Death gives an unexpected completeness to the view of individual character. The secret of a noble life is only fully unfolded when its outward envelope has met the fate of all things perishable. And so the mournful tragedy just recounted set its seal upon a career whose endeavor and achievement the world is bound to hold dear. When all that could be known of Margaret was known, it became evident that there was nothing of her which was not heroic in intention; nothing which, truly interpreted, could turn attention from a brilliant exterior to meaner traits allowed and concealed. That she had faults we need not deny; nor that, like other human beings, she needs must have said and done at times what she might afterwards have wished to have better said, better done. But as an example of one who, gifted with great powers, aspired only to their noblest use; who, able to rule, sought rather to counsel and to help,—she deserves a place in the highest niche of her country's affection. As a woman who believed in women, her word is still an evangel of hope and inspiration to her sex. Her heart belonged to all of God's creatures, and most to what is noblest in them. Gray-headed men of to-day, the happy companions of her youth, grow young again while they speak of her. One of these,[J] who is also one of her earlier biographers,[279] still recalls her as the greatest soul he ever knew. Such a word, spoken with the weight of ripe wisdom and long experience, may fitly indicate to posterity the honor and reverence which belong to the memory of Margaret Fuller.[280]
CHAPTER XVII.
MARGARET FULLER'S LITERARY REMAINS.
The preceding narrative has necessarily involved some consideration of the writings which gave its subject her place among the authors of her time. This consideration has been carefully interwoven with the story of the life which it was intended to illustrate, not to interrupt. With all this care, however, much has been left unsaid which should be said concerning the value of Margaret's contributions to the critical literature of her time. Of this, our present limits will allow us to make brief mention only.
Margaret so lived in the life of her own day and generation, so keenly felt its good and ill, that many remember her as a woman whose spoken word and presence had in them a power which is but faintly imaged in her writings. Nor is this impression wholly a mistaken one. Certain it is that those who recall the enchantment of her conversation always maintain that the same charm is not to be found in the productions of her pen. Yet if we attentively read[281] what she has left us, without this disparagement, we shall find that it entitles her to a position of honor among the prose writers of her time.
The defects of her style are easily seen. They are in some degree the result of her assiduous study of foreign languages, in which the pure and severe idioms of the English tongue were sometimes lost sight of. Among them may be mentioned a want of measure in expression, and also something akin to the fault which is called on the stage "anti-climax," by which some saying of weight and significance loses its point by being followed by another of equal emphasis. With all this, the high quality of her mind has left its stamp upon all that she gave to the reading public. Much of this first appeared in the form of contributions to the "Tribune," the "Dial," and other journals and magazines. Some of these papers are brief and even fragmentary; but the shortest of them show careful study and conscientious judgment. All of them are valuable for the admirable view which they present of the time in which Margaret wrote, of its difficulties and limitations, and of the hopes and convictions which, cherished then in the hearts of the few, were destined to make themselves a law to the conscience of the whole community.
The most important of the more elaborate essays is undoubtedly that entitled "Woman in[282] the Nineteenth Century," of which some account has already been given in the preceding pages. Of the four volumes published in 1875, one bears this title. A second, entitled "Art, Literature, and the Drama," contains many of the papers to which reference has been made in our brief account of Margaret and her contemporaries. From a third volume, entitled "At Home and Abroad," we have quoted some of her most interesting statements concerning the liberal movement in Europe, of which she was so ardent a friend and promoter. A last volume was collected and published in 1859, by her brother, the Rev. Arthur B. Fuller, who served as an army chaplain in the War of the Southern Rebellion, and met his death on one of its battle-fields. This volume is called "Life Without and Life Within," and is spoken of in Mr. Fuller's preface as containing, for the most part, matter never before given to the world in book form, and also poems and prose fragments never before published.
