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Louisa May Alcott
(1832-1888)
Transcendental Wild Oats
A chapter from an
unwritten romance
On the first day of June, 184—, a
large wagon, drawn by a small horse and containing a motley load, went
lumbering over certain New England hills, with the pleasing accompaniments
of wind, rain, and hail. A serene man with a serene child upon his knee
was driving, or rather being driven, for the small horse had it all his
own way. A brown boy with a William Penn style of countenance sat beside
him, firmly embracing a bust of Socrates. Behind them was an
energetic-looking woman, with a benevolent brow, satirical mouth, and eyes
brimful of hope and courage. A baby reposed upon her lap, a mirror leaned
against her knee, and a basket of provisions danced about at her feet, as
she struggled with a large, unruly umbrella. Two blue-eyed little girls,
with hands full of childish treasures, sat under one old shawl, chatting
happily together.
In front of this
lively party stalked a tall, sharp-featured man, in a long blue cloak; and
a fourth small girl trudged alone beside him through the mud as if she
rather enjoyed it.
The wind whistled
over the bleak hills; the rain fell in a despondent drizzle, and twilight
began to fall. But the calm man gazed as tranquilly into the fog as if he
beheld a radiant bow of promise spanning the gray sky. The cheery woman
tried to cover every one but herself with the big umbrella. The brown boy
pillowed his head on the bald pare of Socrates and slumbered peacefully.
The little girls sang lullabies to their dolls in soft, maternal murmurs.
The sharp-nosed pedestrian marched steadily on, with the blue cloak
streaming out behind him like a banner; and the lively infant splashed
through the puddles with a duck-like satisfaction pleasant to behold.
Thus these modern
pilgrims journeyed hopefully out of the old world, to found a new one in
the wilderness.
The editors of
"The
Transcendental Tripod" had received from Messrs. Lion & Lamb (two
of the aforesaid pilgrims) a communication from which the following
statement is an extract:
—
"We have made arrangements
with the proprietor of an estate of about a hundred acres which liberates
this tract from human ownership. Here we shall prosecute our effort to
initiate a Family in harmony with the primitive instincts of man.
"Ordinary secular farming is
not our object. Fruit, grain, pulse, herbs, flax, and other vegetable
products, receiving assiduous attention, will afford ample manual
occupation, and chaste supplies for the bodily needs. It is intended to
adorn the pastures with orchards, and to supersede the labor of cattle by
the spade and the pruning-knife.
"Consecrated to human
freedom, the land awaits the sober culture of devoted men. Beginning with
small pecuniary means, this enterprise must be rooted in a reliance on the
succors of an ever-bounteous Providence, whose vital affinities being
secured by this union with uncorrupted field and unworldly persons, the
cares and injuries of a life of gain are avoided.
"The inner nature of each
member of the Family is at no time neglected. Our plan contemplates all
such disciplines, cultures, and habits as evidently conduce to the
purifying of the inmates.
"Pledged to the spirit
alone, the founders anticipate no hasty or numerous addition to their
numbers. The kingdom of peace is entered only through the gates of
self-denial; and felicity is the test and the reward of loyalty to the
unswerving law of Love.
This prospective Eden at present
consisted of an old red farm-house, a dilapidated barn, many acres of
meadow-land, and a grove. Ten ancient apple-trees were all the
"chaste supply" which the place offered as yet; but, in the firm
belief that plenteous orchards were soon to be evoked from their inner
consciousness, these sanguine founders had christened their domain
Fruitlands.
Here Timon Lion intended to found
a colony of Latter Day Saints, who, under his patriarchal sway, should
regenerate the world and glorify his name for ever. Here Abel Lamb, with
the devoutest faith in the high ideal which was to him a living truth,
desired to plant a Paradise, where Beauty, Virtue, Justice, and Love might
live happily together, without the possibility of a serpent entering in.
And here his wife, unconverted but faithful to the end, hoped, after many
wanderings over the face of the earth, to find rest for herself and a home
for her children.
"There is our new
abode," announced the enthusiast, smiling with a satisfaction quite
undamped by the drops dripping from his hat-brim, as they turned at length
into a cart-path that wound along a steep hillside into a barren-looking
valley.
