Harriet Martineau
over the five busy but suffering years, the work of which has now been
recorded, and see what were the physical conditions under which that
work was executed.
Her health had been declining gradually from 1834 to 1839; there was a
slow but a marked deterioration in strength, and her spirits became
depressed. In April of the latter year, when she undertook a
continental journey the fatigue of travelling suddenly aggravated her
condition; and in Venice, early in June, she was compelled to consult
a physician, Dr. Nardo. She was found to be suffering from a tumor,
with enlargement and displacement of an important organ, all this
causing great internal pain, accompanied by frequent weakening
hemorrhages. She was carried back to England by easy stages, and lying
on a couch, and reached Newcastle-on-Tyne at the end of July, 1839.
She stayed for some time at the house in that town of her eldest
sister, and then was removed only nine miles off, in order that her
brother-in-law, Mr. T. M. Greenhow, F.R.C.S., might undertake the
medical care of her case. Until October, she persevered in taking
walking exercise; but the pain, sickness and breathlessness which
accompanied this were so distressing, that soon after her removal to
Tynemouth she ceased to go out of doors, or even to descend the
stairs.
Mr. Greenhow's prescriptions were confined at first to opiates, and
other medicines to alleviate symptoms. The opiates were not taken in
excess--as, indeed, the books written in the period would conclusively
prove. The patient's suffering was so great, however, that extreme
recourse to such palliatives might have been forgiven. She could not
raise the right leg; and could neither sit up for the faintness which
then ensued, nor lie down with ease because of the pain in her back.
"She could not sleep at night till she devised a plan of sleeping
under a basket, for the purpose of keeping the weight of the
bed-clothes from her; and even then she was scared by horrors all
night, and reduced by sickness during the day. This sickness increased
to such a degree that for two years she was extremely low from want of
food."
At the end of two years, that is to say, in September, 1841, Sir
Charles Clarke, M.D., was called in consultation; and he prescribed
iodine, remarking at the same time that, in his view, such a case as
hers was practically incurable, and admitting that he "had tried
iodine in an infinite number of such cases, and never knew it avail."
For the next _three years_ Miss Martineau took three grains per
diem of iodide of iron. It relieved the sickness; but up to April,
1844 (two and a half years from the commencement of its
administration), Mr. Greenhow did not pretend that any improvement in
the physical condition had taken place. In that month, as he
afterwards said, he believed he found a slight change, "but he was not
sure"; and, if any, it was very trifling. The patient, on her part,
was quite convinced that her state then was in no way altered.
More than once different friends--amongst them Lord Lytton, Mr.
Hallam, and the Basil Montagus--had urged her to try mesmerism; but
she had thought it due to her relative to give his orthodox medicines
the fullest trial, before taking herself out of his hands in such a
way. In June, 1844, however, Mr. Greenhow himself suggested that she
should be mesmerized. Of course, so advised, she consented to make the
trial. A Mr. Hall, brought by Mr. Greenhow, accordingly mesmerized her
for the first time on June 22d, 1844, and again on the following day.
The patient thought she experienced some relief, but did not feel
quite sure. "On occasion of a perfectly new experience, scepticism and
self-distrust are strong."[11] The next day, however, set her doubts at
rest. Mr. Hall was unable to come to her, and she asked her maid to
make the passes in his stead.
[11] This and the succeeding quotations are from her "Letters
on Mesmerism," published in the _Athenaeum_, 1845.
Within one minute, the twilight and phosphoric lights appeared;
and in two or three more a delicious sensation of ease spread
through me--a cool comfort, before which all pain and distress
gave way, oozing out, as it were, at the soles of my feet. During
that hour, and almost the whole evening, I could no more help
exclaiming with pleasure than a person in torture crying out with
pain. I became hungry, and ate with relish for the first time for
five years. There was no heat, oppression, or sickness during the
_seance_, nor any disorder afterwards. During the whole evening,
instead of the lazy, hot ease of opiates, under which pain is felt
to lie in wait, I experienced something of the indescribable
sensations of health, which I had quite lost and forgotten.
Her dear friend during all the years that remained to her--Mr. Henry
G. Atkinson[12]--had just come into her life. His interest in her case
was enlisted by their mutual friend, Basil Montagu; and Mr. Atkinson
undertook to direct the mesmeric treatment by correspondence.
Margaret, the maid, continued the mesmerism till September, and then
Mr. Atkinson induced his friend Mrs. Montague Wynyard, the young widow
of a clergyman, to undertake the case. "In pure zeal and benevolence
this lady came to me, and has been with me ever since. When I found
myself able to repose on the knowledge and power (mental and moral) of
my mesmerist the last impediments to my progress were cleared away and
I improved accordingly."
[12] As this friendship had a profound influence upon
Harriet's after thought and work, some description of Mr.
