The high-minded friend, spoken of with such grateful affection by
Margaret, in her letter to her mother, thus gracefully narrates the
romance of her marriage; and the narrative is a noble proof of the
heroic disinterestedness with which, amidst her own engrossing trials,
Margaret devoted herself to others. Mrs. Story writes as follows:--
"During the month of November, 1847, we arrived in Rome,
purposing to spend the winter there. At that time, Margaret
was living in the house of the Marchesa ----, in the Corso,
_Ultimo Piano_. Her rooms were pleasant and cheerful, with
a certain air of elegance and refinement, but they had not
a sunny exposure, that all-essential requisite for health,
during the damp Roman winter. Margaret suffered from ill
health this winter, and she afterwards attributed it mainly
to the fact, that she had not the sun. As soon as she heard of
our arrival, she stretched forth a friendly, cordial hand, and
greeted us most warmly. She gave us great assistance in our
search for convenient lodgings, and we were soon happily
established near her. Our intercourse was henceforth most
frequent and intimate, and knew no cloud nor coldness. Daily
we were much with her, and daily we felt more sensible of the
worth and value of our friend. To me she seemed so unlike what
I had thought her to be in America, that I continually said,
'How have I misjudged you,--you are not at all such a person
as I took you to be.' To this she replied, 'I am not the
same person, but in many respects another;--my life has new
channels now, and how thankful I am that I have been able to
come out into larger interests,--but, partly, you did not know
me at home in the true light.' It was true, that I had not
known her much personally, when in Boston; but through her
friends, who were mine also, I had learned to think of her
as a person on intellectual stilts, with a large share of
arrogance, and little sweetness of temper. How unlike to
this was she now!--so delicate, so simple, confiding, and
affectionate; with a true womanly heart and soul, sensitive
and generous, and, what was to me a still greater surprise,
possessed of so broad a charity, that she could cover with its
mantle the faults and defects of all about her.
"We soon became acquainted with the young Marquis Ossoli, and
met him frequently at Margaret's rooms. He appeared to be of
a reserved and gentle nature, with quiet, gentleman-like
manners, and there was something melancholy in the expression
of his face, which made one desire to know more of him. In
figure, he was tall, and of slender frame, with dark hair
and eyes; we judged that he was about thirty years of age,
possibly younger. Margaret spoke of him most frankly, and soon
told us the history of her first acquaintance with him, which,
as nearly as I can recall, was as follows:--
"She went to hear vespers, the evening of 'Holy Thursday,'
soon after her first coming to Rome, in the spring of 1847, at
St. Peter's. She proposed to her companions that some place
in the church should be designated, where, after the services,
they should meet,--she being inclined, as was her custom
always in St. Peter's, to wander alone among the different
chapels. When, at length, she saw that the crowd was
dispersing, she returned to the place assigned, but could not
find her party. In some perplexity, she walked about, with her
glass carefully examining each group. Presently, a young man
of gentlemanly address came up to her, and begged, if she were
seeking any one, that he might be permitted to assist her; and
together they continued the search through all parts of the
church. At last, it became evident, beyond a doubt, that her
party could no longer be there, and, as it was then quite
late, the crowd all gone, they went out into the piazza to
find a carriage, in which she might go home. In the piazza, in
front of St. Peter's, generally may be found many carriages;
but, owing to the delay they had made, there were then none,
and Margaret was compelled to walk, with her stranger friend,
the long distance between the Vatican and the Corso. At
this time, she had little command of the language for
conversational purposes, and their words were few, though
enough to create in each a desire for further knowledge and
acquaintance. At her door, they parted, and Margaret, finding
her friends already at home, related the adventure."
This chance meeting at vesper service in St. Peter's prepared the
way for many interviews; and it was before Margaret's departure for
Venice, Milan, and Como, that Ossoli first offered her his hand, and
was refused. Mrs. Story continues:--
"After her return to Rome, they met again, and he became her
constant visitor; and as, in those days, Margaret watched with
intense interest the tide of political events, his mind was
also turned in the direction of liberty and better government.
Whether Ossoli, unassisted, would have been able to emancipate
himself from the influence of his family and early education,
both eminently conservative and narrow, may be a question; but
that he did throw off the shackles, and espouse the cause of
Roman liberty with warm zeal, is most certain. Margaret had
known Mazzini in London, had partaken of his schemes for the
future of his country, and was taking every pains to inform
herself in regard to the action of all parties, with a view
to write a history of the period. Ossoli brought her every
intelligence that might be of interest to her, and busied
himself in learning the views of both parties, that she might
be able to judge the matter impartially.
