In April 1870, two years after the successful publication of her novel Little Women, 37-year-old Louisa May Alcott travelled to Europe with her younger sister Abigail May ("May"), 29 at the time, for a well-earned, extended holiday. Louisa highly enjoyed their trip, which was free from family cares and financed by the generous earnings from Little Women. May's main goal was to study art in Europe —seeking a career as a painter— and she was savouring both her lessons and her time with Louisa. During their stay in Europe, the two sisters grew closer together, leaving earlier tensions in their relationship behind. May, who had at times felt overshadowed by Louisa’s literary success, grew more confident as she began to gain recognition as an artist. In several years' time, her work would be accepted into the prestigious Paris Salon, prompting her to write to her family back home: "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."
After spending 14 months in Europe with May, Louisa returned home in June 1871, when news reached them of the death of their brother-in-law John Pratt (husband of their eldest sister Anna). While it was initially decided that May should remain in London to pursue her art studies, she too returned to the States later that year to share in the household responsibilities. Two years later, May again left for Europe to resume her studies, which continued to be financed by Louisa. It was in London that May met her future husband, Ernest Nieriker, a Swiss tobacco merchant who was 16 years her junior. They married in March 1878 and soon found a house in Meudon, not far from Paris. By that time, Louisa's health was deteriorating, preventing her from travelling to Europe to visit May and her new brother-in-law.
After finding their new house in Meudon, May sent a letter home in April 1878, writing about her happiness with Ernest, while encouraging Louisa to get well so she could visit them.
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 in somebody’s else romance for I cannot believe it is mine. . . . Not a wish seem 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 anything to divert me from accomplishing my dream.
For myself this simple artistic life is so charming, 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 delightfully 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 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.
Louisa continued to suffer from poor health, and though she made plans to visit May in September 1878, she ultimately decided against travelling. When May next became pregnant, expecting to deliver her baby in the autumn of 1879, Louisa desperately wanted to see her sister in time for the delivery —but again, her frail health kept her from going. Heartbroken, she wrote in her diary: "I mourn much because all say I must not go to May; not safe ..." ... and later: "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."
After losing her mother Abba in 1877, May's sudden passing was a huge blow to Louisa. In her diary she wrote: "Of all the trials in my life I never felt any so keenly as this, perhaps because I am so feeble in health that I cannot bear it well. It seems so hard to break up that happy little home and take May just when life was richest, and to leave me who had done my task and could well be spared. Shall I ever know why such things happen?"
Overcome with grief, a few days after May's death, Louisa wrote to her aunt, Mrs Bond, conveying the sad news.
Concord, Jan. 1, 1880.
Dear Auntie,
It is hard to add one more sorrow to your already full heart, particularly one of this sort, but I did not want you to hear it from any one but us. Dear May is dead. 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 sweet satisfaction and love 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.
Bless you dear Auntie for all your love for May; she never forgot it, nor do we.
Yours ever,
Louisa.
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