erations of plants which went with her from place to place, adhering to her fortunes, in the words of her son, “like the tenantry of a feudal lord.” One family of lilies was thus perpetuated for a quarter of a century, and was bequeathed to her children. She wrote once to her daughter, “One must have grown up with flowers and found joy and sweetness in them, amidst disagreeable occupations, to take delight in them as I do. They have long had power to bring me into harmony with the Creator, and to soothe almost any irritation.” In accordance with this, the mother seems to have naturally suggested to the daughter some flower-like symbol. Margaret Fuller writes to her brother, “We cannot be sufficiently grateful for our mother — so fair a blossom of the white amaranth — truly to us a mother in this, that we can venerate her piety. Our relations to her have known no jar. Nothing vulgar has sullied them; and in this respect life has been truly domesticated.” When we remember that she of whom this was written was no feudal lady, “flower-like and delicate” like Browning’s Duchess; but a faithful and laborious New England matron, able and willing to perform for her large household the humblest services, we can see the value of this tribute, and the treasure of this inheritance.
Such were the father and mother, such the ancestry, of Margaret Fuller. We shall see, as we go on, the traces of their inherited qualities pervading her life.
