sons in darning stockings, — and there is extant much correspondence which throws light on this. Margaret Fuller fought like a lioness for the proper education of her younger brothers and sisters, and especially for Ellen, whom the uncle would evidently have brought up in old-fashioned feminine ignorance, rather than let a dollar be spent upon her schooling. The elder sister insisted that she should be sent to a suitable school, offering, if necessary, to sacrifice her own share of the family income, or even of the estate itself, for this purpose. Every New England farm-house has been the scene of some touching tale of sisterly devotion, but nowhere more genuine than in that old homestead at Groton.
And, with other hopes, the dream of Europe must go. Her family begged her to take in advance her share of the family property and carry out her purpose; but she made, early in 1836, what she called “the last great sacrifice,” and decided to remain. Feeling no immediate strength, as she records, to carry out her literary plans, she planned to help her mother by teaching. “Circumstances have decided,” she wrote, “that I must not go to Europe, and shut upon me the door, as I think, forever, to the scenes I could have loved. Let me now try to forget myself and act for others’ sakes.”[1]
Her mind recovered its tone, and deeper experience gave her profounder sympathy. During
- ↑ Memoirs, i. 161.
