ust be a change only one degree more important than going to sleep; for what the mind wants to develop it, it must have, here or elsewhere.
A death from love would be perfectly natural.
Reasons why there are no good monuments?
I must write upon this subject.
Fuller Mss. i. 429
She had fancies, as Mr. Emerson tells us, about days and precious stones and talismans; and in one of her letters I find these reveries about proper names:--
It pleases that Raphael and Michael Angelo should have received the archangelic names; it seems inspiration in the parents.
So that Swedenborg should bear the name of Emanuel, and Kant, too. The name of Beethoven's mother does not seem without meaning.
In writing yesterday, I observed the names of Mary and Elizabeth meeting again in the two queens with some pleasure.
William is the Conqueror.
Perhaps it is from such association that I thought from earliest childhood I could never love one that bore another name; I am glad it
ted; they would save me money in order that they may get it for themselves.
Yet I try to keep the peace with them; there are bad people everywhere, and these, so interested and vulgar, are at least not treacherous like Giuditta.
[It illustrates the kind of people among whom Madame Ossoli was at this time living, that this Ser Giovanni, who was her scribe in illness and the one person who was good to her, was all the time amusing himself with the effort to seduce Angelo's nurse, who was, according to another letter, the loveliest young woman in the village, and whose beauty was to Madame Ossoli a source of constant anxiety, in view of the neighborhood of Garibaldi's half-brigand troops, and those from Naples who were worse.
It was amid such solicitudes and vexations that an inexperienced and exhausted mother had to struggle for life in behalf of her baby and herself.]
From Madame Ossoli. Rieti, Tuesday, 26th September, 1848.
Now we begin to be really
and was buried beneath the waves in tie harbor of Gibraltar.
There they were detained a week by adverse winds, setting sail again June 9. Two days after, little Angelo was also attacked with smallpox, and was restored with difficulty.
At noon of July 18 they were off the coast of New Jersey; the weather was thick, the officer ilittle plank like that from which Mrs. Hasty, ere landing, had been twice washed off. So at least it may well have seemed to those on board.
All we know is that Angelo was in the steward's arms to be taken on shore, when the deck was swept away; and that, by Mrs. Hasty's account, the sailors had just persuaded her [Madame Ossolitreasures reached the land,--the beautiful body of her child, and a trunk holding the letters that had passed between herself and her husband.
The body of little Angelo was placed in a seaman's chest, while his rough playmates stood tearfully around, and was afterwards buried among the sand-hills; to be at last disinterred and br