"Here I may say, that, in the estimation of most of those who
were in Italy at this time, the loss of Margaret's history
and notes is a great and irreparable one. No one could have
possessed so many avenues of direct information from both
sides. While she was the friend and correspondent of Mazzini,
and knew the springs of action of his party; through her
husband's family and connections, she knew the other view; so
that, whatever might be the value of her deductions, her facts
could not have been other than of highest worth. Together,
Margaret and Ossoli went to the meetings of either side; and
to her he carried all the flying reports of the day, such as
he had heard in the café, or through his friends.
"In a short time, we went to Naples, and Margaret, in the
course of a few months, to Aquila and Rieti. Meanwhile, we
heard from her often by letter, and wrote to urge her to join
us in our villa at Sorrento. During this summer, she wrote
constantly upon her history of the Italian movement, for which
she had collected materials through the past winter. We did
not again meet, until the following spring, March, 1849, when
we went from Florence back to Rome. Once more we were with
her, then, in most familiar every-day intercourse, and as at
this time a change of government had taken place,--the Pope
having gone to Molo di Gaeta.--we watched with her the great
movements of the day. Ossoli was now actively interested on
the liberal side; he was holding the office of captain in the
_Guardia Civica_, and enthusiastically looking forward to the
success of the new measures.
"During the spring of 1849, Mazzini came to Rome. He went at
once to see Margaret, and at her rooms met Ossoli. After this
interview with Mazzini, it was quite evident that they had
lost something of the faith and hopeful certainty with which
they had regarded the issue, for Mazzini had discovered
the want of singleness of purpose in the leaders of the
Provisional Government. Still zealously Margaret and Ossoli
aided in everything the progress of events; and when it was
certain that the French had landed forces at Civita Vecchia,
and would attack Rome, Ossoli took station with his men on the
walls of the Vatican gardens, where he remained faithfully
to the end of the attack. Margaret had, at the same time, the
entire charge of one of the hospitals, and was the assistant
of the Princess Belgioioso, in charge of '_dei Pellegrini_,'
where, during the first day, they received seventy wounded
men, French and Romans.
"Night and day, Margaret was occupied, and, with the princess,
so ordered and disposed the hospitals, that their conduct was
truly admirable. All the work was skilfully divided, so
that there was no confusion or hurry and, from the chaotic
condition in which these places had been left by the
priests,--who previously had charge of them,--they brought
them to a state of perfect regularity and discipline. Of money
they had very little, and they were obliged to give their time
and thoughts, in its place. From the Americans in Rome, they
raised a subscription for the aid of the wounded of either
party; but, besides this, they had scarcely any means to use.
I have walked through the wards with Margaret, and seen how
comforting was her presence to the poor suffering men. 'How
long will the Signora stay?' 'When will the Signora come
again?' they eagerly asked. For each one's peculiar tastes she
had a care: to one she carried books; to another she told the
news of the day; and listened to another's oft-repeated tale
of wrongs, as the best sympathy she could give. They raised
themselves up on their elbows, to get the last glimpse of her
as she was going away. There were some of the sturdy fellows
of Garibaldi's Legion there, and to them she listened, as they
spoke with delight of their chief, of his courage and
skill; for he seemed to have won the hearts of his men in a
remarkable manner.
"One incident I may as well narrate in this connection. It
happened, that, some time before the coming of the French,
while Margaret was travelling quite by herself, on her
return from a visit to her child, who was out at nurse in the
country, she rested for an hour or two at a little wayside
_osteria_. While there, she was startled by the _padrone_,
who, with great alarm, rushed into the room, and said, 'We
are quite lost! here is the Legion Garibaldi! These men always
pillage, and, if we do not give all up to them without pay,
they will kill us.' Margaret looked out upon the road, and
saw that it was quite true, that the legion was coming
thither with all speed. For a moment, she said, she felt
uncomfortably; for such was the exaggerated account of the
conduct of the men, that she thought it quite possible that
they would take her horses, and so leave her without the means
of proceeding on her journey. On they came, and she determined
to offer them a lunch at her own expense; having faith that
gentleness and courtesy was the best protection from injury.