"A little difficult of
access," observed his practical wife, as she endeavored to keep her
various household goods from going overboard with every lurch of the laden
ark.
"Like all good things. But
those who earnestly desire and patiently seek will soon find us,"
placidly responded the philosopher from the mud, through which he was now
endeavoring to pilot the much-enduring horse.
"Truth lies at the bottom of
a well, Sister Hope," said Brother Timon, pausing to detach his small
comrade from a gate, whereon she was perched for a clearer gaze into
futurity.
"That's the reason we so
seldom get at it, I suppose," replied Mrs. Hope, making a vain clutch
at the mirror, which a sudden jolt sent flying out of her hands.
"We want no false
reflections here," said Timon, with a grim smile, as he crunched the
fragments under foot in his onward march.
Sister Hope held her peace, and
looked wistfully through the mist at her promised home. The old red house
with a hospitable glimmer at its windows cheered her eyes; and,
considering the weather, was a fitter refuge than the sylvan bowers some
of the more ardent souls might have preferred.
The new-comers were welcomed by
one of the elect precious,—a regenerate farmer, whose idea of reform
consisted chiefly in wearing white cotton raiment and shoes of untanned
leather. This costume, with a snowy beard, gave him a venerable, and at
the same time a somewhat bridal appearance.
The goods and chattels of the
Society not having arrived, the weary family reposed before the fire on
blocks of wood, while Brother Moses White regaled them with roasted
potatoes, brown bread and water, in two plates, a tin pan, and one mug;
his table service being limited. But, having cast the forms and vanities
of a depraved world behind them, the elders welcomed hardship with the
enthusiasm of new pioneers, and the children heartily enjoyed this
foretaste of what they believed was to be a sort of perpetual picnic.
During the progress of this
frugal meal, two more brothers appeared. One was a dark, melancholy man,
clad in homespun, whose peculiar mission was to turn his name hind part
before and use as few words as possible. The other was a bland, bearded
Englishman, who expected to be saved by eating uncooked food and going
without clothes. He had not yet adopted the primitive costume, however;
but contented himself with meditatively chewing dry beans out of a basket.
"Every meal should be a
sacrament, and the vessels used should be beautiful and symbolical,"
observed Brother Lamb, mildly, righting the tin pan slipping about on his
knees. "I priced a silver service when in town, but it was too
costly; so I got some graceful cups and vases of Britannia ware."
"Hardest things in the world
to keep bright. Will whiting be allowed in the community!" inquired
Sister Hope, with a housewife's interest in labor-saving institutions.
"Such trivial questions will
be discussed at a more fitting time," answered Brother Timon,
sharply, as he burnt his fingers with a very hot potato. "Neither
sugar, molasses, milk, butter, cheese, nor flesh are to be used among us,
for nothing is to be admitted which has caused wrong or death to man or
beast."
"Our garments are to be
linen till we learn to raise our own cotton or some substitute for woolen
fabrics," added Brother Abel, blissfully basking in an imaginary
future as warm and brilliant as the generous fire before him.
"Haou abaout shoes!"
asked Brother Moses, surveying his own with interest.
"We must yield that point
till we can manufacture an innocent substitute for leather. Bark, wood, or
some durable fabric will be invented in time. Meanwhile, those who desire
to carry out our idea to the fullest extent can go barefooted," said
Lion, who liked extreme measures.
"I never will, nor let my
girls," murmured rebellious Sister Hope, under her breath.
"Haou do you cattle'ate to
treat the ten-acre lot! Ef things ain't 'tended to right smart, we shan't
hev no crops," observed the practical patriarch in cotton.
"We shall spade it,"
replied Abel, in such perfect good faith that Moses said no more, though
he indulged in a shake of the head as he glanced at hands that had held
nothing heavier than a pen for years. He was a paternal old soul and
regarded the younger men as promising boys on a new sort of lark.
"What shall we do for lamps,
if we cannot use any animal substance! I do hope light of some sort is to
be thrown upon the enterprise," said Mrs. Lamb, with anxiety, for in
those days kerosene and camphene were not, and gas unknown in the
wilderness.
"We shall go without till we
have discovered some vegetable oil or wax to serve us," replied
Brother Timon, in a decided tone, which caused Sister Hope to resolve that
her private lamp should be always trimmed, if not burning.
