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[Sidenote: Account of her visit to Ambleside.]
Margaret Fuller, who had been, in spite of certain mutual repulsions, an intimate acquaintance of mine in America, came to Ambleside.... I gave her and the excellent friends with whom she was travelling, the best welcome I could. My house was full: but I got lodgings for them, made them welcome as guests, and planned excursions for them. Her companions evidently enjoyed themselves; and Margaret Fuller as evidently did not, except when she could harangue the drawing-room party without the interruption of any other voice within its precincts. There were other persons present, at least as eminent as herself, to whom we wished to listen; but we were willing that all should have their turn: and I am sure I met her with every desire for friendly intercourse. She presently left off conversing with me, however; while I, as hostess, had to see that my other guests were entertained according to their various tastes. During our excursion in Langdale she scarcely spoke to anybody, and not at all to me; and when we afterwards met in London, when I was setting off for the East, she treated me with the contemptuous benevolence which it was her wont to bestow on common place people. I was, therefore, not surprised when I became acquainted, presently after, with her own account of the matter. She told her friends that she had been bitterly disappointed in me. It had been a great object with her to see me, after my recovery by mesmerism, to enjoy the exaltation and spiritual development which she concluded I must have derived from my excursions in the spiritual world; but she had found me in no way altered by it; no one could have discovered that I had been mesmerised at all; and I was so thoroughly common place that she had no pleasure in intercourse with me.
HARRIET MARTINEAU: ‘Autobiography.’
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[Sidenote: A true heroic mind.]
Margaret is an excellent soul: in real regard with both of us here. Since she went, I have been reading some of her Papers in a new Book we have got; greatly superior to all I knew before; in fact the undeniable utterances (now first undeniable to me) of a true heroic mind;--altogether unique, so far as I know, among the Writing Women of this generation; rare enough, too, God knows, among the Writing Men. She is very narrow, sometimes; but she is truly high.
THOMAS CARLYLE: _Letter to Emerson_, 2d March, 1847. ‘Correspondence of T. Carlyle and R. W. Emerson,’ 1834-1872. Boston: James R. Osgood & Co., 1883.
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[Sidenote: Margaret in Italy.]
[Sidenote: “Not the same person.”]
During the month of November, 1847, we arrived in Rome, purposing to spend the winter there. At that time, Margaret was living in the house of the Marchesa ----, in the Corso, _ultimo piano_. Her rooms were pleasant and cheerful, with a certain air of elegance and refinement, but they had not a sunny exposure, that all-essential requisite for health, during the damp Roman winter. Margaret suffered from ill health this winter, and she afterwards attributed it mainly to the fact, that she had not the sun. As soon as she heard of our arrival, she stretched forth a friendly, cordial hand, and greeted us most warmly. She gave us great assistance in our search for convenient lodgings, and we were soon happily established near her. Our intercourse was henceforth most frequent and intimate, and knew no cloud nor coldness. Daily we were much with her, and daily we felt more sensible of the worth and value of our friend. To me she seemed so unlike what I had thought her to be in America, that I continually said, “How have I misjudged you; you are not at all such a person as I took you to be.” To this she replied, “I am not the same person, but in many respects another; my life has new channels now, and how thankful I am that I have been able to come out into larger interests--but, partly, you did not know me at home in the true light.” It was true, that I had not known her much personally, when in Boston; but through her friends, who were mine also, I had learned to think of her as a person on intellectual stilts, with a large share of arrogance, and little sweetness of temper. How unlike to this was she now! So delicate, so simple, confiding and affectionate; with a true womanly heart and soul, sensitive and generous, and, what was to me a still greater surprise, possessed of so broad a charity, that she could cover with its mantle the faults and defects of all about her.
[Sidenote: The Marquis Ossoli.]
We soon became acquainted with the young Marquis Ossoli, and met him frequently at Margaret’s rooms. He appeared to be of a reserved and gentle nature, with quiet, gentleman-like manners, and there was something melancholy in the expression of his face, which made one desire to know more of him. In figure, he was tall, and of slender frame, with dark hair and eyes; we judged that he was about thirty years of age, possibly younger.
MRS. STORY: _Communication_ in ‘Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli.’
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[Sidenote: The meeting of Margaret and Ossoli.]
Our meeting was singular--fateful, I may say. Very soon he offered me his hand through life, but I never dreamed I should take it. I loved him, and felt very unhappy to leave him; but the connection seemed so every way unfit, I did not hesitate a moment. He, however, thought I should return to him, as I did. I acted upon a strong impulse, and could not analyze at all what passed in my mind. I neither rejoice nor grieve--for bad or for good, I acted out my character.
[Sidenote: Her suffering during the siege of Rome.]
During the siege of Rome, I could not see my little boy. What I endured at that time, in various ways, not many would survive.... I went, every day, to wait, in the crowd, for letters about him. Often they did not come. I saw blood that had streamed on the wall where Ossoli was. I have a piece of a bomb that burst close to him. I sought solace in tending the suffering men; but when I beheld the beautiful, fair young men bleeding to death, or mutilated for life, I felt the woe of all the mothers who had nursed each to that full flower, to see them thus cut down. I felt the consolation, too, for those youths died worthily.
MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI: _Letter to her Sister_, in ‘Memorials of Margaret Fuller Ossoli.’
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[Sidenote: Margaret in the hospitals.]
Margaret had ... the entire charge of one of the hospitals, and was the assistant of the Princess Belgioioso, in charge of “_dei Pellegrini_,” where, during the first day, they received seventy wounded men, French and Romans. Night and day, Margaret was occupied, and, with the princess, so ordered and disposed the hospitals, that their conduct was truly admirable. All the work was skilfully divided, so that there was no confusion or hurry, and, from the chaotic condition in which they had been left by the priests--who previously had charge of them--they brought them to a state of perfect regularity and discipline. Of money, they had very little, and they were obliged to give their time and thoughts, in its place. From the Americans in Rome, they raised a subscription for the aid of the wounded of either party; but, besides this, they had scarcely any means to use. I have walked through the wards with Margaret, and seen how comforting was her presence to the poor suffering men. “How long will the Signora stay?” “When will the Signora come again?” they eagerly asked. For each one’s particular tastes she had a care: to one she carried books; to another she told the news of the day; and listened to another’s oft-repeated tale of wrongs, as the best sympathy she could give. They raised themselves up on their elbows, to get the last glimpse of her as she was going away.
MRS. STORY: _Communication_ in ‘Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli.’
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[Sidenote: Margaret’s description of Ossoli.]
He is not in any respect such a person as people in general would expect to find with me. He had no instructor except an old priest, who entirely neglected his education; and of all that is contained in books he is absolutely ignorant, and he has no enthusiasm of character. On the other hand, he has excellent practical sense; has been a judicious observer of all that passed before his eyes; has a nice sense of duty, which, in its unfailing, minute activity, may put most enthusiasts to shame; a very sweet temper, and great native refinement. His love for me has been unswerving and most tender.... Amid many ills and cares, we have had much joy together, in the sympathy with natural beauty--with our child--with all that is innocent and sweet.
I do not know whether he will always love me so well, for I am the elder, and the difference will become, in a few years, more perceptible than now. But life is so uncertain, and it is so necessary to take good things with their limitations, that I have not thought it worth while to calculate too curiously.