty of the valley of Garda for anything 
 wilder and more picturesque cannot be imagined. 
 Then this wonderful road which we had traversed 
 
 [91] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 so far in safety led along the edge of precipices, 
 through tunnels and over cataracts to such an 
 exciting extent, that nothing short of the little 
 farce which was now to be enacted could have 
 taken my attention off the magnificent scenery 
 about us. At Iselle our baggage was to be exam- 
 ined and passports demanded, but I not having 
 one of the latter, was to play the part of ladies'- 
 maid, so out came my earrings, up went my curls 
 and tying a veil over my rather dressy hat and 
 throwing a waterproof over my new travelling 
 dress I dismounted to help the ladies out and ar- 
 range the cloaks and bundles, then stood quietly 
 one side hoping the sharp-eyed officials would over- 
 look me. They did n't, however, and after examin- 
 ing every parcel in the carriage looking at me from 
 head to foot as if taking an inventory of all my 
 clothing, and thoroughly overhauling all the trunks, 
 we were allowed after great deliberation to con- 
 tinue our descent through this enchanting valley, 
 everything growing more and more Italian in ap- 
 pearance till we entered Domo L'Ossola by sun- 
 set and from there drove to Stresa by moonlight. 
 This I consider making a Pass successfully, for it 
 is not every traveler who sees sunrise in the Alps, 
 an Italian sunset and first sight of Lago Maggiore 
 by moonlight, all in one day. 
 
 [923 
 
MAY AND LOUISA ABROAD 
 
 At two o'clock, we took the steamboat to Luini 
 and here among the jeers and shouts of an Italian 
 crowd, Alice and I mounted to the very top' of a 
 very high diligence and sat with perfect compla- 
 cency amid the baggage, while Louisa from the 
 coupe begged us to come down and the inside pas- 
 sengers craned their necks to see of what nation the 
 insane travelers could be, who preferred to view the 
 landscape from that great elevation. But I wouldn't 
 have missed the enjoyment of the next few hours for 
 all the ridicule in the world and the beauty of that 
 drive from Luini to Lugano can hardly be overrated. 
 
 We drove into Lugano by moonlight with our 
 superb cocher playing a festive tune on his Robin 
 Hood's horn which hung by gilt bands at his side, 
 putting on two brakes, driving four horses and 
 making himself agreeable to us all at the same 
 time. I consider this man a person of mind, for he 
 spoke three languages easily and did everything 
 with such a superior air that I felt intensly honored 
 to have him lift me down in his great arms when 
 we reached the Hotel Washington. As a very 
 proper ending to this delightful day Lu and myself 
 can only say that we went to the opera in our 
 robes-de-nuit, for from the window of our palatial 
 apartment we looked directly on to the stage and 
 behind the scenes of the theatre on the opposite 
 
 C93] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 side of a very narrow alley, and heard the last two 
 acts of Traviata finely sung. It reminded me so 
 much of the old days, when Annie, dressed up in 
 the velvet puffs and everlasting top-boots, sang 
 baritone to Lu's soprano and brought down the 
 house in every act. 
 
 Of this same dramatic evening Louisa wrote to 
 her sister Nan: 
 
 "As if a heavenly lake under our windows with 
 moonlight ad libitum was not enough, we had music 
 next door, and on leaning out of a little back win- 
 dow, we made the splendid discovery that we could 
 look on the stage of the opera house across a little 
 alley. . . . With what rapture I stared at the 
 scenes going on below me, as I stood there wrapped 
 in my yellow bed-quilt, and saw gallant knights in 
 armor warble sweetly to plump ladies in masks, 
 or pretty peasants fly wildly from ardent lovers in 
 red tights; also a dishevelled maid who tore her 
 hair in a forest, while a man aloft made thunder 
 and lightning, — and I saw him do it. It was the 
 climax to a splendid day, for few travellers can go 
 to the opera luxuriously in their night-gowns and 
 take naps between the acts as I did." 
 
 What an enlightening glimpse of the submerged 
 Louisa Alcott, that fun-adoring, freedom-loving 
 
 [94] 
 
MAY AND LOUISA ABROAD 
 
 creature who was for over half a century cribbed, 
 cabined, and confined by her New England con- 
 science in her New England habitations. One is 
 at this point tempted to inquire, Might not her 
 brilliant literary gift have blossomed vividly and 
 even luxuriantly could she have had, not days, 
 but years of leisure and emancipation in an en- 
 vironment as lovely and inspiring as this described 
 by her, with gay attire, moonlight on balconies, 
 fine music floating from the throats of prima donnas 
 in filmy robes, and gallant knights in armor? But 
 it was not to be. The moving finger wrote but 
 seven magic letters, and they spelled Concord. 
 
 Louisa Alcott's pen was destined to keep alive 
 not great, romantic, or historic personages, but 
 vivid little people of New England, and not all 
 the allurement of the Old World could have drawn 
 her from her home life of sacrifice. May could 
 escape from her New England heritage, but not 
 Louisa. Yet it is good to think of her, if only for a 
 single night, wrapped in a yellow bedquilt, staring 
 with "rapture" at gallant knights, and hearing 
 them "warble to plump ladies", while the stage 
 thunder crashed and the philosophy of Concord 
 was forgot. 
 
 A sail upon the magic lake, a trip by carriage to 
 Menaggio, and then to Cadenabbia by boat, and 
 
 [95] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 on to Milan a few days later, where May joined a 
 young artist friend with whom she eagerly dis- 
 cussed plans for profiting by the free art schools 
 at Milan, Naples, and Florence, a prospect which 
 truly delighted both sisters. 
 
 In Florence they were greeted by many friends, 
 and had numerous opportunities to enter into the 
 social life there, regarding which May wrote at the 
 end of October: 
 
 "Last night we went to a party made for us at 
 the house of the sculptor Ball, who with his wife 
 called on us immediately on our arrival, saying 
 they had been expecting us, and looking forward 
 with great pleasure to doing the honors of Florence 
 to us. We returned their call and saw Mr. Ball in 
 his fine studio among his marbles, — all lovely but 
 none so strong and full of power as his Washington, 
 in the Boston Public Garden. He has never seen 
 it since it was finished in bronze; and was pleasantly 
 surprised by the unanimous approbation it has met 
 with from critical Boston. 
 
 "Mr. Powers and Mr. Hart, besides several other 
 sculptors and artists were introduced to us, and 
 invited us to their studios. It seems 'Little 
 Women' is as well known here as in Boston, and 
 has made many friends for Louisa. She was 
 
 [96] 
 
MAY AND LOUISA ABROAD 
 
 showered with compliments from the distinguished 
 people here, among whom was our Minister, Mr. 
 Marsh, (who is a literary man himself) ; also Miss 
 Foley the cameo-cutter, and several ladies from 
 Rome, who will return there in a few weeks, and 
 were full of kind offers about apartments, etc. 
 Mr. Gould was not there, and we hear that he and 
 his wife go into society very little, however, we 
 mean to see him at his studio if it is possible. Mr. 
 Hart, who is a gray haired beau, but quite devoted 
 to me, begs me to take a corner of his studio and 
 model a bust, or little head, of Lu. But as every- 
 thing seems uncertain about the climate suiting the 
 invalids, I don't dare begin anything, and devote 
 myself to sight-seeing and studying the fine 
 pictures." 
 
 November found them at last in the Eternal City, 
 towards which all roads that they had traversed 
 had been tending. Meanwhile, they had journeyed 
 across the Alps by moonlight, and had spent ideal 
 days at Parma, Pisa, Bologna, and Florence. 
 Some things proved disappointing, but Nature 
 never, save when the cold winds blew, and sunny 
 Italy withheld its sunshine. Louisa found some 
 pictures "faded" and some rooms "very damp", 
 and they were glad to purchase furs in Florence; 
 
 [97] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 and when at last they found themselves in Rome, 
 a dismal rain was falling and the impressions of 
 the elder sister, who suffered from the dampness, 
 were not inspiriting. She wrote: 
 
 "I felt as if I had been there before and knew all 
 about it. Always oppressed by a sense of sin, 
 dirt, and general decay of all things. Not well, so 
 saw things through blue glasses. May in bliss with 
 lessons, sketching and her dreams." 
 
 May's dreams were surely coming true, even as 
 she had unswervingly believed they would from 
 the beginning: the life abroad which she had longed 
 for, the opportunity to study art, which was her 
 heart's desire, was being realized, — nothing could 
 keep her from her own; and her beloved Louisa, 
 clever and famous, of whose increasing reputation 
 she was perchance at times just a bit jealous, 
 because she felt convinced that she had also re- 
 ceived from heaven as great a gift, which she was 
 soon to demonstrate, — Louisa was here to share 
 her wondrous opportunities, and at the same time, 
 as she hoped, to win back health and strength. 
 
 But they had happened on an inauspicious sea- 
 son, for clouds obscured the sunshine, and the 
 persistent rains did much to dampen their pleas- 
 ures, although their quarters were dry and com- 
 
 [98] 
 
MAY AND LOUISA ABROAD 
 
 fortable. Their apartment in the Piazza Barbarini 
 was warm and cozy, and they thanked Heaven for 
 it, as it rained for two months almost incessantly, 
 and Rome was fairly inundated. 
 
 Then while the clouds still threatened, the gloom 
 was deepened by sad news from America, which 
 told them of the death of their brother-in-law, 
 John Pratt, to whom both sisters were deeply at- 
 tached. To their own sorrow and sense of loss was 
 added the weight of their sympathy for the be- 
 reaved sister so far away, who was now left without 
 support or a strong arm on which to lean. At once 
 Louisa's stern conscience bade her take up her idle 
 pen on behalf of the children of her much beloved 
 brother-in-law, who must be properly provided for. 
 Early in 1871, she began work on "Little Men", 
 which was completed in time for summer publica- 
 tion. In the meantime, it was decided that May 
 must not relinquish her art work, but must con- 
 tinue to pursue her studies. 
 
 Plans were discussed and finances computed, and 
 then Louisa decided that she must return home 
 in the spring, but that May should remain for a 
 year longer, in order to complete her lessons; she 
 must be free and happy to cultivate her talent. 
 Concord was calling to Louisa, but not to May; she 
 should be left in London, under her lucky star. 
 
 [99] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 After spending the month of March at Albano, 
 where May did many sketches and won admiring 
 glances from the officers from Turin, they moved 
 to Venice and then on to London, where they went 
 into lodgings at B romp ton Road. They spent the 
 month of May there, finding a group of friends 
 known previously to Louisa, who took much pleas- 
 ure in introducing her younger sister, to whom she 
 had the joy of showing her favorite haunts in 
 London. It was arranged that May should begin 
 lessons with Rowbotham, a prominent teacher, and 
 ere long she had settled down to work, while her 
 sister made plans for her trip homeward, and their 
 friend, Alice Bartlett, with whom they had spent 
 a happy year, took leave of them. 
 
 In June, Louisa sailed away to face a harrowing 
 experience on the home passage, for smallpox broke 
 out among the passengers, and her roommate was 
 stricken with it, so that she thought daily she might 
 herself be the next victim. Happily she escaped 
 the infection, and after twelve anxious days she 
 landed, to find her father waiting for her with the 
 cheering news that " Little Men" was out, and 
 that fifty thousand copies had been sold before 
 publication. 
 
 Throughout the summer, May's letters told of 
 her pleasant life in London, and of her interest in 
 [ ioo ] 
 
MAY AND LOUISA ABROAD 
 
 making highly commended copies of Turner. But 
 as autumn approached, it became evident that 
 she was much needed at home, where Louisa's 
 strength was being too severely tested. Marmee 
 was feeble, and Nan very sorrowful, while her 
 boys needed a strong hand. Moreover, May's 
 eyes were suffering from over use, and it seemed 
 best that she should temporarily relinquish her art 
 work in London. 
 
 She came back on November 19, 1871, happy 
 and full of helpful plans for all the family, bringing 
 into the household her much-needed sunny and 
 vital personality. 
 
 How they responded to her merry tales of small 
 adventures, and with what speed regained their 
 cheerfulness, as they admired her paintings, studied 
 her portfolio of sketches, and listened to tales of 
 her numerous admirers; for May seemed always 
 to have a circle of devoted swains ready to do her 
 bidding at all times, and in every place, were it 
 Concord or London. 
 
 It was a special joy to have her again with them, 
 when they gathered at the Pratt farm upon Thanks- 
 giving day, to help dispel the sad thoughts of their 
 recent bereavement. And on November 29th they 
 joined in celebrating the double birthday of Louisa 
 (thirty-nine), and of her father (seventy-two), a 
 
 [IOI] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 day marked by general contentment, for there 
 were no financial worries; two maids had been 
 secured to do the household work, and the author 
 of "Little Women" had announced from her 
 Boston retreat that she was better both in mind 
 and body, declaring: 
 
 "All goes well at home, with May to run the 
 machine in her cheery, energetic style, and amuse 
 Marmee and Nan with gay histories. Had a fur- 
 nace put in, and all enjoyed the new climate. No 
 more rheumatic fevers and colds, with picturesque 
 open-fires. Mother is to be cozy if money can do 
 it. She seems to be now, and my long-cherished 
 dream has come true, for she sits in a pleasant 
 room, with no work, no care, no poverty to worry, 
 but peace and comfort all about her, and children 
 glad and able to stand between trouble and her. 
 Thank the Lord ! I like to stop and remember my 
 mercies. Working and waiting for them makes 
 them very welcome." 
 
 [102] 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 London in 187 j 
 
 At forty, Louisa Alcott's resolve to make her 
 family independent financially had been accom- 
 plished, but it still remained for her to realize her 
 dream of giving her younger sister sufficient op- 
 portunity for the development of her artistic talent. 
 She had recalled May from her work in London in 
 1 87 1, to share in the household responsibilities, and 
 two years later she sent her again to Europe to 
 resume her interrupted studies. 
 
 The winter previous had been a trying one for 
 all concerned. Anna had been desperately ill with 
 pneumonia, and it was only after weeks of patient 
 nursing by her sisters that she gradually crawled 
 back to health. During her convalescence, Louisa, 
 who had taken refuge in Boston in order to finish 
 her forthcoming book, entitled "Work", returned 
 home to take May's place, insisting that after this 
 long period of nursing she should go back to the 
 art studies, which she had been forced to relinquish. 
 Then, as the spring advanced, she packed May off 
 for Europe, with a present of one thousand dollars, 
 to enable her to continue her work in London. 
 
 May sailed for England on April 26, 1873, happy 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 and hopeful, once more to take up her brush and 
 pencil under the best instructors. Soon her home 
 letters were filled with entertaining accounts of her 
 surroundings, and of the progress that she was 
 making in her work. She wrote enthusiastically 
 from London, two months later: 
 
 "Most truly might I, like the little vagabond in 
 the song, end each of these lovely June days with 
 the refrain, 'Oh, who so contented as I !' For can it 
 be otherwise with me in this wonderful city, where 
 an industrious art student finds such an endless 
 amount to see, study and enjoy, that the only 
 difficulty is to decide where to begin. 
 
 "On this my second visit after an interval of a 
 year and a half, I am more convinced than ever 
 that nowhere can a young artist, man or woman, 
 live so cheaply and comfortably and study under 
 such favorable circumstances as in London. . . . 
 
 "Arrived here armed with an address or two, it 
 is an easy matter to find excellent board in the 
 neighborhood of the galleries. I have a large airy 
 room on the second floor, well furnished, with long 
 windows opening on to a balcony which overlooks 
 one of the prettiest squares in the city. The use of 
 a handsome drawing-room is mine also. 
 
 "The table is good, though not laden with the 
 [104] 
 
LONDON IN 1873 
 
 great variety we have at home; and I find the sim- 
 ple solid fare much more healthful than the lavish 
 mixture in America. Such joints of beef, such legs 
 of mutton I never enjoyed before. One or two 
 sorts of vegetables, a simple pudding or tart, good 
 Stilton cheese, and the best ale, make up the meal, 
 to which I do justice I assure you after six hours of 
 painting. 
 
 "All these comforts can be had for thirty shil- 
 lings a week, about seven dollars in gold. 
 
 "Added to this is another advantage which my 
 artistic sisters will appreciate as I do. Shops 
 abound with cheap clothing of all sorts ready made. 
 Work is also so cheap that a young woman of 
 moderate means can get up a neat and handsome 
 wardrobe for half the sum it costs at home. By 
 waiting till August, when the fashionable season 
 is over, one can buy charming things for a mere 
 song, and get dresses made for a few dollars. But 
 the crowning glory of all to the newcomer is the 
 fine galleries and exhibitions to be enjoyed. 
 
 "First the National, in my humble opinion the 
 best in the world, with its twelve large rooms full 
 of originals from the Dutch, Italian, and Spanish 
 and English schools; two of the latter devoted to 
 Turner's oils, while below is an exquisite collection 
 of water-colors by him, to be seen for the asking. 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 One also has the right to copy two days in the week 
 (when the public are excluded) any picture in the 
 room, by merely making an application to the 
 superintendent, Mr. Norman. 
 
 "Next comes the Kensington Museum, a beauti- 
 ful building, with its numberless immense halls of 
 curiosities, and a great collection of pictures from 
 all schools. Here also are some of Turner's best, 
 and two rooms of his studies in sepia, and un- 
 finished water-colors, are most interesting and 
 profitable showing his conscientious way of work- 
 ing even the most minute detail. Particularly no- 
 ticeable is this in a bird's-eye-view of Rome, not 
 larger than half a carte-de-visite, with its number- 
 less domes, roofs and steeples so correctly drawn, 
 and exquisitely colored, that it made me dizzy to 
 think of the time and pains he must have spent 
 on it. 
 
 "Here one is free to copy three days in the week. 
 There is also a school in connection with the 
 museum, where the instruction is good and the 
 course a very thorough one, being the same as 
 that in the School of Design in Boston, while 
 under the charge of Mr. Salisbury Tuckerman, 
 whose great ability and correctness in his work will 
 long be gratefully remembered by those who were 
 so fortunate as to be his pupils. 
 [106] 
 
LONDON IN 1873 
 
 "There can be no more thorough grounding 
 than this, beginning with simple outlines, where the 
 great importance is felt of the purity of a line and 
 the perfection of a curve. From the most difficult 
 of intricate figures, to be copied entirely by the 
 eye, one passes to flat studies, then to the round, 
 and from pencil and chalks to colors and the life 
 model." 
 
 After touching upon Bethnal Green, the Royal 
 Academy, and the International, where pictures 
 may be studied, she speaks gratefully of the privi- 
 lege of sketching in Westminster Abbey, and of 
 America's failure to furnish the poor with oppor- 
 tunities to enjoy art treasures, such as they enjoy 
 abroad. She repeatedly dwells upon her pet project, 
 that of supplying art opportunities to the people 
 in her own country. And in referring to the en- 
 thusiasm of even the urchins in Italy for a great 
 Madonna, she asserts: 
 
 "Ragged, dirty, picturesque, and absorbed, there 
 they stood criticising the great picture with an 
 enthusiasm and audacity beautiful to behold. It 
 is easy to see that this constant opportunity for 
 studying the best in sculpture and painting does 
 much to educate and refine. I was greatly amused 
 and often astonished, while sketching in France and 
 [107] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 Italy, to hear how the little peasants crowding 
 round my camp-stool, in talking to one another, 
 almost invariably hit upon the best points in my 
 sketch, or found fault with bad lines in the old 
 church ruin, or gabled house I was drawing. They 
 saw at once if I were getting a good copy, and 
 congratulated me on it with smiles and nods. It 
 seemed to be the crowning honor and joy of life 
 to be put into a sketch themselves. 
 
 "Often in looking about me here, I feel ashamed 
 and impatient that we, who give so generously to 
 many good causes and spend so lavishly in many 
 foolish ways, are so slow to move in the direction 
 of art, for we need just the culture that alone gives. 
 I want a really good collection of the best pictures 
 which shall be open to all; not merely to artists, 
 or those who can pay their fifty cents for an hour's 
 lounge, but absolutely free, like great galleries 
 abroad, where any beggar may solace himself with 
 beauty, if so inclined. When we get this, and 
 schools such as we find here, then we need not run 
 away from home and roam about gathering up the 
 advantages of the Old World. 
 
 "Nevertheless art life abroad is very charming 
 
 and after my day among the Turners, I heartily 
 
 enjoy wandering through London, taking a trip to 
 
 Hampton Court, Kew, or Richmond, a row on the 
 
 [108] 
 
LONDON IN 1873 
 
 river, a brisk canter in the park, or a ten-mile 
 tramp to see the May-Pole Inn. So free, so busy, 
 so happy am I that I envy no one, and find life 
 infinitely rich and full. Such being the case, and 
 this my second trial of the experiment succeed- 
 ing even better than the first, I feel that I may 
 venture to say to any other young woman of 
 moderate means, and artist longings, 'Take heart, 
 come over and try art-life in London'." 
 
 It was while making copies of Turner's paintings 
 at the National Gallery that May made the ac- 
 quaintance of John Ruskin, who followed with 
 great interest those studying the work of the great 
 master of landscape painting, to whom he had 
 accorded such lifelong praise and study. He was 
 at once struck with the admirable copies produced 
 by the American girl from Concord, and highly 
 commended her productions. While it is difficult 
 to secure any exact data concerning this brief 
 association with Ruskin, it was recorded in the 
 newspaper correspondence of Moncure D. Conway, 
 a close friend of the Alcotts, who was then making 
 his home in England, and it is stated on good 
 authority that May Alcott's copies of Turner were 
 given to students to study in the South Kensington 
 Museum. 
 
 [109] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 May's great enthusiasm for Turner, which no 
 doubt at the start could be traced to the influence 
 of Hunt, her early teacher, himself a Turner en- 
 thusiast, must have awakened a responsive chord 
 in Ruskin's breast, as he hailed with delight those 
 who truly appreciated the masterpieces of him who 
 practically introduced landscape painting into 
 England. There, to his day and generation, Ruskin 
 had demonstrated that Turner, whose work so 
 many of his contemporaries had thought unnatural 
 and absurd, was in fact quite as true to nature 
 as that of any landscape artist who had ever lived. 
 And thus by word of mouth, and upon printed 
 page, Ruskin effected a revolution, not only in the 
 field of art criticism, but also in that of art pro- 
 duction. 
 
 As one recalls the many admirable copies of 
 Turner which May Alcott produced, it is worth 
 while to suggest that these, and all truly fine 
 copies of this master's work, are, as time passes, 
 likely to hold permanent places in the great art 
 collections, if only because so much of Turner's 
 work is gradually fading out. Some of his finest 
 pictures are now almost obliterated, and it is 
 feared that at no very distant date, a large number 
 of his great pictures will have disappeared. 
 
 The reason for this calamity has been accounted 
 [no] 
 
LONDON IN 1873 
 
 for in several ways: in part because of the bad 
 pigments that Turner used at times; again because 
 of the careless way in which he left many pic- 
 tures exposed to the glare of the sun; and also 
 because he sometimes mixed oil with water color. 
 
 Thus, despite the enormous amount of work 
 accomplished by him, so much of which is in the 
 English galleries to-day, it is a question how much 
 posterity may be enabled to enjoy. The quantity 
 of his production stands an unrivaled achievement 
 in the field of art, for he left twenty-one thousand 
 pictures, drawings, and sketches to testify to his 
 unceasing industry. This meant a picture, or a 
 sketch, for every one of his working days, which 
 output may be contrasted with the two thousand 
 works produced by Rubens and the four hundred 
 left by Rembrandt. 
 
 From time to time, May Alcott's descriptions of 
 her London doings found their way into print, and 
 the following sketch, entitled "How We Saw the 
 Shah", is a characteristic production: 
 
 "On a lovely June day, it was announced that 
 our 'carriage stopped the way.' Five happy souls 
 soon filled it. With many wishes for a pleasant 
 trip, in four different languages, from gentlemen of 
 four nationalities on our balcony, we drove away 
 
 cm] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 for a visit to Kew Gardens. Much impressed with 
 the elegance of our turnout, for the coachman was 
 a stately being in gold lace, white tie, top boots etc., 
 we drove through the Marble Arch into the Park, 
 and found ourselves surrounded on all sides by 
 an expectant crowd. 
 
 "Our 'Yellow Plush' condescended to inform us 
 that the 'Shay', as he pronounced it, was going to 
 Richmond in a royal barge, and the people were 
 waiting for him, as he must pass this way on his 
 road from Buckingham Palace. 
 
 "Having expressed an utter contempt for his 
 august highness, especially his morals and man- 
 ners, we decided that it was not consistent to wait 
 for him; but as he would probably overtake us, we 
 could then honor him with a casual glance. 
 
 " In this lofty frame of mind we rolled on, pass- 
 ing fine drags with gentlemen driving four-in-hand, 
 coaches with outriders, ladies in phaetons, and 
 whole families looking very domestic and happy in 
 small omnibuses. 
 
 "By the Albert Memorial, with its Byzantine 
 shaft and finely sculptured marble base, by Ken- 
 sington Gardens, haunted to my fancy by Trollope, 
 Thackeray, and Dickens's heroes and heroines, 
 through the great gates we went, and came into 
 the more countrylike region of Hammersmith. 
 
 [112] 
 
LONDON IN 1873 
 
 "Still flocks of people lined the road. Every 
 balcony was full, and all high steps and walls 
 swarmed with men and boys. So eager were they 
 to see something that every head was turned as we 
 drove by, and judging from their remarks, many 
 were firmly persuaded that my companion, who 
 occupied the seat of honor shrouded in blue veil, 
 was the only wife of the 'Shay' not sent back to 
 Persia in disgrace for wanting to see and join in 
 the festivities at Moscow. 
 
 "At last our cry of ' Sister Ann, Sister Ann, do 
 you see anything coming?' was answered by my 
 opposite neighbor, who commanded a fine view of 
 the road behind us. 'I see the glitter of the Queen's 
 Horse Guards, many carriages and much dust.' 
 
 "At this, our indifference changed suddenly to 
 interest, for there is something rather exciting in 
 the approach of royalty, even if it be only a half- 
 savage Persian, with more diamonds than de- 
 mocracy. . . . 
 
 "Soon gilded helmets adorned with long horse- 
 tails, the glittering lances and gay uniforms of the 
 guard appeared, and flashed by, followed by eight 
 state carriages, so shut up that little could be seen 
 of the golden idols within. At last came the vehicle 
 on which all eyes were fixed; but great was the 
 disappointment, for all that could be seen were 
 
 C"3] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 glimpses of a dark face, with fine eyes surmounted 
 by a hat that looked like a muff set on end, with 
 some very brilliant ornament in front. Then came 
 more carriages with gold-laced beings inside, more 
 gay guards in clouds of dust, and we had seen the 
 Shay! 
 
 "It was all over in such a minute that I hardly 
 knew what he was like; still there is an infinite 
 satisfaction in the thought that I can truly say in 
 answer to the one question now asked by every- 
 body all over England 'Have you seen the Shah?' 
 'Yes, I have; and I did not pay anything for the 
 spectacle either.' 
 
 "Congratulating ourselves upon this piece of 
 luck, we left the great road and taking to the 
 pretty lanes, came at length to the bridge crossing 
 the Thames, at Kew. 
 
 "A livelier sight can hardly be imagined for all 
 the world was abroad. The river-banks were lined 
 with gaily dressed people, and the water covered 
 with boats of every sort, great pleasure barges, 
 small steamers, canal-boats tugged along by used- 
 up horses, club-boats with their eight oars, keeping 
 perfect time, and such inviting shells that I could 
 not resist the temptation that then and there beset 
 me. 
 
 "As the carriage stopped near the bank, I turned 
 
 c»4] 
 
LONDON IN 1873 
 
 to my English friends and invited them to take a 
 row with me. Ignoring a slight hesitancy on their 
 part in accepting the proposal, I headed the pro- 
 cession, and marching up to an old boatman, 
 asked, pointing to a captivating little craft float- 
 ing below, if I could have it for an hour. 
 
 " c It won't hold but three, and is very cranky, 
 so if the ladies are nervous, I 'd rather row you in a 
 bigger boat,' replied the bare-legged patriarch. 
 
 "Then it was that the full audacity of my 
 project dawned upon the party, for having ex- 
 plained that I proposed being skipper, coxswain, 
 oarsman, all in one, horror fell upon all my friends. 
 With the utmost politeness they explained that 
 though ladies rowed in England, it was always 
 in the chaste seclusion of 'Papa's grounds', or some 
 more retired portion of the river than that now 
 before us. 
 
 "But the boating fever was on me, and I could 
 no more keep from the water than a Newfoundland 
 dog. With a naughty satisfaction in asserting my 
 Yankee independence, I boldly replied to their 
 gentle hints and kindly advice: 
 
 " ' Very well : if you don't like to go, I '11 go alone, 
 for a row in the Rose I must have, in remembrance 
 of my own boat and the quiet river at home.' 
 
 "Resolutely stepping in, and feathering my oars 
 
 05] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 in my most scientific manner, I pulled vigorously 
 up the stream, with the true Harvard stroke, as 
 nearly as one of the uninitiated can hope to come 
 to it. 
 
 "Wasn't it lovely? And didn't I enjoy the 
 exercise? For after weeks of painting, my arms 
 positively reveled in a sturdy pull, and got it too, 
 as the current was strong and all England looking 
 on. Yes, utterly regardless of the chaff of the boys, 
 the dismay of my lady friends, and the amusement 
 of gentlemen ditto, I heartily enjoyed the brief 
 trip. I longed to stop and book some of the lovely 
 pictures up and down the river, — the gray stone 
 arches of the bridge, the gay crowds on the one 
 bank, the great trees and pagoda of the garden on 
 the other, and all the water dappled with soft 
 shadows and green glimmers as I floated near the 
 shore." 
 
 This sprightly picture of a London outing is 
 very characteristic of the youngest Alcott daughter, 
 suggesting vividly her ever-ready enjoyment of the 
 athletic, as well as the artistic, spectacles about 
 her, for while she pulled the "Harvard stroke" 
 she was composing delightful sketches of the 
 Thames, and to her satisfaction, was shocking her 
 conventional companions. 
 
 [116] 
 
LONDON IN i$73 
 
 Her progress in her work was a keen source of 
 pleasure to Louisa, who took much pride in her 
 accomplishments, writing concerning them: 
 
 "May still in London painting Turners, and 
 doing pretty panels as 'pot boilers.' They sell 
 well, and she is a thrifty child. Very happy in her 
 success; for she has proved her talent. She has 
 begun to copy Nature, and done well. Lovely 
 sketches of the cloisters in Westminster Abbey, and 
 other charming things." 
 
 During this year abroad, May worked untiringly, 
 and besides her more serious productions, was able 
 to produce the "pot boilers" above referred to by 
 her sister. Then in March, 1874, her year being 
 ended, she sailed for home with her portfolios 
 filled with examples of her work, testifying to her 
 months of conscientious study. 
 
 The Orchard House, which had been closed, was 
 now reopened, put in excellent condition by May 
 and Louisa, and decorated with many of the 
 former's pictures - . When finally the household was 
 once more settled, Louisa, sadly in need of rest, 
 took her departure for Boston, leaving her sister 
 to assume the family responsibilities. 
 
 In October, Louisa engaged two pleasant rooms 
 at the Hotel Bellevue, one of which May was to 
 
 [117] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 use for the classes which she was planning to con- 
 duct. There, in apartments more to their taste 
 than the original sky parlor which they had occu- 
 pied a decade earlier, they spent a busy winter, each 
 sister successfully pursuing her chosen vocation, 
 although Louisa was handicapped by much ill 
 health, which made it difficult for her to furnish 
 the copy which publishers and editors continually 
 demanded. 
 
 "The golden goose can sell her eggs for a good 
 price," she exclaimed at this time, "if she isn't 
 killed by too much driving." 
 
 An example of May's artistic work produced 
 about this time still hangs on the wall in the 
 home of Emerson. It is a panel, such as won great 
 popularity in the seventies, and is decorated with a 
 spray of goldenrod and asters. Sent as a Christmas 
 gift to Emerson, in 1874, it evoked the following 
 note of appreciation : — 
 
 My dear May, — I found on my return home 
 after Christmas that the kindest and skilfulest of 
 hands had adorned, or shall I say, lighted my 
 study with the panel of the golden-rod and asters. 
 It is charming to the eyes of those who cannot 
 appreciate painting, as well as of those who can. 
 How good and helpful and universal, therefore, 
 
 [us] 
 
A VILLA IN FRANCE 
 Fro?n a pen drawing by May Alcott 
 
LONDON IN 1873 
 
 the benefit which I can only begin to praise today 
 because it will go on praising itself from day to 
 day, and year to year, to all beholders. I value it 
 highly, and I shall thank you silently so long as I 
 can see. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 R. W. Emerson 
 
 The following Christmas May sent a picture to 
 Mrs. Emerson that she believed would harmonize 
 with the colors of her room. The gift brought 
 forth the following note: 
 
 Christmas, 1875. 
 Kindest thanks, my dear May, for the lovely 
 picture in its unique and very beautiful frame. 
 You are very thoughtful to consider the colours 
 of my room, — the only colours I feel quite at 
 home with. I shall place your gift over my writing- 
 table over Clytie, and under my madonna, 
 Gratefully yours, 
 
 Lydia Emerson. 
 
 In June, 1875, one of May Alcott's dreams was 
 realized in the opening of an Art Center in Concord. 
 As previously suggested in her letters from Europe, 
 she had long cherished the desire to bring to her 
 own country and community those opportunities 
 
 [119] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 which she felt must foster the love of art; this she 
 believed to be an educational force that played a 
 vital part in the life of those across seas, who with 
 so much less money to expend, seemed to possess 
 so much more of the joy of living, because of the 
 opportunities so freely offered them in the art 
 world. 
 
 A brief account of the new project is recorded 
 in a newspaper letter, written at this time by a 
 Concord enthusiast, who tells of the new Studio 
 recently opened in the town for the purpose of 
 drawing together those wishing to cultivate a taste 
 for art. 
 