"Each member is to perform
the work for which experience, strength, and taste best fit him,"
continued Dictator Lion. "Thus drudgery and disorder will be avoided
and harmony prevail. We shall rise at dawn, begin the day by bathing,
followed by music, and then a chaste repast of fruit and bread. Each one
finds congenial occupation till the meridian meal; when some
deep-searching conversation gives rest to the body and development to the
mind. Healthful labor again engages us till the last meal, when we
assemble in social communion, prolonged till sunset, when we retire to
sweet repose, ready for the next day's activity.
"What part of the work do
you incline to yourself!" asked Sister Hope, with a humorous glimmer
in her keen eyes.
"I shall wait till it is
made clear to me. Being in preference to doing is the great aim, and this
comes to us rather by a resigned willingness than a willful activity, which
is a check to all divine growth," responded Brother Timon.
"I thought so. And Mrs. Lamb
sighed audibly, for during the year he had spent in her family Brother
Timon had so faithfully carried out his idea of "being, not
doing," that she had found his "divine growth" both an
expensive and unsatisfactory process.
Here her husband struck into the
conversation, his face shining with the light and joy of the splendid
dreams and high ideals hovering before him.
"In these steps of reform,
we do not rely so much on scientific reasoning or physiological skill as
on the spirit's dictates. The greater part of man's duty consists in
leaving alone much that he now does. Shall I stimulate with tea, coffee,
or wine! No. Shall I consume flesh! Not if I value health. Shall i
subjugate cattle! Shall I claim property in any created thing! Shall I
trade! Shall I adopt a form of religion! Shall I interest myself in
politics! To how many of these questions - could we ask them deeply enough
and could they be heard as having relation to our eternal welfare -- would
the response be 'Abstain'!"
A mild snore seemed to echo the
last word of Abel's rhapsody, for Brother Moses had succumbed to mundane
slumber and sat nodding like a massive ghost. Forest Absalom, the silent
man, and John Pease, the English member, now departed to the barn; and
Mrs. Lamb led her flock to a temporary fold, leaving the founders of the
"Consociate Family" to build castles in the air till the fire
went out and the symposium ended in smoke.
The furniture arrived next day,
and was soon bestowed; for the principal property of the community
consisted in books. To this rare library was devoted the best room in the
house, and the few busts and pictures that still survived many flittings
were added to beautify the sanctuary, for here the family was to meet for
amusement, instruction, and worship.
Any housewife can imagine the
emotions of Sister Hope, when she took possession of a large, dilapidated
kitchen, containing an old stove and the peculiar stores out of which food
was to be evolved for her little family of eleven. Cakes of maple sugar,
dried peas and beans, barley and hominy, meal of all sorts, potatoes, and
dried fruit. No milk, butter, cheese, tea, or meat appeared. Even salt was
considered a useless luxury and spice entirely forbidden by these lovers
of Spartan simplicity. A ten years' experience of vegetarian vagaries had
been good training for this new freak, and her sense of the ludicrous
supported her through many trying scenes.
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 sacrificed on that domestic altar.
The vexed question of light was
settled by buying a quantity of bayberry wax for candles; and, on
discovering that no one knew how to make them, pine knots were introduced,
to be used when absolutely necessary. Being summer, the evenings were not
long, and the weary fraternity found it no great hardship to retire with
the birds. The inner light was sufficient for most of them. But Mrs. Lamb
rebelled. Evening was the only time she had to herself, and while the
tired feet rested the skilful hands mended torn frocks and little
stockings, or anxious heart forgot its burden in a book.
So "mother's lamp"
burned steadily, while the philosophers built a new heaven and earth by
moonlight; and through all the metaphysical mists and philanthropic
pyrotechnics of that period Sister Hope played her own little game of
"throwing light," and none but the moths were the worse for it.
Such farming probably was never
seen before since Adam delved. The band of brothers began by spading
garden and field; but a few days of it lessened their ardor amazingly.
Blistered hands and aching backs suggested the expediency of permitting
the use of cattle till the workers were better fitted for noble toil by a
summer of the new life.
Brother Moses brought a yoke of
oxen from his farm,—at least, the philosophers thought so till it was
discovered that one of the animals was a cow; and Moses confessed that he
"must be let down easy, for he couldn't live on garden sarse
entirely."