In this volume, two papers seem to us to ask for especial mention. One of these is a review of Carlyle's "Cromwell," written when the book was fresh before the public. It deserves to be read for its felicity of diction, as well as for the justice of the thought expressed. If we take into consideration the immense popularity of Mr. Carlyle in America at the time when this[283] work of his appeared, we shall prize the courage and firmness with which Margaret applies to it her keen power of criticism. The moral insufficiency of the doctrine of the divine right of force is clearly shown by her; and her own view of Cromwell's character maintains itself in spite of the vituperations with which Carlyle visits those who will not judge his hero as he does. She even returns these threats with the following humorous passage at arms:—
"Nobody ever doubted his [Cromwell's] great abilities and force of will; neither doubt we that he was made an instrument, just as he proposeth. But as to looking on him through Mr. Carlyle's glasses, we shall not be sneered or stormed into it, unless he has other proof to offer than is shown yet.... If he has become interested in Oliver, or any other pet hyena, by studying his habits, is that any reason why we should admit him to our pantheon? No! our imbecility shall keep fast the door against anything short of proofs that in the hyena a god is incarnated.... We know you do with all your soul love kings and heroes, Mr. Carlyle, but we are not sure you would always know the Sauls from the Davids. We fear, if you had the disposal of the holy oil, you would be tempted to pour it on the head of him who is taller by a head than all his brethren."[284]
Of Cromwell himself, the following is Margaret's estimate:—
"We see a man of strong and wise mind, educated by the pressure of great occasions to the station of command. We see him wearing the religious garb which was the custom of the times, and even preaching to himself as well as others. But we never see Heaven answering his invocations in any way that can interfere with the rise of his fortunes or the accomplishment of his plans. To ourselves, the tone of these religious holdings-forth is sufficiently expressive: they all ring hollow.... Again, we see Cromwell ruling with a strong arm, and carrying the spirit of monarchy to an excess which no Stuart could surpass. Cromwell, indeed, is wise, and the king he punished with death is foolish: Charles is faithless and Cromwell crafty; we see no other difference. Cromwell does not in power abide by the principles that led him to it; and we cannot help, so rose-water imbecile are we, admiring those who do. To us it looks black for one who kills kings to grow to be more kingly than a king."
The other paper of which we desire to speak in this connection, is one treating of the French novelists prominent at the time, and in particular of Balzac, Eugène Sue, and De Vigny. Of these three names, the first alone retains the prestige which it had when Margaret wrote her[285] essay. De Vigny, remarkable mostly for purity of sentiment, finish of style, and a power of setting and limiting his pictures, is a boudoir author, and one read only in boudoirs of studious refinement. Sue, to whose motives Margaret gives the most humanitarian interpretation, has failed to commend his method to posterity. His autopsy of a diseased state of society is thought to spread too widely the infection of the evils which he deplores. His intention is also too humane for the present day. The world of the last decade and of the present is too deeply wedded to the hard worship of money to be touched by the pathos of women who perish, or of men who starve. The grievances of the poor against the rich find to-day no one to give ear to them, and few even to utter them; since those who escape starvation are too busy with beggary and plunder to waste time in such useless musings. Of the three here cited, Balzac alone remains a king among novelists; and Margaret's study of him imports as much to us to-day as it did to the world of her time.
She begins by commenting upon the lamentation general at that time, and not uncommon in this, over the depravity of taste and of life already becoming familiar to the youth of America through the medium of the French novel. Concerning this, she says:—[286]
"It is useless to bewail what is the inevitable result of the movement of our time. Europe must pour her corruptions no less than her riches on our shores, both in the form of books and of living men. She cannot, if she would, check the tide which bears them hitherward. No defences are possible, on our vast extent of shore, that can preclude their ingress. Our only hope lies in rousing in our own community a soul of goodness, a wise aspiration, that shall give us strength to assimilate this unwholesome food to better substance, or to cast off its contaminations."
In view of the translation and republication of these works, Margaret remarks that it would be desirable for our people to know something of the position which the writers occupy in their own country. She says, moreover, what we would fain hope may be true to-day, that "our imitation of Europe does not yet go so far that the American milliner can be depended on to copy anything from the Parisian grisette, except her cap."
Margaret speaks at some length of Balzac's novel "Le Père Goriot," which she had just read. "The author," she says, "reminds one of the Spanish romancers in the fearlessness with which he takes mud into his hands, and dips his foot in slime. We cannot endure this when[287] done, as by most Frenchmen, with an air of recklessness and gayety; but Balzac does it with the stern manliness of a Spaniard."
The conception of this novel appears to her "so sublime," that she compares its perusal to a walk through the catacombs, which the reader would not willingly have missed; "though the light of day seems stained afterwards with the mould of horror and dismay."