 "The room is upon the second story of a brick 
 building facing the Common, and was formerly 
 used for a Masonic Hall. There are eight windows, 
 all having blinds and shutters, which enable us to 
 arrange the light always satisfactorily. At one 
 end of the room is a dais, which is a foot or two 
 above the floor and overhung by an imposing red 
 canopy and Latin motto left there by the Masons, 
 and upon the other sides of the room are smaller 
 platforms upon which imaginary models have al- 
 ready been placed. In all respects the room is 
 admirably adapted for a Studio. Desks and tables 
 are placed about the room, and easels for the more 
 [120] 
 
 
LONDON IN 1873 
 
 ambitious of us. There are several casts hung 
 about, and two or three portfolios filled with all 
 sorts of good patterns from the simple effective 
 pencil sketches of Veutin, to the water-color copies 
 from Crowninshield, are placed there for our use. 
 Among the collections are several pieces by Madam 
 Theresa Higg, the remarkable flower-painter of 
 Vevay. So you see we have enough to start with." 
 
 The writer continues : 
 
 "About fifteen of us are vastly enthusiastic 
 about this room, which outsiders, who ' could n't 
 draw a horse or a cow,' laughingly style the Art 
 Academy. Singularly, people who cannot draw 
 always select the most difficult of all the animal 
 creation as the objects they 6 could n't even draw.' 
 We meet two or three times a week en masse, or 
 in small detachments to work together; but the 
 Studio being a novelty, only two weeks old, nothing 
 worthy of note has yet been accomplished, and 
 never may be, though we are resolved to do our 
 best in the directions whither our several tastes 
 lead. We cannot fail to enlarge our ideas, at least 
 upon the subject of Art under the guidance of and 
 encouragement so heartily tendered by Miss May 
 Alcott, to whose untiring energy and disinterested- 
 ness we are indebted for all; the origin of the plan, 
 
 [121] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 the use of the Studio itself, and everything it 
 contains. You will be pleased to know that among 
 the art-books placed there by Miss Alcott, Mr. 
 Hunt's book of 'Talks on Art', lies uppermost and 
 claims especial notice." 
 
 Thus began Concord's first Art Center. And if 
 to-day art flourishes within the borders of the 
 "classic" town, as well as literature, much credit 
 should be given to May Alcott, whose dream is 
 coming true. 
 
 In March, 1876, the sisters returned to Concord, 
 where they found the town all agog with its Cen- 
 tennial preparations. As spring advanced, the ill- 
 ness of Mrs. Alcott caused the daughters much 
 anxiety, but during the summer she improved in 
 health, and in September it was decided that May 
 should go abroad once more, to complete the work 
 she had relinquished when family needs had called 
 her back from London. Of this decision Louisa 
 wrote, "She cannot find the help she needs here, 
 and is happy and busy in her own world over 
 there. God be with her. She has done her distaste- 
 ful duty faithfully and deserves a reward." 
 
 So it was that the elder sister again furnished 
 May her "reward", something that none deemed 
 needful for Louisa. Her reward, after all, was that 
 [122] 
 
LONDON IN 1873 
 
 which came from the delight of giving. For her, 
 the line of duty was the only line she visualized, 
 and she followed it ungrudgingly. 
 
 For May, the line of beauty ever beckoned, and 
 she must tread its graceful curves; so they all felt, 
 so May believed. She hesitated to leave her 
 mother, whose failing health made them all fear 
 that she might not be with them long. May was 
 her baby, and her heart's delight, yet she urged 
 her to go. If she delayed to pick up the broken 
 threads in her art studies, it might be too late to 
 accomplish all that she hoped for, all that they felt 
 she must achieve. Yes, she must go. 
 
 And May wept, refused, and reconsidered, vowed 
 she would not desert her feeble mother, and then 
 at last reluctantly departed, holding to the belief 
 that Marmee would still be with them for many 
 years to come, and that since this was truly her 
 golden opportunity, she should embrace it, for she 
 must make the most of every chance to win success 
 in the field she had chosen. 
 
 And so, upon September 9, 1876, she sailed back 
 to the Old World, which held for her all that her 
 nature craved, outside of her immediate family, and 
 where she was destined to end a life which, if early 
 cut off, was crowded with happiness, and from first 
 to last crowned with fulfilled desires. 
 [123] 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 Marmee and May 
 
 Possibly the most touching of all the memo- 
 rabilia of the Alcott family is a slim copy book, 
 with marbled-paper cover and half its leaves still 
 uninscribed, which bears upon its opening page the 
 words: "Mrs. Alcott } s Last Diary, 1876-7." 
 
 Below these words is pasted a post-card picture 
 of the Cunard steamship China, upon which Mar- 
 mee had written, "May sails September 9, 1876." 
 
 Just ten days later, the author of "Little 
 Women" had written on the flyleaf of this journal, 
 "Abby May Alcott, September 19, 1876, from 
 Louisa." And then follows Marmee's last contribu- 
 tion to the family records. Beginning upon the 
 day of May's arrival at Queenstown, this journal 
 ends upon the writer's seventy-seventh birthday, 
 upon which date she ceased forever to wield the 
 pen that still remains between the pages of this 
 little book, that opens with the words : 
 
 "I dedicate this Journal to 'May', and this first 
 page, to the joyful record of her arrival at Queens- 
 town. The China (Captain Gill) made the pas- 
 sage in 10 days, having left at noon on the 9th, and 
 
 D24] 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 reaching Queens town on the 18th; on the 19th, 
 received this note from the Cunard Steamship." 
 (Then follows the announcement which had been 
 sent her from the company carefully pasted into 
 this book, with the words: "I am grateful for this 
 prompt dispatch from this authority.") 
 
 Just ten days later, May's first letter, mailed 
 back at Queenstown, is noted: 
 
 "Let me gratefully acknowledge the relief I 
 enjoy on the receipt of this good news. The sad 
 fate of Bessie Green and Dr. Dinwood fills me 
 with apprehension lest the wild winds and many 
 tempestuous waves may deprive me of these pre- 
 cious girls when on their goings and comings from 
 foreign lands. My nerves are terribly morbid, but 
 reason comes to my aid, and religion adjusts the 
 balance of my faith in the unseen and eternal, and 
 for a while I am patient, and wait, with an almost 
 superhuman courage for the event. 
 
 "I hope to pass the next year in some profitable 
 employment as the days occur and then by read- 
 ing clever books, seeing cheerful persons, reading 
 some, doing some light housework as my infirmities 
 will permit of, I shall be happy and useful. Then 
 May will be sending me nice letters and sketches, 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 to add joy to my life, and give color to the cheerless 
 hours of winter and indisposition." 
 
 On September 22, the writer touches upon the 
 Art Center, which May had founded in Concord, 
 and also upon the two young sculptors then closely 
 associated with the Alcott family, as well as with 
 the art interests of the town: 
 
 "Young Elwell calls to get the plaster for the 
 head he is trying to cast. Also Dan. French calls 
 to make kind inquiries about the arrival of his 
 early patroness 'Miss May.' He speaks well of 
 Elwell's talent, said he was about going to assist 
 him in c modelling this head' as much depended 
 upon his beginning right in every detail. Just 
 friendly as it should be to the young aspirant. 
 Thinks the young people wish to carry on the 
 c Studio' this winter. I hope they will, as May 
 made great exertions to initiate this Art Center 
 in Concord. Borrowed casts from the School of 
 Technology; and loaned her own sketches, her Port- 
 folios and all other accessions to their benefit; 
 Books of value for them to use with discretion, 
 'Hammerton on Etching', 'Ruskin on Linear Draw- 
 ing', etc. I feel proud of my daughter's capability 
 in giving this town so decided an artistic impetus. 
 Noble girl." 
 
 [126] 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 Extracts from May's first letter, mailed at 
 Queenstown, follow : 
 
 My dear Marmee, — While the Captain prom- 
 ises to keep the boat steady I scribble a line to 
 assure you of our safe arrival; although the tele- 
 graph has long since reached you through the 
 Transcript. The first two days I was pretty mis- 
 erable, wondering how I could ever have left my 
 own sweet home, lying in the close, horrid smell- 
 ing berth, no air, no light; and worst of all no 
 Marmee to pet me. The Captain came often to 
 see me, and Dr. Hopner kindly sent me delicious 
 pears to cool my parched mouth. By Wednesday 
 I was feeling better and went on deck escorted by 
 the Captain, who has been very attentive. Every- 
 body received me with marked attention, so you 
 see the horrors of sea life were greatly mitigated 
 by meeting much kindness from comparative 
 strangers. 
 
 My plan now is to go from Liverpool to Chester, 
 thence to Warwick, on to London. The Captain 
 offers to take my parcel back to America next 
 week for me, so I shall try to get the hose for you 
 and Louisa. The Scotch Lady, one passenger in 
 the China, spoke charmingly of Louisa as a writer, 
 and begged to see her picture if I had one, which 
 [127] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 of course I had. She talked much of her, and 
 her work, "Little Women," ever so much; Dr. 
 Hopner and Captain Gill all sung praises. The 
 lady begged me to visit her if I came to Scotland. 
 Louisa's fame reaches over the seas and makes a 
 welcome for us everywhere. I hope to get off a 
 long letter for you next week; kiss all around, 
 not forgetting Rosa. I dream of the Star on her 
 forehead. [Rosa was May's saddle horse.] 
 
 "I have thus transcribed the parts of dear May's 
 letter," writes her mother, "because it seems always 
 more precious than anything which may come 
 after, as it is the assurance from her hand that 
 she is there bodily safe. Let me be thankful to 
 God for this and all other mercies. I seem to be 
 living beyond the length of days allotted to most, 
 and yet my blessings are without number still." 
 
 Proofs of her sister's popularity in England 
 greeted May on arrival and she wrote of an inci- 
 dent which occurred in a railway carriage soon 
 after she left Liverpool: 
 
 "We stopped at a small station and a charming 
 young girl got in. Looking up I was much pleased 
 to find myself opposite a fresh-faced English girl 
 in a seal-skin jacket and jaunty hat. And now, oh 
 
 [128] 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 distinguished sister, comes the gist of this my first 
 adventure. As I sat apparently absorbed in my 
 accounts, endeavoring to get a clear notion of 
 £. s. d., I was a little surprised to have my neigh- 
 bor begin the conversation, for if history is to be 
 believed the English as a nation are not given to 
 much conversation with strangers. Seeing she was 
 intent on being sociable I, of course, was but too 
 happy to continue the conversation and from talk- 
 ing of the speed at which our mail-train was bear- 
 ing us along, we got to comparing English and 
 American ways, then pictures, artists, writers, and 
 speaking of Dickens and how widely his books 
 were read everywhere, my companion said: 
 
 "'Ah but you are not any more familiar with 
 English novels than we' with your American ones, 
 and just now our great delight is in a Miss Alcott, 
 who writes the most charming books I have ever 
 read. I have such a desire to take her by the 
 hand and tell her how infinitely I admire "Jo", in 
 "Little Women", and how eagerly we look for 
 everything from her pen.' 
 
 "Well, you can imagine I was a little surprised to 
 
 hear this fine English girl speak of you so familiarly 
 
 and in terms of such honest praise. The fun of 
 
 the thing struck me instantly, as she could in no 
 
 [129] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 way imagine who I was, as the M. A. on my 
 travelling-bag told no tales; it might mean Mary 
 Ann, Miserable Artist, or a thousand other things. 
 So I said quite coolly, though I could n't keep 
 down a flush of real delight at this most un- 
 expected compliment to my best of sisters, 'What 
 do you find to like in them ? I should imagine they 
 were far too American in their style to entirely 
 please you, for though the boys and girls talk and 
 act like them at home, yet some of their perform- 
 ances must rather astonish you.' 
 
 "'Well perhaps it's because we have known 
 so many Americans, and make allowance for the 
 greater freedom in so many ways, allowed particu- 
 larly to your young girls, that these stories seem so 
 natural and real. And not only that, but they are 
 so thoroughly good, always having a moral very 
 sweetly put to the reader. In short, Papa was so 
 carried away by them that at Christmas he bought 
 many copies to give away as the most profitable 
 and enjoyable present he could find.' 
 
 "Upon this I said, 'It certainly pleases me 
 exceedingly to hear you speak so enthusiastically 
 about Miss Alcott, as she is my sister, and I 
 shall have the pleasure of telling her her name has 
 become a household word in one English family at 
 least. I am only sorry I have not a photograph 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 of her to give you since you admire "Jo" so much 
 and she is said to resemble her.' 
 
 "For a minute my companion looked perfectly 
 amazed and incredulous then smiled, blushed and 
 seemed so uncomfortable that I partly from con- 
 sideration for her, and partly from real hunger 
 (having had such an early breakfast) took out my 
 lunch of sandwiches, made up at the hotel for me, 
 and some preserved ginger left from the generous 
 supply put into my bag at East Boston, and chat- 
 ting and eating she forgot her embarrassment, 
 . . . after a little hesitation she led the conversa- 
 tion back again to her favorite theme Miss Alcott, 
 saying there was one thing that seemed a little 
 overdrawn and that was in ' Little Men', the Pro- 
 fessor making the boy whip him instead of his 
 punishing the boy. 
 
 " 'Well' I said, 'I don't wonder at your thinking 
 so, but it really happened,' and I then gave her a 
 little sketch of father's ideas of a school, and de- 
 scribed his experiences in the Masonic Temple as 
 far as I could. She seemed very much interested 
 and asked about Lu's hospital life, all of which I 
 was delighted to tell her, and rattled on about our 
 family till I was ashamed to say another word, 
 and was glad when we reached her station, for 
 leaving me, which she did in a truly unEnglish 
 
 C 131 D 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 hearty way that surprised me. Coming and tak- 
 ing my hand she said, 'I have to thank you for a 
 most delightful journey, and I dare not tell you 
 how grateful I am for the good fortune that has 
 thrown us together,' and smiling and bowing she 
 disappeared with the guard, leaving me much 
 amused at the whole affair and very much wishing 
 we might meet again, but as no addresses were 
 exchanged between us, I fear there is little hope of 
 it in this endlessly big city. Here ends my first 
 adventure though not my last." 
 
 Upon October 22, Mrs. Alcott notes the receipt 
 of a letter from Chester, some of which she tran- 
 scribes, but which may be inserted here more 
 fully: 
 
 "Here I sit in a cozy little parlor of "The 
 Blossoms ' after sightseeing round this quaint place 
 all day. ... I took my sketch-book and sauntered 
 forth into the warm sunshine about the happiest 
 woman on the globe. Then I went to the old 
 wall which entirely surrounds the most ancient 
 part of the town, though there are more houses 
 now outside than inside of it. From this narrow 
 walk which I followed entirely round, I got a 
 fine view of everything, coming first to the old red 
 sandstone pile called The Phoenix Tower, from which 
 
 Ci3 2 ] 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 Charles I watched the fatal battle on Marston 
 Moor, the old Roman wall being built 61 a.d. 
 
 "Then on to the great water-tower which makes 
 one corner of the wall, and which, half covered with 
 ivy, was quite too lovely to pass, but I felt there 
 was still something better at St. John's Church for 
 me. And tho' the church itself had been a great 
 deal restored, the fine Norman architecture was 
 very impressive, and when the rosy-faced sexton, 
 whom I had sought out, opened a wide iron gate 
 into the graveyard, where stood a beautiful group 
 of red stone arches, hung with ivy, and pretty 
 glimpses of distant hills and water above, the very 
 green grass at their base, I thought it about the 
 most beautiful bit I had ever seen. The colors 
 came quickly out, and slipping a shilling into my 
 guide's hand, I told him to leave me for an hour 
 or two, and I got something to take the place of 
 the old Kenil worth bit you all liked. 
 
 "Then to the wall again which I had not finished 
 and on to the Cathedral, which is considered so 
 fine. Certainly the soft gilded frescoes of the roof 
 have the richest effect possible, being to my eye in 
 better taste and more effective than anything we 
 saw in the French cathedrals, or even St. Marks 
 at Venice. The figures were like the Fra Angelico 
 angels on a large scale, with the great lines of 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 division held together by antique knots of fine 
 gilded fret-work, the organ being held high up 
 above the congregation by three massive pillars 
 curving from a narrow base upward like a lily. 
 The cloisters were damp and mouldy enough to 
 suit me, and I enjoyed the whole expedition im- 
 mensely, bringing up in a bun-shop opposite the 
 entrance where I ate a Banbury cake and drank a 
 glass of milk with a relish. Then home by some 
 curiosity-shops, where the old chests and chairs 
 nearly drove me wild, for they were such impossible 
 articles to carry along with me that I could only 
 howl over them and pass by. Such beauties for ten 
 shillings that would be fifty dollars in Doll's 
 sanctum, that with my love of good bargains it 
 was maddening. The most beautiful ones here 
 right under the old Bishop's house, the front of 
 which I send you in the photograph. The side- 
 walks are mostly arcade fashion, the houses and 
 shops reaching over and making pretty lines of 
 arches, through which the figures come toward one 
 like actors on a stage. I wish Lu were here to 
 breathe the soft air and enjoy the peculiar beauty 
 of England which can never be described. Now 
 my disagreeable voyage is over and I begin to 
 enjoy things and every day will be a new delight 
 which I shall faithfully relate to you." 
 
 [134] 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 Mrs. Alcott next writes of May's stay at Strat- 
 ford, and of her arrival in London : 
 
 "Miss Pratt arrives today and brings letters 
 from May who met her at the lodgings in Os- 
 borne Place. She brings me a pair of large hose 
 and a sweet picture from Stratford-on-Avon, 
 also a flower from the foot of the old arches at 
 St. John's Church, Chester; everything seems pro- 
 pitious." 
 
 On the reverse side of this page of the journal 
 Mrs. Alcott has inserted a little photograph of 
 Shakespeare's birthplace, and beneath it a bit of 
 ivy. 
 
 May's letter follows : 
 
 Stratford, Sept. 21, 1876. 
 
 Dear Marmee : — I send an ivy leaf and little 
 flower which I picked for your journal, from the 
 foot of the old arches at St. John's Church, Chester. 
 I had not intended to write again until arriving in 
 London, but the temptation to fill the time while 
 waiting for my poached eggs and beer is too 
 strong, as I can no longer sight-see, it being after 
 seven p.m., and I have no one to talk to and tell 
 my adventures to but you. 
 
 I left Chester this morning at 9 o'clock after a 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 farewell look at the very dear old furniture rich 
 with carving, and I reached here at 2 o'clock, 
 grasped my colors and went forth immediately, 
 and did Anne Hathaway's cottage after eating a 
 bun at Mrs. Plunket's, for it is so much cheaper to 
 eat a good luncheon at a shop than order things at 
 the hotels. This is the " Shakespeare Inn", which 
 I chose in preference to the "Red Horse", tho' I 
 wonder I did n't take the latter if only for love of 
 Rosa. At Chester, the "Bear's Paw" was just 
 opposite my window, which name I thought most 
 amusing. I shall give until noon to doing the 
 Shakespeare house; the room in which he was born 
 I send enclosed to please Mother, then at 12 take 
 the train for London. . . . 
 
 I had a fright in my dreams at Chester last 
 night about mother and do hope nothing has hap- 
 pened to make her sick since I left. Nan must tell 
 me all the household items. . . . It's a very dear 
 old place and I should like to spend the rest of my 
 days here tho' everyone seems poor, for most of the 
 people seem to trade on the reputation of the great 
 man, and beyond that there is not much doing I 
 should imagine. Over every door in this hotel is 
 the name of one of his plays and over mine is 
 "Romeo and Juliet", which I hope means that 
 there is to be a little romance in my life. 
 
 [136] 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 The next entry is penned by Mrs. Alcott on her 
 seventy-sixth birthday, the last but one that she 
 was destined to celebrate; she notes that her 
 grandsons are recovering from typhoid fever : 
 
 "8th Oct. Glorious bright day, the air is full 
 of color, my mercies tnicken fast; good news from 
 dear May, Johnny rapidly recovering, Freddy well, 
 Anna and Louisa still saved from infection of 
 typhoid ; although they have been over the patient 
 little fellow for eight days. But my blessings are 
 renewed every day and I am here to receive and 
 record the same. 
 
 Thus far the Lord has led me on, 
 Thus far his power prolongs my days! 
 And every evening shall make known 
 Some fresh memorial of his Grace! 
 
 "This afternoon the remains of our friend Miss 
 Sophia Thoreau are brought here (her former 
 home) for interring. The family close with her. 
 Henry her brother died in 1864, tne mother in '72. 
 Their Cemetery Lot is near ours, which contains 
 only the dear dust of my Lizzie, and close by the 
 bones of our Beloved John Pratt. 
 
 "My birthday was celebrated tenderly by gifts, 
 fruit, flowers, frills. From Johnny note-paper of 
 various tints, very handsome. " 
 
 [i37] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 At this point two youthful inscriptions that had 
 accompanied her grandson's gifts were pasted into 
 the journal: the first said — "Grandma from 
 Johnny", with the words no doubt supplied by an 
 older hand: 
 
 Hid in this box 
 
 Pretty paper doth dwell; 
 
 A loving wish 
 
 And a very good smell. 
 
 While the gift from Freddy was supplemented 
 with the suggestion: 
 
 A tidy tie 
 
 For grandma's neck, 
 When the new ruffs 
 Her bosom deck. 
 
 And the recipient pens the words, "From Freddy, 
 'barbe' very useful, pretty black lace frille." 
 
 After a stay in London, May travels on to Paris, 
 which is her goal, and there she joins her friends, 
 the Misses Peckham, in comfortable lodgings, and 
 is soon working diligently under the instruction of 
 Monsieur Krug, in his well-lighted studio, at II 
 Boulevard Clichy, of which she writes : 
 
 " It is devoted to female students in all branches 
 of art, and where the much discussed question of 
 the propriety of women's studying from the nude 
 is settled in a delicate and proper manner by the 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 gentlemanly director. Here one has the great ad- 
 vantage of severe and discriminating criticism, two 
 mornings each week, from Monsieur Carl Muller, 
 the painter of the well-known ' Conciergerie during 
 the Reign of Terror', hanging in the Luxembourg, 
 and the recipient of every honor France has to 
 bestow on a man of genius. Monsieur Cot, and 
 the sculptor, Carriere Belleuse, also visit the class 
 to inspect the afternoon and evening drawings. 
 Monsieur Krug's prices are moderate, being one 
 hundred francs per month, for two daily and one 
 evening seance, with no extra charge for the ex- 
 cellent models provided, or for towels, soap etc." 
 
 May suggests that this is on some accounts the 
 best place for American girls to study in Paris, 
 since many of the ateliers are overcrowded, badly 
 managed, or afford objectionable companionship; 
 she goes on to say, however, that "pupils or admir- 
 ers of each leading painter sing his especial praises 
 loud and long, and among those who receive ladies are 
 — Monsieurs Chaplin, Duran, Cabanel, Jackson, Lu- 
 minals, Bouguereau, Robert Fleury, and Lefebre." 
 
 "Then [she continues] there is Julien's upper and 
 lower school, in Passage Panorama, where a stu- 
 dent receives criticism from the first leading au- 
 thorities, and is surrounded by splendidly strong 
 
 [i39l 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 work on the easels of the many faithful French, 
 who for years have crowded the dirty, close rooms, 
 though I believe the lower school as it is called, or 
 male class, no longer opens its doors to women, 
 for the price being but one half of the upper school, 
 attracted too many. Also, with better models, and 
 a higher standard of work, it was found impossible 
 that women should paint from the living nude mod- 
 els of both sexes, side by side with the Frenchmen. 
 
 "This is a sad conclusion to arrive at, when one 
 remembers the brave efforts made by a band of 
 American ladies some years ago, who supported 
 one another with such dignity and modesty, in a 
 steadfast purpose under this ordeal, that even 
 Parisians, to whom such a type of womanly charac- 
 ter was unknown and almost incomprehensible, 
 were forced into respect and admiration of the 
 simple earnestness and purity which proved a 
 sufficient protection from even their evil tongues; 
 M. Julien himself confessing that if all ladies exer- 
 cised the beneficial influence of a certain Madonna- 
 faced Miss N. among them, anything would be 
 possible. 
 
 "Something besides courage was needed for such 
 
 a triumph; and women of no other nationality 
 
 could have accomplished it; though it must be 
 
 acknowledged, a like clique will not easily be met 
 
 [140] 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 with again. So, let those who commonly represent 
 the indiscreet, husband-hunting butterfly, as the 
 typical American girl abroad, at least do her the 
 justice to put this fact on record, to her credit." 
 
 Conscious of Marmee's intense interest in every 
 detail of her life in Paris, May describes most 
 minutely the little menage which she shares with 
 her friends the Misses Peckham: 
 
 Dear Marmee, — Since there are no events of 
 startling interest to relate to you week by week, I 
 will proceed to tell you just how I spend each day 
 at present in this gay city. Firstly, we are having 
 and have had for two weeks or more the most 
 splendid, warm, bright weather, most inviting to 
 go about, tho' we do not improve it in that way. 
 For I rise at seven o'clock, partly dress myself and 
 slip on L's old flannel gown and in my blue scuf- 
 flers I take ten steps from my cozy little room to 
 the kitchen and put a match to a dozen bits of 
 charcoal which is quite sufficient to warm a pail of 
 chocolate for our first meal. This, in a generous 
 bowl with one of the little loaves, or rolls, such as 
 only France can produce, lasts me during the 
 morning. At eight, a short walk of five or ten 
 minutes brings me to Monsieur Krug's studio 
 . . . and here I find a living model posing with 
 
 c hi ] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 only a band round the waist, and work at a draw- 
 ing of him, or her (as it may happen) till twelve. 
 Then run home to a nice hot breakfast, and back 
 again at one, to paint till five o'clock, or dark, 
 whenever that chooses to descend upon us busy 
 mortals, and put an end to our work. 
 
 We dine at six o'clock, and the evening finds me 
 too tired to do much more than write a French 
 exercise or make my bed and get into it. So you 
 see the reason you don't get more letters from your 
 baby, and why they can tell you so little when 
 you get them. . . . This week, we have a per- 
 fectly superb model, an Italian of fine rich color, 
 grand physique and the head of a god, with great 
 soft eyes, proud dilating nostrils, and dark mous- 
 tache, while his black hair curls all over his finely 
 shaped head. Wouldn't you call him a beauty? 
 Particularly if you could see him with his head 
 tossed back, eyes raised; he stands like a statue 
 for an hour without moving a muscle; you can't 
 wonder we admire the beautiful creature. . . . He 
 has been a model for years and is so proud of his 
 perfect posing that his indignation knew no bounds, 
 when one of the ladies suggested he was n't quite 
 in the position, and with a scornful look he threw 
 himself into it and would take no further notice 
 of any remarks we made. There are fourteen pupils 
 
4s$*r 'JAshS^y tf?$ 
 
 'll*^ / S//4 
 
 ■zti/'/Z'*'-*'^ 
 
 THE SALON AT RUE MANSART, I 877 
 From a pen sketch by May Alcott 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 in the morning, all Americans, or English, but one 
 Frenchwoman, and in the p.m. almost as many 
 only a younger set of ladies. Mon. Krug is a nice 
 gentlemanly man, and a good teacher; then we 
 have three of the best painters in France who come 
 and criticize twice a week. If I could find time I 
 would write a letter about it to the Transcript, for 
 it's been so hard for ladies to find the best ad- 
 vantages here without paying exorbitantly for the 
 same, that we want our sister artists to know of it. 
 
 About this time May writes of a drive through 
 the woods, which makes her long for a ride with 
 her mother, and her own horse, through the Con- 
 cord lanes : 
 
 "We have just had a lovely ride in the Bois, and 
 as it was race day and all the world abroad, we 
 enjoyed it heaps, for the wood itself is lovely 
 being so deep and shady, and as full of ferns, 
 Solomon's seal, and field flowers as any of our woods 
 at home. I imagined Marmee beside me, while I 
 drove Rosa, and forgetting all the dress parade, 
 paint and fashion, saw myself in the pretty Lincoln 
 roads with the nice fresh smell so like the taste of 
 wild strawberries. It is so charming to see the 
 children and crowds of grown people either in the 
 boats on the lakes, or in the many rustic towers or 
 
 [143] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 arbors all about, rambling round as if there was 
 nothing else to do in the world either for young or 
 old. Elegant private carriages stood about, while 
 the lofty couples with their children walked or 
 picked flowers up and down the shady avenues or 
 wood-paths, for they are not a bit like those in 
 common parks but kept wild and beautiful with 
 grand driveways for those of more haughty taste. 
 The 'demis', as we call the gay women of the demi- 
 monde, were out driving themselves, dressed in 
 green velvet suits, or their evening dresses, fine to 
 see, with servants in livery, but their blackened 
 eyes, painted cheeks and lips told who they were." 
 
 Towards the close of November, a long and 
 cheerful letter from Mrs. Alcott brings forth an 
 enthusiastic reply: 
 
 My dear Marmee, — Your long beaming letter 
 welcomed me when I returned hungry and in haste 
 at noon today from school, and before touching 
 the nice little dejeuner a la fourchette, which Kate 
 had invitingly spread ready for us, I read aloud 
 your letter which was interesting all round, though 
 the household items had a particular interest for 
 me, which they could have to no one who did not 
 know the crooks and turns of our family. 
 
 As soon as I land on this side it always seems as 
 
 Ci44] 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 if I were someone else, whose actions I followed 
 with interest but took no actual part in, and in a 
 measure I lose my identity and feel like a heroine 
 in some novel more than anything else. At present 
 there is nothing in the least like a romance going 
 on, but still it is quite different from Concord and 
 its surroundings. As I told mother in my last letter 
 my days are much alike, drawing and painting from 
 eight o'clock a.m. until dark, and to bed early, 
 unless callers come as they sometimes do. 
 
 Leland, from Boston, last night made us a long 
 visit, talking hard all the time. He is young and 
 handsome and will make his mark in our big city 
 when he returns in the Spring as he intends doing. 
 . . . Lippincott from Philadelphia dropped in, 
 and Moss also, who is the intimate friend of Mrs. 
 Owen Wister, to whom I have promised a letter of 
 introduction to Alice Bartlett, for he goes to Rome 
 for a few months and she will like him, not only 
 as Mrs. Wister's most intimate friend and cousin, 
 but also because he is a good painter and in- 
 teresting man, having lived here for years and 
 been in society a good deal and is a brilliant talker. 
 Madam d'Alembert, to whose reception I told 
 you we went, is a countess, this Moss being her 
 nephew ... 
 
 The Peckhams and I went to see a great pic- 
 
 [145] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 ture that Mr. Moss is painting, hoping it will be 
 accepted for the Salon, which is the great exhibi- 
 tion in May. He told us he would have what he 
 called "Lady Day", as his picture is an "Eve", 
 and he thought some would prefer to see it when 
 he was not present, so he set a day for them es- 
 pecially, but I said "No, we prefer to come and 
 criticize it to your face rather than behind your 
 back, and what we shall see on the walls of the 
 exhibition we can very properly look at in your 
 studio." This pleased him and we had a fine time 
 seated in great carved papal chairs, or gilded ones 
 of Louis XIV time, before an immense picture 
 elegantly framed, with fine tapestries for hangings, 
 and sconces, brass church lamps, carved cabinets 
 and imperial mirrors strewn in great profusion 
 everywhere. I frankly said I did not like an 
 affectation of modesty in a nude figure, and that 
 the long golden hair blown across the front in place 
 of a fig-leaf looked very forced and unnatural. 
 They all agreed with me, but otherwise it was 
 thought fine and it will do him great credit, for 
 it is thought the most difficult matter in Art to 
 succeed in a perfect nude, so all the artists great 
 and small attempt it for practice, and the shops are 
 full of them. Some bring most splendid bits of 
 flesh, soft and creamy. You see everything is Art 
 
 [i 4 6] 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 and artists here so I have nothing to write about 
 but these. 
 
 Some of the young men who went to Rome for 
 the winter are coming back scared by the fever 
 there, so I am glad I am not in Italy, for this 
 climate seems to suit me excellently, it being just 
 cold enough to wear thick things and to light fires, 
 yet so far it is bright and clear. . . . Think of me 
 among good friends, with two Concordians just 
 around the corner, plenty to do, and enough to live 
 on. What more could one desire? Tonight, I am 
 in my red silk dress, writing at our big round table, 
 with a student-lamp, lots of books, pictures, pretty 
 hangings and furniture, and Kate with her lovely 
 auburn hair in a grand pile on the top of her head, 
 and her pretty delicate profile in strong relief, to 
 refresh my eyes whenever I look up, to blunder 
 out some French phrase to her, for we make good 
 resolutions to talk the foreign tongue all we possibly 
 can. 
 
 About this time she writes describing their 
 housekeeping: 
 
 "All is so simple when there are no servants and 
 all our five rooms are so near each other, and the 
 kitchen so small and convenient that one ac- 
 complishes the work easily enough and it's like 
 
 [147] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 keeping house in a doll's mansion, no running up 
 and down stairs, for things to tire one, but only a 
 step from one room to another, and no thick car- 
 pets to sweep and hold the dust, but clean polished 
 floors. This kind of housekeeping I don't object to, 
 for it leaves the daylight for painting and the 
 twilight hours are well passed in washing dishes and 
 general clearing up for the evening and next day." 
 
 A fortnight later she describes their celebration 
 of Thanksgiving : 
 
 "We had a turkey of noble proportions, costing 
 eleven francs, which was a little extravagant con- 
 sidering our usually simple menage, but has proved 
 a piece de resistance, as Channing would say. For 
 Kate (whose talents lie in the culinary direction) 
 stuffed it in a most savory manner and with 
 celery, vegetables and gravy, baked pears, cake 
 and sweet pudding, nuts, raisins and coffee made 
 a fine repast, which was eagerly devoured by three 
 jolly spinsters after various confabs and rather 
 tumultuous conclaves held in the kitchen, where the 
 quarters are so limited that one had to repose on 
 the range, the other on the potato-box, while the 
 third moved cautiously round the small space 
 allowed for action. Rose tossed up some little 
 meat pates, such as they had eaten in Holland, 
 [148] 
 
JS.J 
 
 MAY'S PARIS BEDROOM, 1 877 
 .Frew # ^?z sketch by May Alcott 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 and at intervals while she basted the noble bird 
 in our oven, almost too small to hold his swelling 
 breast, Kate and I played dominoes on a board 
 held between our knees. I have learned the game 
 lately as it is much more a test of one's wits than 
 the mere matching numbers, as I will show you 
 when I come, for it does n't try your eyes like 
 cards and I can enjoy it better than chess. 
 
