led until she escaped from her
egotism and self-consciousness, and from the pale New England life and
movement, to find a larger existence in her Italian lover and husband,
and their child. And then she died.

The affectionate admiration which she aroused in her friends has found
expression in three notable biographies: 'Memoirs of Margaret Fuller
Ossoli,' by her brother; 'Margaret Fuller Ossoli,' by Thomas Wentworth
Higginson ('American Men of Letters Series'); and 'Margaret Fuller
(Marchesa Ossoli)' by Julia Ward Howe ('Eminent Women Series').

GEORGE SAND

TO ELIZABETH HOAR

From 'Memoirs': Paris, ----, 1847

You wished to hear of George Sand, or as they say in Paris, "Madame
Sand." I find that all we had heard of her was true in the outline; I
had supposed it might be exaggerated....

It is the custom to go and call on those to whom you bring letters,
and push yourself upon their notice; thus you must go quite ignorant
whether they are disposed to be cordial. My name is always murdered by
the foreign servants who announce me. I speak very bad French; only
lately have I had sufficient command of it to infuse some of my
natural spirit in my discourse. This has been a great trial to me, who
am eloquent and free in my own tongue, to be forced to feel my
thoughts struggling in vain for utterance.

The servant who admitted me was in the picturesque costume of a
peasant, and as Madame Sand afterwards told me, her goddaughter, whom
she had brought from her province. She announced me as "Madame
Salere," and returned into the ante-room to tell me, "Madame says she
does not know you." I began to think I was doomed to rebuff among the
crowd who deserve it. However, to make assurance sure, I said, "Ask if
she has received a letter from me." As I spoke Madame Sand opened the
door, and stood looking at me an instant. Our eyes met. I never shall
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
attitude, in its simple and ladylike dignity, presented 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 a