She infers from much of its tenor that Balzac was "familiar with that which makes the agony of poverty—its vulgarity. Dirt, confusion, shabby expedients, living to live,—these are what make poverty terrible and odious; and in these Balzac would seem to have been steeped to the very lips." The skill with which he illustrates both the connection and the contrast between the depth of poverty and the height of luxury co-existing in Parisian life, is much dwelt upon by Margaret, as well as the praise-worthy fact that he depicts with equal faithfulness the vices developed by these opposite conditions. His insight and mastery appear to her "admirable throughout," the characters "excellently drawn," especially that of the Père Goriot, the father of two heartless women, for whom he has sacrificed everything, and who in turn sacrifice him without mercy to their own pleasures and ambitions. Admirable, too, she finds him "in his description[288] of look, tone, gesture. He has a keen sense of whatever is peculiar to the individual." With this acute appreciation of the great novelist's merits, Margaret unites an equally comprehensive perception of his fatal defects of character. His scepticism regarding virtue she calls fearful, his spirit Mephistophelian. "He delights to analyze, to classify. But he has no hatred for what is loathsome, no contempt for what is base, no love for what is lovely, no faith for what is noble. To him there is no virtue and no vice; men and women are more or less finely organized; noble and tender conduct is more agreeable than the reverse,—that is all." His novels show "goodness, aspiration, the loveliest instincts, stifled, strangled by fate in the form of our own brute nature."
Margaret did not, perhaps, foresee how popular strangling of this kind was destined to become in the romance of the period following her own.
Contrasting Eugène Sue with Balzac, she finds in the first an equal power of observation, disturbed by a more variable temperament, and enhanced by "the heart and faith that Balzac lacks." She sees him standing, pen in hand, armed with this slight but keen weapon, as "the champion of poverty, innocence, and humanity against superstition, selfishness, and prejudice." His works,[289] she thinks, with "all their strong points and brilliant decorations, may erelong be forgotten. Still, the writer's name shall be held in imperishable honor as the teacher of the ignorant, the guardian of the weak." She sums up thus the merits of the two: "Balzac is the heartless surgeon, probing the wounds and describing the delirium of suffering men for the amusement of his students. Sue, a bold and glittering crusader, with endless ballads jingling in the silence of night before the battle." She finds both of them "much right and a good deal wrong," since their most virtuous personages are allowed to practise stratagems, falsehood, and violence,—a taint, she thinks, of the old régime under which "La belle France has worn rouge so long that the purest mountain air will not soon restore the natural hues to her complexion."
Two ideal sketches, "The Rich Man" and "The Poor Man," are also preserved in this volume, and are noticeable as treating of differences and difficulties which have rather become aggravated than diminished since Margaret's time. The "Rich Man" is a merchant, who "sees in commerce a representation of most important interests, a grand school that may teach the heart and soul of the civilized world to a willing, thinking mind. He plays his part in the game, but not for himself alone. He sees the interests of[290] all mankind engaged with his, and remembers them while he furthers his own." In regard of his social status, she says:—
"Our nation is not silly in striving for an aristocracy. Humanity longs for its upper classes. The silliness consists in making them out of clothes, equipage, and a servile imitation of foreign manners, instead of the genuine elegance and distinction that can only be produced by genuine culture.... Our merchant shall be a real nobleman, whose noble manners spring from a noble mind; his fashions from a sincere, intelligent love of the beautiful."
Margaret's "Poor Man" is an industrious artisan, not too poor to be sure of daily bread, cleanliness, and reasonable comfort. His advantages will be in the harder training and deeper experience which his circumstances will involve. Suffering privation in his own person, he will, she thinks, feel for the sufferings of others. Having no adventitious aids to bring him into prominence, there will be small chance for him "to escape a well-tempered modesty." He must learn enough to convince himself that mental growth and refinement are not secured by one set of employments, or lost through another. "Mahomet was not a wealthy merchant; profound philosophers have ripened on the benches, not of the lawyers, but of the shoemakers.[291] It did not hurt Milton to be a school-master, nor Shakespeare to do the errands of a London playhouse. Yes, 'the mind is its own place;' and if it will keep that place, all doors will be opened from it." This ideal poor man must be "religious, wise, dignified, and humble, grasping at nothing, claiming all; willing to wait, never willing to give up; servile to none, the servant of all,—esteeming it the glory of a man to serve." Such a type of character, she tells us, is rare, but not unattainable.
