an of his day?
I have just had it, and if it is new to you, I recommend it as an agreeable book to read at night just before you go to bed. There is much curious matter concerning Catharine II.'s famous expedition into Taurida, which puts down some of the romantic stories prevalent on that score, but relates more surprising realities.
Also it gives much interesting information about that noble philosopher, Joseph II., and about the Turkish tactics and national character.
Cambridge, Jan. 1830.—You need not fear to revive painful recollections.
I often think of those sad experiences.
True, they agitate me deeply.
But it was best so. They have had a most powerful effect on my character.
I tremble at whatever looks like dissimulation.
The remembrance of that evening subdues every proud, passionate impulse.
My beloved supporter in those sorrowful hours, your image shines as fair to my mind's eye as it did in 1825, when I left you with my heart overflowing with gratitude for your
Perhaps a note written at this time will illustrate the easy and graceful movement of her mind in this superficial kind of intercourse.
March 16th, 1830. Half-past 6, morning.—I have encountered that most common-place of glories, sunrise, (to say naught of being praised and wondered at by every member of the familyy some such blessing as came to us.
Let me give extracts from other notes and letters, written by Margaret, about the same period.
Saturday evening, May 1st, 1830.—The holy moon and merry-toned wind of this night woo to a vigil at the open window; a half-satisfied interest urges me to live, love and perish!
in the noble, wris even before I sent my note, but could not persuade myself to consign an impulse so embodied, to oblivion, from any consideration of expediency. * *
May 4th, 1830.—* * I have greatly wished to see among us such a person of genius as the nineteenth century can afford—i. e., one who has tasted in the morning of existence the
et, Margaret Fuller; for, though young, she was already noted for conversational gifts, and had the rare skill of attracting to her society, not spirited collegians only, but men mature in culture and of established reputation.
It was impossible not to admire her fluency and fun; yet, though curiosity was piqued as to this entertaining personage, I never sought an introduction, but, on the contrary, rather shunned encounter with one so armed from head to foot in saucy sprightliness.
About 1830, however, we often met in the social circles of Cambridge, and I began to observe her more nearly.
At first, her vivacity, decisive tone, downrightness, and contempt of conventional standards, continued to repel.
She appeared too intense in expression, action, emphasis, to be pleasing, and wanting in that retenue which we associate with delicate dignity.
Occasionally, also, words flashed from her of such scathing satire, that prudence counselled the keeping at safe distance from a body so