Imagine it's April 1854 in Boston, and you're in the offices of your publishing company, Tickner & Fields. Fatigue is getting the better of you as you sit at your desk, tapping your fingers against the worn wooden surface. All morning, you've been working your way through a stack of manuscripts, but so far, nothing's caught your interest. A young woman pulls back the heavy green curtain that separates you from your assistant. She wears a plain dress, and her dark hair is pinned back neatly. You recognize her as Louisa, the daughter of your friend Bronson Alcott. Ah, Miss Alcott. Please have a seat. You gesture toward the chair on the other side of your desk. She sits down, smiling nervously. Thank you, sir. What brings you here today? I've brought an essay for your consideration. You nod warily, stealing yourself to evaluate the work of a friend's daughter. You never expected her to visit your office unannounced. Ah, I see. Well, hand it over. With trembling hands, she hands you several handwritten pages. It's about the seven weeks I spent working as a companion and servant to an elderly man and his invalid daughter. The work was grueling. and my employer expected me to spend hours each day fawning over him. Well, after seven terrible weeks, I was only paid four dollars. It was a miserable experience, but I thought it would make for a good essay. You begin skimming the essay. The writing is earnest, but it lacks authority. It strikes you that it's little more than a list of complaints. You put the essay down and take a deep breath. Stick to your teaching, Miss Alcott. You can't write. She looks at you with disbelief. You didn't even read it properly. Please, you must read the whole piece before you deliver your verdict. I'm sorry. I've worked in the business long enough to know when something has potential. And when it doesn't. Please reconsider. I appreciate the courage it took to come here today and share your work. But writing is a challenging craft. Not everyone has the necessary skill. I'm sure you have other strengths. She stands abruptly, looking down at you with fire in her eyes. I can write, and I'm going to prove it to you. She walks out of your office, surprising you with her determination. You're left wondering if there's more to this young woman than meets the eye. You're listening ad-free on Audible. Audible subscribers can listen to all episodes of American History Tellers ad-free right now. Join Audible today by downloading the Audible app. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American History Tellers. Our history, your story. In the spring of 1854, 21-year-old aspiring writer Louisa May Alcott submitted an essay to editor and publisher James T. Fields. After a quick review, Fields told her that she had no future as a writer, but Alcott refused to give up. Alcott was raised in a vibrant community of writers and reformers who shaped her literary ambitions. Burdened by her family's overwhelming financial struggles, she turned to writing as an escape at a young age. Over the course of her life, Alcott would write hundreds of short stories, poems, and essays, but it was her beloved 1868 novel Little Women that propelled her to fame. Drawing from her own experiences growing up with three sisters in Concord, Massachusetts, Alcott filled her novel with realistic and relatable female characters grappling with the constraints of society's expectations. In a time of strict gender roles, Alcott charted an independent path for her life and her work and broadened the scope of American literature in the process. This is Episode 2 in our six-part series on great American authors, The Breadwinner. Louisa May Alcott was born on November 29, 1832, in Germantown, Pennsylvania. She was the second daughter of Amos Bronson Alcott, a progressive educator, and Abigail May, who was called Abba. Abba came from a long line of prominent New Englanders, including the Quincy's and Sewell's. Her husband, Bronson, was the eccentric, self-educated son of a poor farmer. The Alkutts struggled financially, but they shared high-minded ideals. As Louisa grew up, she was immersed in discussions about philosophy, education, and social and political reform. In 1834, the Alkutts moved to Boston, and Bronson opened the Experimental Temple School, where he taught the sons and daughters of Boston's elites. In Boston, Bronson joined the Transcendentalist Club and befriended the writers and philosophers Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, and Margaret Fuller. Transcendentalism was a spiritual and literary movement that spread throughout New England in the 1830s. Followers believed that individuals could find God within themselves by communing with nature rather than through the Church. They