The poems in this volume may be termed fugitive pieces, rhymes twined and dropped in the pathway of a life too busy for much versification. They somewhat recall Mr. Emerson's manner, but have not the point and felicity which have made him scarcely less eminent in verse than in prose. They will, however, well repay a perusal. In order that this volume may not be wholly lacking in their grace, we subjoin two short poems, which we have chosen from among a number of perhaps equal interest. One of these apostrophizes an artist whose rendering of her Greeks made him dear to her:—
FLAXMAN.
We deemed the secret lost, the spirit gone,
Which spake in Greek simplicity of thought,
And in the forms of gods and heroes wrought
Eternal beauty from the sculptured stone,—[292]
A higher charm than modern culture won
With all the wealth of metaphysic lore,
Gifted to analyze, dissect, explore.
A many-colored light flows from one sun;
Art, 'neath its beams, a motley thread has spun;
The prism modifies the perfect day;
But thou hast known such mediums to shun,
And cast once more on life a pure, white ray.
Absorbed in the creations of thy mind,
Forgetting daily self, my truest self I find.
The other poem interprets for us the significance of one of the few jewels which queenly Margaret deigned to wear,—a signet ring, bearing the image of Mercury:—
MY SEAL-RING.
Mercury has cast aside
The signs of intellectual pride,
Freely offers thee the soul:
Art thou noble to receive?
Canst thou give or take the whole,
Nobly promise, and believe?
Then thou wholly human art,
A spotless, radiant ruby heart,
And the golden chain of love
Has bound thee to the realm above.
If there be one small, mean doubt,
One serpent thought that fled not out,
Take instead the serpent-rod,—
Thou art neither man nor God.
Guard thee from the powers of evil,—
Who cannot trust, vows to the devil.
Walk thy slow and spell-bound way;
Keep on thy mask, or shun the day,—
Let go my hand upon the way.
INDEX.
- Alcott, A. Bronson, his impressions of Margaret Fuller, 61, 62;
- a contributor to the "Dial," 72
- Allston, Washington, as a poet and painter, 77;
- Margaret Fuller's criticism of his paintings, 79-82
- Arago, Margaret's estimate of, 196
- Arconati, Marchesa Visconti, Margaret Fuller's acquaintance and friendship with, 212, 252, 261
- Baillie, Joanna, Margaret Fuller's admiration of, and visit to, 180, 181
- Balzac, Margaret Fuller's estimate of the works of, 285-289
- Belgiojoso, Princess, organizes the military hospitals at Rome, 243
- Ben Lomond, Margaret Fuller's ascent of, and adventure on, 175-177
- Béranger, 189;
- Margaret Fuller's mention of, 196
- Berry, Miss, Margaret Fuller's visit to, 181
- Berryer, M., Margaret Fuller's estimate of, 197
- Brook Farm Community, the, its origin and existence, 91, 97
- Brougham, Lord, 179
- Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 188, 217, 261
- Bryant, William Cullen, Margaret Fuller's estimate of, 164
- Burgess, Tristam, 66
- Carlyle, Thomas, 179;
- Cass, Lewis, American Envoy at Rome, 249
- Chalmers, Dr., 172
- Channing, Dr., Margaret Fuller's high appreciation of, 30;
- his intercourse with Margaret Fuller, 63
- Channing, William Ellery, 72
- Channing, William Henry, 72;
- his portrait of Margaret Fuller, 86-90
- Chopin, 189;
- Margaret Fuller's mention of, 193
- Clarke, James Freeman, early friendship of, with Margaret Fuller, 23, 24
- Clarke, William Hull, his intimacy with Margaret Fuller at the Lakes, 118
- Combe, Dr. Andrew, 172
- Cranch, Christopher P., 72
- Dana, Richard H., mention of, by Margaret Fuller, 67
- Dawson, George, 177
- De Balzac, 189
- De Quincey, Margaret Fuller's description of, 173
- De Vigny, 284
- "Dial," the, its life and death, 71, 72;
- its contributors and their contributions, 72-76
- Dickens, Charles, 178
- Dumas, Alexandre (père), 189
- Emerson, Ralph Waldo, his acquaintance with Margaret Fuller, 40;
- Fox, William, Margaret Fuller's estimate of, 178
- Freiligrath, 180
- Fuller, Margaret Crane, Mother of Margaret, 2;
- Fuller, Sarah Margaret, early biographical sketches of, 1;
- her childhood and early youth, 1-10;
- birth and birthplace of, 2;
- her early Puritanical training, 4;
