CHAPTER III.

FRUITLANDS.

MY KINGDOM.

A little kingdom I possess, Where thoughts and feelings dwell, And very hard I find the task Of governing it well; For pa.s.sion tempts and troubles me, A wayward will misleads, And selfishness its shadow casts On all my words and deeds.

How can I learn to rule myself, To be the child I should, Honest and brave, nor ever tire Of trying to be good?

How can I keep a sunny soul To shine along life's way?

How can I tune my little heart To sweetly sing all day?

Dear Father, help me with the love That casteth out my fear, Teach me to lean on thee, and feel That thou art very near, That no temptation is unseen, No childish grief too small, Since thou, with patience infinite, Doth soothe and comfort all.

I do not ask for any crown But that which all may win, Nor seek to conquer any world Except the one within.

Be thou my guide until I find, Led by a tender hand, Thy happy kingdom in _myself_, And dare to take command.

In 1842 Mr. Alcott went to England. His mind was very much exercised at this time with plans for organized social life on a higher plane, and he found like-minded friends in England who gave him sympathy and encouragement. He had for some years advocated a strictly vegetarian diet, to which his family consented from deference to him; consequently the children never tasted meat till they came to maturity. On his return from England he was accompanied by friends who were ready to unite with him in the practical realization of their social theories. Mr. Lane resided for some months in the Alcott family at Concord, and gave instruction to the children. Although he does not appear to have won their hearts, they yet reaped much intellectual advantage from his lessons, as he was an accomplished scholar.

In 1843 this company of enthusiasts secured a farm in the town of Harvard, near Concord, which with trusting hope they named Fruitlands.

Mrs. Alcott did not share in all the peculiar ideas of her husband and his friends, but she was so utterly devoted to him that she was ready to help him in carrying out his plans, however little they commended themselves to her better judgment.

She alludes very briefly to the experiment in her diary, for the experience was too bitter to dwell upon. She could not relieve her feelings by bringing out the comic side, as her daughter did. Louisa's account of this colony, as given in her story called "Transcendental Wild Oats," is very close to the facts; and the mingling of pathos and humor, the reverence and ridicule with which she alternately treats the personages and the notions of those engaged in the scheme, make a rich and delightful tale. It was written many years later, and gives the picture as she looked back upon it, the absurdities coming out in strong relief, while she sees also the grand, misty outlines of the high thoughts so poorly realized. This story was published in the "Independent," Dec. 8, 1873, and may now be found in her collected works ("Silver Pitchers," p. 79).

Fortunately we have also her journal written at the time, which shows what education the experience of this strange life brought to the child of ten or eleven years old.

The following extract from Mr. Emerson proves that this plan of life looked fair and pleasing to his eye, although he was never tempted to join in it. He was evidently not unconscious of the inadequacy of the means adopted to the end proposed, but he rejoiced in any endeavor after high ideal life.

JULY, 8, 1843.

_Journal._--The sun and the evening sky do not look calmer than Alcott and his family at Fruitlands. They seemed to have arrived at the fact,--to have got rid of the show, and so to be serene.

Their manners and behavior in the house and in the field were those of superior men,--of men at rest. What had they to conceal?

What had they to exhibit? And it seemed so high an attainment that I thought--as often before, so now more, because they had a fit home, or the picture was fitly framed--that these men ought to be maintained in their place by the country for its culture.

Young men and young maidens, old men and women, should visit them and be inspired. I think there is as much merit in beautiful manners as in hard work. I will not prejudge them successful.

They look well in July; we will see them in December. I know they are better for themselves than as partners. One can easily see that they have yet to settle several things. Their saying that things are clear, and they sane, does not make them so. If they will in very deed be lovers, and not selfish; if they will serve the town of Harvard, and make their neighbors feel them as benefactors wherever they touch them,--they are as safe as the sun.[5]

_Early Diary kept at Fruitlands_, 1843.

_Ten Years Old._

_September 1st._--I rose at five and had my bath. I love cold water! Then we had our singing-lesson with Mr. Lane. After breakfast I washed dishes, and ran on the hill till nine, and had some thoughts,--it was so beautiful up there. Did my lessons,--wrote and spelt and did sums; and Mr. Lane read a story, "The Judicious Father": How a rich girl told a poor girl not to look over the fence at the flowers, and was cross to her because she was unhappy. The father heard her do it, and made the girls change clothes. The poor one was glad to do it, and he told her to keep them. But the rich one was very sad; for she had to wear the old ones a week, and after that she was good to shabby girls. I liked it very much, and I shall be kind to poor people.