Great was Dictator Lion's
indignation at this lapse from virtue. But time pressed, the work must be
done; so the meek cow was permitted to wear the yoke and the recreant
brother continued to enjoy forbidden draughts in the barn, which dark
proceeding caused the children to regard him as one set apart for
destruction.
The sowing was equally peculiar,
for, owing to some mistake, the three brethren, who devoted themselves to
this graceful task, found when about half through the job that each had
been sowing a different sort of grain in the same field; a mistake which
caused much perplexity, as it could not be remedied; but, after a long
consultation and a good deal of laughter, it was decided to say nothing
and see what would come of it.
The garden was planted with a
generous supply of useful roots and herbs; but, as manure was not allowed
to profane the virgin soil, few of these vegetable treasures ever came up.
Purslanes reigned supreme, and the disappointed planters ate it
philosophically, deciding that Nature knew what was best for them, and
would generously supply their needs, if they could only learn to digest
her "sallets" and wild roots.
The orchard was laid out, a
little grafting done, new trees and vines set, regardless of the unfit
season and entire ignorance of the husbandmen, who honestly believed that
in the autumn they would reap a bounteous harvest.
Slowly things got into order, and
rapidly rumors of the new experiment went abroad, causing many strange
spirits to nock thither, for in those days communities were the fashion
and transcendentalism raged wildly. Some came to look on and laugh, some
to be supported in poetic idleness, a few to believe sincerely and work
heartily. Each member was allowed to mount his favorite hobby and ride it
to his heart's content. Very queer were some of the riders, and very
rampant some of the hobbies.
One youth, believing that
language was of little consequence if the spirit was only right, startled
new-comers by blandly greeting them with "good-morning, damn
you," and other remarks of an equally mixed order. A second
irrepressible being held that all the emotions of the soul should be
freely expressed, and illustrated his theory by antics that would have
sent him to a lunatic asylum, if, as an unregenerate wag said, he had not
already been in one. When his spirit soared, he climbed trees and shouted;
when doubt assailed him, he lay upon the floor and groaned lamentably. At
joyful periods, he raced, leaped, and sang; when sad, he wept aloud; and
when a great thought burst upon him in the watches of the night, he crowed
like a jocund cockerel, to the great delight of the children and the great
annoyance of the elders. One musical brother fiddled whenever so moved,
sang sentimentally to the four little girls, and put a music-box on the
wall when he hoed corn.
Brother Pease ground away at his
uncooked food, or browsed over the farm on sorrel, mint, green fruit, and
new vegetables. Occasionally he took his walks abroad, airily attired in
an unbleached cotton poncho, which was the nearest approach to the
primeval costume he was allowed to indulge in. At midsummer he retired to
the wilder- ness, to try his plan where the woodchucks were without
prejudices and huckleberry-bushes were hospitably full. A sunstroke
unfortunately spoilt his plan, and he returned to semi-civilization a
sadder and wiser man.
Forest Absalom preserved his
Pythagorean silence, cultivated his fine dark locks, and worked like a
beaver, setting an excellent example of brotherly love, justice, and
fidelity by his upright life. He it was who helped overworked Sister Hope
with her heavy washes, kneaded the endless succession of batches of bread,
watched over the children, and did the many tasks left undone by the
brethren, who were so busy discussing and defining great duties that they
forgot to perform the small ones.
Moses White placidly plodded
about, "chorin' raound," as he called it, looking like an
old-time patriarch, with his silver hair and flowing beard, and saving the
community from many a mishap by his thrift and Yankee shrewdness.
Brother Lion domineered over the
whole concern; for, having put the most money into the speculation, he was
resolved to make it pay,—as if anything founded on an ideal basis could
be expected to do so by any but enthusiasts.
Abel Lamb simply revelled in the
Newness, firmly believing that his dream was to be beautifully realized
and in time not only little Fruitlands, but the whole earth, be turned
into a Happy Valley. He worked with every muscle of his body, for he was
in deadly earnest. He taught with his whole head and heart; planned and
sacrificed, preached and prophesied, with a soul full of the purest
aspirations, most unselfish purposes, and desires for a life devoted to
God and man, too high and tender to bear the rough usage of this world.