- her early course of studies and its effect, 5-7;
- begins the study of the Latin authors, 7;
- her interest in the study of Shakespeare, 8;
- her earliest friendship, 8-10;
- leaves home for boarding-school, 11;
- anecdotes of her school life at Groton, Mass., 11-16;
- beneficial effect of her school life and its trials, 17;
- end of her school days, and her return home, 18;
- her girlhood as described by Dr. Hedge, 19, 20;
- her passionate love for the beautiful, 20;
- her systematic and arduous pursuit of culture, 20, 21;
- her portraiture of Miss Francis (Lydia Maria Child), 22;
- her friendship with James Freeman Clarke, 24-28;
- her magnetic influence upon the minds of others, 25, 26;
- the faulty appreciation of her character by the public, 27, 38, 39;
- her study and comparative estimate of the German authors, 28;
- her intense interest in self-culture and questions of public thought, 29, 30;
- her desire for intellectual improvement the outgrowth of personal rather than religious motives, 30, 31;
- her religious beliefs, 32-38;
- anecdote relating her many doubts and trials in the matter of religion, 35-38;
- her first acquaintance with Ralph Waldo Emerson, 40;
- satirical proclivities of, as mentioned by Mr. Emerson, 41;
- her beneficent influence upon friends and intimates, 42, 43;
- an enthusiastic and appreciative student of art, 44-47;
- notes on the Athenæum Gallery of Sculpture by, 45;
- self-esteem one of her most prominent and valuable qualities, 47-49;
- removal from Cambridge to Groton, 49;
- the literary activity of, in the seclusion of her Groton home, 50, 59;
- extract from her correspondence while at Groton, 51-54;
- her meeting with, and sincere friendship for, Harriet Martineau, 54, 55;
- her very serious illness, 55, 56;
- her grief at the death of her father, 56;
- the straitened circumstances of, attendant on her father's death, 56, 57;
- finds prayer a constant source of relief and support, 57;
- her devotion to her family, 57-59;
- her removal to Boston, 60, 61;
- a teacher in Mr. Alcott's school, 61;
- brief sketch of her labors while in Boston, 62-65;
- her connection with Greene Street School, Providence, R. I., 65;
- brief account of her life and acquaintances in Providence, 66, 67;
- extract from her farewell address to her pupils at Providence, 68, 69;
- her criticism of Harriet Martineau's book on America, 69, 70;
- accepts the editorship of the "Dial," 70;
- extract from her contributions to the "Dial," 74-77;
- her estimate of Washington Allston's pictures, 76, 79-83;
- her friendship with Mr. Emerson the outgrowth of mutual esteem rather than of personal sympathy, 84, 85;
- her relations with William Henry Channing, 86-90;
- her relation to the Transcendental movement in New England, 92-99;
- her visit to the Brook Farm Community, 97, 98;
- her love for little children, 100;
- her visit to Concord after the death of Ralph Waldo Emerson's son, 101;
- extracts from her journal, 101-103;
- her conversations in Boston, 104-115;
- the extraordinary success of her undertaking, 108;
- the second series of her conversations, 111, 114;
- variety of topics discussed in her conversations, 114;
- her summer on the Lakes, 115;
- extracts from her record of the journey, 115-125;
- her visit to, and impressions of, the Indians, 120-125;
- the composition of her "Summer on the Lakes," 126, 127;
- her engagement on the "New York Tribune," and consequent close of her New England life, 127;
- her intercourse with Horace Greeley, 130, 131;
- her contributions to the "Tribune," 133;
- remarks on some of her literary contemporaries, 134, 135;
- her criticism of George Sand, 137-139;
- her residence at the Greeley mansion, 130, 140, 141;
- her entrance into New York society, 142;
- her visits to the women's prison at Sing Sing, and address to its inmates, 143-146;
- visits Blackwell's Island, 146;
- letters of, to her brothers, 147-150;
- publication of her "Woman in the Nineteenth Century," 147, 149, 150;
- brief review of the work, 151-158;
- essay on American Literature, 159-167, 282;
- her criticism of contemporary authors, 162-167;
- concerning the justice of her criticism, 168, 169;
- her visit to Europe, 170-277;