emphasized individual intuition, self-reliance, and the inherent goodness of people. Bronson applied this philosophy to his teaching methods. At a time when most classrooms focused on lectures and memorization, he believed in engaging his students in conversation to help them discover knowledge themselves. But his unorthodox approach sparked controversy. When parents found out that he was discussing religion and sex with his students, many pulled their children from the school. When Bronson admitted a black girl to his classroom in 1839, outraged white parents withdrew most of the remaining students, and he was forced to close the Temple School for good. In 1840, the Alkutts moved 16 miles west to rural Concord, Massachusetts, where Ralph Waldo Emerson rented them a run-down cottage. In Concord, Emerson was creating a vibrant literary community home to Henry David Thoreau, Margaret Fuller, and author Nathaniel Hawthorne. It would become the center of the Transcendentalist movement and a hotbed of anti-slavery activism. By the time the Alkutts arrived in Concord, they had four daughters, Anna, Louisa, Lizzie, and May. Eight-year-old Louisa loved running free in Concord's meadows, taking walks through the woods with Thoreau and borrowing books from Emerson's library. In Concord, Bronson attempted to farm, but his efforts failed to provide enough earnings. The family lived in poverty, so much so that Emerson would secretly leave money behind when he visited their cottage. The family subsisted on little more than sugar, bread, potatoes, apples, and squash. Still, Louisa later reflected, those conquered days were the happiest of my life. In the spring of 1842, Bronson traveled to England to visit a group of Transcendentalists who had founded a school based on his methods. He invited one of his English followers, a man named Charles Lane, to come live with his family. In September, Bronson, Lane, and Lane's son sailed back to Massachusetts. But after moving into the Alcott's tiny cottage, Lane quickly usurped power in the household. He forced Louisa and her sisters to take cold sunrise baths and study under his tutelage, and he treated their mother Abba like a servant. Bronson admired Lane's intellect so much that he was blind to his faults. As a result, the Alcuts' marriage suffered. In November, Abba wrote in her journal, I am almost suffocated in this atmosphere of restriction and gloom. This is an invasion of my rights as a woman and a mother. Louisa, now ten years old, tried to escape Lane's tyranny by writing poetry and fantastical stories. The following summer, the Alkuts and Lanes packed their belongings in a horse-drawn carriage and moved 12 miles west to a run-down farmhouse in Harvard, Massachusetts. There, Lane and Alkut founded a utopian community they named Fruitlands. Lane advocated abstinence and banned private property, meat, and the use of animal labor. Roughly a dozen adults joined the community, crowding into a farmhouse that Abba compared to a pigsty. Louisa and her three sisters lived in an attic crawl space surrounding the chimney. Bronson, Lane, and their followers spent long stretches of time away from the farm, visiting like-minded communities. And while Bronson focused on philosophy, the difficult work of running the farm fell to Abba and her daughters. After six miserable months, Abba reached a breaking point. Imagine it's a bitterly cold night in December 1843 in Harvard, Massachusetts. You, your husband Bronson, and your four daughters are gathered around the stove in the kitchen of Fruitlands, the farming commune where you've been living the past six months. You've just finished cleaning up a paltry dinner of bread and carrots. You've had growing doubts about this arrangement. You feel you can no longer stay silent. You take off your apron and slump into a chair. It's over, Bronson. Against my better judgment, I followed your lead. But I can't do this anymore. The girls and I are leaving. Bronson stares at you incredulously. Leaving? Where will you go? My brother helped me rent rooms three miles down the road in Steel River. We'll pack up the furniture this week and be on our way. I don't understand. While you're searching for divinity and transcendence, who do you think is doing the cooking? The cleaning, harvesting the crops. How could you blindside me like this? I don't know what you expected. You call this a new Eden? Look at your daughters. You point to your daughters who are huddling for warmth by the fire. Their clothes are dirty and ragged. Your second eldest, Louisa, locks eyes with you. Her face is stricken with fear. Louisa been sick for weeks We barely have anything decent to eat Is this really how you want to raise our children I told you this