 "Tonight after school, in velvet, silk and my new 
 bonnet and tossing yellow flower, I went with Kate 
 to call on Madame Bigot, nee Healy, as she left 
 her card with 'Wednesday' on it to inform me of 
 her reception day. We found only three of the 
 daughters present and Pa Healy and a French 
 lady jabbering away with Madame B. She was 
 very pleasant and I thanked her for the books to 
 you. I told her Marston had orders to send yours 
 to her. In your preface, I should have liked it 
 better if you had said to the roses preparing to 
 bloom, instead of getting ready to bloom, which 
 is a little awkward. . . . This afternoon they gave 
 us a cup of tea and talked Paris and Art, and the 
 party came out quite determined to go tomorrow 
 evening to the Healy's first reception, and see what 
 it is like. At school today they told me the H's 
 gave the finest balls and parties in Paris, so I will 
 report all about it." 
 
 [149] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 May closes with the words, penned a day later, 
 "After all we did n't go to the party for I came 
 home so tired." 
 
 G. P. A. Healy, whose portraits enjoyed a wide 
 popularity for many years, will probably be best 
 remembered for certain historical compositions; 
 among them "Franklin Urging the Cause of the 
 Colonies before Louis XVI" is widely known, 
 as well as "Webster Replying to Hayne in the 
 Senate", which to-day hangs in Faneuil Hall, 
 Boston. 
 
 In her home letters, May frequently refers to 
 her friend Mary Cassatt, whose work she greatly 
 admired, and whose friendship she highly prized. 
 Miss Cassatt, who was five years her senior, was a 
 Philadelphian, but her father's family were of 
 French extraction, and she had spent her early 
 years in Paris, returning with her parents to spend 
 a decade in Philadelphia, and then in 1868 be- 
 ginning her art career in Europe. After some years 
 spent in the studios of various masters, Mary 
 Cassatt had settled in Paris to make her permanent 
 home there, so that both by inheritance and by 
 adoption she belonged rather more to France than 
 to America. Yet to-day she is counted among the 
 foremost of the American painters who have won 
 fame in the Art world. 
 
 [150] 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 Before her meeting with May Alcott, in 1876, 
 she had joined the group of Impressionists that 
 Degas had drawn about him, and though she re- 
 ceived no formal instruction from this master, he 
 greatly influenced her work. He welcomed her 
 pictures in the exhibitions of this new school, which 
 was then frowned upon by members of the older 
 school, whose representatives expressed their dis- 
 approval of Mary Cassatt's later work by the 
 rejection of her pictures at the Salon of 1877, 
 although she had been represented at several 
 previous Salons. 
 
 Early in November, 1876, May describes a tea 
 party at Miss Cassatt's beautiful studio, where 
 they met various New York friends, and ate 
 "fluffy cream and chocolate, with French cakes, 
 while sitting in carved chairs, on Turkish rugs, 
 with superb tapestries as a background, and fine 
 pictures on the walls looking down from their 
 splendid frames." 
 
 "Statues and articles of vertu filled the corners, 
 the whole being lighted by a great antique hang- 
 ing lamp. We sipped our chocalat from superior 
 china, served on an India waiter, upon an em- 
 broidered cloth of heavy material. Miss Cassatt 
 was charming as usual in two shades of brown 
 
 [151] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 satin and rep, being very lively and a woman of 
 real genius, she will be a first-class light as soon 
 as her pictures get a little circulated and known, 
 for they are handled in a masterly way, with a 
 touch of strength one seldom finds coming from a 
 woman's fingers. They would n't suffer if hung 
 with the Thomas Lawrences." 
 
 She describes another social affair where many 
 Philadelphians gathered : 
 
 " Sunday night the Ramseys opened the winter 
 festivities by having a reception, and we went and 
 met stacks of artists, there being but few ladies, 
 and row upon row of young and old masculines, 
 all painters and interesting accordingly; again, we 
 sat upon antique couches, in strange chairs amid 
 Japanese works of all kinds, and superb velvet 
 and tapestried cushions and heard some lovely 
 songs by a Mr. Bush, in a fine tenor voice. He 
 escorted us home and promised to come and give 
 me a regular funeral of all the dirges he knew. 
 We had grapes, wine of the best, cake, and the 
 gentlemen cigarettes after we had left the room. 
 Mrs. Ramsey is a cozy little woman, who with her 
 artistic husband entertains all the young Americans 
 who are staying here, particularly those from 
 Philadelphia, as the R's hail from there. They all 
 
 [152] 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 talked pictures and art generally and I had a lovely 
 evening feeling as much at home as possible, talk- 
 ing over Boston and its lights with Blashfleld and 
 Pierce. Three of them live together with a bonne 
 to cook for them, and are to have a house-warming 
 soon, as all are just returning from the summer 
 trips. They are a hard-working set, painting like 
 beavers from models all day, and some of them all 
 the evening too, at the schools, as gas-light is 
 thought excellent for studying shadows. I talked 
 with as many as fifteen of these students on this 
 evening, some of them already known for their 
 good work. All Paris, and artists, and no other 
 profession seems so fashionable, tho' this is no 
 place to sell any but great pictures, many being 
 painted for the American and English market." 
 
 A letter written on December 12th refers to 
 various Americans then in Paris, and to the news 
 that they bring of mutual friends : 
 
 "I had hardly dressed myself for the evening 
 when in came Mr. Bradford and Mr. Sedgwick, 
 both very jolly and cordial. The former tells me 
 that Una Hawthorne is engaged to an American 
 whom she met at Julien's, who lives at Twicken- 
 ham. So now I am more than ever left behind in 
 the race for matrimony. Also, he said Rose had a 
 
 [153] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 child and was very happy about it, as was Una at 
 her engagement." 
 
 The romance in Una Hawthorne's life, to which 
 May refers, was destined to be only too brief, 
 ending in deepest sadness with the sudden death 
 of the man she hoped to marry. After her mother's 
 passing in London, in the winter of 1871, Una re- 
 mained in England for some years, devoting herself 
 to the care of destitute children; then she lived for 
 a time with her brother in Dresden, returning to 
 New York to visit her sister Rose, who had married 
 George Parsons Lathrop. While there, she became 
 well acquainted with Albert Webster, a gifted 
 young writer, whose work was deemed unusually 
 promising, and who, on her return to England to 
 rejoin her brother, wrote asking her hand in mar- 
 riage. Una accepted him, and a bright future 
 seemed opening before them, but Webster's health 
 was very delicate, and a trip to the Sandwich 
 Islands was recommended; he started on this 
 journey in search of health but became desperately 
 ill and died upon the voyage. 
 
 The tragic news was sent to Una by a friend, who 
 wrote her the sad tidings, and as she read the 
 letter, she seemed calm and unmoved, giving way 
 to no passionate grief or terrible emotion, but from 
 
 [154] 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 that moment she was completely changed, seem- 
 ing like one who had relinquished earthly things 
 and who dwelt in the spiritual world. She made 
 no change in her accustomed occupations, but in 
 a year her lovely auburn hair had become gray 
 and she seemed to have grown prematurely old. 
 In the summer of 1877, she died at Clewer, near 
 Windsor, where she had been spending the summer 
 at a small Protestant convent, and serving mean- 
 while as district visitor. She was buried at Kensal 
 Green, beside her beloved mother, whom she had 
 nursed through her last illness in London, six years 
 before, and who in early days had nursed her so 
 untiringly during those cruel months when her life 
 hung upon a thread from Roman fever. She was 
 the eldest of the Hawthorne children, and seems 
 to have been the most richly endowed, with graces 
 both of mind and body, — a child in every way wor- 
 thy of her two parents. She had a brilliant intellect 
 and a lovely unselfish nature, but after her long 
 months of illness in Rome she was never so robust 
 as formerly, and with the added sorrows which came 
 to her she seemed like a beautiful bit of porcelain 
 shattered by the rude hand of a relentless fate. 
 
 Another of May's communications touches upon 
 the meeting with a family friend and poet, whose 
 charming verse and wide acquaintance with her 
 
 [155] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 fellow writers on both sides of the water won for 
 her international recognition, both as a writer and 
 as a hostess, — Louise Chandler Moulton. 
 
 At about this period, a publication entitled 
 "Famous Women" was in the process of compila- 
 tion, and Mrs. Moulton had been asked to con- 
 tribute a biographical sketch of Louisa Alcott, a 
 suggestion not welcomed by the subject save in 
 rare instances; yet in response to this request, the 
 latter wrote to this personal friend : 
 
 "I have not the least objection to your writing a 
 sketch of L. M. A. I shall feel quite comfortable in 
 your hands. I have little material to give you; 
 but in 'Little Women' you will find the various 
 stages of my career and experience. Don't forget 
 to mention that I don't like lion-hunters, and that 
 I don't serve autophotos and biographies to the 
 hundreds of boys and girls who ask, and that I 
 heartily endorse Dr. Holmes's views on this sub- 
 ject." 
 
 May wrote in reference to this Boston friend 
 who was then leaving Paris to spend the Christmas 
 season in England, "To-night we go to see Mrs. 
 Moulton, who starts for a visit to London this week 
 to stay with a Miss Marston, her intimate friend 
 there, for the holidays." 
 
 [156] 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 This reference to Miss Marston recalls the fact 
 that it was at about this time that Mrs. Moulton's 
 association began with the blind poet, Philip 
 Bourke Marston, whose friend and biographer she 
 became and with whose sister she often stayed in 
 England. 
 
 In recalling her first meeting with the blind poet 
 Mrs. Moulton wrote: 
 
 "It was just six weeks before his twenty-sixth 
 birthday. He was tall, slight, and in spite of his 
 blindness, graceful. He had a noble and beautiful 
 forehead. His brown eyes were perfect in shape, 
 and even in color, save for a dimness like a white 
 mist that obscured the pupil, but which you per- 
 ceived only when you were quite near to him. . . . 
 His face was singularly refined, but his lips were 
 full and pleasure-loving, and suggested dumbly 
 how cruel must be the limitations of blindness to a 
 nature hungry for love and for beauty. I had been 
 greatly interested, before seeing him, in his poems, 
 and to meet him was a memorable delight. . . . 
 He and his sister, who was his inseparable com- 
 panion, soon became my close friends, and with 
 them both this friendship lasted till the end." 
 
 In February, 1887, ten years after this first 
 meeting, Philip Bourke Marston died. He be- 
 
 [157] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 queathed to Mrs. Moulton his books and manu- 
 scripts as well as many autographs of great value, 
 and he also requested that she become his literary 
 executor, a labor of love which she performed to 
 the best of her ability, writing some years later: 
 
 "I was named by Mr. Marston, in his will, as 
 his literary executor. I brought out after his death 
 a volume whose contents he had not heretofore 
 included in any book, and which I called C A Last 
 Harvest.' Then I put all his flower-poems together 
 (as he had long wished to do) in a volume entitled 
 'Garden Secrets.' Finally, I have brought out a 
 collected edition of his poems, including three 
 volumes published before his death, and the ones 
 I had compiled after he died." 
 
 Thus did Mrs. Moulton conclude her gift of 
 loving service to one whose friendship she had 
 prized so dearly. Of this poet's life, lived in total 
 darkness, she said: 
 
 "You may well call his life tragic. He was only 
 three years old when he lost his sight. He was 
 educated orally, but his knowledge of literature 
 was a marvel. The poets of the past were his 
 familiar friends and he could repeat Swinburne's 
 poems by the hour. . . . Some of the best critics 
 
 [1583 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 in London declared that the author of 'Song Tide' 
 (Marston's first volume) should by virtue of this 
 one book, take equal rank with Swinburne, Morris 
 and Rossetti . . . and I feel that when Philip 
 Bourke Marston died, at the age of thirty-seven, 
 England lost one of her noblest and subtlest poets." 
 
 Whether or not May Alcott came in touch with 
 the gifted, blind poet it is not possible to state, but 
 it is certain that she and Mrs. Moulton were both 
 in London in 1877, where they doubtless enjoyed 
 much the same circle of literary and artistic 
 friends, even as they did in Paris. 
 
 Marmee's journal, which had been laid aside for 
 several weeks, again bore traces of her pen, and 
 she wrote on Christmas day: 
 
 "We celebrate by interchange of gifts, give and 
 receive. The boys have their stockings crammed 
 with goodies, and Anna and Louisa furnish a table 
 of pretty things for old and young; a work-basket 
 with the following verses for me: 
 
 With a Work Basket for Marmee 
 
 For the busy hands, that seldom rest, 
 A neat new basket, I have dresst 
 Mittens all holes, and broken breeches, 
 There will come for tidy stitches; 
 Brand new shirts, and ragged gloves, 
 To make and mend, Grandma loves; 
 
 [159] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 And as she sits in her big Chair, 
 May gentle time, herself repair. 
 
 Louisa M. Alcott, Dec. 25, 1876." 
 
 Concerning these gifts the recipient writes: 
 
 "Each present was accompanied with appro- 
 priate lines, which I have always valued more than 
 the articles, because more enduring as 'love offer- 
 ings', warm from the heart of the giver, like Prayer, 
 'The motion of a hidden fire, that trembles in the 
 breast'." 
 
 The final entry in this journal for 1876 recalls the 
 wide interest which had been awakened throughout 
 the country by the Exposition at Philadelphia, and 
 also the closely contested presidential election. 
 
 "Dec. 31, 1876. The last day of this Centennial 
 year commemorated by the great world's 'Exposi- 
 tion', at Philadelphia. On account of the pro- 
 longed contest for the presidential vote owing to 
 false counts at the South, and questionable returns 
 made by the clerks as well as Electors, the Senate 
 will finally have to decide on one of the candidates, 
 or choose a new one, among so many factions, and 
 choice now will probably lead to great dissatisfac- 
 tion among the Republicans and Democrats; as a 
 family we have had a comfortable year. Louisa 
 
 [160] 
 
MARMEE AND MAY 
 
 has published 'Silver Pitchers', and 'Rose in 
 Bloom', this year, besides several stories ; her popu- 
 larity increases. May's absence is much mitigated 
 by her pleasant letters, and pictures she sends me, 
 and wholly compensated for in the fact of her 
 advantages of Society and Art Culture she enjoys 
 in Paris. I close the brief record of the year 1876 
 with great gratitude for the comforts I enjoy." 
 
 C160 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 Marmee' s Journal 
 
 The opening of the New Year, the last she was 
 destined to see on earth, is cheerfully recorded by 
 Mrs. Alcott, on January I, 1877: 
 
 "We are all in good health and spirits. Brilliant, 
 beautiful day. The year comes in festively; its 
 gorgeous drapery of clouds of many colors. Not 
 cold. I sew a little for Louisa. Freddy played 
 the piano last night, the last tune, 'America/ 
 Ushers in the New Year with his favorite waltz 
 (Star). We take a sleigh-ride, call at Mrs. Pratt's. 
 I still find much difficulty in getting into a carriage; 
 otherwise I am very well, and enjoy life in a tran- 
 quil partial serenity I hardly thought I could 
 reach after such a disturbed condition of the 
 nervous system." 
 
 The entries from the journal which follow are 
 interspersed with quotations from May's letters, 
 reflecting from day to day the art life of the 
 youngest daughter and her activities in Paris, 
 of which she writes early in January: 
 [162] 
 
MARMEE'S JOURNAL 
 
 "You will like to hear of our pleasant little 
 episode at the studios which seems to be the only 
 thing of interest to relate as happening this week. 
 Monsieur Miiller, who comes to correct our draw- 
 ings, has been faithfully twice a week, ever since 
 the beginning of the school, late in September, 
 and as he does not receive any pay for his services, 
 I suggested that as we were under obligation to 
 him for his kindness, it would be a pretty compli- 
 ment to send him a fine bouquet on New Year's 
 day, as that is the only gift day in France. My 
 suggestion was immediately taken up and voted 
 to be done without fail, the flowers not to cost 
 more than thirty francs. Two of the ladies were 
 deputed to order the flowers and see that all was 
 done comme il faut. New Year's day came and 
 most of the students went down as usual, and at 
 an early hour the bouquet arrived, a great loose 
 bunch of white lilacs, a few small rose-buds, and 
 some other ordinary white flowers with no taste or 
 no beauty about it. 
 
 "Then there was a general howl and we pro- 
 tested we would not receive it, and certainly would 
 not offer such an ordinary thing to Monsieur 
 Miiller. Mr. Krug looked at it with surprise and 
 giving the bearer four boire sent him off saying 
 we should n't take it. Then in consternation at 
 
 [163] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 our dilemma two of the English girls went off 
 resolved to find something really beautiful, and 
 succeeded in getting a lovely bunch of roses, 
 camelias, ferns, and effective waving things, pay- 
 ing only ten francs for it. One of them bearing it 
 in triumph to M. Miiller, who, when he came to 
 correct, paid a pretty compliment to us in the way 
 of thanks, saying he appreciated the attention of 
 our c sending our photographs to him on New 
 Year's day.' 
 
 "Wasn't that pretty to liken us to flowers? 
 When he came to my drawing, of a full-length 
 negro, who is really the c Prince of Timbuctoo', 
 and such a splendid specimen of a man that he 
 looks very princely, Miiller said: 'With what pas- 
 sion and enthusiasm you draw this ensemble; it 
 is very vigorous and shows your interest and not 
 scorn of the race.' I could n't answer him, as this 
 was all said in French, but it amused the class as I, 
 among them, had pretty freely expressed my ad- 
 miration for him, beside fighting the battle of the 
 blacks versus the whites, whenever the question 
 came up between the Southerners, of whom there 
 are three in the class, and two of us Northerners. 
 I am proud that he proves my part of the proposi- 
 tion, as most true, for he is the most gentlemanly, 
 polite and delicate model that we have had. He 
 
 [i6 4 ] 
 
MARMEE'S JOURNAL 
 
 was in the Crimean War and showed us four great 
 scars on his legs where he was wounded, and 
 Mr. Krug told us he was decorated for his courage, 
 and considered one of the best models in Paris. 
 
 "My drawings improve from week to week, and 
 now I can draw the human figure without great 
 difficulty, which is quite a triumph, it being the 
 most difficult thing possible to put on paper, and 
 have action in it, and the individuality of each 
 model. . . . Marmee will like to know that I have 
 bought a pretty little graceful basket and lined it, 
 trimmed it with light blue silk for a work-basket, 
 and everyone admires it, it is so dressy and pretty, 
 and Marmee's gold thimble reposes in it for looks. 
 Though I have sewed a little lately altering Lu's 
 velvet jacket to fit tight over the hips so that with 
 my velvet skirt and silk overskirt it has a festive 
 appearance. 
 
 "When f become rich and great, I shall found a 
 school for indigent artists and aspiring young stu- 
 dents, as Rosa Bonheur has done in Paris, for girls 
 under twenty years of age. I have still thirty more 
 years to work in and think of, if I am spared, that 
 I may do something in that time. Things certainly 
 look most promising just now and I have painted 
 a head of ' Christ' (that is the model we have who 
 has sat so much for Christ that he goes now by 
 
 [165] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 that name) which Miss Austin, who is the best 
 painter in the studio, held it up for all to see, 
 saying she considered 'that luminous flesh', and 
 all asked what colors I had used, which consid- 
 ering I was a beginner was flattering to say the 
 least." 
 
 The receipt of this letter is noted in the journal 
 with an approving comment, and the words : 
 
 "Good child, we know very well, she does all 
 things well, her capabilities are much in her eyes 
 and fingers. As a child I observed with what ease 
 and grace she did little things. In 1856, she made 
 a Crayon Sketch of her mother, quite remarkable 
 for a girl of 16 years of age, under Mr. Murdock's 
 instructions, and that skilful hand and nice eye 
 have been developing ever since. She copies Turner 
 most successfully, Ruskin says." 
 
 Marmee closes with a suggestion upon which 
 the artist daughter later comments mirthfully: 
 
 "May says, 'I think I shall adopt the style of 
 Millet.' I rather wonder at this, for a notice of 
 this artist in the Harper 9 s Monthly, March, 1877, 
 speaks of this style of coloring as being dry and 
 hard." 
 
 [166] 
 
MARMEE'S JOURNAL 
 
 A few days after the previous communication 
 May writes, contrasting the Paris winter with that 
 in Concord: 
 
 My dear Marmee, — I have only just received 
 a nice fat letter from Lu and Nan, dated Dec. 
 24th and though I have mailed two this week for 
 my Marmee, I will be extravagant enough to mail 
 still another if it's any comfort to you, snowed up 
 in dreary Concord. Everything is so warm and 
 bright, the grass being so beautifully green in the 
 Tuileries Gardens, that I can hardly imagine the 
 cold you describe. To-day I rose early and feeling 
 like taking a rampage to refresh my mind and 
 stretch my legs a little after the work of the week, 
 I started forth walking to the Louvre where Rose 
 was to meet me, as she chose to ride by bus. But 
 the air was so soft and springlike, the streets clean 
 and dry sidewalks that I skipped along to rue 
 Rivoli wondering in what part of it Louisa abode 
 so many years ago. The gardens are superb and 
 I like that quarter of Paris very much if it were only 
 nearer Krug's and the studios. All the artists' 
 clubs are together in this part and if not so aris- 
 tocratic it is sociable. 
 
 In letters that follow, May describes seeing 
 "Laddie", whose friend and benefactor Louisa had 
 
 [167] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 proved a decade earlier. He was at this time living 
 in Paris with his mother, and often joined May on 
 her shopping expeditions, aiding her in the search for 
 bargains. Of her success in this respect she writes : 
 
 " I like no better fun of a Sunday than to meander 
 along stopping to look in at all the shop windows, 
 for they are most fascinating and curious, espe- 
 cially the bric-a-brac collections. As I went through 
 the Palais Royal I looked at Gibbet watches, the 
 same ones that Laddie asked the prices of for me 
 when I first came, and found a much handsomer 
 one than Alice's, with a pretty head, key and 
 place for monogram, for $25 which considering it 
 was watch and chain in one, I bought, not having 
 any, and finding it very inconvenient sometimes 
 to be entirely without the time. Kate has been 
 very kind in lending me hers but I must have one 
 of my own and this is to have the monogram put 
 on and be sent home in three days which causes 
 great excitement in our quiet establishment, where 
 every purchase is talked over for months before 
 and after the deed is done. I have sketched it 
 here in order that you may see how fine it will 
 look at my belt with the other golden ornaments 
 waving in the breeze. I have considered the matter 
 ever since I saw them that evening with Laddie, 
 
 [168] 
 
MARMEE'S JOURNAL 
 
 and I have not found them anywhere else, so my 
 mind was made up to-day, and after achieving this 
 purchase I went on and met Rose among the pic- 
 tures and electrified her with the announcement. 
 After wandering through the endless rooms of the 
 Louvre, . . . and going together to sit for some 
 time before the great picture by Delaroche of 
 Queen Elizabeth, dying in her royal robes, with 
 her courtiers about her, reminding me of Ristori, 
 who copies the picture exactly in her death scene, 
 I then walked home stopping to call at Laddie's 
 on my way. . . . Madame was feeling rather 
 badly at sending her little girls to a Pension near 
 Paris for some years to be educated, as they are 
 learning nothing at home." 
 
 On January 25th, Marmee writes in her journal: 
 
 "Unexpected pleasure, a letter from May. I try 
 to be satisfied witrfonce a week, but two letters 
 does give me a very refreshing sensation and tones 
 down the blues most astonishingly. She has had a 
 fine time at the 'Healy reception' Miss Peckham 
 accompanies her. She dances first with Mr. Healy, 
 served through the evening with ice cream and 
 hot punch. The whole affair very elegant and 
 effective; went home before 12 o'clock, moderate 
 for Paris. 
 
 [169] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 "Mons. Muller praised her Prince 'Timbuctoo' 
 again, and also the head of a fair young woman 
 who sits to their class in the afternoon. She says, 
 'I have begun to have ideas about pictures and I 
 shall work out something I feel sure if I can take 
 the time for it.' Hopeful and courageous." 
 
 Encouraged by the improvement in Mrs. Alcott's 
 health, May writes, suggesting that Louisa come 
 over and join her for the winter: 
 
 " I hope the ' Serial ' is finished and Lu's head at 
 rest after it. What are her plans and does she 
 still think of Europe as a possibility for this 
 winter? . . . Why not shut up Apple Slump for a 
 year and let Nan have all the pretty things and a 
 general pick, and let Lu come for a year's vacation, 
 if mother continues well and feels she can spare 
 her. I feel now as if I must stay a year or more 
 longer, having proved to my satisfaction that there 
 is enough talent to pay for educating it and giving 
 my life to it. ... I make plans about a little 
 room for salon and studio, a kitchen and dressing- 
 room, and settling in such a little apartment as a 
 hard-working artist, living for future fame. How 
 should you all like that, for I can better be spared 
 than any of you and could make you an occasional 
 visit of a summer for variety if you wanted me very 
 [170] 
 
MARMEE'S JOURNAL 
 
 much. This is what I think my life must be, if 
 health and eyes hold out, for I am awfully in 
 earnest now and can do nothing at home for some 
 time to come. . . . Next week I may get dis- 
 couraged and then think strongly of sailing im- 
 mediately, such being the ups and downs of an 
 artist life and temperament." 
 
 It was not easy for her mother to be reconciled 
 to the thought of May's prolonging her stay, as 
 she missed her youngest daughter sadly, but she 
 concealed her longings, watched for May's letters, 
 and dwelt with pride on her success. Meanwhile 
 she followed with interest the Concord doings, and 
 jotted down occasional items about the various 
 guests who came to visit them: 
 
 "Feb. ist, 1877. Dr. Dudley of Milwaukee 
 passes the night here, goes to Emerson's for a 
 talk in the morning; Sanborn takes tea with him 
 and they have high talk. The weather was very 
 fine all the time. He talked about Louisa. I 
 showed him the pretty hymn she wrote when 13 
 years of age in lier little diary. 
 
 'The Kingdom of God is within you.' Mr. 
 Charles Wendte compiled a small school class- 
 book and wrote to Louisa for a contribution of 
 Juvenile poetry; she remembered this, and on 
 
 [171] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 reading it over felt she could do nothing so good 
 now. In her return note to Mr. Wendte, so charac- 
 teristic, she says : ' I send you a little piece which I 
 found in an old journal of my childhood; coming as 
 it does from a child's heart, while conscious of its 
 weaknesses and its wants, it may touch the heart 
 of other children in like mood'." 
 
 A tiny violet pressed, and pasted above an old- 
 fashioned New Year's card such as was used in 
 Europe before the custom became general here, 
 decorates the page, dated February 20th, followed 
 by the words : 
 
 "We receive a letter from May with this pretty 
 
 violet and complimentary card for the New Year. 
 
 These are interchanged in England and France, as 
 
 well as visiting cards at the New Year, so delicate. 
 
 Thank you, my dearest, I wish you many happy 
 
 and useful years, not length of days, or number of 
 
 years so desirable to any of us, I think, as usefulness 
 
 and contentment for, 
 
 Fed from a hidden bowl, 
 A lamp burns in my soul 
 
 All days; 
 A sacred, secret spark 
 
 Shoots rays." 
 
 Two days later, she notes that Louisa has re- 
 turned after an absence of six weeks in Boston. 
 
 [172] 
 
MARMEE'S JOURNAL 
 
 "We are glad to get her back amongst us this 
 dreary weather, it creates a new atmosphere in 
 the house, and we all feel more protected when she 
 is about us. She seems quite well and happy. 
 Her success in writing is quite remarkable, and 
 her reputation is made for all future time, as the 
 best writer for young people since Miss Edgeworth 
 and Mrs. Barbauld. She infuses her morals so 
 skillfully and her ethical machinery is so gracefully 
 concealed by the clinging drapery of love, or the 
 thick foliage of events, that her characters blossom 
 out upon you with a new grace and beauty as well 
 as being truthful to the Life. 
 
 "Lizzie Bartol and Mrs. Whitman call. Make 
 many inquiries about May and her studies. Louisa 
 takes tea with the Sanborn's." 
 
 And at this time May writes entertainingly of 
 her visit to the studio of the famous Couture. 
 
 "The great event has been my going with Miss 
 Austin to visit the great painter Couture, and a 
 splendid time we had of it, for in a grubby little 
 street we found the man and family in a dingy 
 room eating their twelve o'clock breakfast. They 
 were most cordial, and Mrs. Couture took us up 
 to the studio where we feasted our eyes on such 
 sketches and pictures as I can hardly give you any 
 
 [i73] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 idea of, for such strong, true, dashing touches were 
 truly startling, and Miss Austin and I could only 
 gasp out our admiration, which evidently pleased 
 madame immensely, who took as much pleasure in 
 displaying the masterly works of her husband as 
 we did in seeing them. 
 
 "They are the best pictures and more to my 
 taste than any I have seen as yet in Paris, and I 
 don't wonder he has the high rank in French art 
 that he does. His great picture in the Luxembourg 
 seems in quite a different style and I do not care 
 so much for it as the smaller ones we saw in his 
 atelier. And he himself is as striking to look at 
 as any of his works, for he has a superb head, 
 broad and massive, with grayish hair, quite thick 
 round his face, fine forehead and eyes, strong nose 
 and mouth but rather a gross chin and jowl, which 
 as a whole, I think, gives a very good and true 
 impression of his character, for with all his genius, 
 he, like so many Frenchmen, has no opinion of 
 women, their goodness, strength, or ability to do 
 anything but bear children and keep house, being 
 created as only a convenience to men. 
 
 "So though he encourages pupils who come to 
 him (and pay him #5.00 for seeing him paint), 
 to work, and takes their money, he tells his friends 
 ■ — it is impossible for them ever to paint. Three 
 
 [174] 
 
MARMEE'S JOURNAL 
 
 American girls are studying with him now but it 
 seems to me a style that can never be taught, being 
 done by inspiration and impossible to repeat, but 
 I considered it a great privilege to have seen what 
 I did, and as we came down from the studio he still 
 sat at breakfast and insisted on chatting pleasantly 
 with us, ending by saying: 'Well ladies, you cannot 
 only say you have seen Couture, but Couture in 
 the bosom of his family,' all of whom rose when we 
 went out, smiling and bowing; one of the two 
 pretty daughters whom I had noticed looked much 
 like her mother, a fair-skinned, dark-eyed woman, 
 buxom and neat, who is said to have taken Cou- 
 ture, rather than he, her. For her father was the 
 concierge of a house owned by Couture, and said 
 to be worth considerable property, so when the 
 old man proposed to the painter to marry his 
 daughter, and offered a handsome dot with her, as 
 an important part of the bargain, the latter, with 
 his notions about women, said: 'Yes, she will do as 
 well as any other woman,' and they were married. 
 It is said to have proved a happy marriage for 
 them both, and certainly everything looked so on 
 the day we saw them. Altogether I enjoyed the 
 afternoon trip as much as anything that has hap- 
 pened for a long while, and felt exceedingly obliged 
 to Miss Austin for taking me to see the great lion of 
 
 [175] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 Paris. His pictures are sold before they leave the 
 easel, at immense prices, though he is rather lazy 
 and does not paint much besides what he does 
 before his pupils, as that is his method. 
 
 "Now, Marmee dear, I have told you all this 
 because it greatly interests me and when you see 
 a picture of his or even in his style, you will see 
 the kind of painting which I want to do." 
 
 Mrs. Alcott's love of Concord with its many 
 prized memories, especially those connected with 
 the passing of Beth, is recorded on March 14th, 
 when she writes : 
 
 "Almost twenty years since we returned to Con- 
 cord, and here we were called to part with our dear 
 Lizzy. Her dear remains seem to sanctify the 
 place, and here I wish to be laid, although I often 
 say it is of little consequence where we are finally 
 laid in the flesh, for all is dust, and earth must 
 receive our corruptible part; yet, I must own a 
 preference to the final resting-place; to rest among 
 our kindred is a desirable thing to look forward to, 
 even if we are insensible to the fact. After that the 
 birds of the air, the dews from heaven, the Stars 
 above us, even the snows of winter, are beautiful 
 to contemplate as our companions in their seasons. 
 The daisies will not forget to smile above me, and 
 
 [176] 
 
MARMEE'S JOURNAL 
 
 the sweet clouds of heaven moisten their throats 
 with tender rain. Who can fear death and its 
 consequences, if they have repented their sins, hope 
 to be forgiven, and trust all to that power which 
 created, sustained us here, and provides such 
 beauty in the natural world to the end." 
 
 A couple of days later she says : 
 
 " 1 6th. Anna's birthday, we celebrate it, all she 
 is able to bear, being feeble, with an obstinate 
 cough and cold. A nice letter from May at noon 
 was a pleasant surprise on the occasion. Miss Reed 
 had bought her a Roman Lamp, like this sketch. 
 [Here is inserted May's pen-and-ink drawing of the 
 lamp.] In almost all her letters May has given me 
 some little sketch of the pretty things that are col- 
 lecting about her in Paris. I save them in this way 
 because I consider this her book, or record of the 
 doings of her Paris excursion. I think she has real- 
 ized what a sacrifice to me it has been to have her 
 gone so far, and has conscientiously tried to gratify 
 me and her sisters by these frequent and interest- 
 ing accounts of her progress in Art; the acquain- 
 tances she forms, her criticism of famous pic- 
 tures, her hopes of the future; and regrets that 
 these fine opportunities have come so late in her 
 life." 
 
 [177] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 The various jottings in Marmee's journal are 
 penned at intervals, which vary according to her state 
 of health, and a month after the last entry she writes : 
 
 "May speaks hopefully of the portrait Miss 
 Peckham is doing of her. She says 'it is a likeness 
 which I should wish to be remembered by; as it 
 idealizes my bad points, and it rather exaggerates 
 my good ones, just enough to harmonize the whole 
 tout ensemble of her subject.' May has fine lines 
 in her face, the temples remind me of my mother, 
 expressive soft and serene, the mouth heavy and 
 not intellectual. But her character gives a high- 
 born tone, almost grace to the pose of her head, 
 which might be called by some beautiful, wavy 
 hair and much of it. I hope this absence will 
 mature and develop the best traits in her character, 
 improve her health and confirm still further her 
 conviction that her talent for painting needs these 
 further instructions to establish her claims as an 
 Artist of no mean degree. She has worked consci- 
 entiously, feeling sure that honest effort will not 
 wholly fail of success." 
 
