Margaret and Her Friends

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.