would take time I thought you shared my ideals Yes, but while you've been focused on ideals, I've been focused on survival. The girls and I have been worked to the bone, trying to keep this place running. The soil here is no good. And do you realize how hard it is to do farm labor without any draft animals? But of course, Mr. Lane believes that using animal labor is immoral. We're trying to build something here. Things will get better. I can't leave and let the others down. If you stay, you'll be letting your family down. So will you join us? Or will you stay here with Mr. Lane? Ronson crumples in his seat and turns to face the wall. You feel certain he'll follow you if he wants to stay in the family. But from now on, you won't allow his pursuit of lofty ideals to cause your children to suffer. On December 10, 1843, Abba confronted Bronson, forcing him to choose between Fruitlands and their family. That night, 11-year-old Louisa wrote in her diary, In the eve, father and mother and Anna and I had a long talk. I was very unhappy, and we all cried. Anna and I cried in bed, and I prayed to God to keep us together. In January, Bronson relented and joined his wife and daughters when they abandoned Fruitlands for the nearby village of Still River. They spent the next several months recuperating from their ordeal. Later that year, the Alkuts returned to Concord. With help from Emerson and a family inheritance, the Alkuts purchased a homestead in Concord, which they named Hillside, and for the first time, Louisa had a room of her own. Louisa loved her father, but she witnessed his idealism fail her and her sisters. After leaving Fruitlands, Abba took charge of the family. As Louisa entered her teenage years in Hillside, she resisted pressures to conform to feminine ideals or prepare herself for marriage, unwilling to allow a husband to dictate her future. She wrote in her journal, It does me good to be alone. I've made a plan for my life as I am in my teens and no more a child. I'm old for my age and don't care much for girls' things. People think I'm wild and queer, but Mother understands and helps me. Louisa inherited her mother's fiery temperament and strong work ethic, and the pair shared a close bond. Abba nurtured her daughter's ambitions, encouraging her to write. Louisa was the clear leader among her sisters. She was tall and dark-haired, and she was adventurous, prone to climbing trees and taking dares. After she and her sister spent an afternoon tramping through the woods, ruining their clothes, Louisa wrote, We are dreadful wild people here in Concord. We do all the sinful things you can think of. But she was notorious for her bad temper. A friend remembered, When she got mad, she could be severe. When she wasn't outside, she spent her days writing poetry, wandering through Emerson's library, and acting out elaborate plays with her sisters. She dreamed of becoming a famous writer or actress. During this time, she was also exposed to abolitionism. In the 1840s, the national debate over slavery was intensifying, and thousands of enslaved people escaped bondage by fleeing to the north. Abba and Bronson were active in several anti-slavery societies, and they occasionally sheltered runaway slaves at Hillside. But Bronson was chronically unemployed, prioritizing his intellectual interests over making money. He spent his time renovating the property and cultivating flower and vegetable gardens. To pay for living expenses, Abba and her daughters taught and took in sewing, but they struggled with a lack of steady income. When some of Abba's Boston friends visited her, they were so shocked by her reduced circumstances that they arranged a job for her as a social worker in Boston. So in the fall of 1848, the Alkots rented out Hillside and moved back to Boston. While Bronson focused on his intellectual pursuits, Abba went to work caring for the influx of poor Irish immigrants entering the city. But her new job did little to alleviate her family's financial struggles. Louisa later wrote, We found ourselves in a small house in the south end with not a tree in sight. I was left to keep house, feeling like a caged seagull as I washed dishes and cooked. Louisa felt a strong sense of responsibility for her family's well-being, and she took on various jobs, including spending seven weeks as a house servant. The strain of city life weighed heavily on her. In May 1850, she wrote, Every day is a battle, and I am so tired I don't want to live. Only it's cowardly to die till you have done something. I know God is always ready to hear, but heaven's so far away in the city. The city also took a physical toll on the Alcots. Later that summer, the entire family came down with smallpox. They eventually recovered, but