MEMOIRS OF MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. * THESE volumes contain the life,

letters, and remains of an Ameri- can authoress and social lioness. The name of Margaret Fuller,, be wever, is better known to certain sets than to the world at large, for her achievements were rather social than literary. A few translations, contributions to the New York Tribune and the defunct American Dial, with a little book descriptive of summer on the Lakes, were about the extent of her literary pro- ductions. Her social effects and conversational powers were considerable. The divines, the "orators," the lecturers of New England, as well as the "gifted" young men, and "the snug co- teries and literary ladies," were mostly enraptured with her social outpourings, despite a plain face, affected manners, and an im- perious style of bearing in rather bad taste. She had a turn for philanthropy, as well as art, letters, and philosophy, and, like Elizabeth Fry, produced considerable sensation in female peni- tentiaries and similar places. How far Margaret Fuller was is America " the one-eyed monarch of the blind, may be difficult to fix. She was certainly unpopular with many; in most cases she required to be known certainly she was liked. To the ken of criti- cism, her acquirements do not seem to have been so great as her admirers and herselfsupposed. The younger Channing, one of her biographers, was at first very unfavourably impressed by her ; he " suspected her of affecting. the part of a Yankee Comina." Emer- son, with all his panegyric, has not much to say for her scholar- ship, and hardly refrains from a sneer at her genius. " When she came to Concord, she was already rich in friends, rich in ex- periences, rich in culture. She was well read in French, Italian, and German literature. She had learned Latin and a little Greek. But her English reading was incomplete ; and, while she knew Moliere, andRousseau, and any quantity of French letters, memoirs, and novels, and was a dear student of Dante and. Petrarca, and knew German books more cordially than any other person, she was little read in Shakspere ; and I believe I had the pleasure of malting- her acquainted with Chaucer, with Ben Janson, with Herbert, Chapman, Ford, Beaumont and Fletcher, with Bacon, and Sir Thomas Browne. I was seven years her senior, and 'had the habit of idle reading in old English books, and, though not much versed, yet quite enough to give me the right

to lead her." • • • "She watched by day and by night the skies and the earth, and believed she knew all their expressions. She wrote in her journal, or in her core respondence, a series of 'moonlights,' in which she seriously attempts to describe the light and scenery of successive nights of the summer moon. Of course, her raptures must appear sickly and superficial to an observer, who, with equal feeling, had better powers of observation. "Nothing is more rare than a talent to describe landscape, and especially skyscape, or cloudscape ; although a vast number of letters, from correspond- ents between the ages of twenty and thirty, are filled with experiments of this kind. Margaret, in her turn, made many vain attempts; and to a lover of nature, who knows that every day has new and inimitable lights and shades, one of these descriptions is as vapid as the raptures of a citizen arrived. at his first meadow : of course, he is charmed, but of course, he cannot tell what he sees, or what pleases him."

These memoirs of her life and writings consist of three divisions; of which only the first and last have much interest. The first part describes her early life and youthful training. It is some- what tainted by the American style of inflated rhetoric, but it is a pleasant sketch of a New England household, a curious picture of a precocious child with a poetical temperament, forced by a shrewd, reserved, and fond but undemonstrative father—a practitioner of the law—into improper not to say unnatural labours, more espe- cially injurious to the actual subject of them. This picture of • over-teaching contains a lesson which the age still needs.

"My father—all whose feelings were now concentrated on me—instructed me himself. The effect of this was so far good, that, not passing through the- hands of many ignorant and weak persons, as so many do at preparatory schools, I was put at once under discipline of considerable severity, and at the same time had a more than ordinarily high standard presented to me. My father was a man of business even in literature : he had been a high scholar at college, and was warmly attached to all he had learned there, both from the pleasure he had derived in the exercise of his faculties and the associated memories of success and good repute. He was beside well read in French literature, and in English a Queen Amide man. He hoped to- make me the heir of all he knew, and of as much more as the income of his profession enabled him to give me means of acquiring. At the very begin- ning he made one great mistake—more common, it is to be hoped, in the last generation than the warnings of physiologists will permit it to be with • Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli. In three volumes. Published by Bentley.

the next. He thought to gain time by bringing forward the intellect as early as possible. Thus, I had tasks given me, as many and various as the hour. would allow, and on subjects beyond my age ; with the additional dis- advantage of reciting to him in the evening, after he returned from his of- fice. As he was subject to many interruptions, I was often kept up till very late ; and as he was a severe teacher, both from his habits of mind and his ambition for me, my feelings were kept on the stretch till the recitations were over. Thus, frequently, I was sent to bed several hours too late, with nerves unnaturally stimulated. The consequence was a premature de-

velopment of the brain, that made me a youthful prodigy' by day, and by night a victim of spectral illusions, nightmare, and somnambulism, which at the time prevented the harmonious development of my bodily powers and checked my growth, while, later, they induced continual headache, weakness, and nervous affections of all kinds. As these again reacted on the brain, giving undue force to every thought and every feeling, there was finally pro- duced a state of being both too active and too intense, which wasted my con- stitution, and will bring me, even although I have learned to understand and regulate my now morbid temperament, to a premature grave.