 About this time the family were considering the 
 purchase of the Thoreau House, as a home for 
 Mrs. Pratt and her children, and May's practical 
 mind at once grasped all details of the proposition 
 
 [178] 
 
MARMEE'S JOURNAL 
 
 and she eagerly discussed the project, touching 
 upon both advantages and disadvantages. A little 
 later she writes to her mother enclosing a pen-and- 
 ink sketch of her still-life picture destined to find 
 its way into the Salon: 
 
 "Here, dear Marmee, is the still-life group which 
 I have been so busy on the last week, and which 
 everyone praises so much, and in which I feel I 
 have improved so greatly, and learned so much that 
 I am encouraged to take it to Monsieur Miiller for 
 criticism. The apples are very yellow and green, 
 with a bright orange in the background, and one 
 in the shadow; then the blue-and-gray jug and 
 straw-colored bottle of Maraschino wine, with its 
 blue label, and metal top, stand on a polished table 
 which reflects the forms enough to be pretty, and 
 as a whole it is a very effective bit of color, as 
 Miss Cassatt said the other morning when she saw 
 it and thought it must be some of Rose's work." 
 
 May then speaks of her portrait which, when 
 completed, was sent back to America : 
 
 "Next week my portrait is to be done, for I 
 only mean it to be a vigorous study, not a finished 
 picture. Miss Austin and Rose are to do it to- 
 gether and I hope to have both pictures, one of 
 
 [179] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 which will do for Nan's new house. Ha, ha! I 
 shall have much light blue about me, and have them 
 make me more as I was than as I am. Then in May, 
 Alice Bartlett shall take it to Marmee as my 
 present. Your spring greeting of March 1st has 
 just come with Lu's and you are certainly good 
 faithful correspondents. I have just sent you two 
 fat envelopes full, so shall try not to send this 
 before Sunday as you will get too expectant with 
 so many in a week, but so many pleasant things 
 come along just now that I can't help scribbling 
 to my Marmee, who I know enjoys reading as 
 much as I do writing them." 
 
 It was characteristic of the aspiring artist from 
 Concord to make the most of her opportunities, 
 and much of May's so-called "good luck" was 
 traceable to the alacrity with which she seized 
 upon each chance that came her way, and did 
 her best to guide the "moving finger" which was 
 tracing her line of fate. The following letter, de- 
 scribing her dash back to her lodgings in order to 
 bring her picture to M. Miiller's notice, is an ad- 
 mirable example of her ability to travel towards 
 her "luck." She wrote: 
 
 "When we got to the studio, we found that it 
 was M. Miiller's day for visiting and criticizing. 
 [180] 
 
MARMEE'S JOURNAL 
 
 Then I regretted I had n't known of it and 
 brought my still-life for his opinion, but remem- 
 bering how few moments it would take to run 
 back and get it, I instantly resolved to do so 
 and let his decision settle my doubts as to its 
 real merit. 
 
 "When I got back he was talking with M. 
 Krug in his studio, apart from ours, and I timidly 
 produced my little group of simple objects coming 
 naturally together as they did on our dining-room 
 table. What was my astonishment and perfect 
 delight when he overwhelmed me with praises, say- 
 ing it was worthy of a pupil of the great still-life 
 painter here (whose name I can't spell), and said 
 he could n't have done it better himself, and that 
 I must send it to the Salon, and he should be proud 
 to have me write myself as his eleve, or pupil. 
 Krug stood beaming upon me and was pleased at 
 the master's praise, saying, I must at least try 
 and get it exhibited. Miiller said: 'Take that into 
 the other studio and show these ladies what, paint- 
 ing simply what you see instead of trying to make 
 a picture, will do even without great practice in 
 color.' Then he looked and looked again, and 
 repeated over and over again, c Tres Men, tres Men, 
 Mile. Alcott, you cannot do better than go on 
 doing just such things.' 
 
 [181] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 "Was n't that fine? and is n't Marmee as much 
 pleased as her baby over it all? So now I shall 
 have to get it framed and send it in to be criticized 
 by the jury, who will either refuse or accept my 
 humble work. If the former, I shall not be sur- 
 prised as it's no more than a beginner in oils and a 
 foreigner ought to expect, and it's no disgrace, as 
 6,000 were refused last year, and if accepted it 
 will be a very great honor, and a fine feather in 
 my cap to start a career with, for color-dealers, 
 picture-purchasers, and all nationalities, turn to 
 the Salon catalogue as the criterion by which to 
 judge of an artist whose name is unknown to them. 
 Next Monday, March 18th, is the day for sending 
 them and a week or more later I shall know about 
 mine. This is all very exciting and Rose and I 
 are nearly worn out with talking and have caught 
 the fever from the artists all about us, who are 
 hurrying for dear life with their work. Hers of 
 Miss d'Alembert makes a very pretty picture." 
 
 A visit to a private collection is described with 
 much enthusiasm: 
 
 "Today I have been with Kate to a small but 
 most choice collection of pictures which are for 
 sale in a lovely private hotel near us, which be- 
 longed to the late rich banker Oppenheim, and 
 
 [182] 
 
MARMEE'S JOURNAL 
 
 since his death, it is open to visitors. I found two 
 exquisite woodland scenes in Diaz' best style. And 
 the portrait of Frederick the Great in hunting 
 costume, by Jerome; he took the medal of honor 
 on it, it was thought such a chef d'ceuvre, or shade 
 over, as Lockwood calls it. There is so much 
 action and life in the figure and the whole tells 
 the story so perfectly that I am not surprised that 
 people rave over it. Then four or five of Meis- 
 sonier's best kept a crowd round them so I could 
 hardly get near enough to see them, though I 
 went early on purpose to have the pictures to 
 myself. Meissonier paints officers and cavaliers 
 in the bright clothes and velvet fixings in the 
 finest style, with the point of a sable brush, every 
 fold, every line of the face, bones of the hand and 
 all details are wonderfully done though on the 
 smallest possible scale. His mounted officers are 
 thought surprisingly good and bring immense 
 prices, for the horses are such living creatures with 
 every hair laid to make the glossy whole; a bay 
 mare, which almost always makes a striking fea- 
 ture in the foreground, particularly touches my 
 heart, I leave you to guess why. A splendid large 
 water-color by Fortuny was not to be overlooked 
 among the other gems, nor a fine Troyon, of cattle 
 and geese driven by an old Frenchwoman with a 
 
 [183] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 bright handkerchief on her head. Altogether, I 
 have hardly enjoyed any collection so entirely as 
 this, for though small it is selected with infinite 
 taste, and the whole house shows great refinement 
 in its perfect appointments. Tapestries, Japanese 
 work, fine china, bronzes, beautiful colors in satin 
 furniture, make it a place to linger in, I assure 
 you." 
 
 As the date for the exhibition approached, the 
 excitement among the art students increased and 
 May's letters reflected the intensity of feeling ex- 
 perienced by the throng waiting for the portals to 
 swing open: 
 
 "We live in exciting times, for on Saturday the 
 great rush began toward the great Palais de l'ln- 
 dustrie, and pictures appeared in every direction; 
 enormous nudes elegantly framed, small sketches, 
 water-colors carried by the ladies themselves, im- 
 mense furniture wagons packed tight stood in lines 
 before the great entrance. This state of things 
 continues for three days, when the intense excite- 
 ment culminates, from five to six o'clock on the 
 last day, for exactly at six, the great doors are shut 
 and the officials are inexorable. You may imagine 
 our anxiety when Rose, who being disappointed 
 in the d'Alembert portrait, had begun one of me 
 [184] 
 
MARMEE'S JOURNAL 
 
 which promised to be so striking a picture that at 
 the eleventh hour she decided to send mine in- 
 stead of the d'Alembert, if by a miracle she could 
 paint it in time, and so told the man not to come 
 for it till the latest possible moment. 
 
 "At eight o'clock Monday, I began to pose in 
 my blue dress with wide frill in the pointed neck, 
 and a blue turned-up hat over my hair in thick 
 curls and crimps, falling gracefully on neck and 
 shoulders. I never moved, but to drink some tea, 
 all day, while Rose painted at lightning pace, 
 and Miss Austin joined in making a sketch. We 
 had the greatest fun, particularly as I kept dictat- 
 ing, when they came to the various features, to 
 make the mouth smaller, the chin shorter, the eyes 
 longer, etc. At last darkness descended about six 
 o'clock and stopped our labors, when a general 
 review of the day's work began and was pronounced 
 remarkably fine, for a gush of blue with my hair, 
 you know, was always most charming and the 
 whole thing has an old-fashioned picturesqueness. 
 On Tuesday the same scene was repeated in our 
 little studio, the sitting being only relieved by a 
 jolly breakfast of eggs, fried potatoes, coffee and 
 jelly-cake. Miss Austin ate with us, and such a 
 merry artistic set was never seen before, I flourish- 
 ing around in my swirling blue robes, with my hair 
 
 [185] 
 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 tumbling down my back to below my waist, much 
 to their entertainment. We were all wrought up to 
 the last pitch as it neared the time for the picture 
 to be sent for, and at last we had to give up sending 
 mine as it was too unfinished, though much more 
 striking than Miss d'Alembert's, which reluctantly 
 we put into the very splendid frame Rose had 
 bought for it, and the men bore it away with 
 Lockwood's, framed in gold and black, also my 
 little still-life in a cheap but pretty, unpretentious 
 frame costing ten francs, or $2. For I decided to 
 try my luck as everyone advised me to do so, it 
 being a great thing if it was accepted, and no 
 disgrace if it was n't. 
 
 "Kate had already gone to see the fun at the 
 Palace de l'lndustrie and returned later telling us 
 that at ten minutes of six o'clock our pictures had 
 not arrived, but that an immense crowd was there, 
 among them a great number of art students, who 
 as the pictures were carried up the flights of stairs 
 and dumped down to be registered, sent off howls 
 of praise or blame, and cries of admiration at the 
 work of any known master like Jerome, or Bonnat. 
 She said, as it neared six o'clock and still wagon 
 after wagon-load drove up to be unloaded, the 
 porters got perfectly wild and just rushed the 
 pictures in and up like mad, the elegant frames 
 
 [186] 
 
MARMEE'S JOURNAL 
 
 flying in splinters, sometimes amid the jeers of the 
 crowd, or groans of the poor artist, who saw his 
 treasured work treated thus rudely. 
 
 "Kate stood three hours without being aware of 
 time, it was so exciting, and not seeing ours arrive 
 she, at just the last moment, went into the street, 
 to find our wagon just driving up, the last of six 
 yet to be unloaded, and as she stopped to hurry 
 the men, out came the portrait of Miss d'Alem- 
 bert, looking finely, she said, among the other 
 varieties of good, bad and indifferent. The crowd 
 was so great she could n't wait to see if the others 
 got out on time, but as they have n't been brought 
 back to us today, we hope they are all safely in. 
 When we here at home had seen our precious works- 
 of-art descend the stairs, we returned to the studio, 
 there to fall into our chairs perfectly exhausted 
 with the fuss, Rose going to bed worn out, think- 
 ing that a nap was the only thing that would 
 rest her overstrained nerves. Miss Austin painted 
 away the rest of the a.m. on her portrait of me, 
 which is so masterly in parts that, as the face 
 does n't suit her, she asks the favor of me to sit to 
 her and a friend (in their private studio up by the 
 Arc de Triomphe) again, in a week or two. This, 
 of course, I shall like to do, particularly as she will 
 give me the picture, when done, which will be im- 
 
 [i8 7 ] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 mensely valuable, as she hardly knows her power 
 yet, but must soon be appreciated and will put her 
 name among the first of our artists. She is a pupil 
 of Hunt's, and her style is more like his than any 
 one else that I can think of, only a little bolder if 
 anything perhaps. 
 
 "I find it very interesting to see how I look to 
 other people and am surprised that they succeed 
 in making such pleasing, effective pictures of such 
 a plain woman. Rose acknowledged that she 
 hardly suspected what picturesque material was to 
 be found in this oldish girl dressed in plain black 
 all the time, and that a bit of blue and a dashing 
 hat, with a curl or two waving in the breeze, 
 entirely transformed me. Now enough about me 
 and my portrait, but as it has proved of such 
 absorbing interest, I could n't help dilating on its 
 charms, and send a sketch that Marmee can see 
 what she is going to have to remind her of her big 
 baby, who can't return to her arms, quite yet, so 
 sends this idealized representative." 
 
 The fate of May's little still-life picture, for the 
 success of which she did not dare to hope, was 
 finally decided, and Marmee's journal for April, 
 1877, closes with the record of her daughter's artistic 
 triumph in having her work admitted to the Salon. 
 [188] 
 
MARMEE'S JOURNAL 
 
 "April 2 1 st. Memorable news from Paris. May's 
 picture admitted to the great 'Art Exhibition' of 
 the season. A small-sized group of 'Fruit and 
 Bottles', with an inexpensive frame, so the merit 
 was all in the painting, the work." 
 
 In response to this good news, May received a 
 letter of congratulation from her father, penned 
 in red ink, which, he asserted, "is the color that 
 best represents your success at the Salon." He 
 continues : 
 
 "So I begin my note of salutation to you. It is 
 an honor to yourself and to us all : the whole house- 
 hold joined in their chorus at the happy news. . . . 
 Your star is still in the ascendant and only your- 
 self can dim its lustre. Every one to whom your 
 success has been mentioned has taken pride in 
 your honors. . . . Louisa's new story in the No 
 Name series comes out tomorrow. If you know its 
 title, you are better informed than I am. I am 
 told by your mother that it surpasses its prede- 
 cessors in power and brilliancy, and that the author 
 will not be casually recognized by its readers. 
 Louisa, like yourself, appears to be adding to the 
 honors to her name and what is far better, giving 
 pleasure and nobler views of life to her million 
 readers and admirers." 
 
 [i8 9 ] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 The above suggestion concerning Louisa's new 
 book ("A Modern Mephistopheles ") points to the 
 fact that it was to her mother rather than to her 
 scholarly father that this daughter turned for 
 criticism of her forthcoming work; even as May, 
 winning her laurels in the art world, turned in- 
 stinctively to lay them before Marmee's shrine. 
 
 [190] 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 The Salon of 1877 
 
 The Palais de l'Industrie, in which was housed 
 the Salon of 1877, was a relic of an earlier Exposi- 
 tion Universelle, and it was later swept away, to 
 be replaced by a far more ornate structure, built 
 for the Exposition of 1900. It stood on the Champs 
 Elysees, and a door at one end of the building, 
 nearest the Arc de Triomphe, was assigned to the 
 reception of pictures submitted for the Salon. 
 These, as has been stated, were rapidly unloaded 
 from large vans which were drawn up before this 
 entrance, laden with canvases precious in the 
 eyes of their producers, no matter how worthless 
 they might be pronounced by the ruthless com- 
 mittee. Some of the canvases were so large as to 
 require the aid of eight or ten workmen to handle 
 them, and meanwhile, the groups of onlookers 
 would exercise their privilege of free speech, com- 
 menting frankly upon the pictures being borne up 
 the steps. At nightfall, the critical mob of art 
 students, hoarse and weary, wended its homeward 
 way, to undergo the cruel six weeks of suspense 
 that must elapse before the rendering of the 
 verdict by the jury. 
 
 [191] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 And for May Alcott, this suspense ended in 
 surprise and delight. Her little still-life, for the 
 success of which she had slight hopes, was accepted 
 and admirably hung, while the work of her friend, 
 Rose Peckham, who had been working for a much 
 longer period in Paris, was rejected. A bitter dis- 
 appointment for the three friends. 
 
 A gleeful communication from May, headed 
 "Joy, joy, joy", is annotated with the words 
 "Salon letter, April 18th" (a lucky Concord Day!). 
 And it recounts the acceptance of the picture 
 previously described: 
 
 "My dear Marmee's heart will be delighted to 
 hear that my little picture is accepted at the great 
 Salon exhibition, where from 8500 works sent in, 
 only 2000 were accepted, and mine was thought 
 worthy a place among the best. Who would have 
 imagined such good fortune, and so strong a proof 
 that Lu does not monopolize all the Alcott talent. 
 Ha ! ha ! sister, this is the first feather plucked from 
 your cap, and I shall endeavor to fill mine with so 
 many waving in the breeze that you will be quite 
 ready to lay down your pen and rest on your laurels 
 already won. Mine was such a simple unpretend- 
 ing little study, plainly framed and without any 
 influence at court to help me in with it, that I 
 [192] 
 
THE SALON OF 1877 
 
 do feel it a great compliment to have it stand on 
 its own merit as it does. It won't look bigger than 
 a postage-stamp when hung among so many im- 
 mense pictures, in such large halls, but on its ac- 
 count I have a free pass to go as often as I please 
 and take in my friends, which is convenient to say 
 the least. So sing for joy, dear Marmee, and be 
 proud of your ugly duckling, won't you? 
 
 "The sad part of the whole thing is that both 
 of Rose's portraits are refused, which is a terrible 
 disappointment, for both the sisters have had but 
 this one thought for the last year, and Rose has 
 worked for it steadily and conscientiously with 
 Monsieur Lefebre, to criticise everything she did, 
 and help her with his influence, as he was one of 
 the jury to decide the merits of each. So this morn- 
 ing when she brought the news of their refusal it 
 was too much for both of them, and I took their 
 grief so to heart as to almost forget my own happy 
 surprise. 
 
 "If Rose could only have got my portrait finished 
 in time, it would have been sure of being accepted, 
 and have done her more credit than either of the 
 others. 1 Yesterday I got a pretty, cheap frame 
 for it, and now it stands on an antique chair at 
 
 1 The year following this refusal saw Rose Peckham's portrait, which 
 was submitted to the Salon, accepted by the jury and "hung on the line." 
 
 C T 93] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 my elbow looking so fine that I long to know what 
 you will say to it, and I wish I could put it right 
 into your hands myself. . . . 
 
 "I send a good-night kiss, dear Marmee, with 
 this to warm your heart. 
 
 May 
 
 Among those bitterly disappointed by the re- 
 fusal of their work was the painter Moss, whose 
 studio May had already described. Of the fate of 
 his picture she wrote: 
 
 "Eve, I told you about sometime ago (by Moss), 
 is also refused, tho' he sent two works, and he goes 
 home to Philadelphia this summer; he has worked 
 hard for more than a year, spending a great deal 
 of money on models, in hopes to gain this one 
 taste of success and now has failed. It is dreadfully 
 discouraging and artists sometimes even commit 
 suicide at such a result, but these are foolish 
 Frenchmen, who do it at the least provocation. 
 You see I tell you all these items that you may step 
 into this little Art world here and appreciate this 
 compliment to a humble Concordian. Miss Cas- 
 satt has two refused also, which is more strange 
 than its happening to Rose, as the former's work 
 is exceedingly strong and fine, but perhaps it's too 
 original a style for these fogies to appreciate." 
 
 [194] 
 
THE SALON OF 1877 
 
 (It was after this refusal of Miss Cassatt's work 
 at the Salon that Degas persuaded her to send no 
 more of her pictures there but to exhibit instead 
 with the friends of the Impressionist school. This 
 she did, at once recognizing Manet, Courbet, and 
 Degas as her masters although they represented 
 the revolutionary school of that day.) 
 
 Among the most notable pieces of sculpture 
 exhibited at this Salon was Rodin's famous "Man 
 of the Bronze Age", a work destined to bring its 
 creator fame as a great sculptor. The previous 
 year had seen the final acceptance of his "Man 
 With a Broken Nose", which had been refused 
 almost a decade earlier, and its successor, typify- 
 ing the "Age of Bronze", was at this time tucked 
 away in an obscure nook. However, just before 
 the opening of the Salon of '77, a group of sculptors 
 gathered about this figure, hardly visible in one 
 of the darkest corners of a section playfully called 
 "the Morgue", and murmurs of admiration were 
 followed by a storm of indignation directed towards 
 the committee which had placed this masterpiece 
 in so poor a setting. 
 
 Whose work was this ? 
 
 The name Rodin was unknown to the group of 
 sculptors gathered about the statue, but at last 
 some one cried, "I know, he is a fellow who works 
 
 [19s] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 as an assistant for Carriere-Belleuse; he had a very 
 remarkable bust, a man with a broken nose, in 
 the Salon a year ago." After discussing the work 
 with increasing enthusiasm the protest was loudly 
 voiced and a riotous scene ensued; the guardians 
 were sought and before long Rodin's figure was 
 placed in an admirable position. When the Salon 
 opened a critical war raged about this statue, which 
 detractors declared was made of casts from nature; 
 the charge, however, was promptly disproved and 
 from this attack Rodin came forth triumphant, 
 an acknowledged master. 
 
 The Salon of '77 also displayed an interesting 
 portrait of a young American prima donna who 
 had taken Paris by storm, Emma La Jeunesse, a 
 Canadian by birth, who was helping to extend the 
 fame of her home city, Albany, New York. Mile. 
 Albani's praises were being sung all over Paris at 
 this time, and especially had she triumphed in the 
 role of "Lucia di Lammermoor." 
 
 Then it was that young Will Low, who, with his 
 friend Robert Louis Stevenson, had fallen under 
 the spell of her voice, decided upon a daring 
 venture. He would ask the great singer to sit to 
 him for her portrait, pleading the privilege of a 
 fellow townsman, as he also hailed from Albany. 
 Low boldly approached the prima donna, whose 
 
 [196] 
 
THE SALON OF 1877 
 
 heart melted under his admiring protestations and 
 who having acceded to his request, with unfailing 
 patience crossed the city many times to reach his 
 studio, which was sometimes far from comfortable, 
 risking her health to do so. Indeed upon a certain 
 day when the fire went out, she contracted a severe 
 cold and almost closed the Paris Opera House in 
 consequence. The report of Low's success spread 
 among the art students, who would by seeming 
 accident line the path to the singer's carriage, 
 envying the lucky fellow student who was gallantly 
 escorting her to her vehicle. This admiration was 
 later expressed in the presentation of an album of 
 original sketches which, as Mr. Low has stated, 
 contained the work of every American art student 
 in Paris at that time. Low's portrait of Albani, as 
 " Lucia", is now in the possession of the Albany 
 Club, at Albany, New York. 
 
 It was just at this time that Saint-Gaudens 
 modeled in Paris the exquisite reredos for St. 
 Thomas' Church, New York, which was afterward 
 destroyed by fire; this work was then under way, 
 and young Low, who had come to share Saint- 
 Gaudens' studio, watched its growth with en- 
 thusiasm. 
 
 Following the opening of the Salon, May penned 
 a graphic picture of this dramatic spectacle: 
 
 [197] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 My dear old Lu, — The excitement of Varnish- 
 ing Day is over and I must describe it as well as 
 possible to you who love the artistic side of Paris 
 life so much. All the night before I was most 
 restless concerning the eventful Monday, when I 
 was to see my work hung among the gorgeous great 
 pictures by the first French painters. So at early 
 dawn I waked to find a superbly bright day and 
 satisfied on this point, I tried to sleep again till 
 seven o'clock came, when I half dressed and putting 
 on my wrapper virtuously did up the dinner things 
 left in confusion, the night before. Being care- 
 fully robed in our evening clothes we did n't feel 
 like cleaning pots and pans in our little kitchen. 
 Then at nine o'clock, after having a good hot bowl 
 of chocolate, I descended to meet Mr. Parish and 
 settling ourselves in a little open carriage we drove 
 off to the Palais PIndustrie and mounting the 
 broad stairs stood face to face in the first big 
 salon, with my study of still-life. It looked very 
 small amid the enormous ones which surrounded 
 it on all sides, but it held its own surprisingly well 
 being good, strong, vigorous painting, simple in 
 its subject and unaffectedly treated. The great 
 frames round it made a superb edge of gold making 
 the neat little frame look like a mere inner panel 
 and proved most becoming. Besides this fortunate 
 [198] 
 
THE SALON OF'^1877 
 
 circumstance, the hanging committee did me the 
 honor to put it so low as to be almost "on the line", 
 as those just in range of the eye are called, and 
 artists sometimes pay large bribes to the managers 
 to get theirs put on this line. When I saw what 
 fine specimens of still-life there were there I was 
 surprised that mine was accepted, for these French 
 students paint most elaborately arranged eastern 
 stuffs, Venetian glass, brass, armor, on an immense 
 scale, and give much time to it, finishing up every 
 detail most perfectly. So I came to the conclusion 
 that the very simplicity of mine must have been 
 its great merit, though Miiller assured me it would 
 without fail be accepted when he saw it. Well, 
 after contemplating my picture and the looks of 
 my name on the second page of the fat catalogue, 
 arranged alphabetically, we passed on to find thirty 
 rooms full of paintings, beside long galleries of 
 water-colors, etchings, engravings and designs, 
 while below in a glass-covered garden stood the 
 accepted sculptures, tastefully arranged near the 
 great restaurant filled with hungry visitors. Parish 
 is a handsome blond fellow, most elegant and 
 gentlemanly in appearance so I aired my best 
 plumage even to petticoats and boots, yellow 
 gloves with four buttons, etc., meeting all the 
 artists, Bridgman, Blashfield, Moss, Ramsey and 
 
 C 199 U 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 the crowd generally, as we call them. All stopped 
 to congratulate me on my picture and its hanging, 
 and Mitchell came to chat about his etching, 
 Leland and others payed their respects. . . . 
 
 After this I stumbled on Bigot and Madame, 
 and then a fleeting recognition to Lippincott, Miss 
 Gadsall, and some studio inmates, feeling quite at 
 home in this great crowd and rather alarmed to 
 find how many people I already knew there. A 
 great Madonna by Bouguereau, a portrait of 
 Thiers by Bonnat, Bridgman's "Egyptian Burial 
 at Sea", which was finely hung and looked like a 
 different thing from what it did at the private 
 opening, I noticed particularly. 
 
 Bacon has a good picture in the Salon, and you 
 would be surprised to see how many Bostonians, 
 Philadelphians and New Yorkers' names figure in 
 the catalogue, which I will forward to you after 
 the exhibition closes, as Marmee will like to see 
 her baby's name combining the May and Alcott 
 both in French print. Just as Parish, who leaves 
 for London to-night and was much hurried of 
 course, was saying good-bye at the Palais today, 
 Mr. Ramsey advanced and asked me to share his 
 cab with him home, so we drove gaily home after 
 a most successful entree at the Salon. The next 
 day I took Fanny Lombard, dressed in her fine 
 [ 200 ] 
 
THE SALON OF 1877 
 
 new suit, and we had a jolly time together, taking 
 our lunch in the restaurant. We saw the pictures 
 before the crowd came in, or rather got some no- 
 tion of the most important ones, and then after 
 lunch took another general survey, of both the 
 water-color room and the collection of designs, 
 etchings, etc., then finished up by studying the 
 toilettes, as the fashionables crowded in towards 
 night. Some of them were quite fine but we 
 decided that at the New York exhibitions, or even 
 the Art Club rooms [Boston], one saw more dress 
 and more taste in costumes than even in Paris at 
 the Salon. They say that the great houses like 
 Worth and Pingat make an entirely different 
 class of costumes, more rich and expensive for 
 exporting to American markets than any for sale 
 in Paris, and you all get the fashions sooner 
 through Harper's Bazar, and those fashion-books, 
 than we do, unless an American goes into much 
 society here. 
 
 But seeing well-dressed people convinced me I 
 must buy a bonnet, as my hat did well enough for 
 every day, being exceedingly becoming, but that 
 I must have something to wear to be a little gayer 
 sometimes, so off I posted, after leaving Fanny, 
 to the Temple and bought a blue bonnet such as I 
 have always had, and after all that color is more 
 [201] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 becoming than any other and goes with brown and 
 black so prettily, and now with a light veil tied 
 over it the whole thing is more useful than a yellow 
 straw; which is very fashionable but only useful 
 for one season, and then has to be thrown away. 
 Capot shape is much worn now like this [small 
 sketch inserted] with very little trimming, per- 
 haps a bit of black velvet and a bunch of yellow 
 flowers. 
 
 May's success, with her detailed descriptions of 
 the Salon, awakened much enthusiasm in the little 
 home circle, and many letters of congratulation 
 fluttered across to Paris. 
 
 Upon April 23, she writes in response to the fam- 
 ily congratulations, expressing her happiness at 
 being able to please them, and her hope that some- 
 time she may also be able to aid them by her art 
 productions. She cautions them, however, not 
 to expect too much, as she may "flat out" in 
 the end, and she protests that she thinks more 
 of pleasing "Marmee" than anything else, and 
 will send home her salon picture at the earliest 
 opportunity for Annie to hang in her dining 
 room. 
 
 She comments with amusement on some sugges- 
 tion proffered about her work, remarking: 
 [202] 
 
THE SALON OF 1877 
 
 "I roared over the charmingly assured tone of 
 Lu's saying 'Don't paint in Millet's later style', 
 as if I could ever paint in any style like his, and if 
 the Shaw collection is still at the Boston Athe- 
 naeum, be sure to go to see his ' Sower', which Mr. 
 Emerson calls the great picture of the world. Millet 
 is dead, you know, and among the other great names 
 are Corot, Fromentin, and Diaz, who have died 
 lately and left no one capable of filling their places." 
 
 May's admonition to the family regarding their 
 attitude towards Millet recalls the fact that as a 
 pupil of William Morris Hunt she had undoubtedly 
 acquired an enthusiasm for this French master's 
 work long before reaching Europe, for in Hunt's 
 studio a fine collection of the Frenchman's pictures 
 had been displayed. Hunt's classes, which he 
 carried on in Boston in the Mercantile Building 
 for three years, were eagerly attended, and prob- 
 ably no other city in America at this period offered 
 such advanced modern instruction as did Boston. 
 After three years, however, Hunt found that his 
 own work was suffering, and he arranged to have 
 one of his pupils, Miss Helen M. Knowlton, carry 
 on the classes, he himself coming in merely to 
 criticize and to correct the work. During this 
 period Miss Knowlton took careful notes of Hunt's 
 [203] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 talks to his classes, for her own use in teaching; 
 these notes were later published in book form as 
 "Hunt's Talks on Art", a work familiar to all 
 art students. 
 
 In the great Boston fire in 1872, Hunt's studio 
 was destroyed, and in addition to the loss of his 
 own pictures, five canvases by Millet went up in 
 flames, as did those of several other French mas- 
 ters. It was indeed most fortunate that shortly 
 before this time, five of Millet's works had been 
 purchased by Mr. Quincy A. Shaw, who, for 
 ten thousand dollars, secured "The Sower", "The 
 Shepherdess", "The Shepherd in the Moonlight", 
 "Sheep Shearers", and "The Digger." 
 
 Boston, which prides itself to-day on the pos- 
 session of so many of the pictures of the French 
 master, was slow to awaken to their merit, and 
 the lack of appreciation shown at the exhibition 
 held at the Boston Athenaeum, to which May 
 Alcott refers in her letter, awoke in Hunt great 
 indignation. This exhibition, which included paint- 
 ings by Millet, Rousseau, and Troyon, was severely 
 criticized by the head of the Art Department at 
 Harvard University, to whom Hunt replied in the 
 Boston Advertiser, declaring that the standard at 
 Harvard had indeed reached a dizzy height when 
 the work of Millet was ranked as "trivial." 
 [204] 
 
THE SALON OF 1877 
 
 As has been already suggested, Hunt was also a 
 great admirer of Turner, whose work had taken 
 a strong hold on his fancy, so that he used to say: 
 "The Turners follow me! I cannot get away from 
 them. They are all that I can hold." And one 
 may rest assured that few pupils of Hunt failed to 
 appreciate the work of either the French or the 
 English master previously referred to. 
 
 With the excitement of the Salon over, May 
 Alcott began to think of country scenes and of the 
 opportunities for sketching out of doors. She wrote : 
 
 "I long to get into the country and try my 
 hand at a bit of nature with the new ideas I have 
 been simmering to help me along. I don't want to 
 paint merely portraits, which for money is a dog's 
 life, but old donkey-women with yellow handker- 
 chiefs on their heads, pretty children on the queer 
 stone steps of some of the quaint houses of Brit- 
 tany, perhaps, and such things, where landscape 
 and figures combine to make a pleasing whole, 
 and if I find what I want I shall stay all winter 
 perhaps, out of Paris making pictures, though 
 probably I shall find it necessary to study drawing 
 much longer. Sometimes it does seem such an 
 endless task to try to learn all that a painter must 
 know before he attempts pictures." 
 [205] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 It may be amusing to record May's description 
 of a Paris gown in 1877: 
 
 "You will like to know that my new black silk 
 came home last night cut c Princess', all in one, 
 laced up the back and tight as possible over the 
 hips, making me a superb figure, the P's say, and 
 it is a simple but exceedingly stylish dress, with 
 a graceful train and handsomely finished in detail, 
 only trimmed with the wide piece of heavy silk 
 fringe across the front breadth which is folded 
 like a scarf, draped across the front, to break 
 the severe outline, and three fine silk plaitings all 
 round the bottom of the front and sides, ending 
 in one just at the train. I shall get some real black 
 lace and quill round the neck, with crepe-lese in- 
 side, and it will be just what I want for the studio- 
 party if they give one, for the Mannings, as Mr. 
 Ramsey spoke of doing. I cut the blue waterproof 
 myself by a pattern into a polonaise and it sets 
 surprisingly well; so much so, that the P's say 
 they shall do theirs just so. It is basted ready, 
 with my new underwaist, which I have also cut 
 out for myself, for the machine, when Miss Reade 
 brings it from London, as Warner is to send it by 
 her to save duties which are high on such things 
 between the two countries. I shall get a big hat 
 [206] 
 
THE SALON OF 1877 
 
 and sketching umbrella and then shall feel ready 
 for the country. It would delight your eyes, all 
 of you, to see my head look as it used to with a 
 little roll on the top and my new yellow comb, and 
 three fat curls dropping off at the back, the front 
 all wavy and thick so that on the whole it quite 
 transforms me and I look more like my portrait 
 than you imagine." 
 