their finances continued to worsen. Once again, Louisa turned to writing as an escape. In September 1851, a woman's magazine published her poem entitled Sunlight. She was paid $5 in return. It was the first time 18-year-old Louisa made money as a writer. In 1852, the Alkuts were rescued from their misery when Nathaniel Hawthorne purchased Hillside from them. The money from the sale saved the family from financial ruin and even allowed them to move into a nicer home in Boston. Still, Louisa dreamed of earning enough money from writing to support her family. Starting in late 1852, she began writing pulp thrillers in her spare time, publishing them in magazines under the pseudonym A.M. Barnard. She called them Blood and Thunder Tales, declaring them easy to compose and better paid than moral and elaborate works. But she was desperate to write more serious work, and she hungered for wealth, fame, and recognition. In the spring of 1854, when she was 21 years old, she visited James T. Fields, a well-known and respected editor who had published Hawthorne's novel, The Scarlet Letter, four years earlier. Louisa showed him a memoir essay she had written about her time as a house servant. It was entitled, How I Went Out to Service. Fields rejected the piece outright, telling her, stick to your teaching, Miss Alcott. You can't write. She would remember those words for the rest of her life. Rather than discouraging her, however, Fields' harsh response lit a fire under her. She was determined to prove him wrong. I'm Indra Varma, and in the latest season of The Spy Who, we open the file on Larry Chin, the spy who outplayed Nixon. For decades, Chin was embedded deep inside U.S. intelligence. Then comes an opportunity. Richard Nixon's secret plan to reopen relations with China, information Chin can place directly into Mao's hands. But the CIA has a weapon of their own, a Chinese mole ready to defect. How long until Chin's gig is up? Follow The Spy Who now wherever you listen to podcasts. This is the story of Harry and Wills and the scandal that split the House of Windsor. Follow British Scandal wherever you get your podcasts or listen early and ad-free on Audible. After publisher James T. Fields told Louisa May Alcott she could not write, she refused to give up. A few months later, in December of 1854, she managed to convince another publisher to bring out her first book, Flower Fables. It was a collection of stories about fairies, elves, and animals she had written when she was 16 to amuse Ralph Waldo Emerson's young daughter. 1,600 copies were published, and Alcott noted it sold very well. Still, she was frustrated to receive only $35 for her efforts. In 1855, the Alcots moved to New Hampshire, but the now 22-year-old Louisa stayed behind in Boston to pursue her literary career. In New Hampshire, her younger sister Lizzie contracted scarlet fever from a poor family she was helping her mother care for. She suffered from a rash, fever, vomiting, and hair loss. She eventually recovered, but the illness left her permanently weak. In 1857, the Alcott family returned to Concord, where Emerson purchased a new home for them to live in, a two-story farmhouse named Orchard House. Bronson Alcott began renovating what he hoped would finally be a permanent residence for his nomadic family. But the next year brought major upheaval for Louisa and the Alcots. In January, Lizzie's lingering illness took a turn for the worse. A doctor told the family there was no hope of recovering. A wasting disease ravaged her body, making her look much older than her 22 years. Louisa often stayed by her sister's bedside during the night, keeping watch. But on March 14th, Lizzie finally succumbed to her illness and died. Louisa wrote, she is well at last. Three weeks later, her older sister Anna announced that she was engaged to a local farmer named John Pratt. Louisa wrote that she felt she was losing a second sister, confiding in her journal, another sister is gone. I moaned in private over my great loss and said I'd never forgive John for taking Anna from me. And Louisa had no interest in sharing Anna's fate. She would later write, I'd rather be a free spinster and paddle my own canoe. But the twin losses of Lizzie and Anna overwhelmed her with feelings of loneliness and despair. Following her 26th birthday in November 1858, she reflected, These experiences have taken a deep hold and changed or developed me. I am learning that work of head and hand is my salvation when disappointment or wariness burden or darken my soul That winter she returned to Boston and took comfort in her work resuming sewing teaching and submitting stories for publication She felt a strong sense of duty to earn money for her family, writing, I seem to