Margaret Fuller (Marchesa Ossoli) Part 12

"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 truly heroic mind; altogether unique, so far as I know, among the writing women of this generation; rare enough, too, G.o.d knows, among the writing men. She is very narrow, sometimes, but she is truly high. Honor to Margaret, and more and more good speed to her."

At a later day he sums up his impressions of her in this wise:--

"Such a predetermination to eat this big Universe as her oyster or her egg, and to be absolute empress of all height and glory in it that her heart could conceive, I have not before seen in any human soul. Her 'mountain me,'[B] indeed; but her courage, too, is high and clear, her chivalrous n.o.bleness _a toute epreuve_."

Margaret's high estimate of Mazzini will be justified by those who knew him or knew of him:--

"Mazzini, one of these n.o.ble refugees, is not only one of the heroic, the courageous, and the faithful,--Italy boasts many such,--but he is also one of the wise,--one of those who, disappointed in the outward results of their undertakings, can yet 'bate no jot of heart and hope,'

but must 'steer right onward.' For it was no superficial enthusiasm, no impatient energies, that impelled him, but an understanding of what must be the designs of Heaven with regard to man, since G.o.d is Love, is Justice. He is one of those beings who, measuring all things by the ideal standard, have yet no time to mourn over failure or imperfection; there is too much to be done to obviate it."

She finds in his papers, published in the "People's Journal," "the purity of impulse, largeness and steadiness of view, and fineness of discrimination which must belong to a legislator for a _Christian_ commonwealth."

Much as Margaret admired the n.o.ble sentiments expressed in Mazzini's writings, she admired still more the love and wisdom which led the eminent patriot to found, with others, the school for poor Italian boys already spoken of. More Christ-like did she deem this labor than aught that he could have said or sung.

"As among the fishermen and poor people of Judaea were picked up those who have become to modern Europe a leaven that leavens the whole ma.s.s, so may these poor Italian boys yet become more efficacious as missionaries to their people than would an Orphic poet at this period."

At the distribution of prizes to the school, in which Mazzini and Mariotti took part, some of the Polish exiles also being present, she seemed to see "a planting of the kingdom of Heaven."

Margaret saw a good deal of James Garth Wilkinson, who later became prominent as the author of the work ent.i.tled "The Human Body in its Relation to the Const.i.tution of Man." She found in him "a sane, strong, and well-exercised mind, but in the last degree unpoetical in its structure." Dr. Wilkinson published, years after this time, a volume of verses which amply sustains this judgment.

"Browning," she writes, "has just married Miss Barrett, and gone to Italy. I may meet them there." Hoping for a much longer visit at some future time, and bewildered, as she says, both by the treasures which she had found, and those which she had not had opportunity to explore, Margaret left London for its social and aesthetic ant.i.thesis, Paris.

CHAPTER XI.

PARIS.--MARGARET'S RECEPTION THERE.--GEORGE SAND.--CHOPIN.--RACHEL.--LAMENNAIS.--BeRANGER.--CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES.--BERRYER.--BALL AT THE TUILERIES.--ITALIAN OPERA.--ALEXANDRE VATTEMARE.--SCHOOLS AND REFORMATORIES.--JOURNEY TO Ma.r.s.eILLES.--GENOA.--LEGHORN.--NAPLES.--ROME.

If the aspect of London society has changed greatly since Margaret's visit there in 1846, the Paris which she saw that winter may be said to exist no longer, so completely is its physiognomy transformed by the events of the last thirty-seven years. Like London, Paris had then some gems of the first water, to which nothing in the present day corresponds. Rachel was then queen of its tragic stage, George Sand supreme in its literary domain. De Balzac, Eugene Sue, Dumas _pere_, and Beranger then lived and moved among admiring friends. Victor Hugo was in early middle age. Guizot was in his full prestige, literary and administrative. Liszt and Chopin held the opposite poles of the musical world, and wielded, the one its most intense, the other its broadest power. The civilized world then looked to Paris for the precious traditions of good taste, and the city deserved this deference as it does not now.

The sense of security which then prevailed in the French capital was indeed illusory. The stable basis of things was already undermined by the dangerous action of theories and of thinkers. Louis Philippe was unconsciously nearing the abrupt close of his reign. A new chaos was imminent, and one out of which was to come, first a heroic uprising, and then a despotism so monstrous and mischievous as to foredoom itself, a caricature of military empire which for a time cheated Europe, and in the end died of the emptiness of its own corruption.

Into this Paris Margaret came, not unannounced. Her essay on American Literature, which had recently appeared in her volume ent.i.tled "Papers on Literature and Art," had already been translated into French, and printed in the "Revue Independante." The same periodical soon after published a notice of "Woman in the Nineteenth Century." Margaret enjoyed the comfortable aspect of the apartment which she occupied with her travelling-companions at Hotel Rougemont, Boulevard Poissoniere. She mentions the clock, mirror, curtained bed, and small wood-fire which were then, and are to-day, so costly to the transient occupant.

