Many motives drew Margaret to her native land: heart-weariness at the
reaction in Europe; desire of publishing to best advantage the book
whereby she hoped at once to do justice to great principles and brave
men, and to earn bread for her dear ones and herself; and, above all,
yearning to be again among her family and earliest associates. "I
go back," she writes, "prepared for difficulties; but it will be a
consolation to be with my mother, brothers, sister, and old friends,
and I find it imperatively necessary to be in the United States, for
a while at least, to make such arrangements with the printers as may
free me from immediate care. I did think, at one time, of coming alone
with Angelino, and then writing for Ossoli to come later, or returning
to Italy; knowing that it will be painful for him to go, and that
there he must have many lonely hours. But he is separated from his old
employments and natural companions, while no career is open for him at
present. Then, I would not take his child away for several months; for
his heart is fixed upon him as fervently as mine. And, again, it would
not only be very strange and sad to be so long without his love
and care, but I should be continually solicitous about his welfare.
Ossoli, indeed, cannot but feel solitary at first, and I am much more
anxious about his happiness than my own. Still, he will have our boy,
and the love of my family, especially of my mother, to cheer him, and
quiet communings with nature give him pleasure so simple and profound,
that I hope he will make a new life for himself, in our unknown
country, till changes favor our return to his own. I trust, that we
shall find the means to come together, and to remain together."
Considerations of economy determined them, spite of many misgivings,
to take passage in a merchantman from Leghorn. "I am suffering," she
writes, "as never before, from the horrors of indecision. Happy
the fowls of the air, who do not have to think so much about their
arrangements! The barque _Elizabeth_ will take us, and is said to be
an uncommonly good vessel, nearly new, and well kept. We may be two
months at sea, but to go by way of France would more than double the
expense. Yet, now that I am on the point of deciding to come in her,
people daily dissuade me, saying that I have no conception of what
a voyage of sixty or seventy days will be in point of fatigue
and suffering; that the insecurity, compared with packet-ships or
steamers, is great; that the cabin, being on deck, will be terribly
exposed, in case of a gale, &c., &c. I am well aware of the proneness
of volunteer counsellors to frighten and excite one, and have
generally disregarded them. But this time I feel a trembling
solicitude on account of my child, and am doubtful, harassed, almost
ill." And again, under date of April 21, she says: "I had intended,
if I went by way of France, to take the packet-ship _'Argo_,' from
Havre; and I had requested Mrs. ---- to procure and forward to me some
of my effects left at Paris, in charge of Miss F----, when, taking
up _Galignani_, my eye fell on these words: 'Died, 4th of April, Miss
F----; 'and, turning the page, I read, 'The wreck of the _Argo_,'--a
somewhat singular combination! There were notices, also, of the loss
of the fine English steamer _Adelaide_, and of the American packet
_John Skiddy._ Safety is not to be secured, then, by the wisest
foresight. I shall embark more composedly in our merchant-ship,
praying fervently, indeed, that it may not be my lot to lose my boy
at sea, either by unsolaced illness, or amid the howling waves; or, if
so, that Ossoli, Angelo, and I may go together, and that the anguish
may be brief."
Their state-rooms were taken, their trunks packed, their preparations
finished, they were just leaving Florence, when letters came, which,
had they reached her a week earlier, would probably have induced them
to remain in Italy. But Margaret had already by letter appointed a
rendezvous for the scattered members of her family in July; and she
would not break her engagements with the commander of the barque. It
was destined that they were to sail,--to sail in the _Elizabeth_, to
sail then. And, even in the hour of parting, clouds, whose tops were
golden in the sunshine, whose base was gloomy on the waters, beckoned
them onward. "Beware of the sea," had been a singular prophecy, given
to Ossoli when a boy, by a fortune-teller, and this was the first ship
he had ever set his foot on. More than ordinary apprehensions of risk,
too, hovered before Margaret. "I am absurdly fearful," she writes,
"and various omens have combined to give me a dark feeling. I am
become indeed a miserable coward, for the sake of Angelino. I fear
heat and cold, fear the voyage, fear biting poverty. I hope I shall
not be forced to be as brave for him, as I have been for myself, and
that, if I succeed to rear him, he will be neither a weak nor a bad
man. But I love him too much! In case of mishap, however, I shall
perish with my husband and my child, and we may be transferred to
some happier state." And again: "I feel perfectly willing to stay my
threescore years and ten, if it be thought I need so much tuition from
this planet; but it seems to me that my future upon earth will soon
close. It may be terribly trying, but it will not be so very long,
now. God will transplant the root, if he wills to rear it into
fruit-bearing." And, finally: "I have a vague expectation of some
crisis,--I know not what. But it has long seemed, that, in the year
1850, I should stand on a plateau in the ascent of life, where I
should be allowed to pause for a while, and take more clear and
commanding views than ever before. Yet my life proceeds as regularly
as the fates of a Greek tragedy, and I can but accept the pages as
they turn." * *
* * * * *