"No one understood this subject of health then. No one knew why this

child, already kept up so late, was still unwilling to retire. My aunts cried out upon the 'spoiled child, the most unreasonable child that ever was—if brother could but open his eyes to see it—who was never willing to go to bed.' They did not know that, so soon as the light was taken away, she seemed to see colossal faces advancing slowly towards her, the eyes dilating, and each feature swelling loathsomely as they came, till at last, when they were about to close upon her, she started up with a shriek which drove them away, but only to return when she lay down again. They did not know that, when at last she went to sleep, it was to dream of horses trampling over her, and to awake once more in fright ; or, as she had just read in Vir- gil, of being among trees that dripped with blood, where she walked and walked and could not get out, while the blood became a pool and plashed

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over her feet, and rose higher and higher, till soon she dreamed it would reach her lips. No wonder the child arose and walked in her sleep, moan- ing all over the house, till once, when they heard her, and came and waked her, and she told what she had dreamed, her father sharply bid her 'leave off thinking of such nonsense, or she would be crazy,'—never knowing that he was himself the cause of all these horrors of the night. Often she dreamed of following to the grave the body of her mother, as she had done that of her sister, and woke to find the pillow drenched in tears."

The last part of the book embraces Margaret Fuller's remarks

from Europe, during a tour in England, France, and Italy ; a resi- dence in Rome at the period of its revolution and siege by the French ; a clandestine marriage, as she approached the age of forty, with an Italian nobleman, the Marquis Ossoli—by no means literary, and much younger than herself ; and her sad death, with her husband and son, by shipwreck, on their homeward voyage. In point of variety, action, and an American's remarks on Europe, this last section is the most attractive of the whole. The middle and bulkiest part of the book is rather wearisome. The two biographers have arranged it well enough according to the heroine's places of residence ; each taking that division with which he happened to be most familiar, and frequently availing himself of the contributions of friends who might be better informed. There are some changes of fortune or some topics of interest in this part. Mr. Fuller died, and left his family with means inadequate to their previous mode of life. Margaret had contemplated a tour in Europe ; and the disappointment is bewailed in a tone which recals Goldsmith's reflections on real and fancied troubles, produced by the story of the soldier in the Citizen of the World. Nevertheless, she cheerfully met the change of fortune, and undertook the labour of teaching to assist her family. In the extracts from her diaries there are occasional criticisms and general reflec- tions of value. By far too large a portion of the space de- voted to her American girlhood and womanhood consists of outpourings of feelings, distinguished by the rhapsody of the poetical temperament without the reality and comprehensiveness of the poetical faculty ; or there are trivial sketches of friends and small celebrities, whose names are suppressed ; or accounts, in a style at once insipid and exaggerated, of herconversation, manners, and abilities, by faithful devotees.

In her European journey Margaret Fuller spent the greaterpart

of her time in Italy. In England she fell in with a few well- known persona, among -whom Wordsworth and Carlyle are the most remarkable. At Paris she became acquainted with George Sand, and some other notables ; and saw Rachel, of whom she has given a good critique. It was in Italy that she lingered long- est, probably met the most congenial persons, and did the most. Mazzoni, whom she had seen in England, had given her some charges, possibly of the diplomatic kind. As an American, a Republican, a belle esprit, a woman of genius, and a stickler for "the rights of women," she was an active agent of the Liberals ; she converted her future husband from the Papal party ; and was named superintendent (Regolatrice) of the hospital Fats Bene Fratelli, by the Princess Belgioioso : and here herpersonal powers produced a striking effect upon the wounded. After the occupa- tion of the city, she and her.husband withdrew to Florence ; and finally embarked, with many misgiving; for America. The captain died on the voyage ; the mate either mistook his reckonings or currents disturbed it, and the vessel was almost run on shore on Fire Island beach, near Long Island. The ship struck about four o'clock on a July morning ; the passengers were in bed, and remained in the cabin for some hours afterwards, from the difficulty of making their way out.

