reat men, whether because of wisdom, poesy, warlike
achievements, or of wealth and station, they seek to take by the
hand and in some degree to know; at least to note their appearance,
demeanor, and mode of life. Writers belonging to this class of
travellers are not to be undervalued; returning home, they can give
much useful information, and tell much which all wish to hear and
know, though, as their narratives are chiefly circumstantial, and
every year circumstances change, such recitals lessen constantly in
value.

But there is a third class of those who journey, who see indeed the
outward, and observe it well. They, too, seek localities where Art and
Genius dwell, or have painted on canvas or sculptured in marble their
memorials; they become acquainted with the people, both famed and
obscure, of the lands which they visit and in which for a time they
abide; their hearts throb as they stand on places where great deeds
have been done, with whose dust perhaps is mingled the sacred ashes
of men who fell in the warfare for truth and freedom,--a warfare begun
early in the world's history, and not yet ended. But they do much
_more_ than this. There is, though in a different sense from what
ancient Pagans fancied, a genius or guardian spirit of each scene,
each stream and lake and country, and this spirit is ever speaking,
but in a tone which only the attent ear of the noble and gifted
can hear, and in a language which such minds and hearts only can
understand. With vision which needs no miracle to make it prophetic,
they see the destinies which nations are all-unconsciously shaping
for themselves, and note the deep meaning of passing events which only
make others wonder. Beneath the mask of mere externals, their eyes
discern the character of those whom they meet, and, refusing to accept
popular judgment in place of truth, they see often the real relation
which men bear to their race and age, and observe the facts by which
to determine whether such men are great only because of circumstances,
or by the irresistible power of their own minds. When such narrate
their journeyings, we have what is valuable not for a few years only,
but, because of its philosophic and suggestive spirit, what must
always be useful.

The reader of the following pages, it is believed, will decide that
Margaret Fuller deserves to rank with the latter class of travellers,
while not neglectful of those details which it is well to learn and
remember.