Father asked us what was G.o.d's n.o.blest work. Anna said _men_, but I said _babies_. Men are often bad; babies never are. We had a long talk, and I felt better after it, and _cleared up_.

We had bread and fruit for dinner. I read and walked and played till supper-time. We sung in the evening. As I went to bed the moon came up very brightly and looked at me. I felt sad because I have been cross to-day, and did not mind Mother. I cried, and then I felt better, and said that piece from Mrs. Sigourney, "I must not tease my mother." I get to sleep saying poetry,--I know a great deal.

_Thursday, 14th._--Mr. Parker Pillsbury came, and we talked about the poor slaves. I had a music lesson with Miss F. I hate her, she is so fussy. I ran in the wind and played be a horse, and had a lovely time in the woods with Anna and Lizzie. We were fairies, and made gowns and paper wings. I "flied" the highest of all. In the evening they talked about travelling. I thought about Father going to England, and said this piece of poetry I found in Byron's poems:--

"When I left thy sh.o.r.es, O Naxos, Not a tear in sorrow fell; Not a sigh or faltered accent Told my bosom's struggling swell."

It rained when I went to bed, and made a pretty noise on the roof.

_Sunday, 24th._--Father and Mr. Lane have gone to N. H. to preach. It was very lovely.... Anna and I got supper. In the eve I read "Vicar of Wakefield." I was cross to-day, and I cried when I went to bed. I made good resolutions, and felt better in my heart. If I only _kept_ all I make, I should be the best girl in the world. But I don't, and so am very bad.

[Poor little sinner! _She says the same at fifty._--L. M. A.]

_October 8th._--When I woke up, the first thought I got was, "It's Mother's birthday: I must be very good." I ran and wished her a happy birthday, and gave her my kiss. After breakfast we gave her our presents. I had a moss cross and a piece of poetry for her.

We did not have any school, and played in the woods and got red leaves. In the evening we danced and sung, and I read a story about "Contentment." I wish I was rich, I was good, and we were all a happy family this day.

_Thursday, 12th._--After lessons I ironed. We all went to the barn and husked corn. It was good fun. We worked till eight o'clock and had lamps. Mr. Russell came. Mother and Lizzie are going to Boston. I shall be very lonely without dear little Betty, and no one will be as good to me as mother. I read in Plutarch. I made a verse about sunset:--

Softly doth the sun descend To his couch behind the hill, Then, oh, then, I love to sit On mossy banks beside the rill.

Anna thought it was very fine; but I didn't like it very well.

_Friday, Nov. 2nd._--Anna and I did the work. In the evening Mr.

Lane asked us, "What is man?" These were our answers: A human being; an animal with a mind; a creature; a body; a soul and a mind. After a long talk we went to bed very tired.

[No wonder, after doing the work and worrying their little wits with such lessons.--L. M. A.]

A sample of the vegetarian wafers we used at Fruitlands:--

Vegetable diet and sweet repose.

Animal food and nightmare.

Pluck your body from the orchard; do not s.n.a.t.c.h it from the shamble.

Without flesh diet there could be no blood-shedding war.

Apollo eats no flesh and has no beard; his voice is melody itself.

Snuff is no less snuff though accepted from a gold box.

_Tuesday, 20th._--I rose at five, and after breakfast washed the dishes, and then helped mother work. Miss F. is gone, and Anna in Boston with Cousin Louisa. I took care of Abby (May) in the afternoon. In the evening I made some pretty things for my dolly.

Father and Mr. L. had a talk, and father asked us if _we_ saw any reason for us to separate. Mother wanted to, she is so tired. I like it, but not the school part or Mr. L.

Eleven years old. _Thursday, 29th._--It was Father's and my birthday. We had some nice presents. We played in the snow before school. Mother read "Rosamond" when we sewed. Father asked us in the eve what fault troubled us most. I said my bad temper.

I told mother I liked to have her write in my book. She said she would put in more, and she wrote this to help me:--

DEAR LOUY,--Your handwriting improves very fast. Take pains and do not be in a hurry. I like to have you make observations about our conversations and your own thoughts. It helps you to express them 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 thought and good actions, then you will indeed be the precious child of your loving mother.

_December 10th._--I did my lessons, and walked in the afternoon.