be the only breadwinner just now. Around this time, Bronson Alcott encouraged his daughter to submit a story to the prestigious magazine Atlantic Monthly. He personally delivered a manuscript of her short story, Love and Self-Love, to editor James Russell Lowell. It was a melodramatic love story featuring an orphaned teenage girl. Lowell accepted the story, though another year would pass before he published it. Feeling encouraged, Louisa began working on her first serious novel. Entitled Moods, it was a coming-of-age tale about an impetuous young woman who embarks on an ill-fated marriage. Throughout 1860, Louisa was so consumed with writing moods that she often forgot to eat or sleep. Still, she found time to earn money by churning out her blood-and-thunder stories under her pseudonym. While Louisa focused on her literary career, the nation was hurtling toward war. In July 1860, the Alkuts took in the family of John Brown, after the radical abolitionists had been executed for attempting to start a slave rebellion. When the Civil War broke out in April 1861, Louisa joined throngs of people in the streets of Boston waving goodbye to volunteer soldiers. She wrote, I long to be a man, but as I can't fight, I will content myself working for those who can. By the winter of 1862, the war had dragged on for longer than anyone imagined it would. Louisa was restless. Desperate to do more for the war effort, she applied to work as a nurse at a Union Army hospital in Washington, D.C. She traveled south in December 1862, just as the Union Army was waging an ill-fated assault on well-entrenched Confederate forces in Fredericksburg, Virginia. The battle ended in a crushing Union defeat and heavy casualties on both sides. Just as she began work in Washington, 45 miles north of Fredericksburg, hundreds of wounded and dying Union soldiers were arriving from the battlefield. Imagine it's early in the morning on December 16, 1862, in Washington, D.C. You're in a hotel turned Union Army Hospital, and today marks your first full day as a volunteer Army nurse. You're in a large, dimly lit ward, pouring water for the injured men who lie asleep in a row of narrow beds. As you turn and open a window to ventilate the room, you feel a rush of excitement for the adventure you're starting. As you look outside to the dusty street, you see a mass of horse-drawn carts. You briefly wonder if they're setting up a food market, but then your stomach lurches as you realize the carts are carrying more injured soldiers. You there. You turn around to see the stern head nurse, Mrs. Stevens, standing in the doorway. Yes, miss. Start gathering bed linens, water, and sponges. Quickly now. We've got 40 ambulances at the door. Mrs. Stevens rushes out into the hallway. You find yourself paralyzed as you watch soldier after soldier burst into the room. Some work in pairs, hauling men on stretchers. Others stagger in on makeshift crutches. Some are horribly maimed, missing arms and legs. You suddenly feel dizzy. You back away from the chaos and take refuge behind a pile of clothing and bandages. What do you think you're doing? You look up to see Mrs. Stevens staring down at you. You tremble under the weight of her stern gaze. I was just... You see, you were hiding. Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry. It's my first day. This is no place for the faint of heart. These men need help. Get up and get to work. Yes, ma'am. You stand up on shaky legs and look around, feeling overwhelmed. Mrs. Stevens lets out an impatient sigh. I need you to undress the men as fast as you can. Scrub them down and dress them in clean clothes. They're caked with mud and filth from the battlefield. Your eyes widen. You've never seen a naked man before. You steel yourself and nod. Yes, ma'am. She grabs a water basin, a sponge, a towel, and a block of brown soap from the shelf behind you and stuffs the supplies in your arms. Work quickly. These men have no time for hesitation. If infection sets in, they could die. Come find me when you're done. She rushes off. Blinking back tears, you approach a middle-aged soldier lying in a cot. His head is bandaged. The cloth is soaked with blood and dirt. With trembling hands, you begin to gently remove the bandage. He winces and offers a faint smile and gratitude that strengthens your resolve. Alcut's first day of nursing gave her a quick introduction to the horrors of war. She would later write, My ardor experienced a sudden chill, and I indulged in a most unpatriotic wish that I was safe at home again, with a quiet day before me. Despite initially losing her nerve, she quickly became a competent nurse and grew close with many of the men she cared for. But the emotional and physical toll was severe. Like many