- her anticipations of the journey, 170, 171;
- the voyage and arrival at Liverpool, 171;
- her visit to the lake country, 171, 172;
- impressions of her visit to Wordsworth, 172;
- renewal of her intercourse with Harriet Martineau, 172;
- her visit to Edinburgh and meeting
- with literary men, 172, 173;
- her impression of De Quincey, 173;
- her meditations on Mary, Queen of Scots, while in Scotland, 174;
- makes an excursion to the Highlands, 174;
- her ascent to Ben Lomond, 175-177;
- her comparison of George Dawson, William Fox, and James Martineau with Dr. Channing and Theodore Parker, 177;
- her remarks on the social condition of England, 179, 180;
- visits the different institutions of science, art, and benevolence in London, 180;
- mention of her visit to Joanna Baillie, 180, 181;
- her visit to Miss Berry, 181;
- her intercourse with Thomas Carlyle, 180-185;
- Thomas Carlyle's impressions of, 186;
- her high estimation of Mazzini and his work, 186-188;
- her visit to Paris and her reception there, 189, 190;
- her visit to and impressions of George Sand, 191-193;
- her acquaintance with Chopin, 193;
- her remarks on the French stage and its actors, 194-196;
- calls upon Lamennais, 196;
- her mention of Béranger, 196;
- visits the Chamber of Deputies, 197;
- attends a ball at the Tuileries, and the Italian opera in Paris, 197, 198;
- her acquaintance with Alexandre Vattemare, 198;
- her visits to places of interest in Paris, and her impressions of them, 198, 199;
- her journey to Italy, 200, 201;
- visits Rome, 202;
- her visits to the studios and galleries of Rome, 206;
- her study of and remarks upon the old masters, 206, 207;
- her interest in the political condition of Italy, 207;
- impressions and reminiscences of her visits to Perugia, Bologna, Florence, Ravenna, Venice, Milan, and other cities of Northern Italy, 208-212;
- her mention of a state ball on the Grand Canal at Venice, 210;
- her estimation of Manzoni, 211;
- visits the Italian lakes and Switzerland, 212;
- her grief and indignation at the unhappy political condition in Italy, 213, 214;
- visits Pavia, Parma, and Modena, 214;
- revisits Florence on her way to Rome, 214;
- her zeal for Italian freedom, 217;
- her return to Rome, 218;
- reminiscences of her delightful experiences during her second visit to Rome, 218-220;
- her many discomforts during the rainy season, 221-223;
- leaves Rome for Aquila, 231;
- her marriage with Marchese Ossoli, 232;
- her first meeting and subsequent intimacy with him, 233, 234;
- leaves Aquila for Rieti, 235;
- birth of her son, Angelo Eugene Ossoli, 236;
- leaves her child at Rieti and returns to Rome, 238;
- extract from a letter to her mother, 238;
- her anxiety about her child, 241, 242;
- her intercourse with Mazzini, 243;
- her care of the hospitals, 244-246;
- her anxiety about her husband and child during the siege of Rome, 246;
- her mention of the bombardment and final surrender of Rome, 247, 248;
- has a severe sickness and confides the story of her marriage to Mrs. Story and Lewis Cass, 249, 250;
- joins her husband at his post, 250;
- the sickness of her child, 251;
- comment in both Italy and America attendant upon the acknowledgment of her marriage, 251, 252;
- extracts from her correspondence regarding her marriage, 252, 253;
- revisits Perugia with her husband and child, 253;
- passes the winter in Florence, 253;
- applies herself to writing a history of the Revolution in Italy, 255;
- the character of her husband and their devotion to each other, 256, 257;
- her literary occupation during her stay at Florence, 258;
- reminiscences of her visit to the Duomo at Florence, 258, 259;
- her home life and surroundings, 259, 260;
- her intimacy with Horace Sumner and estimate of him, 260, 261;
- anecdotes showing her love for and influence upon the people of Italy, 262-264;
- her preparations for and anticipations of her return to America, 265, 266;
- extract from her last letter to her mother, 266, 267;
- engages passage in the barque "Elizabeth" from Leghorn, 267;
- her presentiment and foreboding of misfortune, 268, 269;
- death of the captain and subsequent sickness of her child, 269, 270;
