Alice Very was the daughter of Frank Washington Very -- a man who was very Swedenborgian and raised his children as Swedenborgians.

Frank's uncle was Jones Very, a very respected Transcendental poet whom Emersonc compared to Swedenborg. 

This week we'll talk about Alice, and next week we'll look at her great Uncle Jonas.

First, it should be said, there is little information about Alice in the public domain.  I learned of her through Alice Skinner's research in Continuing Vision, as a poet influenced by Swedenborg.  Then I heard from an active member of our own web community, Gwynne Griswold, that Alice Very had been her aunt!

In this series of prayful poets influenced by Swedenborg, I have been able to learn about the poets through internet searches.  In the case of Alice, I have only found her father Frank and her great-uncle Jones on-line.  Fortunately, our own Gwynne has been very helpful at providing information about Alice.  Perhaps others of you will know something about Alice to add to our few resources.

Alice grew up in the Swedenborgian churches of Boston and Providence.  When she was married, there was a crisis in the family:  her mother-in-law Mary Hosmer Brown contracted TB.  Her father-in-law and her husband both became Christian Scientists in an effort to cure her.  Alice converted to Christian Science as well.  Later in life she tried to become a Christian Science practitioner, but felt that she did not have the talent to cure others.  In her latter years, she read Swedenborg's Divine Love and Wisdom.  Then she told her mother that if she had read that book at a younger age, she would have stayed Swedenborgian.

Gwynne has generously loaned me a copy of Alice's final book, Write on the Water.  Gwynne points out that much of Alice's poetry is bitter and sad.  She was poor through much ofher life, and she lost a child to drowning. 

Ms. Griswold also discusses her aunt Alice in the article "Just When Did I Start Acting Like My Mother," published in Rooted in Spirit:  A Harvest of Women's Wisdom.  Griswold writes:

"She had a degree from Wellesley College, a husband starting a publishing business, five children, a large vegetable garden, and a pressure cooker for preserving.  She was expected to be an unpaid proofreader and editor for her husband's publishing business.  I remember her with galley proofs in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other, stirring a pot on the stove.  Yet she frequently found time to care for me for my mother, include us in family outlings, and generally enrich our lives."   [p. 150]

Certainly the most profound Swedenborgian influence in Alice's lfe was her father, Frank [1852-1927].  He was an astronomer who had graduated from the Massachussetts Institute of Technology.  He was a professor at Western University of Pennsylvania, and then acting director of the Ladd Observatory at Brown University.

Mars and the moon both have craters named after him.  Frank wrote several books about Swedenborg, which can still be obtained on-line.

This is a poem that Alice wrote in honor of her father:


F.W. Very

No portrait could do justice to my father,
--with the possible exception of the Great Stone Face.
He might have been a last survivor
of the Cro-Magnan, that magnificant race
whose heads were bigger than ours and who invented
so many useful things we take for granted.
He might have been a man from Mars; he went
there more than once via the spectroscope;
or rocketed to the moon via a telescope bore;
--her caves were his familiar haunts.
Yet not content
with the stars, he must explore
the geography of heaven, his element,
with Swedenborg, who took him by the hand.
He had no Beatrice, that is sure.
his Dulcinea, the lady whose command
is to the few whose sciences are pure,
whose name he wrote.
 

There are two of Alice Very's poems that I find especially prayful.  Read them for youself, and see if they
are an experience of worship for you.


WHOM HAVE I BUT THEE?

Have you any joy
but of God's bestowing?
Have you any refuge
but in Him?
Though the world destroy
does not He remain?
Can He who gave the seed
forget His children's need?
sow in vain?

Oh, be still, be patient,
learn by pray,
and wait for wisdom, knowing
nothing can stop the seed from growing;
nothing of men's devising
can stop the sun from rising,
hinder its course, or speed.

Let Him, uncompromising,
lead each in His own way,
till in the dawn's first whitening
the Truth bursts forth like lightening --
brings day!

MOUNTAIN CLIMBING

We walk by faith
more than by sight;
foot feels the trail,
hand holds tight.

Etherial voices,
a treetop choir,
veery and whitethroat
beside us sing;
pointing the way
by the woodland spring
Madonna orchids
beckon higher.

Beyond the path
on the bare rock height
stretches uninterrupted blue.
Earth falls away
with its blight and care
and only the light
is everywhere.

Mountains, heaven's blazes,
footprints of peace!
Eye can't contain
all it takes in,
dimly discerns
unfolding plan --
where sight leaves off
vision begins.