other Army nurses, she succumbed to illness. Her symptoms started with a cough, then progressed to delusional fever dreams. She was hospitalized for pneumonia and typhoid fever. Doctors treated her with Calomel, a drug that was widely used despite the fact it contained mercury. So even as she recovered from typhoid, she suffered from mercury poisoning. In late January 1863, following six weeks in Washington, she returned to Concord as a weakened version of her former self. For the rest of her life, she would suffer from debilitating headaches, dizziness, exhaustion, and pain. Still, she would later write, The amount of pleasure and profit I got out of that month compensates for all the pangs. And her nursing stint marked a turning point in her writing career. During her time in the Army hospital, she wrote vivid letters home about her experiences. Publisher James Redpath encouraged her to compile the letters into a book. He paid $200 for the collection, publishing it later that year under the title Hospital Sketches. To Alcott's surprise, the book sold well and earned her acclaim. She wrote, I find I've done a good thing without knowing it. For the first time, multiple publishers sought out her writing, including James Fields, the editor who rejected her a decade earlier. In October 1863, she wrote, There is a sudden hoist for a meek and lowly scribbler who was told to stick to her teaching. The following January, Louisa returned to her work on moods. She loved the novel more than anything else she would write over the course of her life, and she often skipped meals and stayed up all night to work on it. In February 1864, she submitted the manuscript to James Redpath. She was devastated when he asked her to cut the novel in half. Rather than heed his advice, she decided to look for a different publisher. She continued shopping the manuscript, but much to her disappointment, another publisher agreed it was too long. Finally, in October, she figured out how to cut down her novel without destroying it. She spent a week feverishly removing 10 out of 30 chapters. Moods was finally published in December 1864, but to mixed reviews. Henry James, who would later become a famous author, wrote, We are utterly weary of stories about precocious little girls. Criticism of the novel upset Louisa. She complained, I followed bad advice and took out many things which explained my idea. In July 1865, Alcott received an opportunity to travel abroad for the first time. A wealthy Boston shipowner asked her to travel to Europe as the paid companion to his invalid daughter. In London, she relished visiting sites from the novels of Charles Dickens and hearing Dickens himself speak. In Germany, she delighted in the beauty of the Alps and the Rhine River. She was less enamored by the long and tedious stays at Hellspots. She returned to Concord after a year abroad. Her family's bills had gone unpaid in her absence, so she got down to work, spending the rest of 1866 writing and publishing 12 new stories. But the work sapped her strength. In January 1867, she collapsed from exhaustion. For much of that spring, she was too ill to write. The following September, Alcott accepted an offer to become the editor of a Boston children's magazine called Mary's Museum for $500 a year. Around the same time, publisher Thomas Niles noticed a gap in the literary market. He suggested Alcutt write a book for young girls. Alcutt said she would try, but privately she resented the idea. She did not see herself as a children's author. She had experienced war, illness, family tragedy and poverty, and she wanted to write serious, mature work. But Niles kept up the pressure, even promising Alcutt's father, Bronson, that he would publish his manuscript, Tablets, if she wrote the book for young girls. Ronson had high hopes for Tablets, a collection of his thoughts on gardening, recreation, and friendship. So he encouraged Louisa to agree to write the girl's book so his own manuscript would be published. And in February 1868, Louisa finally broke down. She quit her editor job and returned home to Concord to write the book she did not want to write. As she began to draft the novel. She never anticipated just how much it would change her life. In May 1868, Louisa May Alcott sat down in Orchard House in Concord to write a book for young girls. She had written melodramas and a so-called serious novel. Now she turned her focus to the ordinary and everyday, crafting a coming-of-age novel about four sisters growing into young women. It was a semi-autobiographical account of her own childhood with her sisters in Concord. She titled the book Little Women. In May 1868, she wrote in her journal, I plod away though I don enjoy this sort of thing Never