Atkinson seems in place; and I need offer that gentleman no
apology for merely quoting what has appeared in print before
about him. Margaret Fuller wrote thus of him in a private
letter, in 1846:--
"Mr. Atkinson is a man about thirty, in the fullness of
his powers, tall and finely formed, with a head for
Leonardo to paint; mild and composed, but powerful and
sagacious; he does not think, but perceives and acts. He
is intimate with artists, having studied architecture
himself as a profession; but has some fortune on which he
lives. Sometimes stationary and acting in the affairs of
other men; sometimes wandering about the world and
learning; he seems bound by no tie, yet looks as if he
had relatives in every place."--_Memoirs of Margaret
Fuller_, by Emerson.
On December the 6th Mr. Greenhow found his patient quite well, and
about to leave the place of her imprisonment, and start on a series of
friendly visits. He declared, notwithstanding, that firstly, her
_physical condition_ was not essentially different from what it had
been all through; secondly, that the change in her _sensations_ arose
from the iodine suddenly and miraculously becoming more effective, and
not from mesmerism.
Such is the medical history, so interesting to all physiological
students and to all sufferers of the same class, of Harriet
Martineau's five years' illness and recovery. My business is simply to
state facts, and I need not here undertake any dissertation upon
mesmerism. It is sufficient to add that only those who are unaware of
the profundity of our ignorance (up to the present day) about the
action of the nervous system, and still more about what _life_
really is, can be excused for rash jeering and hasty incredulity in
such a case as this.
Harriet Martineau knew that she was well again, and it seemed to her a
clear duty to make as public as possible the history of how her
recovery had been brought about. She did so by six letters to the
_Athenaeum_; and these were reprinted in pamphlet form. Mr. Greenhow
was thereupon guilty of one of the most serious professional faults
possible. He also published an account of _The Case of Miss H. M._, in
a shilling pamphlet, giving the most minute and painful details of her
illness, and respecting no confidence that had been reposed in his
medical integrity. The result of this conduct on his part was that his
patient felt herself compelled to break off all future intercourse
with a man capable of such objectionable action.
It may be added here that the cure was a permanent one.[13] She enjoyed
ten years of health so good that she declared it taught her that in no
previous period of her life had she ever been well. It may be as well
to say that she never wavered in her assurance that her cure was
worked by mesmerism, and that the cure was complete. All dispute about
her firm conviction on this point may be set at rest by the following
extracts from
LETTERS TO MR. ATKINSON.
[Extract.]
July 6, 1874.
Notices of my mesmeric experience in illness have revived an
anxiety of mine about what may happen when I am gone, if certain
parties should bring up the old falsehoods again, when I am not
here to assert and prove the truth. I don't in the least suppose
you can help me, any more than Mrs. Chapman, whom I have got to
look over a box of papers of mine deposited with her. But I had
rather tell you what is on my mind about it.
I wrote, at Tynemouth, a diary of my case and experience under
the mesmeric experiment (experiment desired and proposed by Mr.
Greenhow himself). _He_ read it when finished, and so did several
of my friends. There are two copies somewhere, for, not wishing to
show certain passages, rather saucy, about the Greenhow prejudices
and behavior, I accepted Mrs. Wynyard's kind offer to copy the
MS., omitting those remarks. Now where are those MSS? I cannot
find them, nor say what I did with them, beyond having a dim
notion that they (or at least Mrs. Wynyard's copy) were put away
into some safe place, to await future chances. I perfectly
remember the look of the packet, and the label on it, etc. When I
remember what was said after reading it, by one of the wisest
people I have known, I am _shocked_ at our inability to find
it. "One must dispute anything being the cause of anything, if one
disputes after reading this statement, that your recovery is due
to mesmerism." And now, while I see false statements of the
"facts," and false references circulating, as at present, I cannot
find my own narrative, written from day to day, and do not know
where to turn next! If I had strength I would turn out all the
papers in my possession, and make sure for myself. Now, dear
friend, do you think you ever saw that statement?
[Extract.]
September 18, 1874.
My malady was absolutely unlike cancer, and it never had any sort
of relation to "malignant" disease. The doctors called it
"indolent tumor--most probably polypus." Don't you remember how,
at that very time, the great dispute on Elliotson's hands was
whether any instance could be adduced of cure of organic disease
by mesmerism? Elliotson was nearly certain, but not quite, of the
cure of a cancer case in his own practice. The doctors were full
of the controversy, and some of them wrote both to me and to Mr.
Greenhow to inquire the nature of my case, whether malignant or
not. Of course we both replied "No." It would be a dreadful
misfortune if now anybody concerned should tell a different story.
Greenhow is still living (aged 82) and all alive; and he would
like nothing better than to get hold of it, and bring out another
indecent pamphlet. If I could but lay hands on the diary of the
case, written at the time, what a security it would be? But I can