 She also describes the purchase of a stuffed owl 
 which served later as a model for one of her best 
 still-life pictures, later accepted at the Salon of 
 1879: 
 
 "The other day, coming from the Atelier, I saw 
 some fine stuffed birds in an old auction room 
 filled with old rubbish, and picked from the rest a 
 fine owl, large, round-eyed and solemn looking, 
 with creamy feathers, shading brown on the wings, 
 which are so pretty that if I did n't want to paint 
 him I should tweak one of them off for my hat. 
 The joke of the whole thing is that as the man 
 stood at the door, I said, 'How much for the owl?' 
 expecting he would say at least 12 or 15 francs, as 
 Alice paid the latter price for one not half so 
 handsome; so you will appreciate my quick wit, 
 when he said '2 francs' and I quickly responded 
 'I will give you iyi francs for it,' whereupon he 
 
 C 207 ] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 clapped a paper round it and I bore it home, for 
 all to admire not only the noble bird, but the 
 shrewdness displayed in my bargain. Alice is 
 furious at it all, and the Mannings all admire it, 
 also the Peckhams to such an extent that I bought 
 a hawk at the same place for Rose as a present." 
 
 A description of her visit to Healy's studio is 
 very entertaining: 
 
 "I have been busy on a still-life of a jug and 
 paint-brushes, a paint-box half open, and a little 
 bottle of varnish, all standing on my bright rug 
 for a bit of color, and Rose says it is finely done, 
 and an improvement on my Salon one. This quite 
 contents me as all I expect is to improve from one 
 to another. 
 
 "Thursday being Healy day I went to the house 
 and was taken by the daughter across their yard 
 to find Ma and Pa, a regular Darby and Joan, in 
 the Studio enjoying a look at his great portrait of 
 Bismarck, which he has been in Germany three 
 weeks to paint. He was splendidly entertained and 
 has succeeded to the great satisfaction of the 
 Bismarck family in making a strikingly lifelike and 
 vigorous picture of a very ugly man. The lower 
 part of his face is redeemed somewhat by a very 
 high forehead and he has a grand figure, broad 
 
 [208] 
 
THE SALON OF 1877 
 
 shouldered and well proportioned. He is six feet 
 three inches when standing, but Healy has taken 
 him sitting by a table with one arm leaning on it, 
 while the other holds a quill pen, and the eyes are 
 slightly raised, with the head thrown back in order 
 to show his eyes, as all the flabby overhanging 
 brows and masses of fat would otherwise almost 
 entirely hide them. It is cleverly done and cer- 
 tainly Healy has more perfect facility with the 
 brush than any one I ever saw, which is something, 
 though the immortal fire is entirely left out of his 
 work. I had an artistic call and then hurried home, 
 for this is such April weather that half a dozen little 
 showers descend in an afternoon and are incon- 
 venient when one is in calling array." 
 
 May's repeated suggestions that Louisa join her 
 in Paris awaken a hearty response in the other's 
 breast, but she feels that she must remain in 
 Concord, though from time to time she voices her 
 desire for a change of scene and pens an amusing 
 description of the prosaic surroundings which con- 
 trast vividly with those of Paris. To such a 
 communication May replies: 
 
 "Your description of the view from my window 
 with Gray trotting by while a draggle-tailed dog 
 is rooting in the garden, convulsed me, as I know 
 
 C 2 °9 ] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 it so well having seen all phases of Concord scenery 
 for so many years. ... I wish more than you do, 
 dear Lu, that you were here, and as I walked alone 
 to the Arc de Triomphe this springy afternoon, 
 through the lovely Pare Monceaux filled with 
 children, their bonnes, elegant equipages, and the 
 picturesque ruins, which though really new are 
 such good imitations of old pillars, bridges etc., 
 that* the effect is lovely, how I wished we could 
 have gone in sisterhood." 
 
 As the season advances she writes : 
 
 "We have been having very warm weather here 
 and my blue cambric came out today for the first 
 time. Sunday morning Kate began the day by 
 reading a chapter in father's book, while Rose 
 reclined on the couch and I sewed. It sounded 
 sweet and refreshing and we voted it most whole- 
 some reading. For a few days Rose has been quite 
 tired and ailing and I think if Grez proves a success 
 after I have been there a week or so, they may 
 join me there before going to Switzerland." 
 
 [210] 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 The Magic Circle at Grez 
 
 During the spring of 1877, May Alcott's letters 
 told of her plan to spend the summer months at 
 Grez, a charming little hamlet which was at just 
 that period becoming a Mecca for art students. 
 That she succeeded in carrying out this project 
 seems probable, although it is uncertain how long 
 she stayed there, as her home correspondence dur- 
 ing this summer seems to have vanished, and her 
 communications during the following autumn sug- 
 gest that her sojourn in this artist's paradise was 
 brief. Yet she speaks of it with enthusiasm in her 
 little "guide" for art students, describing its loca- 
 tion as "within walking distance from Barbizon", 
 and but a "donkey-ride from Fontainebleau ", 
 while she praises its picturesque beauty, and free- 
 dom from all needless conventions, which has won 
 for it growing popularity. She writes of its primi- 
 tive life: 
 
 "One painter after another, with mind filled by 
 many lingering doubts as to what it would be 
 like, has ventured to go, generally being received 
 on his arrival by all the inhabitants of the town, 
 
 [211] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 who turn out to see each newcomer and divide 
 any luggage among themselves, for transportation 
 to the little Inn, which until this year has been 
 the only accommodation afforded. The place has 
 its old bridge, its boating and bathing, the river 
 making these possible for ladies as well as gentle- 
 men, flannel-shirts and tramp dresses being the 
 order of the day. Fine clothes are out of place 
 and strictly forbidden the freedom-loving set 
 which now annually meets in the small rooms of 
 the 'auberge', where board was from four to five 
 francs a day." 
 
 She closes her remarks about the place with the 
 reflection that Grez in some ways is a reminder 
 of Clark's Island, off Plymouth, Massachusetts, for 
 while the latter is by the sea, both places possess 
 a similar charm for those "who have once been 
 adventurous enough to spend a summer there." 
 
 The evidence at hand points quite conclusively 
 to the fact that in the summer of 1877, May's 
 lucky star guided her to this little town to share 
 for a brief period the life of this art colony whose 
 members were destined to play important parts in 
 the artistic world. 
 
 Two years before this time, the possibilities of 
 Grez had been discovered by Will H. Low, of New 
 [212] 
 
THE MAGIC CIRCLE AT GREZ 
 
 York, who, with other art students had been mak- 
 ing the far-famed Barbizon his summer workshop, 
 and on his recommendation a small group migrated 
 to found another center of artistic activity, only 
 a short distance from their previous habitat, be- 
 loved by painters for half a century. 
 
 When in 1849, Jean Francois Millet went to 
 Barbizon for a summer holiday, and there re- 
 mained because living was cheap and the place 
 healthful, and also because he could find there 
 models on which to build his own ideal of art, the 
 place had long been a summer resort for painters, 
 and its small Inn an artists' rendezvous. Indeed, 
 a quarter of a century before the coming of Millet, 
 the fame of Barbizon had been established, in 
 1824, by Claude Aligny, and Philippe Le Dieu. 
 These two painters, who had wandered down to 
 Fontainebleau to visit a friend in a porcelain 
 manufactory, started out for some woodland 
 sketching and lost their way in the depths of the 
 forest. As night shut down upon them, they 
 gratefully accepted the offer of a shepherd, who 
 led them to Barbizon, o'er which, perchance, the 
 painter's star was hovering, and hospitably al- 
 lowed them to sleep upon the straw within his 
 sheepfold. The following morning found them 
 enchanted with the beauty of the place, and they 
 
 [ 213 ] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 remained for prolonged sketching, later returning 
 after spreading the news of their discovery among 
 their friends. Then others came, and in the year 
 1830 a hotel was established and filled with paint- 
 ers, soon to make Barbizon world-famous, for the 
 list of habitues came to include Corot, Rousseau, 
 Diaz, Dupre, Barye, and finally Millet, and dur- 
 ing the next forty years, all French artists of note, 
 and others from all parts of the world, found their 
 way thither. 
 
 And it was there that Will Low and his friend 
 Wyatt Eaton were happily associated with Millet 
 during his final years, and from this much-prized 
 friendship with the master, brought back to their 
 own country standards of art and a new inspira- 
 tion that were to bring about the founding of the 
 Society of American Artists. 
 
 It was a Boston painter, William Babcock, then 
 living in France, who was the first American to 
 appreciate Jean Francois Millet. In 1866, he took 
 William Morris Hunt to Millet's studio at Bar- 
 bizon, and introduced him to the master, whose 
 genius was at once recognized by the American 
 painter. The " Sheep-Shearers " at this time stood 
 on the Frenchman's easel, and Hunt inquired if it 
 were sold. To this Millet responded that it was 
 to be taken in payment for a long-delayed color 
 
 oh] 
 
THE MAGIC CIRCLE AT GREZ 
 
 bill. Hunt promptly paid this bill and bought 
 the picture, later purchasing many other works, so 
 that eventually he came to own at least a dozen of 
 this master's paintings. 
 
 Two years before May Alcott's association with 
 Grez, the little group of American painters at 
 Barbizon had been growing restive for lack of 
 proper exercise for limbs as well as brushes, and 
 then it was that young Will Low had told of the 
 beauties of the little hamlet upon the other side 
 of the forest of Fontainebleau, adjacent to the 
 river, which might furnish them with much- 
 desired exercise, as well as opportunities for boat- 
 ing and bathing, unknown at Barbizon. With one 
 accord the little group cried out that they would 
 go at once to view this lovely spot where they 
 might row and swim, declaring that they were 
 weary of "washing in a bowl no larger than a tea- 
 cup." 
 
 Forthwith, a party of six, which included "Bob" 
 Stevenson and his cousin Robert Louis Stevenson, 
 from Scotland, set off across the forest, and after 
 a twenty-mile drive, drew up at Chevillon's, the 
 little inn, which later became a center for art 
 students. The following year, Barbizon was aban- 
 doned for Grez, and 1876, the summer preceding 
 May Alcott's coming, found the Anglo-Saxons in 
 
 [215] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 full possession of the quaint inn, where among the 
 prime enthusiasts were the Stevenson cousins, who 
 had in Edinburgh shared so many light-hearted 
 pranks together. 
 
 Robert Alan Mowbray Stevenson, who later 
 became Professor of Fine Arts at Liverpool Uni- 
 versity, was by all his friends considered the more 
 brilliant of the two, being famed for his wit and 
 his extraordinary conversational gift, though he 
 possessed less power of concentration than his 
 kinsman. "Bob" was at this time studying at the 
 atelier of Carolus Duran, in Paris, and there Robert 
 Louis Stevenson had joined him in search of change 
 and rest, being somewhat out of health; and with 
 the coming of the summer season, he followed his 
 cousin to Barbizon, and on to Grez. 
 
 And at this point one may well pause to reflect 
 for a brief space upon the part that Grez played 
 in the life of Robert Louis Stevenson, furnishing 
 as it did, in 1876, the "time, and the place, and the 
 loved one altogether", for here it was that this 
 distinguished writer met his fate. In his essay 
 entitled "Forest Notes", he has painted a charm- 
 ing word-picture of the summer life lived at that 
 time. In the fall of this crucial year, Low made a 
 sketch of him, which shows that at this period his 
 hair was light in color, a fact that has been ques- 
 
 [216] 
 
THE MAGIC CIRCLE AT GREZ 
 
 tioned by those who have described it as quite 
 dark, its color in later years. 
 
 In speaking of him at this period, Low says: 
 "The charm of his presence was both appealing 
 and imperative"; and picturing their days of happy 
 companionship, he describes the "long afternoons 
 spent with him in the woods, his book thrown aside, 
 the long fingers twisting cigarettes of thread-like 
 dimensions," declaring, "I have never known one 
 roll so thin a cigarette as Stevenson, and the 
 constant flow of talk and interchange of thought 
 come back to me like the opening chapters of a 
 book, which one has perused with increasing de- 
 light, only to find it at the end 'by a wilful con- 
 vulsion of nature, finished too soon.' " 
 
 At this time, while the others worked indus- 
 triously at their painting, "Louis" Stevenson was 
 apparently idle, and it was not until later that his 
 friends realized through what a formative period 
 in his work he was passing. But those who knew 
 him then found afterwards in his works many 
 ideas, reflections, incidents and phrases born in 
 those idle summer days, when he was storing the 
 treasure-house of his mind and accumulating ma- 
 terial that was to reappear later in new and 
 delightful dress. 
 
 Undoubtedly his life in this community played 
 [217] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 no small part in Stevenson's subsequent work, and 
 he has described Grez in his essay entitled "Fon- 
 tainebleau" as a merry place after its kind; pretty 
 to see, merry to inhabit; while a picture of his 
 cousin "Bob" may be recognized in his article on 
 "Talk and Talkers." Grez appears as the home 
 of Doctor Desprez, and it was there that Stevenson 
 evolved the idea of a barge project for traveling 
 in many directions by river, a dream that was 
 never realized save in his story of an "Inland 
 Voyage." Yet this plan was launched, and almost 
 carried out during the summer of 1877, when 
 the star of May Alcott crossed the path of many 
 others destined to shine more brightly than her own 
 in the field of art, though all were aiding the great 
 cause dear to each painter's heart. 
 
 At the quaint little inn close to the river, Steven- 
 son, who declared that there was much that made 
 life on land undesirable, busied himself with study- 
 ing maps and laying out river routes in all direc- 
 tions for inland travel; a barge was purchased and 
 its ownership vested in the two Stevensons and 
 their friends Enfield and Simpson. Great plans 
 were made; the craft was to be decorated and ar- 
 ranged with lounging rooms and a studio. The 
 owners would go south in winter, returning by slow 
 degrees, and finally reaching Paris in time to moor 
 
 [218] 
 
THE MAGIC CIRCLE AT GREZ 
 
 their barge not far from the doors of the Salon, 
 which would receive their works. 
 
 The craft, having been purchased, was taken to 
 a near-by river town where the leading carpenter 
 was set to work upon her; she was christened The 
 Eleven Thousand Virgins of Cologne, and lay for 
 some months in the river near the ancient town of 
 Moret. But from this place she never started on 
 her adventurous career; and her eventual fate was 
 described by Stevenson: "She rotted in the stream 
 where she was beautified. She felt not the impulse 
 of the breeze; she was never harnessed to the 
 patient track-horse." And she was finally sold in 
 order to defray the owners' indebtedness to the 
 indignant carpenter of Moret. 
 
 Among those who were numbered as May Al- 
 cott's friends, during this period, was one whose 
 presence at Grez has been already foreshadowed, 
 and whose striking personality and powers of fas- 
 cination were soon to bring her into world-wide 
 notice, Mrs. Osbourne. She and May Alcott spent 
 many hours together at Julien's studio, but whether 
 their first meeting place was in this atelier or in the 
 little colony at Grez one cannot say. It is, however, 
 certain that this notable figure, with her dark 
 beauty, was summering at Grez in 1877, her second 
 season there. 
 
 [219] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 When the first group of artists invaded the pic- 
 turesque hamlet, astounding the rural population 
 by their alien customs and above all by their 
 unprecedented love of water, the small community 
 was quite exclusively a masculine possession. Free 
 from all small conventions or restraining social 
 customs, the newcomers strode about the village 
 attired in bathing trunks and sandals, perpetually 
 on their way for a swim in the river, where the 
 canoes rapidly multiplied and where tub-races 
 soon became popular. At first the rural popula- 
 tion stood quite aghast at the aquatic innovations, 
 but ere long they learned to accept the new 
 regime complacently, as they did the increase in 
 trade. 
 
 Then into this masculine community in 1876 
 came two engaging but unwelcome feminine fig- 
 ures. They were mother and daughter, art stu- 
 dents and Californians. The elder had vivid eyes 
 that gleamed from under a mass of dark hair, 
 while the younger, of more robust type, was 
 equally attractive. At the time of their coming 
 Louis Stevenson was absent from the circle at 
 Grez, but after some scrutiny they were welcomed 
 by "Bob", as having proved themselves to be 
 "the right sort", and worthy of admission to this 
 Painters' Paradise. But when this feminine in- 
 [ 220] 
 
THE MAGIC CIRCLE AT GREZ 
 
 vasion was reported to Louis Stevenson, who was 
 then in Paris, he recoiled in comic disgust at the sug- 
 gestion, exclaiming, " It 's the beginning of the end ", 
 little suspecting the truth of his own prophecy. 
 
 A little later, Louis returned to Grez, and the 
 spell was upon him, and ere long it was evident 
 to his friends that his feeling for Mrs. Osbourne 
 was no mere passing fancy. With Stevenson it 
 was indeed the beginning of a tie that was to end 
 only with his life. 
 
 In the process of gathering up the threads that 
 lead back to those art-student days at Grez, it 
 has seemed of interest to communicate with Mr. 
 Will H. Low, whose success, both as an artist and 
 as a literary craftsman, are too well known to 
 need further comment. 
 
 In reply to the question "Did you meet May 
 Alcott in the summer of 1877, at Grez?" the answer 
 came in the negative, accompanied by the expres- 
 sion of much regret that the writer had missed 
 numerous Concord associations with which he had 
 been on the point of coming in close touch. His 
 letter may well be included in this chapter, as he 
 belongs in this the "Magic Circle." 
 
 Mr. Low writes that in 1877 he was only at 
 Grez a couple of times, and he did not meet Miss 
 [221] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 Alcott, a fact he much deplores, as he likes well 
 to be identified with Concord, although, strange 
 to say, he has never been there. He asserts: 
 
 For many generations my people on my mother's 
 side lived there. My grandmother Betsy Buttrick 
 emigrated to Albany at the behest of Samuel 
 Steele, my grandfather. She was a niece of the 
 Major, who commanded "the shot heard round the 
 world", and when later I was trying hard to cast 
 the skin of serpent-like France, at Nantucket, my 
 friend Frank Lathrop, who was living with his 
 brother in the "Manse", at Concord, invited me 
 to spend a week with him, — and I did n't go. 
 
 I have a still closer tie, for my (second) wife, 
 Mary Fairchild's sister Florence, married a son of 
 W. T. Harris, who succeeded Bronson Alcott as 
 the head of the School of Philosophy, and was liv- 
 ing in the Old Orchard House; she visited her sister 
 there for the summer of 1880 and 1882, and oc- 
 cupied May Alcott's room; she has often described 
 to me the copies of Flaxman's designs which 
 ornamented the woodwork. Being at the point of 
 going to France to study art, you can imagine how 
 much she was thrilled in anticipation by her sur- 
 roundings. The woman art-student in France in my 
 time was a rarity, and though it was several years 
 
 C 222 ] 
 
THE MAGIC CIRCLE AT GREZ 
 
 later that my wife went there, her experiences, be- 
 fore the days of female emancipation, were so 
 curious that I am always urging her to write them. 
 So I imagine that May Alcott' s letters of her 
 pioneer experiences would be most interesting, and 
 I trust you will draw upon them largely. I repeat 
 that I am most sorry to be like a ship that passes 
 in the night, without hailing, but in the effort to 
 be helpful, I can only think of Isobel Osbourne, 
 who was a young girl at Grez during her mother's 
 stay there in 1876-7, and might have some knowl- 
 edge of May Alcott. There were, by the way, two 
 Inns at Grez, Chevillon's, where we, the Stevensons 
 and our band stayed, and the other, whose name 
 I forget, and which I fancy was considered the 
 most respectable, though that may be because it 
 was slightly more expensive. Coming from Con- 
 cord, whose philosophy would I am sure have been 
 tried by the general disorder at Chevillon's, Miss 
 Alcott may have preferred the second of these 
 places. It is hard trailing witches of so transitory 
 a thing as our life in France, though it is a part 
 of my religion to believe it was a good life. I am 
 certain that the unfortunate and sophisticated 
 youth of today will never see the like of it. I am 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Will H. Low. 
 C223] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 And in pursuance of Mr. Low's suggestion, a 
 letter went to Isobel Osbourne, now Mrs. Salisbury 
 Field, who graciously responded, recalling some of 
 her memories of the year '77. 
 
 She wrote that as a girl in her early teens, she 
 well remembered May Alcott, who formed a friend- 
 ship with her mother, before her marriage to 
 Stevenson, at which time they were often together 
 at Julien's studio. In this connection she says: 
 
 I distinctly remember meeting her at Julien's 
 studio, in the old Passage des Panoramas, off the 
 Boulevard des Italiens. I was very young then and 
 of course had read and adored "Little Women", 
 and I was thrilled when told that the tall, dis- 
 tinguished-looking lady, who wore her hair in 
 curls, was "Amy" of that beloved family. I 
 gazed at her with awe and admiration, just a little 
 disenchanted to find her grown-up and reserved. 
 I know I asked her several questions diffidently, 
 and she answered kindly, but in a bored manner 
 as though she had heard them very often before, 
 "Yes, Laurie was a real person." "No, she did 
 not marry him," that sort of thing. 
 
 As I remember her through such a mist of years, 
 she was tall, very slender and graceful, and wore 
 her hair in long curls down her back, a rather 
 [224] 
 
THE MAGIC CIRCLE AT GREZ 
 
 unusual fashion even for those days. I was much 
 interested in her, but she naturally was not par- 
 ticularly interested in a young person of fourteen, 
 who stared at her with absorbed attention and asked 
 all the usual questions. As I said, we left Grez before 
 1879, but she knew my mother at Julien's studio, 
 for I often saw them there talking together. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 Isobel Field. 
 
 Serena, Carpinteria, California, 
 July 24, 1926. 
 
 These slender links that bind May Alcott to 
 the little group that was to create in America 
 an era of art are well worthy of preservation, for 
 she shared in the dream that all the others of 
 that group determined "should come true." She 
 was not destined to aid it as extensively as many, 
 but from the first her heart was with them, and 
 by her influence more than by her creative work 
 she helped to bring about results for which we 
 should be truly grateful. The Concord Art Center, 
 which she established; the lump of clay that she 
 gave to Daniel Chester French; the classes that she 
 taught; her little book, instructing young art stu- 
 dents regarding life and opportunities abroad; and 
 lastly her own excellent productions which, had she 
 lived, might have fulfilled those high hopes cherished 
 [225] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 by her family, and by herself — all have contrib- 
 uted to our national heritage in the art world. 
 
 In that summer of 1877, when this notable group 
 of American art students were summering at Grez, 
 some had already returned to New York, with great 
 ambitions and small means, and of these "home 
 comers", as they were called, a little coterie de- 
 cided to make some special effort towards the 
 realization of their purpose. On a June evening, 
 four young artists met at 103 East Fifteenth 
 Street, in what had once been a carriage house but 
 which had been transformed into a charming dwell- 
 ing for a young couple whose literary and artistic 
 qualities were to count much in the life of their 
 generation, — Mr. and Mrs. Richard Watson 
 Gilder. The four were Augustus Saint-Gaudens, 
 Wyatt Eaton, Walter Shirlaw, and Helena de Kay 
 Gilder, and when the meeting had been called to 
 order, Saint-Gaudens made the motion: "Resolved, 
 That an association be formed by those present 
 with the object of advancing the interests of art in 
 America: the same to be entitled 'The American 
 Art Association'." 
 
 The new association continued to grow and 
 
 flourish and its first exhibition was held a few 
 
 months later. It was at the beginning regarded as 
 
 quite unimportant and revolutionary in character, 
 
 [226] 
 
THE MAGIC CIRCLE AT GREZ 
 
 but soon its value in the art world made itself felt and 
 its more staid competitor, the National Academy 
 of Design, from time to time admitted the younger 
 painters to its ranks. And finally, in after years, 
 the two opposing associations were merged in one. 
 
 At the time of its birth, the new society was 
 hailed by a few of the older men as the advent of a 
 new day. Among these was George Fuller, who 
 had long struggled against an unappreciative public 
 and had been driven to give up art for farming, 
 but in the end had returned to his first love and to 
 a brighter day. He was among the society's en- 
 thusiasts, as was another unappreciated painter, 
 Homer Martin, who struggled to the end without 
 public recognition. In those days Whistler was 
 wholly without honor in his own country, and it 
 was one of the first tasks of the young society to 
 dispatch a member to Baltimore, where a picture 
 by Whistler was procured, probably the first of 
 his to be exhibited in this country; and in 1882 
 his masterpiece, the portrait of his Mother, now 
 in the Luxembourg, was first shown in New York 
 at the Society's exhibition of that year. 
 
 In these beginnings May Alcott played her little 
 part, nor will she be forgotten by her fellow as- 
 sociates, though they outstripped her in the race. 
 
 [227] 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 The Passing of Marmee 
 
 The coming of May's portrait was an event to 
 which her mother looked forward with keen ex- 
 pectation, it being the next best thing to the return 
 of the original. And in May, 1877, she chronicles 
 in her journal the fact that it is on its way to 
 Concord. She also notes the loss of one of Con- 
 cord's leading citizens : 
 
 "We are daily expecting Miss Peckham's por- 
 trait of May, which Geo. Lombard kindly took 
 charge of and forwarded per steamer for Boston. 
 Mr. William Munroe is to be buried tomorrow, a 
 good man and a great loss to the town of Concord, 
 as he was generous towards Art and the best culture 
 of the young people, was always a patron of May 
 and helped to promote her efforts to establish a 
 free studio for the benefit of those who could not 
 pay for the use of good studios in the fine arts. 
 He built at his own expense the Library which 
 cost $75,000, the building alone, and contributed 
 valuable pictures, drawings, maps, books and busts. 
 
 "Nice letters from May; as the hot weather 
 comes on she proposes going to 'Grez', a pretty, 
 
 [228] 
 
THE PASSING OF MARMEE 
 
 primitive suburban town where she can be free to 
 sketch, and live cheaply and coolly; she is very 
 well now, but the hot season may not be so good 
 for her in those close quarters, although a constant 
 flowing fountain keeps the air pure." 
 
 Mrs. Alcott's next entry tells of the arrival of the 
 portrait, which gives her much satisfaction, al- 
 though she regrets that May's hat smacks of 
 Paris rather than of Concord: 
 
 "May 12, 1877, Miss Peckhartfs Picture. Great 
 day for the Alcotts. Picture arrived from Paris, 
 the hot-bed of High Art, forwarded by Mr. Geo. 
 Lombard from Liverpool. Miss Peckham has 
 caught May's air and pose most successfully, and 
 her 'suaviter in mode' of tone; — years ago when 
 her eyes were bright, and her heart was light, and 
 she thought of Love and glory. The tone of high 
 coloring is more the fashion than it has been, 
 everything is more intense; Life itself is short and 
 swift, music is loud and strong, more sound than 
 harmony. The picture is May and nobody else, 
 but the hat is Madame Williams' ' Salon Chapeau.' 
 May's own pretty hair, with her blue velvet snood, 
 would have suited my taste better but Paris is all 
 crimson and gilt, nude or dressed for exhibition." 
 [229] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 A fortnight later Mrs. Alcott continues her 
 record of home doings: 
 
 "June ist. Confer about the Thoreau house. 
 Sent off letter by Marathon. Mr. Cook dines here. 
 Louisa goes to Boston. June 5th, letter from May. 
 I read with intense interest 'Daniel Deronda', it 
 was tedious as a serial, but the plot is worked up 
 with the finest intellectual machinery, the author's 
 subtle wit and moral perception is quite remark- 
 able. Hayes and Wheeler, after a long conflict 
 with the Democrats, elected President, and Vice- 
 President of the United States. The local govern- 
 ment of the South are in fearful anarchy, and the 
 financial affairs of the country in a general state 
 of depression; a new impulse will be given, it is to 
 be hoped, to trade, manufacturers and internal 
 improvements, under the more honest and pru- 
 dential government. The last year created fearful 
 factions throughout the country, and the fraudu- 
 lent rings have led to distrust and dishonesty. 
 
 "There are persons whose fate it is, in writing 
 their Biographies, to announce their own strength 
 and weakness more distinctly than any one else 
 has done, and draw a clear distinctive line about 
 their own reputation; such is the case with Miss 
 Martineau, whose book I am reading with great 
 interest. When we consider her great mental gifts, 
 [230] 
 
THE PASSING OF MARMEE 
 
 her long labors, her service to the good causes 
 of her day, her freedom from all cant, her courage, 
 her cheerfulness and her loyalty to her friends, 
 she must be pronounced one of the most eminent 
 and useful persons of her time." 
 
 A number of brief extracts follow, touching upon 
 home matters and old-time memories: 
 
 "July 14th. Letters from May. Anna prepar- 
 ing for her new house, the Thoreau house, will 
 begin moving on Monday. Another change in our 
 domestic arrangements. I am persuaded our 
 health will be better for the change, and it will 
 be better for the boys, nearer their companions, 
 and the social requirements will be of advantage 
 to them." 
 
 "July 15th. My health is good but I am at 
 times feeble, generally weaker. We have two good 
 women now to do the work. This I hope will 
 prove a relief to Louisa, whose cares were too 
 many; and her various responsibilities are un- 
 favorable to her nervous system." 
 
 " 27th - 28th. I have been reading the Life of 
 
 George Cabot. My father was secretary of the 
 
 'Marine Ins. Office' for 40 years, 20 of which Mr. 
 
 Cabot was the President. My father felt the great- 
 
 [231] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 est respect for his judgment and opinion on all 
 subjects maritime, commercial, or political; I have 
 always wondered that no Biography of Mr. Cabot 
 has been written. He was President of the Hart- 
 ford Convention, convened in 1814, to take meas- 
 ures for the relief of the New England States, and 
 to combine in resisting any plan for disunion of 
 the states, which the radicals, or c hot-heads', as 
 Mr. Cabot used to call them, might be desiring. 
 The exhaustive embargo, the War of 18 12 for 
 'Free trade and Sailors' rights', the annexation of 
 Louisiana by purchase of the French, everything 
 disorganizing occurred to our commercial affairs, 
 and our factions. Mr. Cabot's commercial and 
 financial knowledge would have made him a fit 
 finance minister for any empire. He died in 1823, 
 80 years of age.' 
 
 "Letter from May containing these leaves from 
 the Studio", notes Mrs. Alcott, and at the head 
 of this page in her journal, two pressed leaves are 
 carefully pasted beside the words, "May's studio, 
 Paris, July 27, 1877", with the comment: 
 
 "She continues at the school where from the 
 models she catches fine forms and features and 
 improves all occasions to perfect herself in the 
 anatomy of the human body that her drawing 
 
 [232] 
 
THE PASSING OF MARMEE 
 
 may be faultless, before the coloring finishes up 
 the lights and shades, the pose, and tone of this 
 wonderful conception of creative Wisdom that the 
 highest Art alone can imitate with anything like 
 success. Her return is still in the far distance of 
 time, but if we are all well, and get these fine 
 letters from week to week, why should we not be 
 content; Life is much the thing we make it, by 
 cheerful endurance of its evils and acceptance of joys, 
 or the anxious forebodings of discontent and ennui." 
 
 "August ii, 1877. A letter from May; thinks 
 much of going to 'Couture', who seems now to 
 be the finishing up of all the artists. She seems 
 to know her needs, and how to meet them. I 
 have much confidence in her plans for getting her 
 artistic help. The Miss Peckhams are on their 
 way to Switzerland, and Alice Wheeler goes to 
 Germany to meet her brother this leaves May 
 alone. The artist friend, Miss Cassatt, will be her 
 companion for the present; she thinks of going to 
 Versailles, and Trianon, on a pleasant excursion, 
 and to the Theatre Francaise; these little trips will do 
 her good, break up the loneliness of her apartment." 
 
 After considering the plan to study under 
 Couture, May finally decided that this painter's 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 pupils were not receiving sufficient attention, al- 
 though they were paying a high price to this 
 master, who was too absorbed in his own work to 
 give them more than a casual criticism. About 
 this time she writes of attending an interesting 
 exhibition : 
 
 "We went yesterday to see the ten great pic- 
 tures competing for the 'Prix de Rome', which 
 allows a French painter of sufficient merit, three 
 or four years in Rome for study at the expense of 
 the government. Tomorrow, the judges decide the 
 question and everyone is greatly excited on the 
 subject as so many students have been at work 
 for ten or fifteen years in hopes to get it. Krug 
 was one of five hundred who made the sketches, 
 and was one of the 24 chosen (some years ago) to 
 paint a picture from his sketch, but as they have 
 to be shut up with their models, and no inter- 
 course with the world in general allowed, and no 
 change from the original sketch, he found it too 
 difficult and gave it up. The ten we saw were 
 very interesting, the subject given them was, the 
 Gauls entering Rome and tweaking the old gray- 
 headed Roman by the hair, who resents the in- 
 sult, and strikes the Gaul, which was the general 
 signal for massacre. It was a fine subject, and in 
 
 [234] 
 
THE PASSING OF MARMEE 
 
 two of them was superbly treated, for the color 
 was rich, the composition strong and the drawing 
 fine. We wandered around the crowded rooms and 
 then crossing the bridge, the river being gay with 
 boats and the view lovely, we took a look at the 
 Louvre treasures and then I walked home. . . . 
 This afternoon we three went to Blashfield's stu- 
 dio, and had a nice time rummaging among his 
 fine tapestries, brocades, fine costumes and much 
 bric-a-brac, he has collected a great many things 
 and has excellent taste. A fine carved kind of 
 sofa, which opens and makes a chest, he has just 
 had made for Abby Manning, with old panels and 
 superb great griffins for arms. It's exceedingly 
 handsome and will make Boston people envious 
 who see it. I should like to get enough things for 
 a studio, but I must wait till after I have done my 
 great picture and then I can indulge in these nice 
 things which are so dear to an artist's heart." 
 