Though at first not familiar with the sound of the French language, she soon had some pleasant acquaintances, and was not long in finding her way to the literary and social eminences who were prepared to receive her as their peer.

First among these she mentions George Sand, to whom she wrote a letter, calling afterwards at her house. Her name was not rightly reported by the peasant woman who opened the door, and Margaret, waiting for admittance, heard at first the discouraging words, "Madame says she does not know you." She stopped to send a message regarding the letter she had written, and as she spoke, Madame Sand opened the door and stood looking at her for a moment.

"Our eyes met. I shall never forget her look at that moment. The doorway made a frame for her figure. She is large, but well formed. She was dressed in a robe of dark violet silk, with a black mantle on her shoulders, her beautiful hair dressed with the greatest taste, her whole appearance and att.i.tude, in its simple and lady-like dignity, presenting an almost ludicrous contrast to the vulgar caricature idea of George Sand. Her face is a very little like the portraits, but much finer. The upper part of the forehead and eyes are beautiful, the lower strong and masculine, expressive of a hardy temperament and strong pa.s.sions, but not in the least coa.r.s.e, the complexion olive, and the air of the whole head Spanish." This striking apparition was further commended in Margaret's eyes by "the expression of goodness, n.o.bleness, and power"

that characterized the countenance of the great French-woman.

Madame Sand said, "C'est vous," and offered her hand to Margaret, who, taking it, answered, "Il me fait du bien de vous voir" ("It does me good to see you"). They went into the study. Madame Sand spoke of Margaret's letter as _charmante_, and the two ladies then talked on for hours, as if they had always known each other. Madame Sand had at that moment a work in the press, and was hurried for copy, and beset by friends and visitors. She kept all these at a distance, saying to Margaret: "It is better to throw things aside, and seize the present moment." Margaret gives this _resume_ of the interview: "We did not talk at all of personal or private matters. I saw, as one sees in her writings, the want of an independent, interior life, but I did not feel it as a fault.

I heartily enjoyed the sense of so rich, so prolific, so ardent a genius. I liked the woman in her, too, very much; I never liked a woman better."

To complete the portrait, Margaret mentions the cigarette, which her new friend did not relinquish during the interview. The impression received as to character did not materially differ from that already made by her writings. In seeing her, Margaret was not led to believe that all her mistakes were chargeable upon the unsettled condition of modern society.

Yet she felt not the less convinced of the generosity and n.o.bleness of her nature. "There may have been something of the Bacchante in her life," says Margaret, some reverting to the wild ecstasies of heathen nature-wors.h.i.+p, "but she was never coa.r.s.e, never gross."

Margaret saw Madame Sand a second time, surrounded by her friends, and with her daughter, who was then on the eve of her marriage with the sculptor Clesinger. In this _entourage_ she had "the position of an intellectual woman and good friend; the same as my own," says Margaret, "in the circle of my acquaintance as distinguished from my intimates."

Beneath the same roof Margaret found Chopin, "always ill, and as frail as a snow-drop, but an exquisite genius. He played to me, and I liked his talking scarcely less." The Polish poet, Mickiewicz, said to her, "Chopin gives us the Ariel view of the universe."

Margaret had done her best while in London to see what the English stage had to offer. The result had greatly disappointed her. In France she found the theatre living, and found also a public which would not have tolerated "one touch of that stage-strut and vulgar bombast of tone which the English actor fancies indispensable to scenic illusion."

In Paris she says that she saw, for the first time, "something represented in a style uniformly good." Besides this general excellence, which is still aimed at in the best theatres of the Continent, the Parisian stage had then a star of the first magnitude, whose splendor was without an equal, and whose setting brought no successor. In the supreme domain of tragic art, Rachel then reigned, an undisputed queen.

Like George Sand, her brilliant front was obscured by the cloud of doubt which rested upon her private character,--a matter of which even the most dissolute age will take note, after its fas.h.i.+on. And yet the charmed barrier of the footlights surrounded her with a flame of mystery. Whatever was known or surmised of her elsewhere, within those limits she appeared as the living impersonation of beauty, grace, and power. For Rachel had, at this time, no public sorrow. How it might fare with her and her lovers little concerned the crowds who gathered nightly, drawn by the lightnings of her eye, the melodious thunder of her voice. Ten years later, a new favorite, her rival but not her equal, came to win the heart of her Paris from her. Then Rachel, grieved and angry, knew the vanity of all human dependence. She crossed the ocean, and gave the New World a new delight. But in spite of its laurels and applause, she sickened (Margaret had said she could not live long), and fled far, far eastward, to hear in ancient Egypt the death-psalms of her people. With a smile, the last change of that expressive countenance, its lovely light expired.

Of the woman, Margaret says nothing. Of the artist, she says that she found her worthy of Greece, and fit to be made immortal in its marble.

She did not, it is true, find in her the most tender pathos, nor yet the sublime of sweetness:--

"Her range, even in high tragedy, is limited. Her n.o.blest aspect is when sometimes she expresses truth in some severe shape, and rises, simple and austere, above the mixed elements around her." Had Margaret seen her in "Les Horaces"? One would think so.

