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New York, had decided to make a tour in Europe, with their son, and they invited Miss Fuller to accompany them.
An arrangement was soon made on such terms as she could accept, and the party sailed from Boston in the Cambria, on the first of August.
The following narrative is made up of letters addressed by her to various correspondents.
Some extracts, describing distinguished persons whom she saw, have been borrowed from her letters to the New York Tribune.]
to Mrs. Margaret Fuller. Liverpool, Aug. 16, 1846.
My dear Mother:—
The last two days at sea passed well enough, as a number of agreeable persons were introduced to me, and there were several whom I knew before.
I enjoyed nothing on the sea; the excessively bracing air so affected me that I could not bear to look at it. The sight of land delighted me. The tall crags, with their breakers and circling sea-birds; then the green fields, how glad!
We had a very fine day to come ashore, and made the shortest passage ever
tisfied to fly through Italy; and shall, therefore, leaving my companions in Switzerland, take a servant to accompany me, and return hither, and hence to Rome for t, Oct., 1847.—Leaving Milan, I went on the Lago Maggiore, and afterward into Switzerland.
Of this tour I shall not speak here; it was a little romance by itself.
Returning from Switzerland, I passed a fortnight on the Lake of Como, and afterward visited Lugano.
There is no exaggeration in the enthusiastic feeling with whichfertile plains of Lombardy, seen the lakes Garda and Maggiore, and a part of Switzerland, alone, except for occasional episodes of companionship, sometimes romantic an do but little.
to C. S.
Rome, Jan. 12, 1848.—My time in Lombardy and Switzerland was a series of beautiful pictures, dramatic episodes, not without some origid; and as she gave them to me, I returned them to her, when I left Rome for Switzerland.
After this, she often spoke to me of the necessity there had been, and s
sent him your poems, and asked him to come and see me. He came, and I found in him the man I had long wished to see, with the intellect and passions in due proportion for a full and healthy human being, with a soul constantly inspiring.
Unhappily, it was a very short time before I came away.
How much time had I wasted on others which I might have given to this real and important relation.
After hearing music from Chopin and Neukomm, I quitted Paris on the 25th February, and came, via Chalons, Lyons, Avignon, (where I waded through melting snow to Laura's tomb,) Arles, to Marseilles; thence, by steamer, to Genoa, Leghorn, and Pisa.
Seen through a cutting wind, the marble palaces, the gardens, the magnificent water-view of Genoa, failed to charm.
Only at Naples have I found my Italy.
Between Leghorn and Naples, our boat was run into by another, and we only just escaped being drowned.
Rome, May, 1847.—Of the fragments of the great time, I have now seen nearly all t
ne to sleep, during all the weeks I was in London.
I enjoyed the time extremely.
I find myself much in my element in European society.
It does not, indeed, come up to my ideal, but so many of the encumbrances are cleared away that used to weary Methinks I have my part therein, either as actor or historian.
I cannot marvel at your readiness to close the book of European society.
The shifting scenes entertain poorly.
The flux of thought and feeling leaves some fertilizing soil; but for mn the Italian cause to retire with honor or wisdom.
I am here, in a lonely mountain home, writing the narrative of my European experience.
To this I devote great part of the day. Three or four hours I pass in the open air, on donkey or on foot.
rength to say. You can hardly guess how all attempt to express something about the great struggles and experiences of my European life enfeebles me. When I get home,— if ever I do,— it will be told without this fatigue and excitement.
I trust there