 The return from Europe of Miss Bartol, bring- 
 ing May's Salon picture as well as the latest news 
 from the young painter, was a special delight to 
 Mrs. Alcott, who wrote in her journal: 
 
 "Miss Lizzie Bartol arrives in the Parthia, brings 
 May's picture, still-life group. We shall have it 
 soon. Miss Bartol saw May, she says in a note, 
 
 C 2 3S] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 and c found her the same hearty soul as ever', 
 pleasant tribute to my good child." 
 
 "August 22nd. I write to Geo. B. Emerson in 
 the same familiar and affectionate manner his 
 letter was written. Federal Court memories are 
 the tender tie which unites us at this late hour 
 of our lives, being 60 years since dear Louisa and 
 S. J. May made sweet music for us in the beloved 
 presence of my mother and father, and Eliza 
 filled our house with glee, when we all joined in 
 the chorus of the 'Woodland Hollow,' or 'Auld 
 Lang Syne,' or 'Home, Sweet Home.' It is delight- 
 ful at this distant period to be met by one who has 
 so fondly cherished these dear kindred, and home 
 of my girlhood. He regularly dined with us on 
 Saturdays, and the summer of 18 17 he graduated 
 from Harvard in the same class with my brother. 
 Mr. Emerson was too sick to return to his home at 
 Kennebunk, Maine, and my mother had him 
 brought to Federal Court where he remained very 
 sick for 5 weeks." [Here the paragraph abruptly 
 ends and the entries which followed have evidently 
 been lost or destroyed.] 
 
 "Sept. 1st, 1877. The year nearly closed over 
 May's absence. My health has been unusually 
 good. I have missed her at times very much but 
 
 [236] 
 
THE PASSING OF MARMEE 
 
 each day has brought its occupations and I am 
 here to gratefully record the good progress of her 
 Art, and the good health of the family. 
 
 "We have had a pleasant call from Miss Putnam 
 the associate of Miss Holley at Lattsburg, the 
 colored school. She reaffirms what Miss Holley 
 has often stated of the great utility of the school. 
 The poor Whites beg the permission to come and 
 be taught, for even a little culture makes every- 
 thing so much more respectable for the emanci- 
 pated blacks that they feel the distinction of races 
 much lessened. Miss P. has introduced much of 
 the kindergarten plans, and they succeed remark- 
 ably with it. Action and industry are new to them. 
 They are soon made to feel the benefits of order 
 and method. They are taught everything from 
 gardening to sewing and reading." 
 
 May's letters continued to bring her mother 
 much entertainment, and on September 2d she 
 describes a jolly evening spent with her friend 
 Miss Cassatt and the Misses Stearns. The latter 
 having entertained the party by driving to a 
 restaurant in the "Bois", for ices: 
 
 "We started, it then being after ten o'clock, but 
 the city never seems to sleep, all the world being 
 abroad apparently till morning. The avenues lined 
 
 C 237 ] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 with big trees and pretty shrubs looked like en- 
 chantment. When away from the brilliant street 
 lights and after going a long way winding up and 
 down, we turned into a great court-yard filled with 
 little tables surrounded by a set of nice looking 
 people sipping their coffee, wine or absynthe. The 
 dense darkness of the wood surrounding it being 
 illuminated by colored lamps giving the whole 
 thing a most theatrical appearance. Waiters ap- 
 peared from all directions and our carriages drove 
 off into the darkness while we descended to partake 
 of our ices and cake, which at this late hour proved 
 a little too cooling. The cafe itself was a great 
 building in imitation of a chalet with balconies 
 and colored tiles fine to see, and we felt as if in a 
 play, all was so fantastic. Afterwards we drove 
 home in the soft air leaving the Stearnses at their 
 door after telling them what a nice lark we con- 
 sidered it." 
 
 She concludes this letter with the words: 
 
 "Thiers died this morning at 6 o'clock, at Saint- 
 Germain, so the coming election is more to be 
 dreaded than ever, as he had great influence 
 in keeping things peaceful. Perhaps it's as well 
 to flee Paris before matters look blacker than at 
 present." 
 
 [238] 
 
 
THE PASSING OF MARMEE 
 Her description of Thiers' funeral follows: 
 
 "The funeral of Thiers has been the sensation 
 of the hour, and all the city has turned out to do 
 him honor, tho' Madame Thiers did not agree to 
 the Government doing it all as they wanted to, 
 and so put it through according to his last wishes 
 and at her own expense, of which I approve. 
 
 "Rose and Kate went to see the grand procession 
 but no one was admitted to Pere le Chaise without 
 a pass, so they stood in the mud and rain for hours, 
 and saw only the hearse loaded with bright flow- 
 ers and the silver cords held by distinguished friends 
 and followed by his three carriages wound up in 
 crepe, quite empty, with only the lacqueys hang- 
 ing on behind. Then troops, and the artists and 
 great societies, and members of the institute, then 
 more carriages, and an immense crowd on foot 
 with yellow immortels in their button-holes. They 
 feared some outbreak, but all passed off serenely 
 tho' the Republicans have lost their best friend." 
 
 The final pages of Marmee's journal bear but a 
 few lines penned smoothly and legibly but very 
 faintly, as if there were little strength remaining 
 in the writer's ever-industrious fingers. But her 
 thought is still centering on her artist child: 
 
 C239] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 "Our last letters from May announce her arrival 
 in England; she hopes to spend 6 months or a 
 year in studying water-colors. She seems in good 
 heart and hope about her plans for the future." 
 
 In her letters written towards the close of the 
 summer, May had outlined her decision to continue 
 her work in London, where the opportunities to 
 sell her pictures were so much better than in 
 France. 
 
 In the meantime, the communications from Con- 
 cord told of the plan to close Orchard House, and 
 to make the Thoreau House, which had been re- 
 cently purchased, the family headquarters. After 
 the death of Sophia Thoreau, the house where 
 Henry Thoreau had died in 1862 had been secured 
 by Mrs. Pratt, for herself and children. Louisa 
 was anxious that they should have a comfortable 
 home, and after Mrs. Pratt had invested what she 
 could in the purchase, Louisa paid the remainder, 
 noting in her journal in April, 1877: 
 
 "Helped to buy the house for Nan. So she has 
 her wish and is happy. When shall I have mine? 
 Ought to be contented with knowing I help both 
 sisters with my brains. But I'm selfish, and want 
 to go away and rest in Europe. Never shall." 
 
 C 2 4°] 
 
THE PASSING OF MARMEE 
 
 May's artist friend Miss Austin, who was return- 
 ing to America early in the autumn, had under- 
 taken to carry out a plan to paint the portraits of 
 both Mr. and Mrs. Alcott, and this suggestion 
 was eagerly discussed in May's home letters at this 
 period, as she felt that the family possessed no 
 satisfactory likenesses of their gifted parents to 
 hand down to posterity. She also suggested that a 
 little later a portrait must be done of Louisa. 
 
 The failure to carry out this plan, owing to 
 Mrs. Alcott's failing health, was a great disappoint- 
 ment to the artist of the family, who had penned 
 most minute instructions regarding the prepara- 
 tion of her parents for their sittings, writing in 
 this connection: 
 
 "See that both dress with greatest care and 
 don't let father spat his hair flat, but let it fluff 
 out, which makes it look thick and silvery and is 
 more becoming to his long face than if brushed or 
 wet a little, which is dreadful. Now mind and 
 stand over him so he shan't wet or flatten it! 
 Mother must study which is her most becoming 
 cap. The embroidery of the cap will look well in 
 the picture. While father is being painted see that 
 he wears his clean broadcloth all the time. If 
 she prefers to do father on a large scale at his 
 
 [*40 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 writing-table, let her do it, as we have no striking 
 picture of him, the crayon being too soft, and not 
 at all what an immortal picture of him should be, 
 and it will look fine at the Library opposite Emer- 
 son, or alongside, to be numbered among Concord 
 lights. One of the pointed antique chairs tho' 
 uncomfortable to sit in, may look well in Austin's 
 picture." 
 
 As has been stated, this plan was never carried 
 out, and May's own portrait remained the one from 
 which her family derived the keenest satisfaction. 
 Of its position in his study, her father wrote: 
 
 "Artists have fine tastes and you shall see 
 whether we have honored these in hanging your 
 picture. Anna's removal takes sundry things or- 
 namental and useful from the rooms, above and 
 below. The boys' book-case from my study with 
 the rest, so my book-case takes its place, and your 
 picture with Turner's portrait over it, hangs there 
 on the wall instead, and the apostles beside it. 
 The table that stood under the west window now 
 stands with flowers under your picture. The light 
 falls from the south windows and brings out your 
 best expression as we stand at the entry door. 
 And my study table now faces the fair young 
 lady as I write, not a single disparaging criticism 
 [242] 
 
THE PASSING OF MARMEE 
 
 as yet from the many, but approving from all. 
 We are all delighted at having found its place, after 
 many trials and discussions." 
 
 While the process of moving was under way in 
 Concord, May was writing cheerfully from London, 
 following the home doings and hoping that the 
 change to the new house would be beneficial to 
 her mother, to whom she wrote on October 8, 
 heading the sheet with the words: "Happy Birth- 
 day", and noting her disappointment that her 
 mother had not been well enough to sit for her 
 portrait: 
 
 My dearest Marmee, — I am so glad to see 
 your handwriting again as it seems a long while 
 since you wrote me one of your good letters and 
 Lu has made excuses the last week or two for your 
 not adding a word to the envelope which I get 
 so regularly. I hope by this time you are settled 
 at Annie's for the winter, where you will have the 
 amusement of people looking in upon you occasion- 
 ally and some little passing in the street to vary 
 the scene from Wheeler crossing to the barn, and 
 Moore's cows going home at night. I am sorry 
 you were not well enough to sit for your portrait 
 but as it all happened to turn out for Austin and 
 Lu, it's better as it is. I had a nice letter from her 
 
 C243] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 yesterday saying it had all been postponed and 
 thanking me for thinking of it at all. [May touches 
 upon the various little gifts she is sending home 
 and then describes her life at the new boarding 
 place in London, and her recreation trips with 
 friends :] 
 
 There is always something pleasant going on of 
 an evening, and then Warner drops in and takes 
 me for a spree as he did yesterday, coming at 
 luncheon and doing some bric-a-brac shops to- 
 gether, the Temple Church, Inner Temple, and all 
 those pretty squares given over to lawyers and 
 barristers who have their apartments there and 
 the courts not far off. The library for them is like 
 an embattled fortress with its antique tower, its 
 wide marble bridge over a kind of moat, and col- 
 ored windows which I took as a sure sign of its 
 being a church. All this in the heart of London 
 within a stone's throw of Fleet Street. [May closes 
 with the words : ] 
 
 I imagine you all celebrating Marmee's birthday 
 today, and I wish I had something to send more 
 than this lace, which is real edging, as Marmee 
 will see it will be pretty for the neck of her best 
 dress, or somewhere. 
 
 Bless you all round, my dear family, and write 
 me about Marmee, for Lu only knows how far 
 
 [244] 
 
THE PASSING OF MARMEE 
 
 London and Concord are when one is sick. It 
 takes so long to hear from you. Marmee must n't 
 be sick again till I can come and tend her, for 
 I seem to be the only strong one just now and I 
 hope I may keep so. Good bye, dear Marmee, from 
 your May. 
 
 During the next few weeks Mrs. Alcott failed 
 rapidly, and her final communication to the child 
 whom she felt she would not see again, was but a 
 brief farewell. In answer May wrote in great 
 anxiety but without a full realization of her moth- 
 er's grave condition: 
 
 My dear Marmee, — Your little note nearly 
 broke my heart, not to be there with my arms 
 round your neck when you are so ill, and your 
 baby, if no other daughter, should be with you. 
 I paint away and try not to get anxious but hope 
 for the best, and take this minute before the mail 
 closes to tell you the great news about my Dudley 
 picture, for I know it will please you as much as 
 the Salon success did. To begin, yesterday I 
 asked Miss Warner to lunch with me and go to 
 the Dudley. So we went as agreed upon and of 
 course looked about for the owl-panel, which to 
 our surprise we found in a corner, badly hung 
 but with a great star on the frame showing it was 
 
 045] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 already sold, and that at the private view where 
 only invited guests were present. Was n't that a 
 triumph, and for #50. which was thought very 
 little for it, but as it took me only one morning to 
 paint it I considered it enough, don't you? Only 
 a few other pictures were decorated with stars, so 
 I felt particularly proud and know you will for 
 me. The exhibition is exceedingly good even com- 
 pared with Paris Art, and I was surprised that 
 without favor, the owl should ever have been 
 accepted, much less sold. 
 
 These light-hearted descriptions of her artistic 
 successes, which May hoped would cheer and en- 
 tertain her mother, found her so ill that all hope 
 of her rallying was given up, and when, on No- 
 vember 18, it was certain that she could not be 
 much longer with them, Mr. Alcott wrote to May 
 that even if she should sail at once she would not 
 be likely to find her mother still alive, upon 
 arrival, and he added: 
 
 "The dear patient is patience itself, every virtue 
 that shone during her active life, now burns the 
 more brightly during her weakness. Not many 
 daughters have been blessed with a mother so 
 unselfish and so noble. I shall hardly enjoy the old 
 house again after her departure." 
 [ 24 6] 
 
THE PASSING OF MARMEfi 
 
 Although failing rapidly, Mrs. Alcott was moved 
 to her daughter Anna's new home, where she 
 breathed her last in less than a fortnight. 
 
 Only two more brief entries remain in the pre- 
 cious journal which so constantly records the 
 writer's keen interest in others and her self-forget- 
 fulness. There are no complaints of failing health, 
 no querulous repinings, no self-pity, or demands 
 that the idolized youngest daughter shall return 
 to brighten her last days. Up to the very end she 
 displays her vital interest in the welfare of her 
 country, and of its less fortunate citizens, both 
 black and white, as well as of the latest doings in 
 the world of art and literature, and her keen gift 
 of literary discernment and nicely balanced ap- 
 preciation of the best reveal the dominant power 
 of mind and spirit surmounting all mere ills of the 
 flesh. 
 
 Just at the end, she touches upon her serious 
 physical condition, and on the next to the last 
 page of her journal she writes very faintly: 
 
 "I am quite irregular about my journal, but 
 my health is so uncertain. Dyspepsia and con- 
 stantly increasing difficulties of the heart and chest. 
 I have a nurse as I require so much done through 
 the night." 
 
 C247] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 And then follows the closing entry, penned on 
 her seventy-seventh birthday, when she refrains 
 from any mention of her illness and characteristic- 
 ally records only her gratitude for all her blessings : 
 
 "Oct. 8th: The day has been most mercifully 
 extended to me and beautifully celebrated even to 
 the coming of May's letter full of pleasant news." 
 
 These four lines stand at the head of an otherwise 
 blank leaf and affixed to the page opposite is 
 the writer's pen, just as she laid it down. Be- 
 neath it in the handwriting of her daughter, Louisa, 
 are the words : 
 
 "Marmee's pen, left in the book when she had 
 written the last lines, on her 77th birthday, Oct. 8, 
 1877, at the old home." 
 
 So ends the journal of that last year of Mrs. 
 Alcott's life, dedicated to May, and beneath the 
 handle of the pen is tucked Louisa's loving and 
 grieving message to this sister so far away, written 
 November 25, in pencil. In this sorrowful note, 
 she writes that Marmee is at rest, after two months 
 of pain and weariness. That she sleeps sweetly 
 and peacefully and that her last words and smiles 
 were a benediction to them all. The day before 
 she passed, she pointed to May's picture and said 
 [248] 
 
THE PASSING OF MARMEE 
 
 smiling, "Little May", and almost at the end she 
 murmured, "A smile is as good as a prayer." 
 
 The sad message, with a tiny lock of Marmee's 
 hair attached to it, reached the heart-broken 
 daughter so far from home, who at the first re- 
 proached herself most bitterly for having given to 
 her art this last year that she might have spent in 
 ministering to her mother. But after those first 
 days of overwhelming grief, May faced the situa- 
 tion bravely, determining to work with a redoubled 
 vigor to the end that her mother's faith in her 
 should not be proved in vain. 
 
 After receiving the home letters which told her 
 of the services held for her mother, May writes 
 that she is very sad and lonely although her friends 
 are showing her every possible kindness. 
 
 "These days are very dark just now and I 
 wander about among the pictures and sit listening 
 to the music in Westminster Abbey, and so get 
 through them, and avoid the people constantly 
 coming both with messages and flowers to express 
 their sympathy. For I cannot speak of Marmee, 
 or control my tears enough to try to see any one 
 yet, and a boarding-house is an excellent place to 
 avoid people, I find, and one can be as much alone 
 as is possible. 
 
 [249] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 "Your letter of Nov. 29, I have just read and 
 I am much cheered by it, for all seemed so beauti- 
 ful, particularly the saying good-bye to Marmee at 
 twilight and only yourselves. That suited me and 
 I was with you in spirit I know, as I feel sure, 
 she has come to me, as I did not go to her. I try 
 to do as she would have me and perhaps shall work 
 the better for the real suffering I never knew till 
 now. I get through the days by painting busily, 
 but at night it is hard not to have a good cry, 
 though I look out at a bright star that twinkles 
 in at my window and feel it is Marmee smiling at 
 me, and so I say a little prayer from my heart 
 and go to sleep." 
 
 [250] 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 Clouds and Sunshine 
 
 The year 1878, which was to bring into May 
 Alcott's life the romance she had dreamed of, 
 but never thought to realize, dawned gloomily. 
 Never had she experienced so sad a New Year's 
 day as that spent in the lonely boarding house in 
 England, so far away from all those dear to her, 
 with whom she longed to share her grief, and shut 
 in by dense London fogs, which settled down upon 
 the city so thickly as to make it impossible for 
 her even to carry on her work. 
 
 December had been a month of gloom and 
 sadness, despite the kindly sympathy of many 
 London friends. In reply to the letters which 
 brought the details of her mother's passing with 
 all the precious memories of her last hours on 
 earth, May wrote remorsefully that she could not 
 forgive herself for not returning home, when she 
 first knew that there was little hope of her mother's 
 recovery: 
 
 If I had only sailed in October, or even in time 
 for one look from her dear eyes, it would have 
 comforted me, for it seems now when too late, that 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 all the Art honors Europe can offer me, will never 
 take the place of feeling once more her arms round 
 my neck and her soft cheek against mine. . . . 
 
 My only comfort is that perhaps my letters and 
 little triumphs here have given her more pleasure 
 than if I had staid at home with her, for I was n't 
 the kind thoughtful daughter that Annie has been 
 to her, and I have so much to reproach myself 
 with that it seems as if I can never forgive myself. 
 
 Now dear father, write me a sweet comforting 
 letter and think of me kindly though I did n't 
 come to help and comfort as I should have, could 
 I have realized what it is to lose one's mother and 
 be thousands of miles away. 
 
 Will Lu write a little sketch of her or perhaps 
 make a memoir from her doings so full of phi- 
 lanthropy and events interesting to all, not merely 
 her personal friends who knew and loved her, but 
 those who must admire the heroism of the woman's 
 life and her connection with interesting facts and 
 people ? 
 
 Good-bye dear family my head aches with cry- 
 ing and I can see no longer this bright Sunday 
 overhead but so dark to me in my little lonely 
 room, up three flights. 
 
 Yours 
 
 May 
 [252] 
 
CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE 
 
 P. S. My little friend of 5 years, Harry Hammond, 
 comes softly in and pats my cheek saying, "Don't 
 cry, my dear May," then cuddles down by my side 
 and puts his round cheek to mine for some kisses. 
 I call him my little comforter and try to tell him 
 stories. 
 
 Again she notes the kindness of those about her: 
 
 "Everyone is so kind to me here that hard as 
 it is not to be with you, it has shown me the kind 
 side of strangers that I should never have sus- 
 pected, and the real sympathy expressed by people 
 I have hardly spoken to, is certainly better than 
 none. If I can only get through a day or two 
 courageously perhaps it will be possible to paint 
 a little and so throw off this death at my heart." 
 
 May finds it hard not to reproach herself for 
 leaving home while Marmee was in failing health, 
 but realizes that she made the decision herself, and 
 must now bear her regrets as bravely as possible, 
 though the many reminders of her mother make 
 this most difficult. She writes : 
 
 "I have looked over all her letters to me and 
 arranged them through my tears according to their 
 dates, the biggest interval being from Sept. 19, to 
 
 C253] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 the dear little note bidding me farewell, of Nov. 
 nth. I shall look at the figure, in the big arm chair, 
 with the white cap sitting in father's study, a little 
 photograph of which I brought with me, as my 
 shrine and wonder how I could ever have left it." 
 
 The dense London fogs add much to the general 
 depression and May describes the days which are 
 too dark even for carrying on her work: 
 
 "On waking this morning to find the thickest 
 of London fogs settled over everything, I gave 
 up my working on the Spanish Girl with Miss 
 Hughes as I promised to do, and stayed at home, 
 with the gas lighted everywhere, until one of the 
 gentlemen brought a great jar of preserved prunes 
 to amuse us while waiting for light to come again 
 outside. It was the darkest fog I have ever seen 
 and quite suited my state of mind for I was think- 
 ing of that Saturday just four weeks ago when 
 your sad letters reached me and I knew for the 
 first time that Marmee had passed away. Every 
 Sunday I allow the five hours earlier for your 
 time on that side of the Atlantic, and have a little 
 tender weep for Marmee at half past seven in my 
 little room when I feel so near her. 
 
 But oh for the touch of a vanished hand, 
 And the sound of a voice that is still. 
 
 [254] 
 
CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE 
 
 "Her last little note, every word of which is on 
 my lips and in my thoughts all the time, would 
 have taken me home but I felt that it was then 
 too late, as it proved, for I was sure it must be the 
 great final farewell, and I never knew before how 
 dearly I loved her and how tender was the tie be- 
 tween us. I always think how precious were those 
 days when we went driving round Concord together 
 in the early mornings, and picture her seated on the 
 rustic bench afterward taking her cup of tea, looking 
 so sweet and handsome in her little crepe bonnet.'' 
 
 She praises her sister Louisa for her unselfish 
 devotion to all the family. 
 
 "I can picture Father in his gray dressing gown 
 and foresee a happy old age for him spent with his 
 pet daughter in that snug little home without care 
 or responsibility. Certainly, dear Lu, you can never 
 be grateful enough that you have been the one 
 who could make dear Marmee, and Papa too, so 
 comfortable and happy these last years by your 
 generosity and devotion, for money has done what 
 affection alone could never do, unromantic as it 
 sounds to say so, and you have delighted in mak- 
 ing us all happy in our own way tho' much of 
 your own life and health has been sacrificed in 
 doing it, and this I feel more perhaps than anybody. 
 
 [255] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 "Perhaps Lu will come and spend next summer 
 with me to refresh her mind and body if she is 
 strong enough after the next few months of rest 
 and quiet. Please tell me all the plans that are 
 under consideration and I feel sure you will decide 
 to sell Apple Slump, as I shall never want to live 
 there again, or waste my strength, or have Lu 
 do it in keeping such an establishment running. 
 If father's eyes are giving him trouble he could n't 
 enjoy his old study much and a little cozy winter 
 library, like that at Nan's, would answer, I should 
 think, and would be a protection to Annie also. 
 How does Papa feel about it? If I can only get over 
 this present grief and regret I think I can go on with 
 my work and gain more triumphs for Marmee to 
 enjoy, for I am sure she is always near me and 
 interested in what interests me as much as father 
 and sisters can be. ... I shall try to do all and 
 be all that she would have me, and if I fail I shall 
 at least have had the satisfaction of knowing that 
 I have tried faithfully to please her and follow the 
 advice of a little verse she once pasted in my desk 
 and which I think you will find there even now. 
 
 Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; 
 Do noble things, not dream them, all day long: 
 And so make life, death, and that last forever 
 One grand sweet song. 
 
 Kingsley. 
 
 [256] 
 
CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE 
 
 "So dear girls don't you think it best for me to 
 stay and do great things having dreamed of them 
 for so many years? I know you will advise me 
 and help me, and if mine can't be a happy domestic 
 life, such as I have longed and prayed for, perhaps 
 the good God meant me for great things in other 
 ways. Lu got her success through much trouble 
 and pain and perhaps this sacrifice I have freely 
 chosen to make in losing one year of Marmee's 
 life, may make me work the better." 
 
 A month later, she is steadily going on with her 
 work, and is sending home lively communications 
 to cheer her sisters. In the letter which follows 
 describing her London quarters, she mentions the 
 young Swiss, who was so soon to play a large part 
 in her life: 
 
 My Dearest Dears, — I begin my first letter 
 from my new little bower which is as cozy as you 
 can possibly imagine for my little duds, new Delft 
 vases, etc. when scattered round with an eye for 
 effect make quite an ensemble and very attractive 
 snuggery. The Pierces run in and out and also 
 the Warners, Hughes and my nice Swiss, who comes 
 to play chess and read to me evenings when I 
 can't use my eyes. My little parlor is so small it 
 can't help but be cozy, with a round table in one 
 
 C 257 ] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 corner at which I am now writing, a rack and 
 picture, ink-stand, portfolio and antique dagger in 
 full display. A little couch on one side with big 
 picture and panels over it, and a long table with 
 three pictures on it. . . . In the one window which 
 has long green curtains and close shades, is a low 
 mahogany what-not fitted in as a sort of window- 
 seat, only higher, which makes a nice closet with 
 close doors, and on top stands my monk and 
 panels, my brass brazier, owl, and my two Delft 
 vases which are thoroughly handsome and admired 
 by everyone. The large one, I throw cards and 
 photographs into, Lu's sitting one, standing in 
 front of the brazier, while one of mother and 
 father are on my table as I write. On the whole, 
 with my two big arm-chairs, my little room 
 impresses everyone as the picture of comfort and 
 taste. 
 
 Last night as I sat after eating a hot muffin 
 toasted before my blazing fire, held there stuck onto 
 my gilded dagger for a fork, and washed down by a 
 cup of nice cocoa, I was surprised by the Pierces, 
 Hughes and my Swiss, — all coming at once, which 
 so appalled me that I told them they would have 
 to sit down in one another's laps as the room was 
 so very small, Mr. Pierce saying that he chose me 
 to sit in his; they brought me the St. Nicholas, to 
 [258] 
 
CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE 
 
 read Lu's story, also the Nation, and were nice and 
 kind, inviting me to dine on Sunday (today). 
 
 Certainly there is much more comfort to be had 
 here, only perhaps I should n't have moved so 
 soon if I had n't thought Lu would be coming 
 along very soon to make it social and nice. At 
 any rate, I shall do a lot of pot-boilers here and 
 have a fling at the exhibitions and then go to 
 Paris again for hard study, which I never should 
 have left if I could have foreseen events. . . . The 
 boarders mourn my absence at 26 and the two 
 devoted bachelors expressed real regret at my leav- 
 ing, but I did not ask them to come and see me, 
 though they had been so kind. . . . The still-life 
 I take to the Ladies exhibition tomorrow, is much 
 better than the Salon one, though the same strong 
 style. 
 
 A few weeks later she writes of exhibiting her 
 work: 
 
 March 3rd, 1878. 
 I have another success to announce in having 
 two pictures accepted and well hung, at the Ladies 
 Exhibition, which is a small collection but pat- 
 ronized by the Marchioness of Lome, Lady this 
 and Lady that, and all quite fine. Miss Gatts and 
 Miss Hughes were both refused, so I am alone in 
 
 [ 2 59] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 my glory, as at the Salon, having simply sent the 
 pictures in for the jury to judge of, and then left 
 them to their fate, which always so far has been a 
 happy one. So it's lucky May, I hope, to the end 
 of the chapter. What I sent was a very large still- 
 life twice the size of the Salon one you have, of 
 books, the little green lamp, and my precious owl 
 standing atop of the manuscripts, the loose white 
 leaves of which is about the best piece of painting 
 I ever did. You will remember my describing it 
 to you when I did it alone in Paris during the hot 
 weather, and Krug saw and praised it, particularly 
 the book. 
 
 Her next communication brings an unexpected 
 surprise to those at home, for on March II, 1878, 
 she wrote announcing her engagement to the young 
 Swiss, Ernest Nieriker, whom she had frequently 
 referred to in her letters and who had been a fellow 
 boarder with her during the weeks of sorrow follow- 
 ing her mother's death. He had proved a sym- 
 pathetic and devoted friend. They were thoroughly 
 congenial in their tastes, and though he was a 
 business man with a very modest income, and 
 considerably her junior, he was also a fine musician, 
 who sympathized with her artistic aspirations, and 
 charmed her by the strains of his violin. She wrote 
 [260] 
 
CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE 
 
 that if she married him, after a short engagement, 
 she should not relinquish her art, but would 
 continue her work with added effort and inspira- 
 tion. 
 
 This announcement, which was no doubt some- 
 thing of a shock to those at home, was followed on 
 March 24th by still more startling news, that of 
 May's marriage, which is best described in her 
 own words: 
 
 "The last week has been one of such hurry and 
 excitement that I hardly know where to begin to 
 tell you how and what has happened, for I hardly 
 realize it all myself except that the serene content- 
 ment and quiet happiness that have entirely taken 
 possession of me keep the fact that some great 
 event has taken place constantly before me. I will 
 try and give you a connected account of it all, and 
 if I am a little more incoherent than usual you 
 may lay it to my ecstatic state of mind just now. 
 
 "Sunday evening, Ernest came and said he had 
 letters of business calling him to the Continent and 
 he must decide at once which offer to accept. If 
 that in France, or in Russia, we must separate 
 possibly for a year. This is what I had dreaded 
 and I said so, but as he felt as badly if not worse 
 than I did, I made the best of it and we laid our 
 [26:] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 plans with the prospect of being together later. 
 So I still kept silent to my London friends feeling 
 that I wanted to keep him to myself for these last 
 few days, and made various excuses to all and 
 waited. On Monday, Ernest came in saying, 'May, 
 I cannot be happy to part. Why should we not 
 have this year together? Life seems too short to 
 lose so much. If you will consent to forego a fine 
 wedding and fine trousseau and begin with me 
 now, we can enjoy so much together.' 
 
 "Well, dear papa, and girls, you know how I 
 have longed for love, and just such a life. It did 
 not need much urging and I said, 'Yes, I will go 
 and it is the wisest and happiest thing we can do.' 
 
 "I at once made my few preparations. My 
 wedding-dress was of brown silken stuff with pretty 
 plumed hat to match gloves and all in harmony. 
 My simple affairs were soon in order. 
 
 "On Friday, I drove with a friend to the office 
 of the Register, at which place Ernest met me 
 with the necessary papers, and officers, and we 
 were married. A heavy gold ring put on with a 
 loving kiss finishing the ceremony. 
 
 "We then drove to Waterloo Station, catching 
 the train for Southampton, where we were to take 
 the boat for Havre. 
 
 "Friday was a lovelier morning than London 
 [262] 
 
CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE 
 
 often sees and a happier couple than ourselves as 
 we rode through the pretty green country to the 
 sea could not have been found in all the world. 
 
 "We had a most delightful passage and arrived 
 at Havre on a fine morning, the harbor lovely in 
 the early light. . . . We strolled around the 
 picturesque place looking for a pretty apartment 
 in which to rest like real French people for a 
 week, while Ernest is deciding upon his Paris offer. 
 Leaving our luggage at the Customs we trotted 
 along, going in to look wherever upon a door ap- 
 peared, 'Chambre a louer.' At last we found this 
 cozy crimson suite, with its clock and vases, like 
 all French apartments, its canopied bed, its sofas 
 and curtains, the long windows looking out on a 
 sunny street with a pretty stone vine-covered 
 house just opposite, and nice smiling landlady to 
 oversee everything. 
 
 " So we here begin our honeymoon menage and 
 I have already given it a home look with our own 
 little things scattered about and a bright open-fire 
 burning. 
 
 "Last evening, Anna's heart would have danced 
 a jig of joy to have seen us sitting there so happily 
 talking over our wedding adventures. Then Ernest 
 took his violin and played his lovely German 
 melodies. . . . We mean to live our own life free 
 C?6 3 ] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 from conventionalities. Indeed this foreign way 
 seems to me ideal, more so than anything I ever 
 hoped could fall to my lot by any possibility, 
 lucky as I am in most things. I shall have long 
 days for painting. 
 
 "I have never dreamed of such serene happiness 
 as I have known since Friday, when as man and 
 wife Ernest and I left Southampton. My future 
 seems so full of beauty and of joy I can think of 
 nothing else. The lonely artistic life that once 
 satisfied me seems the most dreary in the world. 
 Our tastes are so congenial it seems impossible 
 that we shall ever clash, and even were it otherwise 
 I find myself for the first time quite willing to bend 
 to a stronger will and wiser head than my own. 
 Ernest is so gentle yet so firm, and I know he loves 
 me so tenderly that I yield easily, so you see how 
 changed is your wilful, strong-minded sister. She 
 is as gentle and sweet, dear Nanny, as yourself." 
 
 A month later, May writes from Meudon, where 
 they have been able to secure satisfactory quarters, 
 not far from Paris. She expresses the hope that 
 they are settled for at least a year in this new 
 home. 
 
 "Ernest has accepted a fine position in a great 
 mercantile house in Paris, where as Inspector 
 
 [264] 
 
CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE 
 
 General he will have an ample salary, and where 
 his former experience in Geneva will be of great 
 service. They seem delighted to have secured him 
 and gave him a week to prepare before entering 
 on his duties." 
 
 After describing their search for a desirable 
 abiding place, she tells of their selection of Meudon, 
 which is but fifteen minutes from Paris by rail, 
 and of their finding what they wanted almost 
 immediately upon arrival there, in search of a 
 home. She writes : 
 
 "The house stood in the midst of a superb 
 garden filled with blossoming shrubs, trees and 
 flowers behind, and in front was a neat yard with 
 borders of flowers. A glass portico admitted us, 
 and we found a very old French lady to show us 
 about. Our rooms are on the right, and consist of 
 a salon, dining-room, kitchen, two chambers with 
 closets, bath-room, etc., a pretty flight of ivy- 
 covered steps leading into the garden behind. 
 
 "The house is shut in by large gates from the 
 street in front, and from our long windows at the 
 back we have such a view as seldom delights the eye 
 of man. Ernest and I stood long on the balcony 
 admiring the superb sight. The valley just below 
 spanned by the high viaduct, the opposite green 
 
 [265] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 hill covered with red-roofed villas, and just now 
 perfectly white with the blossoms of spring. 
 