Accordingly, as soon as they arrived, and rushed boisterously
into the _osteria_, she rose, and said to the _padrone_, 'Give
these good men wine and bread on my account; for, after their
ride, they must need refreshment.' Immediately, the noise and
confusion subsided; with respectful bows to her, they seated
themselves and partook of the lunch, giving her an account of
their journey. When she was ready to go, and her _vettura_ was
at the door, they waited upon her, took down the steps,
and assisted her with much gentleness and respectfulness of
manner, and she drove off, wondering how men with such natures
could have the reputation they had. And, so far as we could
gather, except in this instance, their conduct was of a most
disorderly kind.
"Again, on another occasion, she showed how great was her
power over rude men. This was when two _contadini_ at Rieti,
being in a violent quarrel, had rushed upon each other with
knives. Margaret was called by the women bystanders, as the
Signora who could most influence them to peace. She went
directly up to the men, whose rage was truly awful to behold,
and, stepping between them, commanded them to separate. They
parted, but with such a look of deadly revenge, that Margaret
felt her work was but half accomplished. She therefore sought
them out separately, and talked with each, urging forgiveness;
it was long, however, before she could see any change of
purpose, and only by repeated conversations was it, that she
brought about her desire, and saw them meet as friends. After
this, her reputation as peace-maker was great, and the women
in the neighborhood came to her with long tales of trouble,
urging her intervention. I have never known anything more
extraordinary than this influence of hers over the passion and
violence of the Italian character. Repeated instances come
to my mind, when a look from her has had more power to quiet
excitement, than any arguments and reasonings that could be
brought to bear upon the subject. Something quite superior and
apart from them, the people thought her, and yet knew her as
the gentle and considerate judge of their vices.
"I may also mention here, that Margaret's charities, according
to her means, were larger than those of any other whom I ever
knew. At one time, in Rome, while she lived upon the simplest,
slenderest fare, spending only some ten or twelve cents a day
for her dinner, she lent, unsolicited, her last fifty dollars
to an artist, who was then in need. That it would ever be
returned to her, she did not know; but the doubt did not
restrain the hand from giving. In this instance, it was soon
repaid her; but her charities were not always towards the most
deserving. Repeated instances of the false pretences, under
which demands for charity are made, were known to her after
she had given to unworthy objects; but no experience of this
sort ever checked her kindly impulse to give, and being once
deceived taught her no lesson of distrust. She ever listened
with ready ear to all who came to her in any form of distress.
Indeed, to use the language of another friend, 'the prevalent
impression at Rome, among all who knew her, was, that she was
a mild saint and a ministering angel.'
"I have, in order to bring in these instances of her influence
on those about her, deviated from my track. We return to the
life she led in Rome during the attack of the French, and her
charge of the hospitals, where she spent daily some seven or
eight hours, and, often, the entire night. Her feeble frame
was a good deal shaken by so uncommon a demand upon her
strength, while, at the same time, the anxiety of her mind was
intense. I well remember how exhausted and weary she was;
how pale and agitated she returned to us after her day's and
night's watching; how eagerly she asked for news of Ossoli,
and how seldom we had any to give her, for he was unable to
send her a word for two or three days at a time. Letters
from the country there were few or none, as the communication
between Rieti and Rome was cut off.
"After one such day, she called me to her bedside, and said
that I must consent, for her sake, to keep the SECRET she was
about to confide. Then she told me of her marriage; where her
child was, and where he was born; and gave me certain papers
and parchment documents which I was to keep; and, in the event
of her and her husband's death, I was to take the boy to her
mother in America, and confide him to her care, and that of
her friend, Mrs. ----.
