MARGARET AND HER FRIENDS
BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
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ROBERTS BROTHERS,
Publishers.
MARGARET AND HER FRIENDS
OR
Ten Conversations
WITH
MARGARET FULLER
UPON
THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE GREEKS AND
ITS EXPRESSION IN ART
Held at the House of the Rev. George Ripley
Bedford Place, Boston
BEGINNING MARCH 1, 1841
REPORTED BY CAROLINE W. HEALEY
BOSTON
ROBERTS BROTHERS
1895
Copyright, 1895,
By Roberts Brothers.
All rights reserved.
University Press:
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
| Page | ||
| Preface | [5] | |
| Members of the Class | [17] | |
| I. | General Mythological Statement | [25] |
| II. | General Statement Continued. R. W. E. Present[1] | [40] |
| III. | Story from Novalis. Apollo | [60] |
| IV. | Minerva. The Serpent | [77] |
| V. | Venus and Psyche. R. W. E. Present | [95] |
| VI. | Cupid and Psyche. Margaret, and Elisabeth Hoar | [106] |
| VII. | Pluto and Tartarus | [123] |
| VIII. | Mercury and Orpheus. R. W. E. Present | [135] |
| IX. | Hermes and Orpheus | [147] |
| X. | Bacchus and the Demigods | [156] |
PREFACE.
In 1839, Margaret Fuller, delicate in health and much overtaxed, consented to gratify many who loved her by opening in Boston a series of “Conversations for Women.” In a Circular quoted by Emerson, she says to Mrs. Sophia Ripley:—
“Could a circle be assembled in earnest, desirous to answer the questions, ‘What were we born to do?’ and ‘How shall we do it?’ I should think the undertaking a noble one.”
This was certainly the original intent of the famous “Fuller Conversations,” which, beginning then, were continued at intervals, until Margaret left Boston for New York in 1844.
It seems a little singular, therefore, to find her writing to Ralph Waldo Emerson of this series, Nov. 25, 1839, as follows:—
“The first day’s topic was the genealogy of Heaven and Earth; then the Will or Jupiter; the Understanding, Mercury: the second day’s, The celestial inspiration of Genius, perception and transmission of Divine Law; Apollo the terrene inspiration, Bacchus the impassioned abandonment. Of the thunderbolt, the caduceus, the ray and the grape, having disposed as well as might be, we came to the wave and the sea-shell it moulds to beauty....
“I assure you, there is more Greek than Bostonian spoken at the meetings!”
Under the forms suggested by Mythology, Margaret proceeded to open all the great questions of life. In a literary sense, she distinctly stated that she knew little about the doings on Olympus, nor had she received any help from German critical works,—of which at the present day she would have found many.
These Conversations owed their attraction first to the absolute novelty of her theme to many of those she addressed, and still more to the variety and freshness of her own treatment. The opening, at the Boston Athenæum, of the splendid collection of casts presented by Thomas Handasyd Perkins, and many private collections of pictures, engravings, gems, and miniature casts, had interested her intensely, and both mind and fancy were absorbed in the contemplation of their themes. In these Conversations she depicted what she had gained from Art, rather than the little that she had acquired through study. If I may judge from a later experience, her Latin studies rather injured than developed her brilliant fancies. She never could remember what she had said, never could repeat a brilliant saying, and, if obliged to read any illustration, read it, as all her friends admitted, very badly. From a statement made to Emerson, I quote the following:—
“Her mood applied itself to the mood of her companion, point to point, in the most limber, sinuous, vital way; ... and this sympathy she had for all persons indifferently.”
The communication of which the above is a sample I have always read with amazement, for I never knew a person of whom it would seem less true. When conversing with one sympathetic person, it was undoubtedly true; when resting upon the affection and loyalty of her young women,—a most gifted and extraordinary circle,—it was doubtless equally so; but when the class of March, 1841, was formed, a very different aspect of herself appeared.
