Harriet Martineau
nor have I any fear of it. Under the weariness of illness I long
to be asleep; but I have not set my mind in any state. I wonder
if all this represents your notions at all. I should think it
does, while yet we are fully aware how mere a glimpse we have of
the universe and the life it contains.
Above all, I wish to escape from the narrowness of taking a mere
human view of things, from the absurdity of making God after
man's own image, etc.
But I will leave this, begging your pardon for what may be so
unworthy to be dwelt on. However, you _may_ like to know how the
case looks to a friend under the clear knowledge of death being
so near at hand. My hands are cramped and I must stop. My sister
is here for the whole of May, and she and Jenny are most happy
together. Many affectionate relations and friends are willing to
come if needed (the Browns among others), if I live beyond July.
You were not among the Boulogne theological petitioners, I
suppose. I don't know whether you can _use_----there? I was very
thankful for your last, though I have said nothing about its
contents. If I began _that_, I should not know how to stop.
So good-bye for to-day, dear friend!
Yours ever,
H. M.
The internal tumor which was the prime cause of her malady (an
entirely different kind of thing, however, from that which she
suffered from at Tynemouth), had long been the source of great
inconvenience, compelling her to descend the stairs backwards, and to
spend much time in a recumbent position. The post mortem examination
made by her medical attendant, at the request of her executors, two
days after she died, revealed the fact that this tumor was the true
cause of her sufferings. She never knew it herself. Relying on the
statement of the eminent men whom she consulted in 1855, that it was
the heart that was affected, she accepted that as her fate. It was,
however, the slow growth of a "dermoid cyst" which made her linger
till such an age, through the constant suffering of twenty-one
preceding years.
In the early part of June, 1876, she had an attack of bronchitis, and
though medical treatment subdued this speedily, it exhausted her
strength greatly. From about the 14th of that month--two days after
her seventy-fourth birthday--she was confined to her room, but still
rose from bed. On the 24th she was too ill to get up. Then drowsiness
gradually increased and in a little while she sank quietly into a
dreamy state, in which she seemed to retain consciousness when
aroused, but was too weak to either take food or to speak. At last,
on the 27th of June, 1876, just as the summer sunset was gilding the
hills that she knew and loved so well, she quietly and peacefully
drew her last breath, and entered into eternal rest.
Truly her death--not only the last moments, but the long
ordeal--might stand for an illustration of the saying of the wise men
of old--"Keep innocency, and take heed unto the thing that is right,
for _that_ shall bring a man peace at the last."
She was buried amidst her kindred, in the old cemetery of Birmingham;
and upon the tombstone, where it stands amidst the smoke, there is no
inscription beyond her name and age, and the places of birth and death.
More was, perhaps, needless. Her works, and a yet more precious
possession, her character remain. Faults she had, of course--the
necessary defects of her virtues. Let it be said that she held her own
opinions too confidently--the uncertain cannot be teachers. Let it be
said that her personal dislikes were many and strong--it is the
necessary antithesis of powerful attachments. Let it be said that her
powers of antagonism at times were not sufficiently restrained--how,
without such oppugnancy, could she have stood forth for unpopular
truths? Let all that detractors can say be said, and how much remains
untouched!
In the paths where Harriet Martineau trod at first almost alone, many
women are now following. Serious studies, political activity, a share
in social reforms, an independent, self-supporting career, and freedom
of thought and expression, are by the conditions of our age, becoming
open to the thousands of women who would never have dared to claim them
in the circumstances in which she first did so. In a yet earlier age
such a life, even to such powers as hers, would have been impossible.
As it was, she was only a pioneer of the new order of things inevitable
under the advance of civilization and knowledge. The printing-press,
which multiplies the words of the thinker; the steam-engine, which both
feeds the press and rushes off with its product, and the electric
telegraph, which carries thought around the globe, make this an age in
which mental force assumes an importance which it never had before in
the history of mankind. Mind will be more and more valued and
cultivated, and will grow more and more influential; and the condition
and status of women must alter accordingly. Some people do not like
this fact; and no one can safely attempt to foresee all its
consequences; but we can no more prevent it than we can return to
hornbooks, or to trial by ordeal, or to the feudal tenure of land, or
to any other bygone state of social affairs. More and more it will grow
customary for women to study such subjects as Harriet Martineau
studied; more commonplace will it constantly become for women to use
all their mental faculties, and to exert every one of their powers to
the fullest extent in the highest freedom. What, then, have we to wish
about that which is inevitable, except that the old high womanly
standard of moral excellence may be no whit lowered, but may simply be
carried into the wider sphere of thought and action?
