Now I am trying to make a sort of memoir of Margaret
Fuller, or my part in one;--for Channing and Ward are to do
theirs. Without either beauty or genius, she had a certain
wealth and generosity of nature which have left a kind of claim
on our consciences to build her a cairn. And this reminds me
that I am to write a note to Mazzini on this matter; and, as you
say you see him, you must charge yourself with delivering it.
What we do must be ended by October. You too are working for
Sterling. It is right and kind. I learned so much from the New
York _Tribune,_ and, a few days after, was on the point of
writing to you, provoked by a foolish paragraph which appeared in
Rufus Griswold's Journal, (New York,) purporting that R.W.E.
possessed important letters of Sterling, without which Thomas
Carlyle could not write the Life. What scrap of hearsay about
contents of Sterling's letters to me, or that I had letters, this
paltry journalist swelled into this puff-ball, I know not. He
once came to my house, and, since that time, may have known
Margaret Fuller in New York; but probably never saw any letter
of Sterling's or heard the contents of any.
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