The fame of her “talks” had spread. She had great need of money, and some of the gentlemen who were accustomed to talk with her, and some of the ladies of her day-class, suggested an evening class, to be composed of both ladies and gentlemen, and to meet at the house of the Rev. George Ripley in Bedford Place. Ten Conversations were to be held, and the tickets of admission cost twenty dollars each, a very high price for that time. It was in the book-room of Elisabeth Peabody that I first heard them discussed. I was very young to join such a circle; and when she invited me, Elisabeth had more regard, I think, to Margaret’s purse, than to my fitness for the company. But it was a great opportunity. The members were full of excitement over the projected opening of Brook Farm. All were in good spirits, and bright sayings ran back and forth. I had been carefully trained in the Art of Reporting, and at that time made careful abstracts on the following day of any lecture that had interested me. In these I trusted to my memory. It was not possible to do this with the Conversations; so I invented a sort of short-hand, and carried note-book and pencil with me. I sat a little out of sight that I might not embarrass Margaret, but Elisabeth Peabody and Mrs. Farrar found me out. Elisabeth wrote what she called an abstract, every night; but an examination of her abstracts quoted by Mr. Emerson shows that what she wrote was not what any one said, but the impression made upon her own mind by it. These abstracts she always read to me, the next morning. I wrote out my short-hand notes before breakfast and carried them down to her about noon. I greatly enjoyed listening to her papers, and she was so absorbed in them that she often forgot to ask for mine, which was a great relief to me.
So far as I know, these Reports of mine are the only attempt ever made deliberately to represent these or any of Margaret’s “Conversations” word for word. Of course, much was omitted as not worth recording, nor did I ever write down anything that I could not understand. Many of the members I knew intimately, and fell naturally into writing of them by initials and first names, as they always spoke to and of each other. At times I fell back into the Mr., Mrs., or Miss, which was my own habit. It is well to call those we love by any name they will permit, but the familiar habit of the Transcendental circle was full of social peril to the younger members, who, conceiving it a proof of genius, followed it, when its origin was forgotten, and were much misunderstood in consequence in later years.
I offer the Reports exactly as they were written. I should like to alter them in several small ways if I could do it honestly. We met to discuss Grecian Mythology as interpreted to Margaret’s mind by Art; but Latin and Greek names were used as if they were synonymous, and Latin poems were quoted, as well as Greek traditions. This confused my mind then, and does still. Athene and Minerva, Zeus and Jupiter, are by no means the same persons to me, Art or no Art.
It may be thought by those who cannot remember the persons who enacted this little drama, or by those who do remember and know well how very distinguished a company this was, that I should have eliminated my own reflections, and dropped out of the story.
This would I think have been greatly unjust to Margaret, who never enjoyed this mixed class, and considered it a failure so far as her own power was concerned. She and Mr. Emerson met like Pyramus and Thisbe, a blank wall between. With Mr. Alcott she had no patience, and no one of the class seemed to understand how sincere and deep was her interest in the theme. In no way was Margaret’s supremacy so evident as in the impulse she gave to the minds of younger women.
It was the wish of Margaret’s mother and brothers, as it is also the wish of her surviving relatives, that I should print these pages. After Arthur’s death, Richard Fuller undertook to carry out a plan to which both had agreed, and which Margaret’s mother had greatly at heart. They desired that I should write a simple, straightforward account of Margaret, including her residence in Italy, her marriage, the birth of her child, and her death. This they intended to print at their own expense, and they thought it might be so written as to put an end to many absurd and painful rumors which had followed the publication of the first Memoir. That I might prepare for this, all Margaret’s manuscripts were in my custody for more than a year. The completion of the work was prevented by Richard Fuller’s unexpected death. No surviving member of the family was able to carry out his intention.
I still have in my possession the estimate of his sister’s character which Richard made for my use.
I should like to add, that the scholar will see that the stories from Apuleius and Novalis do not exactly correspond to the originals. They were reported exactly as they were told.
CAROLINE HEALEY DALL.
Sept. 1, 1895,
Washington, D. C.
A LIST OF PERSONS
ATTENDING
THE CLASS NAMED IN THIS REPORT.
About thirty persons usually attended.
George Ripley. The well-known clergyman, settled over a Unitarian church in Purchase St., Boston, afterward the President of the Association at Brook Farm, and later literary editor of the New York “Tribune.”
Sophia Dana Ripley, his wife.
Elisabeth Palmer Peabody. A woman of remarkable accumulations of learning, and as remarkable a breadth of sympathy. She was a teacher,—an enthusiastic advocate of the Kindergarten, and opened at No. 13 West St., Boston, a foreign Circulating Library, which soon became a sort of Literary Exchange of the greatest use to New England. Her own great powers did not accomplish all they ought, because it was impossible for her to apply them systematically.