It was a little remarkable that
only one woman ever joined this community. Mrs. Lamb merely followed
wheresoever her husband led,—"as ballast for his balloon," as
she said, in her bright way.
Miss Jane Gage was a stout lady
of mature years, sentimental, amiable, and lazy. She wrote verses
copiously, and had vague yearnings and graspings after the unknown, which
led her to believe herself fitted for a higher sphere than any she had yet
adorned.
Having been a teacher, she was
set to instructing the children in the common branches. Each adult member
took a turn at the infants; and, as each taught in his own way, the result
was a chronic state of chaos in the minds of these much-afflicted
innocents.
Sleep, food, and poetic musings
were the desires of dear Jane's life, and she shirked all duties as clogs
upon her spirit's wings. Any thought of lending a hand with the domestic
drudgery never occurred to her; and when to the question, "Are there
any beasts of burden on the place?" Mrs. Lamb answered, with a face
that told its own tale, "Only one woman!" the buxom Jane took no
shame to herself, but laughed at the joke, and let the stout-hearted
sister tug on alone. Unfortunately, the poor lady hankered after the
flesh-pots, and endeavored to stay herself with private sips of milk,
crackers, and cheese, and on one dire occasion she partook of fish at a
neighbor's table.
One of the children reported this
sad lapse from virtue, and poor Jane was publicly reprimanded by Timon.
"I only took a little bit of
the tail," sobbed the penitent poetess.
"Yes, but the whole fish had
to be tortured and slain that you might tempt your carnal appetite with
that one taste of the tail. Know ye not, consumers of flesh meat, that ye
are nourishing the wolf and tiger in your bosoms?"
At this awful question and the
peal of laughter which arose from some of the younger brethren, tickled by
the ludicrous contrast between the stout sinner, the stern judge, and the
naughty satisfaction of the young detective, poor Jane fled from the room
to pack her trunk and return to the world where fishes' tails were not
forbidden fruit.
Transcendental wild oats were
sown broadcast that year, and the fame thereof has not yet ceased in the
land; for, futile as this crop seemed to outsiders, it bore an invisible
harvest, worth much to those who planted in earnest. As none of the members
of this particular community have ever recounted their experiences before,
a few of them may not be amiss, since the interest in these attempts has
never died out and Fruitlands was the most ideal of all these castles in
Spain.
A new dress was invented, since
cotton, silk, and wool were forbidden as the product of slave-labor,
worm-slaughter, and sheep-robbery. Tunics and trousers of brown linen were
the only wear. The women's skirts were longer, and their straw hat-brims
wider than the men's, and this was the only difference. Some persecution
lent a charm to the costume, and the long-haired, linen-clad reformers
quite enjoyed the mild martyrdom they endured when they left home.
Money was abjured, as the root of
all evil. The produce of the land was to supply most of their wants, or be
exchanged for the few things they could not grow. This idea had its
inconveniences; but self-denial was the fashion, and it was surprising how
many things one can do without. When they desired to travel, they walked,
if possible, begged the loan of a vehicle, or boldly entered car or coach,
and, stating their principles to the officials, took the consequences.
Usually their dress, their earnest frankness, and gentle resolution won
them a passage; but now and then they met with hard usage, and had the
satisfaction of suffering for their principles.
On one of these penniless
pilgrimages they took passage on a boat, and, when fare was demanded,
artlessly offered to talk, instead of pay. As the boat was well under way
and they actually had not a cent, there was no help for it. So Brothers
Lion and Lamb held forth to the assembled passengers in their most
eloquent style. There must have been something effective in this
conversation, for the listeners were moved to take up a contribution for
these inspired lunatics, who preached peace on earth and good-will to man
so earnestly, with empty pockets. A goodly sum was collected; but when the
captain presented it the reformers proved that they were consistent even
in their madness, for not a penny would they accept, saying, with a look
at the group about them, whose indifference or contempt had changed to
interest and respect, "You see how well we get on without
money"; and so went serenely on their way, with their linen blouses
flapping airily in the cold October wind.