 "Two great windmills stand out against the 
 distant sky, and beyond, a glimpse of the winding 
 Seine which here just touches us, while below the 
 magnificent view of Paris with its gilded domes, 
 the buildings of the Trocadero, and great gates of 
 the c Champ de Mars,' spread far before us. 
 
 "The forest of Meudon is quite celebrated, and 
 the chateau, built by the Grand Dauphin, is ap- 
 proached by a fine avenue of lime trees, while the 
 whole town is embowered in every description of 
 verdure, and standing so high must be healthy in 
 the extreme. . . . Well, all our things arrived in 
 safety and we have begun to settle. Now if Lu 
 could only come and spend six months in this 
 lovely place with us, with its pretty lanes, old 
 ruined bits and quiet air, she would never want to 
 return to America. So, dear Lu, do get well and sail 
 for sunny France and I will make you so happy 
 and comfortable ! We can have such nice long days 
 together with Ernest to take you to theatres, or 
 anywhere you like. 
 
 "Imagine such a delightful year, for I am sure 
 
 our future is a happy and secure one. ... I feel 
 
 as if I were living in somebody's else romance for 
 
 I cannot believe it is mine. . . . Not a wish seems 
 
 [266] 
 
CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE 
 
 ungratified except that Louisa is not well enough 
 to come and see and enjoy my good fortune with 
 me. 
 
 "Both Ernest and I feel that winter is not the 
 time for her to try Meudon, but we will try to 
 make her comfortable and by spring it will be 
 enchanting and she will have a delightful summer 
 with us. She must not think my own happiness 
 has made me unmindful of her, for it only draws 
 us nearer. But I have laid out my future life and 
 hope not to swerve from my purpose. I do not 
 mean to be hindered by envious people, or any- 
 thing to divert me from accomplishing my dream. 
 
 "For myself this simple artistic life is so charm- 
 ing, that America seems death to all aspirations 
 or hope of work. I think I must have changed, 
 myself, for no one could enjoy more this quiet life, 
 with the sun and the birds, open windows and warm 
 breezes. Meudon seems a Paradise. With Ernest, 
 and pictures, I should not care if I never saw 
 a friend or acquaintance again. It is the perfection 
 of living; the wife so free from household cares, 
 so busy, and so happy. I never mean to have a 
 house, or many belongings, but lead the delight- 
 fully free life I do now with no society to bother 
 me, and nothing to prevent my carrying out my 
 aims and in succeeding in something before I 
 [ 2 6 7 ] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 die. ... I shall never regret my act for no possible 
 amount of fame, glory, wealth or success could 
 have brought me the happiness and real content 
 of my married life." 
 
 The coming of letters from home which vividly 
 recalled the recent bereavement, made May feel 
 that she had hardly a right to her present happiness 
 and she writes : 
 
 "Your letters seem almost a reproach to me 
 for being able to forget that dear Marmee has gone 
 from us even during this most happy time of my 
 life. 
 
 "I think how she married for love and struggled 
 with poverty and all possible difficulties and came 
 out gloriously at last, all the stronger and happier 
 for so mastering circumstances, and this gives me 
 courage, hoping her example will be always a safe 
 guide for me. In my case it will be easier to be 
 brave, because Ernest is a practical, thrifty busi- 
 ness man ; he is young, ambitious, with real faculty 
 instead of an impractical philosopher." 
 
 [268] 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 May's Romance 
 
 May's letters continue to describe the charm 
 of her little home and the gradual acquisition of 
 pieces of furniture, and effective draperies, which 
 lent those artistic touches and warm tints that she 
 loved so dearly. Her husband enjoyed picking up 
 household treasures and often brought home in 
 triumph purchases to adorn their rooms. After 
 spending some time in their ground-floor apart- 
 ment, they were able to secure one on the floor 
 above, which gave them more room and greater 
 conveniences. Of the arrangement there, May 
 wrote enthusiastically, including every trifling de- 
 tail, which she knew would be of interest to those 
 at home: 
 
 "We have been very busy arranging our new 
 apartment. The joke of the week has been Ernest 
 coming home with an immense Louis XIV mirror. 
 It has broad sloping sides in which are little 
 mirrors framed in black and carved gilt. It is an 
 elegant thing and we are both secretly convinced 
 that it is too fine for our salon at present, though 
 when we get our piano and my cabinet it will give 
 
 [269] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 all quite an air. I have in mind a rich old carved 
 piece of furniture, a sort of secretary at which to 
 write, and where we can lock up our papers. Our 
 mirror now nearly fills one end of the oblong salon 
 and reflects the whole room quite in Parisian style. 
 Beneath it stands a great antique chair; at the 
 other end is my tall Milo Venus against its 
 crimson background." 
 
 She goes on to describe the arrangement of her 
 rugs, pictures, and the interior of her little dining 
 room, as well as the rest of her apartment, which 
 she has beautified with a loving and artistic touch. 
 
 They entertain their first guests in September, 
 when May's friends, the Pierces, drop in to see 
 them on their return from Russia. May pictures 
 their pleasure in inspecting her attractive little 
 menage and tells of her modest luncheon party: 
 
 "My table was inviting with its fine damask, 
 my pretty silver and plenty of flowers and a green 
 grape-leaf dish piled high with peaches, pears, and 
 grapes. Salmon salad, Gervais cheese, cold tongue, 
 nice cake and a pate douceurs such as only the 
 French can make, gave us a charming lunch, 
 finished with wine. As Ernest ordered it all from 
 Paris I felt sure it was 'comme il iaut.' 
 
 "After we had enjoyed it heartily I proposed a 
 [270] 
 
MAY'S ROMANCE 
 
 stroll to see the view, and we wandered up to the 
 hill-top, and down the beautiful Avenue du 
 Chateau, through the thick arch made by the 
 overhanging trees. Through this vista we passed 
 on to Sevres, entered the gate of the splendid 
 Pare of St. Cloud and walking through the long 
 shaded alleys reached the great terraces. Here we 
 took our 'sirop' at one of the little tables, and 
 rested awhile, and then took the boat homeward 
 down the Seine. It was a lovely sail, seeing such 
 pretty pictures through the many arched bridges, 
 of wooded banks and picturesque groups resting 
 among the trees. At has Meudon they left me, 
 going on themselves to Paris, after an affectionate 
 farewell, and telling me what a truly ideal and 
 charming day they had passed. 
 
 "And so had I, and after my labors were over, 
 I sat down in my easy-chair to admire the effect 
 of my pretty rooms. I had placed Marmee's shrine 
 on my mantel and on one side my blue jar holding 
 a long spray of morning-glories. Two buds had 
 opened wide and laid themselves lovingly against 
 the dear face, dropping gracefully the delicate 
 vines around it. It was so beautiful, and Marmee 
 seemed to have come to my party in spirit so that 
 even amid my happiness I had to 'weep a little 
 weep.' 
 
 [271] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 "No matter how dear the husband, he can never 
 be so precious as Marmee. I often in my mind 
 picture her as she looked after riding, seated on 
 the rustic bench under the big tree waiting for 
 her cup of tea, the little crepe bonnet perhaps all 
 on one side, but that handsome, pale face and soft 
 hair so lovely to me. How happy we were driving 
 together through Concord's green lanes, would I 
 could do so once more." 
 
 The success of the Nierikers' first luncheon party 
 proved an incentive to more entertaining, and on 
 hearing that her friends the Lombards were in 
 Paris, May invited them to luncheon, also suggest- 
 ing that Frank Millet, the artist, should join the 
 party. The latter was then making his head- 
 quarters in Paris, where he had served as a member 
 of the Fine Arts Jury at the Exposition; he had 
 seen May's work and praised it very highly, declar- 
 ing that she would never have any difficulty in 
 finding a market for it. Before this time, he had 
 been called from his art work to the post of war 
 correspondent for the London Standard, in the 
 Russo-Turkish War, where he had faced many 
 dangers and privations, and had gained a wide 
 reputation with his pen, persisting in his work 
 when less courageous correspondents had returned 
 [272] 
 
MAY'S ROMANCE 
 
 to England. As one recalls the tragic close of his 
 brilliant career on the ill-fated S.S. Titanic, one 
 rests assured that in that final terrible emergency 
 the old-time courageous spirit did not fail him. 
 Upon the summer day in question, Frank Millet's 
 plan to join the little luncheon party at Meudon 
 failed to materialize. The day arrived sunny and 
 fine, and all the preparations had been made to 
 receive the guests from Paris, after which May and 
 her husband walked to the station to meet the 
 incoming train, which shortly arrived but without 
 the expected visitors. What had arisen to prevent 
 their coming is not chronicled in the remaining 
 letters, as May merely reports that she and her 
 husband ate their nice luncheon by themselves, 
 and vowed to plan no more parties for a long time 
 to come, adding: 
 
 "We took a charming walk to a fine old church 
 and priory, which I enjoyed very much, for this 
 old building stands very high on a hill overlook- 
 ing the sea with a winding lane leading to it, 
 between fresh green hedge-rows. The long wing 
 of the priory, half ruined with lovely bits of 
 architecture left standing in places, and just now 
 covered with vines of the brightest yellow, the 
 deep gorgeous gold lighted by the sun forming a 
 
 [273] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 fine contrast to the cool gray of the old stone- 
 work and the dark green of the luxuriant ivy which 
 covers everything. Steep steps lead to the main 
 entrance, for the church stands on a plateau in 
 the midst of a flower garden, so brightly are the 
 graves adorned everywhere with gay blossoms. It 
 seems like anything rather than a graveyard." 
 
 She concludes: 
 
 "We wandered about the heights, in and out, 
 and sat at last down to rest under the shadow of 
 the Virgin and Child, which is so large it can be 
 seen from all the country around. The view is 
 beautiful of the sea, with Havre in the distance, 
 distinguished from its neighbors by its forests of 
 masts, and the white beacon at the end of the pier. 
 We then sought the little cafe at the end of the 
 lane , . . and so home again." 
 
 May had expressed the earnest hope that some 
 memoir of her mother might be compiled, and 
 in June, 1878, Mr. Alcott and Louisa made an 
 attempt to carry out this project, dear to all their 
 hearts, in memory of her who had been not only 
 the inspiration and mainstay of the family, but 
 had in both her letters and journals displayed a 
 genuine literary quality that all felt should not be 
 allowed to vanish without recognition. 
 
 [274] 
 
MAY'S ROMANCE 
 
 In writing to May at this time her father 
 said of this project: 
 
 "Louisa and I have set about compiling from 
 your mother's Diaries and letters, a Memoir of 
 her life, which Niles wishes to publish as soon as 
 it is ready for the press. Your mother wrote much 
 during some of the most eventful years of her life, 
 and the Memoir may make a most edifying and 
 instructive book. Sanborn will gladly assist us in 
 its preparation. 
 
 "Louisa is improving daily, and for your sake 
 dear May, I wish she may find you in your lovely 
 nest before the cold weather comes, much as we 
 shall be saddened by the change. And let me add 
 that I am sad at the thought of your being so far 
 from us, and that I may not see you again on this 
 side the seas. But then your happiness consoles 
 me and I try to be resigned to this separation." 
 
 The Memoir of Marmee to be compiled, and 
 the visit to be made to May's new home, were two 
 plans never to be realized. Both were dependent 
 upon Louisa Alcott's state of health, and both 
 were relinquished because she had not the strength, 
 or the heart, to undertake them. As she read over 
 those remarkable letters and journals, their con- 
 tents seemed to her too personal and intimately 
 
 [275] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 bound up with family affairs for general publica- 
 tion, and she began the task of eliminating much, 
 selecting only a small proportion of the precious 
 memories set down. Following her mother's ex- 
 pressed wish, she destroyed all but a few fragments 
 of the long personal history embodied in those 
 faithfully penned diaries, though many of the 
 letters still remain to testify to the gifted pen of 
 their writer, the record of whose final years is here 
 briefly presented. Louisa Alcott could ply her pen 
 with lightning speed when bent upon depicting the 
 living, whom she could outline with vivid strokes, 
 but when she touched upon those that had gone, 
 she faltered and laid her pen aside. And so the 
 Memoir was never done. 
 
 And the much longed-for visit to May, so eagerly 
 anticipated, also failed to materialize despite May's 
 often expressed wish, for Louisa's health was very 
 frail and she dreaded to undertake the journey 
 until she should have strength to enjoy the trip 
 with something of her former zest. Afterwards, 
 she keenly regretted that she had not gone to the 
 new home, to share in person those happy mem- 
 ories of May's brief married life, which she was des- 
 tined to know only from letters telling of its joys, 
 and of the pretty little home which May so longed 
 to show to her, and of which she had written : 
 
 [2 7 6] 
 
MAY'S ROMANCE 
 
 "Lu must come and see how charming things 
 are, for we could have such pleasant days together. 
 Ernest is always ready for any fun, and she could 
 have my big sleeping-room with its crimsoned 
 curtained-bed and open fire-place. You can im- 
 agine what comfort I take in these snug quarters, — 
 Our femme de menage is a treasure and cooks us 
 delicious little dinners, brings the water, cleans 
 the rooms, runs errands and seems honest and 
 respectable. This gives me all my time to myself. 
 
 "I paint and walk and write all day. At night 
 Ernest comes home and puts on his grey palatot, 
 and lies in the grass beside me while I sew in the 
 garden after our late dinner. I feel like one in a 
 happy dream selfishly enjoying my life without a 
 thought beyond; Ernest, my pictures, my home, are 
 all I desire. There is not a cloud as big as your 
 hand in my sky." 
 
 That the family had questioned the wisdom of 
 her sudden marriage to a young foreigner, several 
 years her junior, who had his way to make, and of 
 whom they knew nothing, is evident from May's 
 reiteration of her complete satisfaction and per- 
 fect confidence in her husband's ability and devo- 
 tion. There are no doubts in her mind as to 
 their future. She knows that all will be well; her 
 
 [277] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 work is bound to prove more and more successful, 
 her husband will win wealth and recognition, and 
 years of untrammeled joy will be theirs. One 
 reads with trepidation of her childlike faith in her 
 lucky star; she is so sure that one already trembles 
 at the thought that such perfect bliss is likely to 
 be fleeting. It is all too good to be true, this vision 
 of a human being who has grasped her heart's 
 desire, and who declaims that it is hers to keep, 
 and that from now on the path that she will tread 
 shall be mapped out exactly to her taste. She 
 writes : 
 
 "I mean to combine painting and family, and 
 show that it is a possibility if let alone. But not if 
 I am at the mercy of constant company, who have 
 no real claim on me and my time, so let me have 
 my own way and devote this year at least to 
 carrying out my aims. In America this cannot be 
 done, but foreign life is so simple and free, we can 
 live for our own comfort not for company. I 
 often wonder if I could step back into my old life 
 and feel at home there, for I seem quite a different 
 person from the woman who bade you good-bye so 
 long ago, and you would find me greatly changed. 
 
 "To be a happy wife with a good husband to 
 love and care for me, and then go on with my art. 
 [278] 
 
MAY'S ROMANCE 
 
 This blessed lot is mine, and from my purpose I 
 never intend to be diverted. ... I am free to 
 follow my profession, I have a strong arm to pro- 
 tect, a tender love to cherish me, and I have no 
 fears for the future. Set your dear hearts at rest, 
 for could you see me in my lovely home amid 
 birds and blossoms, and know my happiness you 
 would say 'May has decided wisely'." 
 
 In June, the approaching visit of her husband's 
 mother and brother from their home in Baden was 
 an event of supreme importance to May, who 
 dreaded this ordeal. The guest room was prepared 
 and duly decorated with flowers for Mme. Nieriker, 
 and a dainty supper was awaiting the guests when 
 they arrived late in the evening, to find the little 
 home bright with candles and flowers, and the 
 new daughter, and sister, arrayed in her best blue 
 gown. The meeting gave satisfaction to all parties 
 concerned, and May found the cultivated German 
 mother-in-law affectionate and sympathetic, and 
 the brother-in-law was at once captivated by the 
 charm of his new sister. May's French, which 
 was not very fluent, was taxed to the utmost, 
 but they got on admirably, and the visit was pro- 
 longed for more than a fortnight, during which 
 period the guests spent considerable time with May 
 
 [279] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 at the Paris Exposition, which was then going on. 
 Insisting that May must not stay so much at 
 home, they planned many excursions, and theater 
 parties, and she went with them to the picture 
 exhibitions, which she later described, commenting 
 on the admirable work of her fellow countrymen : 
 
 "Our American department held its own among 
 the others, and this surprised me, as well as made 
 me proud, for though small, it is a good collection 
 showing the study of the Americans under the 
 teaching of the French, for in painting the French 
 stand alone. 
 
 "Henry Bacon has a head quite like a Murillo, 
 rich and strong, and Bridgman's 'Burial of the 
 Nile' stands in the place of honor. Porter's head 
 of Maud Howe is also here, and very fine the 
 draperies and accessories are. Miss Cassatt's 
 'Yellow Woman' is there; Dana's fine study by 
 moonlight, two good Vedders, and splendid oil and 
 water-colors by Gifford, and Tiffany of New York. 
 
 "But to us the chef tfceuvre of the exposition is 
 Munkaczy's, whose pictures excel any other master, 
 always strong, rich in color, subdued in tone, 
 masterly in execution. The present picture is 
 'Milton and the Daughters,' and is full of senti- 
 ment and very fine. We stood long enjoying it." 
 [280] 
 
MAY'S ROMANCE 
 A study of the picture galleries was followed by 
 some visits to the shops and May writes : 
 
 "Our day proved a pleasant one, and we finished 
 with a little shopping in the big shops of Paris, 
 which much amused Mama. She and Max spend 
 much time in the city seeing all its wonders, and 
 come home with great papers of strawberries, cakes 
 and nice things for the late dinner. Our femme de 
 menage does very well, and my visitors are very 
 thoughtful, often dining in Paris to give me quiet 
 days for painting. 
 
 "Mama often says, c Stick to your art, May, and 
 let Ernest take care of himself.' She believes in 
 women having a career as well as men. I shall be 
 sorry when they leave, as they will do in a few 
 days, having been here nearly three weeks." 
 
 The autumn found the bride viewing with 
 satisfaction her summer accomplishment and she 
 records the amount of work completed : 
 
 "Since July I've painted oils and water colors, 
 fourteen sketches. Having already seven studies 
 on exhibition in Paris, two just finished for Lille, 
 a panel in the Manchester gallery, two in London, 
 and an order ready for America, I feel that I can 
 rest." 
 
 [281] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 The pleasant association with the new mother in 
 no way obscures the vivid picture of Marmee, 
 which rises so often that she also seems a part 
 of this life in France. May writes on October 8, 
 1878, to those at home: 
 
 Mother's Birthday, Meudon. 
 
 This morning I adorned dear Marmee's picture 
 with late morning-glories wreathing them with 
 many tender thoughts. Through the day I was 
 constantly with you, wondering if you were at 
 Sleepy Hollow, and how you would get through 
 this season of sad recollections. 
 
 I remember you wrote me how you dressed my 
 picture with flowers and put it where she could see 
 it in those last days. How long it seemed that no 
 word came, and then her last little note of farewell 
 that will always break my heart to think of. 
 
 Ernest knowing how badly I felt took me for a 
 long walk straying through the pretty woods till 
 night came on. The cool green seemed to rest my 
 eyes and head, and thoughts of my happy present 
 with this dear companion to love and care for me, 
 brought at last comfort and rest to my heart. . . . 
 Most of our courtship has been done since we 
 were married, and Meudon has seen more tender 
 scenes than London ever did. 
 [282] 
 
MAY'S ROMANCE 
 
 Winter at Meudon holds an equal charm for the 
 members of the placid little household and May 
 writes of their quiet Christmas : 
 
 " Some people might have thought our Christmas 
 not a very gay one, but we enjoyed it greatly. 
 E. presented me with a fine scarlet Diary and I 
 spent the morning writing in it, making a summary 
 of the events of this year, artistic, matrimonial, 
 joyful, sad, and domestic, all of which made a 
 varied story. 
 
 "Later Ernest and I took a beautiful walk 
 together in the snowy Bois, which looked very fine 
 in its winter dress. As we reached the extreme 
 height the sky was lovely rose and green lighted by 
 the setting sun, and as we stood looking at the 
 magnificent landscape before us, we thought it 
 quite as striking as in Summer when the avenue 
 of rich green leads the eye naturally to the fine 
 vista at the end, for in all France these are arranged 
 for effect, and whichever way one turns one is 
 struck by the charm and beauty. ... In the 
 evening we sat before our open-fire which burns 
 in a low grate in the chimney-corner, just large 
 enough for two. There we light our study lamp 
 and read, write or talk French, in a most cozy 
 fashion. There will always be to me a touch of 
 [283] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 romance in everything European, which is the 
 charm perhaps which has brought me here for 
 the third time, and now anchored me. Father will 
 rejoice that I now have begun a diary that I may 
 place on record many things which my sisters may 
 sometime like to read. 
 
 "And be sure that whatever in the future may 
 happen I regret nothing and believe our marriage 
 the best and happiest thing for both. If trouble 
 or sickness come how much easier to bear it to- 
 gether." 
 
 So the year closes in contentment and without 
 regrets, but with perhaps a faint foreshadowing of 
 the approach of a permanent separation from her 
 loved ones across seas. 
 
 In reply to the questions of those at home re- 
 garding the appearance of her husband May wrote: 
 
 "You ask me about Ernest's face and character, 
 and I will try to give you some idea of both. He 
 is slender with broad shoulders, a delicate hand, 
 and very handsome aristocratic foot. He has a 
 beautifully shaped head with a profusion of brown 
 hair curling about the brow, and he parts it in the 
 middle. Large hazel eyes, a handsome nose with 
 proud nostrils and as beautiful a mouth as I ever 
 saw, almost perfect in form with a firm, decided 
 [284] 
 
MAY'S ROMANCE 
 
 chin below. His throat is round and white as a 
 woman's and he wears an open collar which is very 
 becoming. 
 
 "I often think as he stands looking up from the 
 garden what a good, attractive face it is, the ex- 
 pression so fine with a sort of uplifted look, tender 
 and sweet. In London at that long boarding-house 
 table among the thirty faces, his stood out alone, 
 attractive from its force and character. 
 
 "His is a noble nature, gentle and affectionate, 
 and very tender yet high spirited and manly. . . . 
 Ernest is quiet and reserved much more mature 
 than I am, loves good books and good men. He 
 is full of music, enjoying it best alone, handling his 
 bow with exquisite delicacy and taste. He is highly 
 gifted, and I think his one mistake has been relin- 
 quishing music for business. . . . His only fault 
 seems to be a hasty temper, but it soon blows over 
 and he is ready to make any reparation in his 
 power. His good qualities far outweigh his faults." 
 
 May's love of crimson draperies and bits of 
 brilliant scarlet for decorative purposes is offset by 
 her intense love of blue for her own wearing ap- 
 parel. From childhood she continually voices her 
 love of blue dresses, and in her letters there is a 
 frequent reference to her choice of some blue 
 
 [285] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 material, for negligee or party gown; it is her color 
 and she revels in it. Her books are decorated with 
 forget-me-nots, or violets, and her love for the 
 former flower is many times expressed; she writes, 
 in 1878, at the close of the season, of her purchase 
 of a dress trimmed with her favorite blue flowers: 
 
 "I went early to Paris this morning to buy a 
 new costume, and after looking in vain for the 
 right thing, at last going into the Grande Magazin 
 du Louvre, the first thing my eyes lighted on was 
 a gray pongee silk with some solid masses of 
 forget-me-nots in long strips for trimming, and a 
 little mantle. I instantly saw the whole toilette, 
 bonnet the same color, with bunches of the flowers, 
 sunshade lined with blue. It is to be princess style, 
 fitting as only a Paris dressmaker can fit one, and 
 the ensemble with mantle, embroidered flounce 
 and bands, little pelisse and sunshade, a most 
 perfect turnout, and in proper Parisian taste, be- 
 side, costing only #40. 
 
 "I will also add that my brown Paris-made suit 
 with a high hat turned up with velvet and trimmed 
 with ostrich feathers is a handsome stylish dress." 
 
 In blue or brown, and always with a dashing 
 ostrich plume waving above her red-gold hair, — 
 that was May Alcott. 
 
 [286] 
 
MAY'S ROMANCE 
 
 Her sister's happiness brought Louisa the keenest 
 satisfaction. She forgot her own longing for her 
 sister's companionship in the joy of contemplating 
 the crowning happiness of that fortunate life; it 
 was as it should be. And at this period, she noted 
 in her journal, "Happy letters from May, who is 
 enjoying life as one can but once." Then with a 
 sudden vision of her own lonely lot, she exclaims: 
 
 "How different our lives are just now. I so 
 lonely, and sick; and she so happy and blest. 
 She always had the cream of things, and deserved 
 it. My time is yet to come somewhere else, when 
 I am ready for it." 
 
 Louisa's continued ill health made her unwilling 
 to risk a voyage across seas, though she longed 
 to visit her sister and make the acquaintance of 
 her new brother. By resting throughout the 
 summer she hoped to be able to undertake the 
 journey but as the time approached she dared 
 not risk the voyage, writing in disappointment: 
 
 "Got nicely ready to go to May in September; 
 but at the last moment gave it up, fearing to undo 
 all the good this weary year of ease has done for 
 me, and be a burden on her. A great disappoint- 
 ment; but I've learned to wait. I long to see her 
 happy in her new home." 
 
 [287] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 Another artistic triumph came to May in the 
 spring of 1879, when the second of her canvases 
 found a place in the Salon, an event that gave 
 special satisfaction to her father, who wrote upon 
 receipt of the good news : 
 
 "Yes, surely, my happy child, you are to be 
 congratulated, and again and again, on your 
 success at the Salon, and in your husband's affec- 
 tions. I read your letter, announcing the acceptance 
 of your picture, with pride, and almost wished, 
 instead of the new name, euphonious as this is, 
 the honor had been conferred upon Miss May 
 Alcott. But even dutiful daughters are honored 
 when taking their husband's name without loss of 
 loyalty to their birthright. You are a successful 
 member of our House. I shall be content while you 
 continue to honor it with your friendship and your 
 art in the future." 
 
 Of her picture of a young negress which had 
 won special commendation he says: 
 
 "Were your picture here now in this crisis of 
 the Slave Exodus, I know not what new honors 
 might await the artist on this side the Atlantic. 
 The negress might rival even Mrs. Stowe's 'Uncle 
 Tom,' and as his counterpart, might couple your 
 [288] 
 
MAY'S ROMANCE 
 
 name with hers, and Louisa's, whom we are in- 
 formed are the only women authors much known 
 on the continent. At any rate, I am happy in 
 learning of your content to remain in France, tak- 
 ing life in a rational and right spirit, nor do I 
 yield the hope of seeing you here and welcoming 
 you and yours to your old home and country." 
 
 About this time Louisa writes: "Happy letters 
 from May. Her hopes of a little son, or daughter 
 in the autumn, give us new plans to talk over. 
 I must be well enough to go to her then." 
 
 In the late spring she speaks of the prospect of 
 renting Orchard House: 
 
 "It is forlorn standing empty. I never go by 
 without looking up at Marmee's window, where the 
 dear face used to be, and May's, with the pictur- 
 esque vines around it. No golden-haired blue- 
 gowned Diana ever appears now; she sits happily 
 sewing baby-clothes in Paris. Enjoyed fitting out 
 a box of dainty things to send her. Even lonely 
 old spinsters take an interest in babies." 
 
 Two months before the birth of May's daughter 
 her father wrote, enclosing a present in the form 
 of the first money received from Orchard House, 
 which had been rented to Mr. Harris: 
 
 [289] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 "Please accept from your father the first rent 
 money yet received for the Orchard House since 
 we left it nearly two years ago. It is but a trifle 
 but it takes to you not a little affection, for your- 
 self, and may I not add, for the Little one, the 
 pledge of your love for the father, whom you have 
 chosen for your friend and companion in your 
 future sojourns! May every blessing await you 
 and yours. 
 
 "You will wish to have a word along with this 
 little token about the Orchard House itself. It 
 is not unlikely that the estate may be purchased 
 and dedicated to a "permanent school of Philos- 
 ophy", and possibly I myself may occupy it. 
 This is among the possibilities of the future." 
 
 After describing a meeting at Andover where he 
 had addressed six hundred students and received 
 quite an ovation, he concludes, "These latter years 
 are bestowing honors and rewards for the indiffer- 
 ence of former ones." 
 
 May's dreams and those of her father were 
 coming true, but one may question, whether it 
 was the hand of time bestowing these rewards, or 
 that of the devoted daughter and sister, whose pen 
 had been plied tirelessly in order that they might 
 dream true. 
 
 [290] 
 
MAY'S ROMANCE 
 
 In September, 1879, May sent home some letters 
 describing "An Artist's Holiday", which her sister 
 had printed; she also arranged for the publication 
 of May's little book, written to furnish informa- 
 tion to art students abroad. Of this work Louisa 
 writes, "Very useful and well done." 
 
 In October, she again records her sad disappoint- 
 ment at not starting for Europe: 
 
 "Father goes west. I mourn because all say I 
 must not go to May; not safe; and I cannot add 
 to Mama Nieriker's cares at this time by another 
 invalid, as the voyage would upset me, I am so 
 seasick. 
 
 "Give up my hope and long-cherished plan with 
 grief. May sadly disappointed. I know I shall 
 wish I had gone; it is my luck." 
 
 And now May's star, so long in the ascendant, 
 began to glimmer faintly, for the joyful event so 
 long anticipated was bringing with it gathering 
 clouds soon to obscure its brightness. 
 
 [291] 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Farewell and Hail 
 
 On the eighth of November, 1879, little Louisa 
 May Nieriker arrived in Paris. There was great 
 rejoicing in the Alcott family, and especially in the 
 heart of Louisa, at the thought of her little name- 
 sake. Yet with the joy was mingled some anxiety 
 for May in that far distant city with none of her 
 own family about her. Louisa felt that she should 
 have been there to watch and to assist in any 
 possible emergency which might arise. 
 
 At first all promised well and she endeavored to 
 banish dark forebodings, though she still cherished 
 much regret at being far away from the small 
 namesake and her mother, exclaiming: 
 
 "Nice little lass, and May very happy. Ah, if 
 I had only been there! Too much happiness for 
 me. Two years since Marmee went. How she 
 would have enjoyed the little grand-daughter, and 
 all May's romance! Perhaps she does." 
 
 Letters from their kind friend Miss Plummer 
 brought news of May's failure to rally as she 
 should. The family were filled with keen anxiety 
 [292] 
 
FAREWELL AND HAIL 
 
 and on Louisa's forty-seventh birthday, November 
 29, she wrote: 
 
 "May not doing well. The weight on my heart 
 is not all imagination. She was too happy to have 
 it last, and I fear the end is coming. Hope it is 
 my nerves; but this peculiar feeling has never mis- 
 led me before." 
 
 Letters from Paris brought varying reports, some 
 hopeful and others despairing, and on December 8, 
 Louisa Alcott wrote of her namesake: 
 
 "Little Lu, one month old. Small but lively. 
 Oh, if I could only be there to see and help. This 
 is a penance for all my sins. Such tugging at my 
 heart to be by poor May, alone, so far away. The 
 Nierikers are devoted, and all is done that can 
 be; but not one of her 'very own' is there." 
 
 But all regrets were useless, and she consoled 
 herself with the thought that her coming to May's 
 household in her uncertain health might have 
 brought only added anxiety to all. Yet, on the 
 other hand, she knew that her own mental poise 
 and power of self-control would have no doubt 
 enabled her to surmount her own ills and to 
 command the situation. The Nierikers were untir- 
 ing in their devotion, but had she been there, her 
 [293] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 presence would have meant much to her sister, 
 who had always depended on her in time of need. 
 And then, in the emergency of May's fast-failing 
 strength, who can say that Louisa's prompt and 
 decisive methods might not have saved the day? 
 At the beginning of unfavorable symptoms, she 
 would assuredly have summoned to her sister's 
 bedside the best of Paris experts, yet none can 
 say that the result would have been different. 
 
 On the 29th of December May died, after three 
 weeks of fever and stupor, and Louisa wrote of 
 the coming of their dear friend, Ralph Waldo 
 Emerson, to break the news to her. 
 
 "A dark day for us. A telegram from Ernest to 
 Mr. Emerson tells us 'May is dead.' Anna was 
 gone to Boston; Father to the post-office anxious 
 for letters overdue. I was alone when Mr. Emerson 
 came. Ernest sent to him, knowing I was feeble, 
 and hoping Mr. E. would soften the blow. I found 
 him looking at May's portrait, pale and tearful, 
 with the paper in his hand. c My child, I wish I 
 could prepare you; but alas, alas!!' There his 
 voice failed, and he gave me the telegram. 
 
 "I was not surprised, and read the hard words 
 as if I knew them all before. 'I am prepared,' I 
 said, and thanked him. He was much moved and 
 
 [294] 
 
FAREWELL AND HAIL 
 
 very tender. I shall remember gratefully the look, 
 the grasp, the tears, he gave me; and I am sure 
 that hard moment was made bearable by the 
 presence of our best and tenderest friend. He 
 went to find Father but missed him, and I had to 
 tell both him and Anna when they came. A very 
 bitter sorrow to us all. . . . 'Two years of perfect 
 happiness,' May called these married years, and 
 said, 'If I die when baby comes don't mourn, for 
 I have had as much happiness in this short time 
 as many in twenty years.' She wished me to have 
 her baby and her pictures. A very precious legacy. 
 Rich payment for the little I could do for her. 
 I see now why I lived, to care for May's child and 
 not to leave Anna alone." 
 
 Mr. Alcott's sorrow found an outlet in the pro- 
 duction of a poem commemorating this daughter 
 of whom he had been so proud, and his journal for 
 1880 opens with his poem "Love's Morrow", 
 written immediately after receiving the news of 
 May's death. This poem ends with the stanzas: 
 
 Transported May! 
 