"About seven, as there were signs that the cabin would soon break up,

and any death seemed preferable to that of being crushed among the ruins, Mrs. Hasty made her way to the door, and, looking out at intervals between the seas as they swept across the vessel amidships, saw some one standing by the foremast. His face was toward the shore. She screamed and beckoned; but her voice was lost amid the roar of the wind and breakers, and her ges- tures were unnoticed. Soon, however, Davis, the mate, through the door of the forecastle caught sight of her, and, at once comprehending the danger, summoned the men to go to the rescue. At first none dared to risk with him the perilous attempt ; but, cool and resolute, he set forth by himself, and, now holding to the bulwarks, now stooping as the waves combed over, he succeeded in reaching the cabin. Two sailors, emboldened by his exam- ple, followed. Preparations were instantly made to conduct the passengers to the forecastle, which, as being more strongly built, and lying further up the sands, was the least exposed part of the ship. Mrs. Hasty volunteered to go the first. With one hand clasped by Davis, while with the other each grasped the rail, they started, a sailor moving close behind. But hardly had they taken three steps, when a sea broke loose her hold, and swept her into the hatchway. Let me go!' she cried, ' your life is important to all on board.' But, cheerily and with a smile, he answered, 'Not quite yet' ; and, seizing in his teeth her long hair as it floated past him, he caught with both hands at some near support, and, aided by the seaman, set her once again upon her feet. A few moments more of struggle brought them safely through. In turn, each of the passengers was helped thus laboriously across the deck, though, as the broken rail and cordage had at one place fallen in the way, the passage was dangerous and difficult in the extreme. Angeline was borne in a canvass bag, slung round the neck of a sailor. Within the forecastle, which was comparatively dry and sheltered, they now seated themselves, and, wrapped in the loose over-coats of the seamen, regained some warmth. Three times more, however, the mate made his way to the cabin; once, to save her late husband's watch for Mrs. Hasty ; again, for some doubloons, money-drafts, and rings in Margaret's desk ; and, finally, to procure a bottle of wine and a drum of figs for their refreshment. It was after his last return that Margaret said to Mrs. Hasty, There still remains what, if I live, will be of more value to me than anything,'—referring, pro. bably, to her manuscript on Italy ; but it seemed too selfish to ass their brave preserver to run the risk again."

Mrs. Hasty, the late captain's wife, and some of the crew, were saved by planks and swimming.

" Now came Margaret's turn. But she steadily refused to be separated from Ossoli and Angelo. On a raft with them, she would have boldly en- countered the surf, but alone she would not go. Probably she had appeared to assent to the plan for escaping upon planks, with the view of inducing Mrs. Hasty to trust herself to the care of the best man on board; very pos- sibly, also, she had never learned the result of their attempt, as, seated with- in the forecastle, she could not see the beach. She knew, too, that if a life- boat could be sent, Davis was one who would neglect no effort to expedite its coming. While she was yet declining all persuasions, word was given from the deck that the life-boat had finally appeared. For a moment the news lighted up again the flickering fire of hope. They might yet be saved —be saved together ! Alas ! to the experienced eyes of the sailors it too soon became evident that there was no attempt to launch or man her. The last chance of aid from shore then was gone utterly. They must rely on their own strength, or perish ; and if ever they were to escape, the time had come : for at noon the storm had somewhat lulled; but already the tide had turned, and it was plain that the wreck could not hold together through another flood. In this emergency, the commanding-officer, who until now had remained at his post, once more appealed to Margaret to try to escape,— urging that the ship would inevitably break up soon; that it was more sui- cide to remain longer; that he did not feel free to sacrifice the lives of the crew, or to throw away his own ; finally, that he would himself take Angelo, and that sailors should go with Celeste, [a maid-servant,] Ossoli, and herself. But, as before, Margaret decisively declared that she would not be parted from her husband or her child. The order was then given to 'save them- selves' : and all but four of the crew jumped over, several of whom, to- gether with the commander, reached shore alive, though severely bruised and wounded by the drifting fragments. " Of the four seamen who still stood by the passengers, three were as effi- cient as any among the crew of the Elizabeth; these were the stewar car- penter, and cook ; the fourth was an old sailor, who, broken down by

ship and sickness, was going home to die. These men were once again per- suading Margaret, Ossoli, and Celeste, to try the planks, which they held ready in the lee of the ship ; and the steward, by whom Nino was so much beloved, had just taken the little fellow in his arms, with the pledge that he would save him or die, when a sea struck the forecastle, and the foremast fell, carrying with it the deck and all upon it. The steward and Angeline were washed upon the beach, both dead though warm, some twenty minutes after. The cook and carpenter were thrown far upon the foremast, and saved themselves by swimming. Celeste and Ossoli caught for a moment by the rigging, but the next wave swallowed them up. Margaret sank at once. When last seen, she had been seated at the foot of the foremast, still clad in her white night-dress, with her hair fallen loose upon her shoulders. It was over, that twelve hours' communion face to face with Death! It was over ; and the prayer was granted, that Ossoli, Angelo, and I, may go to- gether, and that the anguish may be brief.' " Margaret Fuller Ossoli was no doubt a remarkable woman, even after some deductions are made for the American tendency to inflatedness, especially in panegyric. Her early youth contains some useful matter, and interesting lessons; in her middle age she lived a romance, saw some remarkable person; and was pre- sent at some memorable scenes. It is well to have had her life and remains; but it would have been much better to have the middle part confined to facts and opinions of substantial interest