It may do much, indeed, for us that we have had such a pioneer as
Harriet Martineau. It is not only that she lived so that all worthy
people, however differing from her in opinion, respected and honored
her--though that is much. It is not only that she has settled, once for
all, that a woman can be a political thinker and a teacher from whom
men may gladly receive guidance--though that is much. But the great
value of her life to us is as a splendid example of the moral qualities
which we should carry into our widest sphere, and which we should
display in our public exertions.
She cared for nothing before the truth; her efforts to discover it were
earnest and sincere, for she spared no pains in study and no labor in
thought in the attempt to form her opinions correctly. Having found
what she must believe to be a right cause to uphold, or a true word to
speak, no selfish consideration intruded between her and her duty. She
could risk fame, and position, and means of livelihood, when necessary,
to unselfishly support and promulgate what she believed it to be
important for mankind to do and believe. She longed for the well-being
of her kind; and so unaffectedly and honestly that men who came under
her influence were stimulated and encouraged by her to share and avow
similar high aims. Withal, those who lived with her loved her; she was
a kind mistress, a good friend, and tender to little children; she was
truly helpful to the poor at her gates, and her life was spotlessly
pure.
Is not this what we should all strive to be? Shall we not love
knowledge, and use it to find out truth; and place outspoken fidelity
to conscience foremost amongst our duties; and care for the progress of
our race rather than for our own fame; shall we not be truthful, and
honest, and upright--and, to this end, brave--in public as in private
life; and shall we not seek so to bear ourselves that men shall shrink
from owning their ignobler thoughts and baser shifts to us, but shall
never fear to avow high aims and pure deeds, while yet we retain our
womanly kindness and all our domestic virtues unchanged? All this we
may know that we can be and do, if we will; for we have seen it
exemplified in the life of Harriet Martineau.
_Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications._
_Famous Women Series._
MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT.
BY
ELIZABETH ROBINS PENNELL.
One volume. 16mo. Cloth. Price $1.00.
"So far as it has been published, and it has now reached its ninth
volume, the Famous Women Series is rather better on the whole than the
English Men of Letters Series. One had but to recall the names and
characteristics of some of the women with whom it deals,--literary
women, like Maria Edgeworth, Margaret Fuller, Mary Lamb, Emily Bronte,
George Eliot, and George Sand; women of the world (not to mention the
other parties in that well-known Scriptural firm), like the naughty
but fascinating Countess of Albany; and women of philanthropy, of
which the only example given here so far is Mrs. Elizabeth Fry,--one
has but to compare the intellectual qualities of the majority of
English men of letters to perceive that the former are the most
difficult to handle, and that a series of which they are the heroines
is, if successful, a remarkable collection of biographies. We thought
so as we read Miss Blind's study of George Sand, and Vernon Lee's
study of the Countess of Albany, and we think so now that we have read
Mrs. Elizabeth Robins Pennell's study of Mary Wollstonecraft, who,
with all her faults, was an honor to her sex. She was not so
considered while she lived, except by those who knew her well, nor for
years after her death; but she is so considered now, even by the
granddaughters of the good ladies who so bitterly condemned her when
the century was new. She was notable for the sacrifices that she made
for her worthless father and her weak, inefficient sisters, for her
dogged persistence and untiring industry, and for her independence and
her courage. The soul of goodness was in her, though she would be
herself and go on her own way; and if she loved not wisely, according
to the world's creed, she loved too well for her own happiness, and
paid the penalty of suffering. What she might have been if she had not
met Capt. Gilbert Imlay, who was a scoundrel, and William Godwin, who
was a philosopher, can only be conjectured. She was a force in
literature and in the enfranchisement of her sisterhood, and as such
was worthy of the remembrance which she will long retain through Mrs.
Pennell's able memoir."--_R. H. Stoddard, in the Mail and Express._
_Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price by
the publishers_,
ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON
HARRIET MARTINEAU.
BY MRS. F. FENWICK MILLER.
16mo. Cloth. Price $1.00.
"The almost uniform excellence of the 'Famous Women' series is well
sustained in Mrs. Fenwick Miller's life of Harriet Martineau, the
latest addition to this little library of biography. Indeed, we are
disposed to rank it as the best of the lot. The subject is an
entertaining one, and Mrs. Miller has done her work admirably. Miss
Martineau was a remarkable woman, in a century that has not been
deficient in notable characters. Her native genius, and her
perseverance in developing it; her trials and afflictions, and the
determination with which she rose superior to them; her conscientious
adherence to principle, and the important place which her writings
hold in the political and educational literature of her day,--all
combine to make the story of her life one of exceptional interest....
With the exception, possibly, of George Eliot, Harriet Martineau was
the greatest of English women. She was a poet and a novelist, but not
as such did she make good her title to distinction. Much more
noteworthy were her achievements in other lines of thought, not
usually essayed by women. She was eminent as a political economist, a
theologian, a journalist, and a historian.... But to attempt a mere