"The papers thus given me, I had perfect liberty to read; but
after she had told me her story, I desired no confirmation of
this fact, beyond what her words had given. One or two of the
papers she opened, and we together read them. One was written
on parchment, in Latin, and was a certificate, given by the
priest who married them, saying that Angelo Eugene Ossoli was
the legal heir of whatever title and fortune should come to
his father. To this was affixed his seal, with those of the
other witnesses, and the Ossoli crest was drawn in full
upon the paper. There was also a book, in which Margaret had
written the history of her acquaintance and marriage with
Ossoli, and of the birth of her child. In giving that to
me, she said, 'If I do not survive to tell this myself to my
family, this book will be to them invaluable. Therefore keep
it for them. If I live, it will be of no use, for my word will
be all that they will ask.' I took the papers, and locked them
up. Never feeling any desire to look into them, I never did;
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 still existed, for her keeping her marriage
a secret. At the time, I argued in favor of her making it
public, but subsequent events have shown me the wisdom of her
decision. The _explanation_ she gave me of the secret marriage
was this:
"They were married in December, soon after,--as I think,
though I am not positive,--the death of the old Marquis
Ossoli. The estate he had left was undivided, and the two
brothers, attached to the Papal household, were to be the
executors. This patrimony was not large, but, when fairly
divided, would bring to each a little property,--an income
sufficient, with economy, for life in Rome. Everyone knows,
that law is subject to ecclesiastical influence in Rome, and
that marriage with a Protestant would be destructive to all
prospects of favorable administration. And beside being
of another religious faith, there was, in this case, the
additional crime of having married a liberal,--one who had
publicly interested herself in radical views. Taking the two
facts together, there was good reason to suppose, that, if the
marriage were known, Ossoli must be a beggar, and a banished
man, under the then existing government; while, by waiting a
little, there was a chance,--a fair one, too,--of an honorable
post under the new government, whose formation every one was
anticipating. Leaving Rome, too, at that time, was deserting
the field wherein they might hope to work much good, and where
they felt that they were needed. Ossoli's brothers had
long before begun to look jealously upon him. Knowing his
acquaintance with Margaret, they feared the influence she
might exert over his mind in favor of liberal sentiments, and
had not hesitated to threaten him with the Papal displeasure.
Ossoli's education had been such, that it certainly argues an
uncommon elevation of character, that he remained so firm and
single in his political views, and was so indifferent to the
pecuniary advantages which his former position offered, since,
during many years, the Ossoli family had been high in favor
and in office, in Rome, and the same vista opened for his own
future, had he chosen to follow their lead. The Pope left
for Molo di Gaeta, and then came a suspension of all legal
procedure, so that the estate was never divided, before we
left Italy, and I do not know that it has ever been.
"Ossoli had the feeling, that, while his own sister and family
could not be informed of his marriage, no others should know
of it; and from day to day they hoped on for the favorable
change which should enable them to declare it. Their child was
born; and, for his sake, in order to defend him, as Margaret
said, from the stings of poverty, they were patient waiters
for the restored law of the land. Margaret felt that she
would, at any cost to herself, gladly secure for her child a
condition above want; and, although it was a severe trial,--as
her letters to us attest,--she resolved to wait, and hope,
and keep her secret. At the time when she took me into her
confidence, she was so full of anxiety and dread of some
shock, from which she might not recover, that it was
absolutely necessary to make it known to some friend. She
was living with us at the time, and she gave it to me. Most
sacredly, but timidly, did I keep her secret; for, all the
while, I was tormented with a desire to be of active service
to her, and I was incapacitated from any action by the
position in which I was placed.
"Ossoli's post was one of considerable danger, he being in one
of the most exposed places; and, as Margaret saw his wounded
and dying comrades, she felt that another shot might take him
from her, or bring him to her care in the hospital. Eagerly
she watched the carts, as they came up with their suffering
loads, dreading that her worst fears might be confirmed. No
argument of ours could persuade Ossoli to leave his post to
take food or rest. Sometimes we went to him, and carried a
concealed basket of provisions, but he shared it with so many
of his fellows, that his own portion must have been almost
nothing. Haggard, worn, and pale, he walked over the Vatican
grounds with us, pointing out, now here, now there, where some
poor fellow's blood sprinkled the wall; Margaret was with us,
and for a few moments they could have an anxious talk about
their child.
"To get to the child, or to send to him, was quite impossible,
and for days they were in complete ignorance about him. At
length, a letter came; and in it the nurse declared that
unless they should immediately send her, in advance-payment, a
certain sum of money, she would altogether abandon Angelo. It
seemed, at first, impossible to forward the money, the road
was so insecure, and the bearer of any parcel was so likely
to be seized by one party or the other, and to be treated as
a spy. But finally, after much consideration, the sum was sent
to the address of a physician, who had been charged with the
care of the child. I think it did reach its destination, and
for a while answered the purpose of keeping the wretched woman
faithful to her charge."