- minor incidents of the voyage as related by Mrs. Hasty, 270;
- her calmness and care for her child at the time of the shipwreck, 272;
- her death, 274;
- brief testimony to her high character and aspirations, 278;
- the literary remains of, 280-292;
- brief criticism of her style, 281;
- "Woman in the Nineteenth Century," 282;
- "Life Without and Life Within," 282;
- extracts from her review of Carlyle's "Cromwell," 282-284;
- extracts from a paper on the prominent French novelists of her day, 284-289;
- her appreciation of the writings of Balzac, 286-288;
- her contrast of Balzac with Eugène Sue, 288, 289;
- mention of her "Rich Man," and "Poor Man," with extracts, 289-291;
- "Flaxman" and "My Seal-Ring," two short poems by, 291, 292
- Fuller, Timothy, father of Margaret, 2;
- Garibaldi, his devotion to the cause of freedom in Italy, 247, 248
- Gonzaga, Marquis Guerrieri, 213
- Greeley, Horace, his interest in Margaret Fuller and subsequent engagement of her on the staff of the "Tribune," 129, 130;
- his acquaintance with and estimation of Margaret Fuller, 130-132
- Guizot, 189
- Gurney, Joseph John, 67
- Hasty, Mrs., a fellow-passenger of Margaret Fuller on the barque "Elizabeth," for America, 268;
- Hedge, Dr., early friendship of, with Margaret Fuller, 19, 20
- Houghton, Lord, 179
- Hugo, Victor, 189
- Hurlbut, William Henry, his remarks upon the character of Marchese Ossoli and relations with his wife, 257, 258;
- Iron Duke, the, 179
- Italy, the political condition of, in 1847, 207, 213, 216, 217, 223-230, 238-241;
- Kenyon, John, 178
- Lamennais, Margaret Fuller's mention of, 196
- Leverrier, Margaret Fuller's mention of, 197.
- Liszt, 189
- Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, Margaret Fuller's criticism on, 164-167
- Louis Philippe, 190
- Lowell, James Russell, his satire on Margaret Fuller in the "Fable for Critics," 39, 40;
- a criticism on, by Margaret Fuller, 167.
- Manzoni, Margaret Fuller's estimate of, 211
- Mariotti, 188
- Martineau, Harriet, her efforts to introduce Margaret Fuller to Mr. Emerson, 40;
- Martineau, James, Margaret Fuller's estimate of, 178
- Mazzini, his connection with works of benevolence, 180;
- Mickiewicz, 193
- Milman, Dean, Margaret Fuller's description of, 172
- Moore, Thomas, 179
- Neal, John, 66
- Norton, Mrs., 179
- Ossoli, Marchese, the personal description of, 233;
- his first meeting with Margaret Fuller, 233;
- his marriage, 234;
- reasons for not making his marriage public, 234, 235;
- his zeal for the cause of freedom, 234, 235, 246;
- his personal character and love for his wife as described by William Henry Hurlbut, 257, 258;
- his calmness and forgetfulness of self at the time of the shipwreck, 272;
- his death, 274.
- Paris, the city of, and its celebrities at the time of Margaret Fuller's visit, 189, 190
- Parker, Theodore, 72;
- Margaret Fuller's high estimation of, 177
- Peabody, Miss, the first of Margaret Fuller's conversations held at the rooms of, 105, 106
- Pius, Pope, 207;
- Rachel, the queen of the tragic stage at Paris, 189;
- Ripley, George, organizes the brook Farm Community, 91
- Rogers, Samuel, 178
- Rome, at the time of Margaret's visit in 1847, 202, 203;
- celebration of the birthday of, 208;
- celebration of the creation of the National Guard at, 215;
- review of the Civic Guard at, 218;
- evidence of political reform and celebration of the event at, 223, 224;
- the political situation and popular excitement at, 224, 225;
- opening of the Constitutional Assembly at, 240;
- universal enthusiasm at the formation of a Roman republic, 240;
- its relations with France, 242, 243;
- the siege of, 243-247;
- its surrender, 247, 248.
- Sand, George, as a woman and a writer, 135-137;
- Smith, Sydney, 178
- Sue, Eugène, Margaret Fuller's estimate of his writings, 288, 289
- Sumner, Horace, his intimacy with Margaret Fuller at Venice, 260, 261, 268;
- his death, 274
- Sutherland, Duchess of, 179
- Taglioni, 210
- Thackeray, William M., 178
- Transcendentalism, its birth and development, 90, 91, 95
- Vattemare, Alexandre, Margaret Fuller's intercourse with, 198
- Wilkinson, James Garth, Margaret Fuller's estimate of, 188
- Wordsworth, William, Margaret Fuller's visit to, 172