"On the dark side, she is very great in hatred and revenge. I admired her more in Phedre than in any other part in which I saw her. The guilty love inspired by the hatred of a G.o.ddess was expressed with a force and terrible naturalness that almost suffocated the beholder."

Margaret had heard much about the power which Rachel could throw into a single look, and speaks of it as indeed magnificent. Yet she admired most in her "the grandeur, truth, and depth of her conception of each part, and the sustained purity with which she represented it."

In seeing other notabilities, Margaret was indeed fortunate. She went one day to call upon Lamennais, to whom she brought a letter of introduction. To her disappointment, she found him not alone. But the "citizen-looking, vivacious, elderly man," whom she was at first sorry to see with him, turned out to be the poet Beranger, and Margaret says that she was "very happy in that little study, in presence of these two men whose influence has been so great, so real." It was indeed a very white stone that hit two such birds at one throw.

Margaret heard a lecture from Arago, and was not disappointed in him.

"Clear, rapid, full, and equal was this discourse, and worthy of the master's celebrity."

The Chamber of Deputies was in those days much occupied with the Spanish Marriage, as it was called. This was the intended betrothal of the Queen of Spain's sister to the Duc de Montpensier, youngest son of the then reigning King of the French, Louis Philippe. Guizot and Thiers were both heard on this matter, but Margaret heard only M. Berryer, then considered the most eloquent speaker of the House. His oratory appeared to her, "indeed, very good; not logical, but plausible, with occasional bursts of flame and showers of sparks." While admiring him, Margaret thinks that her own country possesses public speakers of more force, and of equal polish.

At a presentation and ball at the Tuileries Margaret was much struck with the elegance and grace of the Parisian ladies of high society. The Queen made the circuit of state, with the youthful d.u.c.h.ess, the cause of so much disturbance, hanging on her arm. Margaret found here some of her own country women, conspicuous for their beauty. The uniforms and decorations of the gentlemen contrasted favorably, in her view, with the sombre, black-coated ma.s.ses of men seen in circles at home.

"Among the crowd wandered Leverrier, in the costume of an Academician, looking as if he had lost, not found, his planet. He seemed not to find it easy to exchange the music of the spheres for the music of fiddles."

The Italian Opera in Paris fell far short of Margaret's antic.i.p.ations.

So curtly does she judge it, that one wonders whether she expected to find it a true Parna.s.sus, dedicated to the ideal expression of the most delicate and lofty sentiment. Grisi appeared to her coa.r.s.e and shallow, Persiani mechanical and meretricious, Mario devoid of power. Lablache alone satisfied her.

These judgments show something of the weakness of off-hand criticism. In the world of art, the critic who wishes to teach, must first be taught of the artist. He must be very sure that he knows what a work of art is before he carps at what it is not. Relying on her own great intelligence, and on her love of beautiful things, Margaret expected, perhaps, to understand too easily the merits and defects of what she saw and heard.

In Paris Margaret met Alexandre Vattemare, intent upon his project of the exchange of superfluous books and doc.u.ments between the public libraries of different countries. Busy as he was, he found time to be of service to her, and it was through his efforts that she was enabled to visit the Imprimerie Royale and the Mint. He also induced the Librarian of the Chamber of Deputies to show her the ma.n.u.scripts of Rousseau, which she found "just as he has celebrated them, written on fine white paper, tied with ribbon. Yellow and faded, age has made them," says Margaret; "yet at their touch I seemed to feel the fire of youth, immortally glowing, more and more expansive, with which his soul has pervaded this century."

M. Vattemare introduced Margaret to one of the evening schools of the Freres Chretiens, where she saw with pleasure how much can be accomplished for the working cla.s.ses by evening lessons.

"Visions arose in my mind of all that might be done in our country by a.s.sociations of men and women who have received the benefits of literary culture, giving such evening lessons throughout our cities and villages." Margaret wishes, however, that such disinterested effort in our own country should not be accompanied by the priestly robe and manner which for her marred the humanity of the Christian Brotherhood of Paris.

The establishment of the Protestant Deaconesses is praised by Margaret.

She visited also the School for Idiots, near Paris, where her feelings vented themselves in "a shower of sweet and bitter tears; of joy at what has been done, of grief for all that I and others possess, and cannot impart to these little ones." She was much impressed with the character of the master of the school, a man of seven or eight and twenty years, whose fine countenance she saw "looking in love on those distorted and opaque vases of humanity."

Turning her face southward, she thus takes leave of the great capital:--

"Paris! I was sad to leave thee, thou wonderful focus, where ignorance ceases to be a pain, because there we find such means daily to lessen it."

Railroads were few in the France of forty years ago. Margaret came by diligence and boat to Lyons, to Avignon, where she waded through the snow to visit the tomb of Laura, and to Ma.r.s.eilles, where she embarked for Genoa. Her first sight of this city did not disappoint her, but to her surprise, she found the weather cold and ungenial:--