 Thou could'st not stay, 
 
 Who gave took thee away. 
 Come, child, and whisper peace to me; 
 Say must I wait, or come to thee? 
 
 I list to hear 
 
 Thy message clear. 
 
 [295] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 " Cease, cease, more grief to borrow/* 
 
 Last night I heard her say; 
 
 " For sorrow has no morrow, 
 
 'T is born of yesterday." 
 Translated thou must be, 
 My cloudless daylight see, 
 And bathe, as I, in fairest morrows endlessly. 
 
 The father records that this expression of his 
 sorrow and hope brought him much consolation; 
 he carried the verses over to his friend, Frank 
 Sanborn, and after reading them to him, he noted 
 in his journal, "This may yield me sleep and 
 repose again. But Anna and Louisa! They must 
 grieve long." 
 
 This was indeed true. But Louisa also took up 
 her pen and on the selfsame night produced her 
 truly beautiful memorial poem, "Our Madonna." 
 
 Letters followed from the grief-stricken husband, 
 telling the sad story. May was unconscious during 
 the last weeks, and seemed not to suffer, but from 
 time to time she spoke of getting ready for her 
 sister Louisa, and asked if she had come? 
 
 She had felt a foreboding of what was in store 
 for her, and had left all in readiness in case of her 
 going. Trunks were packed with articles to be 
 sent home. Her journal was carefully written up, 
 and she had chosen the cemetery where she wished 
 to rest in case she did not survive. She had also 
 
 [296] 
 
FAREWELL AND HAIL 
 
 exacted the promise that in the event of her death 
 her child should be sent back to Louisa, to receive 
 the devoted care that she knew would be given 
 by her sister. 
 
 After the receipt of the sad news Louisa wrote 
 to her aunt Mrs. Bond: 
 
 "Gone, to begin the new year with mother, in a 
 world where I hope there is no grief like this. 
 Gone just when she seemed safest and happiest, 
 after nearly two years of such love and sweet 
 satisfaction that she wrote us: 'If I die when 
 baby comes, remember I have been so unspeakably 
 happy for a year that I ought to be content.' And 
 it is all over. The good mother and sister have 
 done everything in the most devoted way. We 
 can never repay them. My May gave me her little 
 Lulu, and in the spring I hope to get my sweet 
 legacy. Meantime the dear grandma takes her to 
 a home full of loving friends and she is safe. I 
 will write more when we know, but the cruel sea 
 divides us and we must wait." 
 
 The bereaved father derived much consolation 
 from the sympathy of his old friends who had loved 
 May, to whose memory he paid special tribute by 
 carrying his verses about and reading them to 
 various individuals and sorrowful groups. 
 
 C^97] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 The warm sympathy of the Concord friends is 
 chronicled in his journal: 
 
 "Neighbors kindly call and speak tender words; 
 May had served the young people particularly, 
 and left them indebted for her art-school instruc- 
 tion. Many letters of sympathy have come to me 
 from friends elsewhere. Though absent during 
 these last two years, she is remembered with 
 affectionate regard, and her decease sincerely 
 mourned. Ah, how death humanizes and fra- 
 ternizes the living, as it would bind them in closer 
 and enduring union here and hereafter." 
 
 Mr. Alcott notes the receipt of the first letters 
 describing the funeral services: 
 
 "Accounts of the last sad ceremonies reach us 
 in a letter from a friend of May's, who saw her 
 frequently during her last illness and was present 
 at her burial. Of the particulars it is most pleasing 
 to recall the obeisances of the passers-by as the 
 little cortege slowly wound its way through the 
 streets. And when the pall was removed the casket 
 was 'white.' 'Ah, my May, thou could 'st not 
 have chosen an emblem more befitting thyself 
 and the art thou loved. White, spotless, be thy 
 memory." 
 
 [298] 
 
FAREWELL AND HAIL 
 
 This month's record closes with a brief apprecia- 
 tion from the father's pen, headed, "May": 
 
 "Her temperament was elastic, susceptible; she 
 had a lively fancy, a clear understanding. She 
 possessed fine social qualities and her temper was 
 imperturbable. She had a fine sense of honor and 
 decorum. Independence was a marked trait. Her 
 manners were positive and perpetual. She held 
 her fortunes in her hand, and failure was a word 
 unknown in her vocabulary of effort. Her figure 
 was graceful, she was taller than the average of 
 her sex. 
 
 "When last seen by me, she was standing on the 
 steamer's deck, and waved her handkerchief till 
 lost in the distance. Her active career has now 
 closed in the height of her happiness and fame, 
 and she has passed into a future of fuller oppor- 
 tunities and holier engagements. Yes, and rejoices 
 now with those who have gone from our sight 
 before." 
 
 Louisa Alcott had written at the opening of the 
 year 1880: 
 
 "A sad day mourning for May. Of all the trials 
 of my life, I never felt any so keenly as this; 
 perhaps because I am so feeble in health that I 
 
 [299] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 cannot bear it well. It seems so hard to break up 
 that happy little home, and take May, just when 
 life was richest, and leave me who had done my 
 task and could well be spared." 
 
 But Louisa's task was not yet complete, as those 
 eight remaining years proved conclusively. 
 
 After a renewed period of sadness, which fol- 
 lowed the coming across seas of a trunk full of 
 mementoes, — May's pictures, her clothes, and 
 many little personal belongings, that wakened so 
 vividly the happy memories of other days, — 
 thoughts of the coming of May's child awoke new 
 hope and expectation. Plans were made for the 
 reception of the baby in the early autumn, and an 
 experienced woman was sent abroad to take charge 
 of the child, and to accompany the young Aunt 
 Sophie, who was to take the journey with her. 
 
 About this time, Louisa wrote to a member of 
 her family: 
 
 "May left me her little daughter for my own; 
 and if she comes over soon, I shall be too busy 
 singing lullabies to one child to write tales for 
 others, or go anywhere, even to see my kind friends. 
 A sweeter little romance has just ended in Paris 
 than any I can ever make; and the sad facts of 
 life leave me no heart for cheerful fiction." 
 
 C3°°] 
 
FAREWELL AND HAIL 
 
 Yet her gifted pen was destined to produce many 
 more tales of hope and cheer to delight thousands 
 of young readers. And with the coming of the 
 autumn, the bereaved sister found a new spirit of 
 hope and joy springing up in her heart, as she 
 prepared for the arrival of May's baby, writing of 
 the event: 
 
 "Got things ready for my baby, warm wrapper, 
 and all the dear can need on her long journey. 
 On the 2 1st, saw Mrs. Giles off; the last time I 
 went it was to see May go. She was sober and 
 sad, not gay as before; seemed to feel it might be a 
 longer voyage than we knew. The last view I had 
 of her was standing alone, in the long blue cloak, 
 waving her hand to us, smiling with wet eyes till 
 out of sight. How little we dreamed what an 
 experience of love, joy, pain, and death she was 
 going to!" 
 
 A few days later she notes that all is in readiness 
 for the arrival of little Lulu, declaring: "Make a 
 cozy nursery for the darling, and say my prayers 
 over the little white crib that waits for her." 
 
 On September 18, 1880, she went to Boston to 
 be on hand for the incoming steamer due to arrive 
 the following day; and she has pictured the excit- 
 ing moment of the child's arrival: 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 "As I waited on the wharf while the people 
 came off the ship, I saw several babies, and 
 wondered each time if that was mine. At last the 
 captain appeared, and in his arms a little yellow- 
 haired thing in white, with its hat half off as it 
 looked about with lively blue eyes and babbled 
 prettily. I held out my arms to Lulu, only being 
 able to say her name. She looked at me for a 
 moment, then came to me saying 'Marmar' in a 
 wistful way, and resting close as if she had found 
 her own people and home at last, as she had, 
 thank Heaven! . . . The little princess was re- 
 ceived with tears and smiles, and being washed 
 and fed went quietly to sleep in her new bed, 
 while we brooded over her and were never tired 
 of looking at the little face of 'May's baby.' 
 
 "My heart is full of pride and joy, and the touch 
 of the dear little hands seems to take away the 
 bitterness of grief. I often go at night to see if she 
 is really here, and the sight of the little head is 
 like sunshine to me. Father adores her, and she 
 loves to sit in his strong arms. They make a 
 pretty picture as he walks in the garden with her 
 to 'see birdies.' Anna tends her, as she did May, 
 who was her baby once, being ten years younger, 
 and we all find life easier to live now the baby has 
 come." 
 
 [3° 2 1 
 
FAREWELL AND HAIL 
 
 Mr. Alcott pens his own impression of the new- 
 comer: 
 
 "Our little Louisa May Nieriker is brought 
 safely, and looks smilingly upon us, of her kindred, 
 on this side the seas. A bright, blue-eyed Babe, 
 and motherless now. I know not whether my 
 emotion on beholding her first eager glance, par- 
 took more of surprise, of sadness, or of joy, as I 
 recalled the accident of her birth, and prospects 
 of her future, yet all unknown to me. She is here 
 now at last, and with her mother's kindred to be 
 kindly cared for during her tender infancy. 
 
 "Anna and Louisa have now a sweet charge to 
 vary their cares and recreations. They will cherish 
 the little one lovingly as the surviving token of 
 their departed sister. Our house now no stranger 
 to the attraction of a Babe. . . . 
 
 "Thanks, renewed thanks, to our Father, for 
 all these prospects and past blessings many and 
 dear." 
 
 The grandfather's journal at this time presents 
 numerous verses, dedicated to the "Babe", and 
 he writes of the interest awakened in the town by 
 her coming: 
 
 "Many of our neighbors have called to see our 
 little lady bright. And today Mrs. Emerson walks 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 hither to pay her respects. A babe is the ornament 
 of the house, and of the household in a Christian 
 civilization." 
 
 Playing mother to the child May had left her 
 brought a new restfulness to Louisa Alcott's tired 
 brain, and did much to restore the old-time cheer- 
 fulness, despite the increased responsibility. The 
 little namesake needed her constant thought, but 
 she was happy in the new role of "Marmar", and 
 she delighted to find May's child growing to be 
 more and more like her mother. She wrote regard- 
 ing her: 
 
 "I wish you could see the pretty creature, who 
 already shows many of her mother's traits and 
 tastes. Her love of pictures is a passion, but she 
 will not look at the gay ones most babies enjoy. 
 She chooses the delicate, well-drawn, and painted 
 figures of Caldecott and Miss Greenaway. Over 
 these she broods with rapture, pointing her little 
 fingers at the cows or cats, and kissing the children, 
 with funny prattlings to these dumb playmates. 
 She is a fine, tall girl, full of energy, intelligence 
 and health; blonde and blue-eyed like her mother, 
 but with her father's features. Louisa May bids 
 fair to be a noble woman, and I hope I may live 
 
 C3°4] 
 
FAREWELL AND HAIL 
 
 to see May's child as brave, and bright, and tal- 
 ented as she was, and much happier in her fate." 1 
 
 In the autumn of 1885, Miss Alcott moved to a 
 furnished house at Number 10 Louisburg Square, 
 Boston, and there, despite ill health, prepared 
 three volumes of her stories for publication, en- 
 titled, "Lulu's Library." She also completed "Jo's 
 Boys", the sequel to "Little Men", for which the 
 public had long been clamoring. In the preface to 
 this volume she touches upon her inability to con- 
 tinue the character of "Amy", accounting for this 
 seeming neglect in the following words : 
 
 "Since the original died, it has been impossible 
 for me to write of her, as when she was here to 
 suggest, criticise, and laugh over her namesake. 
 The same excuse applies to Marmee. But the 
 folded leaves are not blank to those who knew and 
 loved them, and can find memorials of them in 
 whatever is cheerful, true, or helpful in these 
 pages." 
 
 Louisa's gift to May, — how can one measure 
 it! Such gifts can never be computed; gifts that 
 embrace a lifetime of love and sympathy and rare 
 
 1 After Louisa Alcott's death, Louisa May Nieriker made her home 
 with her father in Europe; she married Ernst Rasim in 1903, and is now a 
 widow with one daughter, Ernestine, born 1904. 
 
 C305I 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 
 companionship. At the cost of much sacrifice, 
 Louisa helped May to realize her desires and am- 
 bitions, bearing additional burdens in order that 
 she might be free to carry on her work abroad; 
 yet with this sacrifice of time and strength there 
 came to her a happiness and satisfaction that she 
 could never have attained elsewhere. May was 
 in many ways the instrument of joy in her famous 
 sister's life, and her last gift of a child that Louisa 
 could call her own came as the final payment for 
 all the benefits received. 
 
 May's little daughter came back to be the joy 
 and consolation of the lonely woman's last years, 
 and none may estimate the value of this loving 
 association that ended only with Louisa Alcott's 
 death. 
 
 One loves to cherish the remembrance of the 
 happy hours spent with the little namesake, and 
 may well treasure the picture drawn by the author 
 of "Little Women", on the first birthday of May's 
 daughter: 
 
 "November 8, Lulu's birthday. One year old. 
 Her gifts were set out on a table for her to see 
 when she came down in the afternoon, — a little 
 cake with one candle, a rose-crown for the queen, 
 a silver mug, dolly, picture-books, gay ball, toys, 
 
 [306] 
 
FAREWELL AND HAIL 
 
 flowers, and many kisses. She sat smiling at her 
 treasures just beneath her mother's picture. 
 Suddenly, attracted by the sunshine on the face 
 of the portrait, which she knows is 'Marmar', she 
 held up a white rose to it, calling 'Mum, Mum', 
 and smiling." 
 
 And so Louisa places the "May Queen's" crown 
 on the brow of May's tiny daughter, her own child 
 now, who held in her uplifted hand a rose before 
 her mother's shrine. And all knew that May would 
 have had it so; May who loved romance, and whose 
 happy life held no regrets. 
 
 May's dream that she should achieve lasting 
 fame with brush and pencil was never to be re- 
 alized, for it is not by her own pictures that she 
 is destined to be remembered, but by that more 
 enduring portrait painted by her sister, who cre- 
 ated "Amy" for the delight of millions of young 
 readers. This picture, so truthfully transcribed, 
 remains among the permanent portraits in the 
 gallery of our literature, where "Amy, the artist" 
 will be remembered, not for her admirable work, 
 but for her vivid self as portrayed by Louisa 
 Alcott's pen. 
 
 [307] 
 
MAY ALCOTT 
 OUR MADONNA 
 
 (Written by Louisa Alcott on receipt of the news of May's death, Jan., 1880) 
 
 A child, her wayward pencil drew 
 On margins of her book 
 Garlands of flowers, dancing elves, 
 Bird, butterfly and brook. 
 Lessons undone, and play forgot 
 Seeking with hand and heart 
 The teacher whom she learned to love 
 Before she knew 't was Art. 
 
 A maiden, full of lofty dreams, 
 
 Slender and fair and tall 
 
 As were the goddesses she traced 
 
 Upon her chamber wall. 
 
 Still laboring with brush and tool, 
 
 Still seeking everywhere 
 
 Ideal beauty, grace and strength 
 
 In the "divine despair." 
 
 A woman, sailing forth alone, 
 
 Ambitious, brave, elate, 
 
 To mould life with a dauntless will, 
 
 To seek and conquer fate. 
 
 Rich colors on her palette glowed 
 
 Patience bloomed into power; 
 
 Endeavor earned its just reward, 
 
 Art had its happy hour. 
 
 A wife, low sitting at his feet 
 
 To paint with tender skill 
 
 The hero of her early dreams, 
 
 Artist, but woman still. 
 
 Glad now to shut the world away, 
 
 Forgetting even Rome; 
 
 Content to be the household saint 
 
 Shrined in a peaceful home. 
 
 C308] 
 
FAREWELL AND HAIL 
 
 A mother, folding in her arms 
 The sweet, supreme success; 
 Giving a life to win a life, 
 Dying that she might bless. 
 Grateful for joy unspeakable, 
 In that brief, blissful past; 
 The picture of a baby face 
 Her loveliest and last. 
 
 Death the stern sculptor, with a touch 
 No earthly power can stay, 
 Changes to marble in an hour 
 The beautiful, pale clay. 
 But Love the mighty master comes 
 Mixing his tints with tears, 
 Paints an immortal form to shine 
 Undimmed by coming years. 
 
 A fair Madonna, golden-haired, 
 Whose soft eyes seem to brood 
 Upon the child whose little hand 
 Crowns her with motherhood. 
 Sainted by death, yet bound to earth 
 By its most tender ties, 
 For life has yielded up to her 
 Its sacred mysteries. 
 
 So live, dear soul, serene and safe, 
 Throned as in Raphael's skies, 
 Type of the love, the faith, the grief 
 Whose pathos never dies. 
 Divine or human still the same 
 To touch and lift the heart: 
 Earth's sacrifice to Heaven's fame, 
 And Nature's truest Art. 
 
 L3°9l 
 
INDEX 
 
 Alcott, Abigail May, birth of, 3, 
 5-6; naming of, 12; the "Queen" 
 of the household, 14; moves to 
 Fruitlands, 17; under sister Anna's 
 care, 18-19; letters to mother from 
 Connecticut, 27-29, 29-30; artistic 
 efforts of, 31-37; social gifts, 38; 
 stricken with scarlet fever, 42; goes 
 to Boston to study, 43, 49, 69-71; 
 redecorates Orchard House, 49; 
 attends the School of Design, 
 Boston, 49; love of horseback rid- 
 ing, 51; studies drawing under 
 Johnston, 52; teaches in Syracuse, 
 52; takes lessons of Doctor Rim- 
 mer, 57; love of luxury, 58-59; 
 gives lessons in Boston, 65, 66; de- 
 signs pictures for "Little Women," 
 68; sails for Europe, 72; impatient 
 to begin work, 75; at Dinan, 77; 
 delight at Chateau Chenonceaux, 
 79-80; trip through St. Bernard 
 Pass, 81-87; at Lake Como, 90-94; 
 lessons with Rowbotham, 100; re- 
 turns home, 101; second trip to 
 Europe, 103-104; enthusiasm for 
 Turner's paintings, no; descrip- 
 tion of the Shah of Persia, 1 1 1-1 16; 
 returns home, 1 17; gift to Emerson 
 and his wife, 118-119; opens Art 
 Center in Concord, 1 19-122; final 
 return to Europe, 123; in Chester, 
 135-136; studies under Monsieur 
 Krug, 138, 139; meets Louise 
 Chandler, 156; her picture "Prince 
 of Timbuctoo," 164; visit to the 
 studio of Couture, 173-176; ex- 
 hibits at the Salon, 186, 189; visits 
 Healy's studio, 208-209; at Grez, 
 211-227; plans for portraits of her 
 
 parents, 241, 242; sells her owl- 
 panel, 245-246; hears of her moth- 
 er's death, 249; pictures at the 
 Ladies' Exhibition, 259-260; en- 
 gagement of, 260; marriage of, 261, 
 262; her home in Meudon, 264, 
 265-266; meets Mme. Nieriker, 
 279; birth of her daughter, 292; 
 death of, 294. 
 
 Letters home: 73-75, 76-77, 78, 
 79-80, 81, 90, 104, 107-109, in- 
 116, 127-128, 128-132, 132, 138- 
 139, I39-I4i> H4-I47, 173-176, 
 179, 180-182, 182-184, 184-188, 
 192-194, 198-202, 207-208, 212, 
 234-235, 238, 239, 243-245, 245- 
 246, 249-250, 251-252, 253-257, 
 269-272, 273-274, 277, 278-279, 
 282, 283-284, 284-285. 
 
 Alcott, Amos Bronson, birth of, 4; 
 his forbears, 4; marriage of, 5; re- 
 cords birth of his youngest child, 
 5-6; moves to Boston, 26; holds 
 "Conversations," 26; return from 
 the West, 41-42; letters to May on 
 success at the Salon, 189, 286; 
 writes of May's portrait, 242-243; 
 writes May of her mother's serious 
 illness, 246; writes to May of a 
 memoir of her mother, 275; sends 
 first rent of Orchard House to May, 
 290; grief on May's death, 295; 
 journal of, quoted, 298, 303. 
 
 Alcott, Mrs. Amos Bronson, marriage 
 of, 5; letter to Anna, 13-14; on 
 keeping a diary, 24; poor health of, 
 125; seventy-sixth birthday of, 137, 
 138; dreads May's prolonged stay 
 abroad, 171; great love for Con- 
 cord, 176-177; pleased at the ar- 
 
 [3"] 
 
INDEX 
 
 Alcott, Mrs. Amos — Continued 
 rival of May's portrait, 229; failing 
 health of, 245; death of, 248-249; 
 journal of, quoted, 124, 125, 126, 
 x 37> 159-161, 162, 169-170, 171, 
 172, 173, 176-178, 228, 229-231, 
 232-233, 235-237, 240, 247, 248. 
 
 Alcott, Anna. See Pratt, Mrs. 
 John. 
 
 Alcott, Elizabeth, journal of, quoted, 
 20-24; stricken with scarlet fever, 
 42; death of, 45, 46-47. 
 
 Alcott, Louisa May, letter to Anna, 
 39-40; in Boston, 43, 49; service as 
 a war nurse, 55-56; serious illness 
 of, 56; trip to Europe, 60; visits 
 Canada, 70; at Mt. Desert, 70; 
 second trip to Europe, 71-100; 
 letters from Europe, 75, 80, 94, 98; 
 at Lake Como, 90; returns home, 
 100; sends May to Europe, 103- 
 104, 122-123; learns of her own 
 popularity in England, 128-131; 
 helps Anna purchase the Thoreau 
 house, 240; her little namesake, 
 292; anxiety for May, 293 ; hears of 
 May's death, 294-295; plans for 
 arrival of namesake, 300-301; 
 moves to Louisburg Square, 305; 
 celebrates Lulu's first birthday, 
 306-307; journal of, quoted, 15-16, 
 18, 19, 31-37, 43-44, 47, 51-52, 
 57-58, 63, 65, 67-68, 69-70, 117, 
 287, 289, 291, 292, 293, 299-300, 
 302, 304. 
 
 Aligny, Claude, 213. 
 
 American Art Association, The, 
 founding of, 226-227. 
 
 "Apple Slump," 17, 170, 256. 
 
 Art Center, Concord, founding of the, 
 1 19-120, 122, 126. 
 
 Austin, Miss, 166, 174, 175, 179; 
 paints portrait of May Alcott, 185, 
 187, 188; asked to paint portrait of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Alcott, 241. 
 
 Babcock, William, 214. 
 
 Bacon, Henry, 280. 
 
 Ball, Thomas, reception at home of, 
 
 96. 
 Barbauld, Mrs., 173. 
 Barbizon, importance of, as an art 
 
 center, 214, 215. 
 Bartlett, Alice, a family friend 71, 
 
 75-76, 77, 100, 145, 180. 
 Bartol, Elizabeth, 173, 235. 
 Barye, Antoine Louis, 214. 
 Belleuse, Carriere, 139, 196. 
 Bigot, Madame, 149, 200. 
 Blashfield, Edwin H., 153, 199. 
 Blind, Mathilde, 62. 
 Bond, Mrs., 43. 
 Bonheur, Rosalie Marie, 165. 
 Bonnat, Leon Joseph Florentin, 186, 
 
 200. 
 Bouguereau, William Adolphe, 200. 
 Bridgman, Frederick A., 199, 280. 
 Bright, John, 62. 
 
 Cabanel, Pierre, 139. 
 
 Cabot, George, 231-232. 
 
 Carlos, Don, 88. 
 
 Cassatt, Mary, friendship with, 150- 
 
 151, 194, 195, 233, 237, 280. 
 Chaplin, Charles, 139. 
 Cobb, Frances Power, 62. 
 Conway, Mr. and Mrs. Moncure D., 
 
 close family friends, 62. 
 Cook, Mr., 230. 
 
 Corot, Jean Baptiste Camille, 203. 
 Coste, Madame, 72. 
 Cot, Monsieur, 139. 
 Courbet, Gustave, 195. 
 Couture, Thomas, 173, 175, 233. 
 
 D'Alembert, Madame, 145. 
 
 D'Alembert, Miss, 186. 
 
 Dana, Mr., 280. 
 
 Degas, M., 151, 195. 
 
 Delaroche, Hippolyte, 169. 
 
 Diaz de la Peria, Narcisse, 203, 214. 
 
 [3 12 ] 
 
INDEX 
 
 Dickens, Charles, 54, 129. 
 
 Drawing, early interest in, 32-34; 
 first attempts in, 36; skill with pen 
 and pencil, 44; lessons in, under 
 Johnston, 52; studies, anatomical, 
 under Doctor Rimmer, 57; classes 
 in, 64; studies, abroad, 69-102; 
 proves talent in, 1 17. 
 
 Dupre, Leon Victor, 214. 
 
 Duran, Carolus, 139, 216. 
 
 Eaton, Wyatt, 214. 
 
 Edgeworth, Maria, 173. 
 
 Elwell, Frank E., 126. 
 
 Emerson, George B., 236. 
 
 Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 20, 22; letter 
 
 of appreciation to May, 11 8-1 19; 
 
 brings news of May's death, 294- 
 
 295- 
 Emerson, Mrs. Ralph Waldo, letter 
 from, quoted, 119. 
 
 Field, Mrs. Salisbury, recalls meet- 
 ing, 224-225. 
 
 Fleury, Robert, 139. 
 
 Foley, Margaret E., acquaintance 
 with, 97. 
 
 Foord, Miss, 22, 23. 
 
 Fortuny, Mariano, 183. 
 
 Franco-Prussian War, 87-88, 89. 
 
 French, Daniel Chester, 37; early 
 evidence of the talent of, 66-67; 
 126. 
 
 Fromentin, Eugene, 203. 
 
 " Fruitlands," the Concord home, 4, 
 
 I5-I7- 
 Fuller, George, 227. 
 Fuller, Margaret, 15. 
 
 Gads all, Miss, 200. 
 Gerome, Jean Leon, 183. 
 Gilder, Helena de Kay, 226. 
 Gilder, Richard Watson, 226. 
 Gill, Captain, 127, 128. 
 Gladstone, William E., 62. 
 
 Gould, Thomas R., 97. 
 
 Grez, as an art center, 211-227. 
 
 Harris, W. T., 222, 289. 
 
 Hart, Mr., 96. 
 
 Hawthorne, Julian, 54, 55. 
 
 Hawthorne, Mrs. Nathaniel, letter to 
 her daughter Una, 53-54. 
 
 Hawthorne, Rose. See Lathrop, 
 Mrs. George Parsons. 
 
 Hawthorne, Una, 153, 154, 155. 
 
 Healy, G. P. A., 149, 150, 169, 205, 
 209. 
 
 Hopner, Doctor, 127, 128. 
 
 "Hillside," the Concord home, pur- 
 chase of, 20. 
 
 Howe, Maud, 280. 
 
 Hughes, Thomas, 62. 
 
 Hunt, William Morris, 188; May's 
 enthusiasm for work of, 203-205. 
 
 Ingelow, Jean, 62. 
 
 Jerome. See Gerome, Jean Leon. 
 "Jo's Boys," completion of, 305. 
 "Jo's Garret," 43. 
 Julien, M., 139, 140, 219. 
 
 Kensington Museum. See South 
 
 Kensington Museum. 
 Knowlton, Helen M., 203. 
 Krug, Monsieur, May studies art 
 
 under, 138, 141, 143, 163, 165. 
 
 La Jeunesse, Emma, exhibits at the 
 
 Salon, 196. 
 Lathrop, George Parsons, 154. 
 Lathrop, Mrs. George Parsons, 153, 
 
 154- 
 Le Dieu, Philippe, 213. 
 Lefebre, Jules Joseph, 139. 
 Lippincott, Mr., 145, 200. 
 "Little Men," reasons for writing, 99; 
 
 success of, 100. 
 
 [313] 
 
INDEX 
 
 "Little Raphael," 3, 31. 
 
 "Little Women," the writing and 
 completion of, 67-68; publication 
 of, 69. 
 
 Lombard, Fanny, 200. 
 
 Lombard, George, 228, 229. 
 
 London, at Brompton Road in, 100; 
 studies under Rowbotham in, 100; 
 103-123; Kensington Museum, 
 106; Westminster Abbey, 107; the 
 Shah of Persia in, 111-114; with 
 Mrs. Moulton in, 159; plans to 
 continue work in, 240; 243-248; 
 learns of her mother's death, 249; 
 250-257; meets Ernest Nieriker in, 
 257-263. 
 
 Lovejoy, Mr., 30. 
 
 Low, Will H., 196-197, 212, 214, 217; 
 letter from, 221-223. 
 
 "Lulu's Library," completion of, 305. 
 
 Luminais, Evariste Vital, 139. 
 
 Manet, Edouard, 195. 
 
 Manning, Abby, 235. 
 
 Manning, Misses, 206. 
 
 Marston, Philip Bourke, 157, 159. 
 
 Martin, Homer, 227. 
 
 Martineau, Harriet, 230. 
 
 May, Abigail. See Alcott, Mrs. 
 Amos Bronson. 
 
 May, Samuel J., Mrs. Alcott's 
 brother, 50, 52, 236. 
 
 Meissonier, Jean Louis Ernest, 183. 
 
 Mill, John Stuart, 62. 
 
 Millet, Frank, invited to May's 
 luncheon, 272; death of, 273. 
 
 Millet, Jean Francois, at Barbizon, 
 203-204; 213-214. 
 
 Morris, William, 159. 
 
 Moss, Mr., 145, 146, 194, 199. 
 
 Moulton, Louise Chandler, and a 
 biographical sketch of Louisa Al- 
 cott, 156; association with the poet 
 Philip Bourke Marston, 157-159- 
 
 Muller, Carl, 139, 163-165, 170, 179, 
 
 180-181. 
 Munkaczy, Mihaly, 280. 
 Munroe, William, of Concord, death 
 
 of, 228. 
 Murdock, Mr., 166. 
 
 National Academy of Design, 227. 
 Nieriker, Ernest, acquaintance with 
 
 May Alcott, 257, 258; engagement 
 
 of, 260; marriage of, 262; May's 
 
 description of, 284-285. 
 Nieriker, Louisa May, birth of, 292; 
 
 arrival in this country, 301-302; 
 
 first birthday of, 306-307. 
 Niles, Thomas, of Roberts Brothers, 
 
 63. 
 
 "Old-Fashioned Girl, An", 64; 
 
 publication of, 71. 
 Orchard House, the purchase of, in 
 
 1857, 45; the remodeling of, 48-49. 
 Osbourne, Mrs., May's friend, 219, 
 
 221. 
 Osbourne, Isobel. See Field, Mrs. 
 
 Salisbury. 
 "Our Madonna," by Louisa Alcott, 
 
 308-309. 
 
 Paris, locates in, for art study, 138; 
 studies in, under Monsieur Krug, 
 138; recommends, for the study of 
 art, 139; daily life in, 141-143; 
 "Prix de Rome," held in, 234-235; 
 studio of the famous Couture in, 
 173-176; and the Salon of 1877, 
 
 IOI-I93- 
 
 Parker, Theodore, 43. 
 
 Peckham, the Misses, May's room- 
 mates in Paris, 138, 141. 
 
 Peckham, Rose, paints portrait of 
 May Alcott, 178; portraits of, re- 
 fused for Salon, 193. 
 
 Pierce, Mr., 153. 
 
 Plummer, Miss, 292. 
 
 [3H] 
 
INDEX 
 
 Porter, Mr., 280. 
 Portraits, charcoal, by May, 35. 
 Powers, Hiram, 96. 
 Pratt, John, betrothal to Anna Al- 
 cott, 47; marriage, 50; death of, 
 
 99; 137- 
 
 Pratt, Mrs. John, journal of, quoted, 
 7, 8, 9, n, 12, 13; letter from 
 mother, 13-14; letter from Louisa, 
 39-40; engagement of, 47; mar- 
 riage of, 50; letters from May, 74- 
 75; serious illness of, 103. 
 
 "Prix de Rome," of 1877, 234-235. 
 
 Ramsey, Milne> 152, 200, 206. 
 Rimmer, Doctor William, 57. 
 Rodin, Auguste, his "Man of the 
 
 Bronze Age," 195. 
 Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, 159. 
 Rousseau, Theodore, 204, 214. 
 Ruskin, John, praises May Alcott's 
 
 work, 109. 
 
 Saint-Gaudens, Augustus, 197, 226 
 
 Salon, the, of 1877, 191-205; May 
 exhibits painting in, 192, 193. 
 
 Sanborn, Frank, 171, 173. 
 
 Shaw, Quincy A., 204. 
 
 Shirlaw, Walter, 226. 
 
 South Kensington Museum, descrip- 
 tion of, 106. 
 
 Stevenson, Robert Louis, 196; at 
 Grez, 215. 
 
 Still-Life, study in, in Salon of 1877, 
 J 92, 193; 208, 245-246. 
 
 Stowe, Harriet Beecher, 288. 
 Swinburne, Algernon Charles, 159. 
 
 Taylor, Mr. and Mrs. Peter, 62. 
 
 "Temple School," the, in Boston, 10. 
 
 Thiers, Louis Adolphe, 200. 
 
 Thoreau, Henry, 240. 
 
 Thoreau, Sophia, death of, 137; 240. 
 
 "Transcendental Wild Oats," 15. 
 
 Troyon, Constant, 183, 204. 
 
 Tuckerman, Salisbury, 106. 
 
 Turner, J. W. M., May's admiration 
 for paintings by, 34, 35, 108, 109, 
 no; danger of the loss of his pic- 
 tures, iio-ni. 
 
 Vedder, Elihu, 280. 
 
 Warren, Lena, 81, 83, 84. 
 "Wayside, The," the later name for 
 
 "Hillside," 20. 
 Webster, Albert, 154. 
 Wendt, Charles, 171, 172. 
 Westminster Abbey, privilege of 
 
 sketching in, 107. 
 Whistler, James McNeill, 227. 
 Whitman, Alfred, a friend of the 
 
 Alcotts, 61-62. 
 Wisinewski, Ladislas, the original of 
 
 Laurie in "Little Women," 61, 
 
 167, 168. 
 Wister, Mrs. Owen, 145. 
 "Work," the writing of, by Louisa, 
 
 103. 
 
 [315]