They preached vegetarianism
everywhere and resisted all temptations of the flesh, contentedly eating
apples and bread at well-spread tables, and much afflicting hospitable
hostesses by denouncing their food and taking away their appetites,
discussing the "horrors of shambles," the "incorporation of
the brute in man," and "on elegant abstinence the sign of a pure
soul." But, when the perplexed or offended ladies asked what they
should eat, they got in reply a bill of fare consisting of "bowls of
sunrise for breakfast," "solar seeds of the sphere,"
"dishes from Plutarch's chaste table," and other viands equally
hard to find in any modern market.
Reform conventions of all sorts
were haunted by these brethren, who said many wise things and did many
foolish ones. Unfortunately, these wanderings interfered with their
harvest at home; but the rule was to do what the spirit moved, so they
left their crops to Providence and went a-reaping in wider and, let us
hope, more fruitful fields than their own.
Luckily, the earthly providence
who watched over Abel Lamb was at hand to glean the scanty crop yielded by
the "uncorrupted land," which, "consecrated to human
freedom," had received "the sober culture of devout men."
About the time the grain was
ready to house, some call of the Oversoul wafted all the men away. An
easterly storm was coming up and the yellow stacks were sure to be ruined.
Then Sister Hope gathered her forces. Three little girls, one boy (Timon's
son), and herself, harnessed to clothes-baskets and Russia-linen sheets,
were the only teams she could command; but with these poor appliances the
indomitable woman got in the grain and saved food for her young, with the
instinct and energy of a mother-bird with a brood of hungry nestlings to
feed.
This attempt at regeneration had
its tragic as well as comic side, though the world only saw the former.
With the first frosts, the
butterflies, who had sunned themselves in the new light through the
summer, took flight, leaving the few bees to see what honey they had
stored for winter use. Precious little appeared beyond the satisfaction of
a few months of holy living.
At first it seemed as if a chance
to try holy dying also was to be offered them. Timon, much disgusted with
the failure of the scheme, decided to retire to the Shakers, who seemed to
be the only successful community going.
"What is to become of
us!" asked Mrs. Hope, for Abel was heartbroken at the bursting of his
lovely bubble.
"You can stay here, if you
like, till a tenant is found. No more wood must be cut, however, and no
more corn ground. All I have must be sold to pay the debts of the concern,
as the responsibility rests with me," was the cheering reply.
"Who is to pay us for what
we have lost! I gave all I had,—furniture, time, strength, six months
of my children's lives,—and all are wasted. Abel gave himself body and
soul, and is almost wrecked by hard work and disappointment. Are we to
have no return for this, but leave to starve and freeze in an old house,
with winter at hand, no money, and hardly a friend left; for this wild
scheme has alienated nearly all we had. You talk much about justice. Let
us have a little, since there is nothing else left."
But the woman's appeal met with
no reply but the old one: "It was an experiment. We all risked
something, and must bear our losses as we can."
With this cold comfort, Timon
departed with his son, and was absorbed into the Shaker brotherhood, where
he soon found the order of things reversed, and it was all work and no
play.
Then the tragedy began for the
forsaken little family. Desolation and despair fell upon Abel. As his wife
said, his new beliefs had alienated many friends. Some thought him mad,
some unprincipled. Even the most kindly thought him a visionary, whom it
was useless to help till he took more practical views of life. All stood
aloof, saying: "Let him work out his own ideas, and see what they are
worth."
He had tried, but it was a
failure. 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 to the poor, lead lives devoted to holiness and high
thought, and, after the persecution was over, find themselves honored as
saints or 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.
Deep waters now for Abel, and for
a time there seemed no passage through. Strength and spirits were
exhausted by hard work and too much thought. Courage failed when, looking
about for help, he saw no sympathizing face, no hand outstretched to help
him, no voice to say cheerily,—
"We all make mistakes, and
it takes many experiences to shape a life. Try again, and let us help
you."
Every door was closed, every eye
averted, every heart cold, and no way open whereby he might earn bread for
his children. His principles would not permit him to do many things that
others did; and in the few fields where conscience would allow him to
work, who would employ a man who had flown in the face of society, as he
had done?
Then this dreamer, whose dream
was the life of his life, resolved to carry out his idea to the bitter
end. There seemed no place for him here,—no work, no friend. To go
begging conditions was as ignoble as to go begging money. Better perish of
want than sell one's soul for the sustenance of his body. Silently he lay
down upon his bed, turned his face to the wall, and waited with pathetic
patience for death to cut the knot which he could not untie. Days and
nights went by, and neither food nor water passed his lips. Soul and body
were dumbly struggling together, and no word of complaint betrayed what
either suffered.