Frederick Henry Hedge. The well-known German and ecclesiastical scholar, whose remarkable scholarship and character have not yet received the commemoration they deserve. He was at this time settled over the church in Bangor, Maine.
James Freeman Clarke. Already the pastor of the Church of the Disciples, in Boston, and preaching at Amory Hall. The outline of his lovely and useful life is preserved in a memoir by the Rev. E. E. Hale, D.D.
Ralph Waldo Emerson. The Concord philosopher.
Mrs. Farrar, born Rotch, the wife of the Harvard Professor of Physical Science and Mathematics.
Francis G. Shaw. The son of a well-known Boston merchant, to be honored through all time as the father of Colonel Robert G. Shaw, who was buried where he fell, with the negroes whom he died to free.
Mrs. Sarah B. Shaw, his wife.
Ann Wilby Clarke, wife of a Boston bank-officer and the oldest member of an English family of Wilbys, nearly every member of which was at some time a teacher in Boston or its neighborhood.
Mrs. Jonathan Russell of Milton, widow of the U. S. Minister to Sweden (1814-1818), residing on the old Governor Hutchinson place at Milton, and
Miss Ida Russell, her daughter.
William White. The brother of the first wife of James Russell Lowell, who was killed by a fall from the bluff at Milwaukee in 1856.
William W. Story. Sculptor, poet, and lawyer, and well known as a contributor to Blackwood. Still living.
Caroline Sturgis, daughter of William Sturgis of Boston,—married later to Mr. Tappan,—a most gifted and charming creature.
Mrs. Anna Barker Ward, wife of S. G. Ward, now living in Washington.
Jones Very of Salem. A Transcendental poet.
Elisabeth Hoar was the daughter of Samuel Hoar of Concord, Mass., and of Sarah, the daughter of Roger Sherman of Connecticut. Elisabeth was not the least gifted of her very gifted family. One brother, recently deceased, was President Grant’s first Attorney-General; another is the well-known Senator from Massachusetts to the Congress of the United States; and a third, Edward Sherman Hoar, was distinguished as a scholar and botanist. To great intellectual gifts, Elisabeth added personal loveliness and a saintly serenity of character. She was betrothed to Charles Emerson (a brother of Ralph Waldo Emerson), who died of sudden illness just before the time appointed for their marriage. He was also a rarely gifted person, and after his death his family transferred their tenderest affection to Elisabeth. The reader of the various Lives of Emerson will see that she is often mentioned, and several of Emerson’s letters are addressed to her. Had she chosen to devote herself to literature, she would have been greatly distinguished. The Life of Mrs. Ripley of Waltham, written for “The Women of Our First Century,” and published by a committee appointed at the Centennial Exhibition in Philadelphia, was written by her. She died in 1878.
A. Bronson Alcott of Concord. A memoir of him has been written by the Hon. F. B. Sanborn of Concord, assisted by Wm. T. Harris.
W. Mack. A gentleman of great ability, who taught a school in Belmont. His daughter was the first wife of Stillman, the artist. The family is, I think, extinct, unless Mrs. Stillman left a daughter.
Sophia Peabody. A younger sister of E. P. P., afterwards Mrs. Nathaniel Hawthorne.
Marianne Jackson. A lovely, beloved, and accomplished woman, who died early. She was the daughter of Judge Charles Jackson, one of the soundest jurists who ever sat on a Massachusetts bench,—the sister of Mrs. Oliver Wendell Holmes, of Mrs. Charles C. Paine, and the aunt, I believe, of Mr. John T. Morse.
I have reserved for the last the name of the only sound Greek scholar among us: Charles Wheeler.
Charles Stearns Wheeler. Born in Lincoln, near Concord, Dec. 19, 1816, of H. U. 1837, distinguished as a Greek scholar from whom much was expected. To economize in order to pursue his Greek studies he built a shanty at Walden, which is said to have served as a suggestion to Thoreau. He went to Germany directly after these Conversations, and died suddenly of fever at Leipzig, in the summer of 1843. His death was a great grief and a great shock. I have not forgotten the sensation it produced. Beloved and honored by all who knew him, the community of scholars was especially bereaved. To this day, I am able to trust fearlessly to any information obtained from him.
“Only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness.”—Longfellow.