liked girls or knew many except my sisters Our experiences may prove interesting though I doubt it The four Alcott sisters inspired the four fictional March sisters Anna Alcott became beautiful Meg March, Lizzie became the shy and sickly Beth, May became headstrong Amy, and Louisa became the rebellious and outspoken tomboy Joe, the novel's protagonist. Like the teenage Louisa, Joe March was an aspiring writer. Despite these similarities, Alcott created an idealized version of her own life in writing Little Women. Mr. March was a gainfully employed chaplain who was absent for most of the novel. The Marches had a maid to do the cooking and cleaning that in real life fell to Alcott and her sisters. When Alcott sent her publisher Thomas Niles the first twelve chapters, he called the novel dull and Alcott agreed. But then Niles showed the opening chapters to his 12-year-old niece who loved them. All could push through her ongoing illness and exhaustion, finishing the novel just two and a half months after starting it. Niles offered her a choice between a $1,000 flat fee for the rights to the book or a $300 advance with 6% royalties on each copy sold. She chose the royalty arrangement. When proofs of the book arrived in late August, she wrote, It reads better than I expected. Not a bit sensational, but simple and true, for we really lived most of it, and if it succeeds, that will be the reason of it. On September 30, 1868, Little Women was published to wide acclaim. It was an instant success, quickly selling out its first printing of 2,000 copies. Niles asked Alcott to start writing a second volume. As she went to work, her opinions about marriage brought her into conflict with her readers. Dozens of young women wrote to Alcott, urging her to marry Joe to the handsome boy-next-door Lori. She complained in her journal, girls write to ask who the little women marry, as if that was the only aim and end of a woman's life. I won't marry Joe to Lori to please anyone. On New Year's Day, 1869, Alcott submitted the manuscript for part two of Little Women. She hoped that the second volume would do as well as the first, but she dared not set her expectations too high. Imagine it's April, 1869, in Boston. You're an editor and publisher at the Roberts Brothers Publishing House. The office is a whirlwind of activity this morning. Impatient stock boys and porters crowd the entrance, and the office floor and the sidewalk outside are piled high with cases of books. You've retreated behind your cluttered desk to track inventory, meticulously jotting down numbers in your ledger. You hear someone approach, but you wave them away impatiently. too busy to be disturbed. Not now. I'm sorry to interrupt. You glance up and nearly jump out of your seat. Louisa May Alcott is standing on the other side of your desk. She wears a shabby, faded dress, and her face is filled with concern. Oh, my dear Miss Alcott, my apologies. You got my letter, then? I came to discuss payment for the second volume of Little Women. What letter? It's no matter now. Sorry to keep you waiting. As you can tell, it's been a busy morning. Alcott nods sympathetically. How awful to see the publishing house in this condition. I'm sorry? What do you mean? She gestures to the piles of boxes lining the walls. All this commotion. It looks as though you're going out of business and all your inventory is being seized to pay off back debts. Oh, you couldn't be more wrong. I don't understand. All these books are orders of the second volume of Little Women. But it's not even out yet. Isn't it amazing? I've already sold 4,000 copies. I expect to sell another 10,000 before the month is over. You must be joking. I've never seen anything like it. Forget Uncle Tom's cabin. This is the triumph of the century. You open a drawer and pull out a checkbook. Name a figure, and it's yours. Your royalties for part two are going to be bigger than anything we could have predicted. You've just turned this pokey publishing house around. You fill out a check in her name. She stares at you blankly. Come on. What will it be? Um, one thousand dollars? Done. You sign the check and hand it to her. She looks at the number in wide-eyed disbelief. All this from a girl's book? What did I tell you? You shake her hand, smiling in your shared triumph. Despite pressuring her to write Little Women, its success has surpassed your wildest expectations. Part 2 of Little Women was published on April 14, 1869. By the end of May, 17,000 copies had been sold. Little Women catapulted Alcott to fame and fortune. She was finally able to pay off her family's many debts, writing, I feel as if I could die in peace. Still, much of her day-to-day life remained the same. She continued writing short stories and