His wife, when tears and prayers
were unavailing, sat down to wait the end with a mysterious awe and
submission; for in this entire resignation of all things there was an
eloquent significance to her who knew him as no other human being did.
"Leave all to God," was
his belief; and in this crisis the loving soul clung to this faith, sure
that the All-wise Father would not desert this child who tried to live so
near to Him. Gathering her children about her, she waited the issue of the
tragedy that was being enacted in that solitary room, while the first snow
fell outside, untrodden by the footprints of a single friend.
But the strong angels who sustain
and teach perplexed and troubled souls came and went, leaving no trace
without, but working miracles within. For, when all other sentiments had
faded into dimness, all other hopes died utterly; when the bitterness of
death was nearly over, when body was past any pang of hunger or thirst,
and soul stood ready to depart, the love that outlives all else refused to
die. Head had bowed to defeat, hand had grown weary with too heavy tasks,
but heart could not grow cold to those who lived in its tender depths,
even when death touched it.
"My faithful wife, my little
girls,—they have not forsaken me, they are mine by ties that none can
break. What right have I to leave them alone! What right to escape from the
burden and the sorrow I have helped to bring? This duty remains to me, and
I must do it manfully. For their sakes, the world will forgive me in time;
for their sakes, God will sustain me now.
Too feeble to rise, Abel groped
for the food that always lay within his reach, and in the darkness and
solitude of that memorable night ate and drank what was to him the bread
and wine of a new communion, a new dedication of heart and life to the
duties that were left him when the dreams fled.
In the early dawn, when that sad
wife crept fearfully to see what change had come to the patient face on
the pillow, she found it smiling at her, saw a wasted hand outstretched to
her, and heard a feeble voice cry bravely, "Hope!"
What passed in that little room
is not to be recorded except in the hearts of those who suffered and
endured much for love's sake. Enough for us to know that soon the wan
shadow of a man came forth, leaning on the arm that never failed him, to
be welcomed and cherished by the children, who never forgot the
experiences of that time.
"Hope" was the
watchword now; and, while the last logs blazed on the hearth, the last
bread and apples covered the table, the new commander, with recovered courage, said to her husband,—
"Leave all to God—and me.
He has done his part, now I will do mine.
"But we have no money, dear."
"Yes, we have. I sold all we
could spare, and have enough to take us away from this snowbank."
"Where can we go"'
"I have engaged four rooms
at our good neighbor, Lovejoy's. There we can live cheaply till spring.
Then for new plans and a home of our own, please God."
"But, Hope, your little
store won't last long, and we have no friends."
"I can sew and you can chop
wood. Lovejoy offers you the same pay as he gives his other men; my old
friend, Mrs. Truman, will send me all the work I want; and my blessed
brother stands by us to the end. Cheer up, dear heart, for while there is
work and love in the world we shall not suffer."
"And while I have my good
angel Hope, I shall not despair, even if I wait another thirty years
before I step beyond the circle of the sacred little world in which I
still have a place to fill."
So one bleak December day, with
their few possessions piled on a ox-sled, the rosy children perched atop,
and the parents trudging arm in arm behind, the exiles left their Eden and
faced the world again.
"Ah, me! my happy dream. How
much I leave behind that never can be mine again," said Abel, looking
back at the lost Paradise, lying white and chill in its shroud of snow.
"Yes, dear; but how much we
bring away," answered brave-hearted Hope, glancing from husband to
children.
"Poor Fruitlands! The name
was as great a failure as the rest!" continued Abel, with a sigh, as
a frostbitten apple fell from a leafless bough at his feet.
But the sigh changed to a smile
as his wife added, in a half-tender, half-satirical tone,—
"Don't you think Apple Slump
would be a better name for it, dear!"
A
Note on the Text:
-
1st
published in The Independent (18 December 1873)
-
Source: Silver
Pitchers, and Independence: A Centennial Love Story by Louisa M.
Alcott (Boston: Little, Brown, 1876) pp. 79-101.
-
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