struggling with her poor health. In 1870, she followed up Little Women with her novel Old Fashioned Girl, which was also a hit. In April 1870, Alcott and her sister May traveled to Europe. This time, she was a celebrated literary icon rather than a paid servant. While she was gone, she learned about the death of her brother-in-law, John Pratt. She was inspired to write a book for his and Anna's sons, a sequel to Little Women called Little Men. Over the next several years, Alcott continued traveling and publishing novels, but she was often too sick to enjoy her fame and financial stability. She wrote, When I had the youth, I had no money. Now I have the money, I have no time. And when I get the time, if I ever do, I shall have no health to enjoy life. She often resented her obligations to her family. After buying her sister Anna a home in the spring of 1877, she wrote, Ought to be contented with knowing I help both my sisters by my brains. But I am selfish, and I want to go away and rest in Europe. Never shall. She also cared for her ailing mother. In November 1877, Abba died in her daughter's arms. Despite her many duties, her fame had given her a level of freedom afforded to few women of her era. Alcott became active in the movements for prison reform and women's suffrage. She wrote essays for a prominent women's rights magazine and encouraged women in her hometown of Concord to join the cause. She wrote in her journal, Drove about and drummed up women to my suffrage meeting. So hard to move people out of the old ruts. In 1879, she became the first woman in Concord to register to vote. In December 1879, her younger sister May died from complications from giving birth. Alcott adopted her niece Lulu while also taking care of her sick father Bronson, and her own illness worsened. She suffered from fainting spells, vertigo, fatigue, and digestive issues. Still, she wrote whenever she could. In 1886, she published Joe's Boys, the third volume in the March trilogy. It mirrored Alcott's own life by delving into Joe March's struggle to accept her literary fame. But by 1888, she was writing little beyond short journal entries recording her symptoms. She suffered from hallucinations and struggled to eat solid food. Lumps appeared on her body. On March 1, 1888, she visited her father on his deathbed. He said, I'm going up. Come with me. She responded, I wish I could. Bronson died three days later. But Louisa had fallen into a coma before she even heard the news. She died on March 6, 1888, at the age of 55. Father and daughter were buried next to each other in Concord's famous Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, near the graves of their family friends, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, and Nathaniel Hawthorne. After her death, Alcott was memorialized as the children's friend. The New York Times declared, There was no bar to her conquests over the hearts of the young, but her legacy was far greater than her popularity among young readers. Alcote charted an independent life in defiance of 19th century societal expectations. Her writing gave her a voice in the world, the freedom to travel, and the ability to support her family as a single woman. She created a beloved classic of American literature with nuanced female characters who sought fulfillment beyond the confines of traditional gender roles. Through her life and her art, she defied convention and expanded the realm of what was possible for American women. From Wondery, this is episode two of our six-part series, Great American Authors from American History Tellers. On the next episode, in 1857, 21-year-old Samuel Clemens becomes an apprentice steamboat pilot on the Mississippi River. Following the outbreak of the Civil War, he moves to the Nevada Territory and works as a reporter, adopting a pen name that would become famous, Mark Twain. American History Tellers is hosted, edited, and produced by me, Lindsey Graham, for Airship. Audio editing by Christian Paraga. Sound design by Molly Bach. Music by Lindsey Graham. Voice acting by Cat Peoples and Joe Hernandez-Kolsky. This episode is written by Ellie Stanton. Edited by Dorian Marina. Produced by Alita Rozanski. Coordinating producer, Desi Blaylock. Managing producer, Matt Gant. Senior Managing Producer Ryan Lohr Senior Producer Andy Herman Executive Producers are Jenny Lauer-Beckman and Marsha Louis for Wondering. Follow American History Tellers on the Audible app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to all episodes of American History Tellers ad-free by joining Audible. And to find out more about me and my other projects, including my live stage show coming to a theater near you, go to notthatlindsaygram.com. That's notthatlindsaygram.com.
