If the reader is curious to know what really were the opinions of these
two distinguished offenders (H. Martineau and H. G. Atkinson), I recite
them. In the book Dr. Martineau reviewed, Mr. Atkinson said:--
"I am far from being an Atheist I do not say there is no God, but that
it is extravagant and irreverent to imagine that cause a Person."
Miss Martineau herself writes in the same series of letters:--
"There is no _theory_ of a God, of an author of Nature, of an origin of
the universe, which is not utterly repugnant to my faculties; which is
not (to my feelings) so irreverent as to make me blush; so misleading as
to make me mourn."
Yet Dr. Martineau wrote of his sister and her friend in terms which
seemed, to the public, of studied insult and disparagement, which,
in educated society, would be called brutal. It was merely spiritual
malignity, of which I had in former years sufficient experience to
render me a connoisseur in it.
All the while Dr. Martineau had heresies of his own to answer for,
yet he wrote words of his sister which no woman of self-respect could
condone, unless withdrawn. During her long illness of twenty years Dr.
Martineau, her brother, never wrote to her nor addressed one word of
sympathy to one who had loved him so well. He had told the world that
the "subtle, all-penetrating spirit of Christ has an inspiring nobleness
philosophy cannot reach, nor science, nor nature impart." Then how
came Dr. Martineau to miss it? The nobleness of mind of his illustrious
sister all the world knew--before the world knew him--and Mr. Atkinson
was a gentleman of as pure a life and of as good a position in society
as Dr. Martineau himself. O Theology, into what crookedness dost thou
twist the straightest minds! I have seen in a "Life of Dr. Martineau"
that Professor Newman assented to what Dr. Martineau wrote of his
sister. This fact I ought not to withhold from the reader.
But Mr. Newman only knew what Dr. Martineau told him.
Mr. Atkinson was the son of a London architect who left him an income
which enabled him to devote himself to philosophy, which was his taste.
He was personally conversant, as visitor or guest, with a wide range of
distinguished thinkers and writers of his time. He was full of curious
knowledge and notable sayings gathered in that opportune intercourse.
With a mind devoid of prejudice, he looked on scientific discoveries
as a veteran and seasoned spectator. No new idea surprised him, no
expression of thoughtful opinion awakened in him resentment. He cared
only for truth, in whatever form or quarter it appeared. He had none
of the indifference of the arm-chair philosopher, but aided struggling
opinion to assert itself. Once I was his guest in Boulogne. To my
surprise I was the only passenger in the packet boat The quay of
Boulogne was deserted. At Hughes's Hotel I was the only guest in the
dining-room. On inquiring the reason, I learned that Gilbert a'Beckett
had died a few days before of diphtheria, and that Douglas Jerrold had
left for England since. Mr. Atkinson, not expecting me, had gone for
a day's sea trip to Calais. On his return we spent pleasant hours at a
cafe. He had no idea of leaving the hotel where he had rooms. Some years
later Mr. Atkinson died in Boulogne, where he had resided many years.
Personally he was tall, of good presence and refined manners. He was
clean shaven, and might be taken for an Evangelical Bishop. Save a
mobile expression, his face was as shadowless as one of Holbein's
portraits. The object of his letters to Miss Martineau was to ascertain
if there could be found a real basis of a science of mind. The common
idea in those days was that mind was a "vital spark" which shone at
will--originating without conditions--acting of its own caprice and
obeying no law. Only the theological spirit could see harm in this
investigation.
Not only fidelity, but chivalry towards her friends was a characteristic
of Miss Martineau. When W. J. Linton, for whom I had great regard, as
appears in what I have written of him in the "Warpath of Opinion," had
become vindictive--because I had obtained 9,000 shillings for European
Freedom from readers of the _Reasoner_ at the request of Mazzini, Mr.
Linton--equally desirous and equally devoted, had not succeeded--wrote
to the _Liberator_ of New York, edited by Lloyd Garrison, assailing
me politically and personally, whereupon Miss Martineau sent to the
_Liberator_ the following generous letter--which, though it be counted
egotism in me to cite, I accept the risk, since such friendship was
without parallel in my experience:--
"Dear Sir,--I see with much surprise and more concern an attack in your
paper upon the character of Mr. G. J. Holyoake, signed by Mr. W. J.
Linton. I could have wished, with others of your readers, that you had
waited for some evidence, or other testimony, before committing your
most respected paper to an attack on such a man from such a quarter. Of
Mr. Linton it is not necessary for me to say anything, because what
I say of Mr. Holyoake will sufficiently show what I think of his
testimony.
"I wish I could give you an idea of the absurdity that it appears to us
in this country to charge Mr. Holyoake with sneaking, with desiring to
conceal his opinions, and get rid of the word 'Atheism.' His whole life,
since he grew up, has been one of public advocacy of the principles he
holds, of weekly publication of them under his own signature, and of
constant lecturing in public places. One would think that a man who has
been tried and imprisoned for Atheism, and has ever since continued
to publish the opinions which brought him into that position, might be
secure, if any man might, from the charge of sneaking. The adoption
of the term Secularism is justified by its including a large number
of persons who are not Atheists, and uniting them for action which has
Secularism for its object, and not Atheism. On this ground, and because
by the adoption of a new term a vast amount of impediment from prejudice
is got rid of, the use of the name Secularism is found advantageous;
but it in no way interferes with Mr. Holyoake's profession of his own
unaltered views on the subject of a First Cause. As I am writing this
letter, I may just say for myself that I constantly and eagerly read Mr.
Holyoake's writings, though many of them are on subjects--or occupied
with stages of subjects--that would not otherwise detain me, because
I find myself always morally the better for the influence of the noble
spirit of the man, for the calm courage, the composed temper, the
genuine liberality, and unintermitting justice with which he treats
all manner of persons, incidents, and topics. I certainly consider the
conspicuous example of Mr. Holyoake's kind of heroism to be one of our
popular educational advantages at this time.
"You have printed Mr. Linton's account of Mr. Holyoake. I request you to
print mine. I send it simply as an act of justice. My own acquaintance
with Mr. Holyoake is on the ground of his public usefulness, based on
his private virtues; and I can have no other reason for vindicating him
than a desire that a cruel wrong should be as far as possible undone.
And I do it myself because I am known to your readers as an Abolitionist
of sufficiently long standing not to be likely to be deceived in regard
to the conduct and character of any one who speaks on the subject,
"I am, yours very respectfully,
"Harriet Martineau.
"London, November 1, 1855."
Born June 12, 1802, at Norwich, she died June 27, 1876, at Ambleside. In
1832, when she was twenty-eight, Lucy Atkin wrote to tell Dr. Channing
that "a great light had arisen among women," which shone for forty-four
years. When she was a young woman, Lord Melbourne offered her a pension,
which she declined on the ground that a Government which did not
represent the people had no right to give away their money--an act of
integrity so infrequent as to be always fresh. In her case it explains a
career.
Two of the greatest women in Europe, George Sand and Harriet Martineau,
of nearly equal age, died within a few weeks of each other. "Passed
away" is the phrase now employed, as though the writer knew that a
journey was intended, and was in progress, whereas as Barry Cornwall
wrote:--
"A flower above and a mould below
Is all the mourners ever know."
Mrs. Fenwick Miller relates that Miss Martineau began writing for
the Press, like the famous novelist mentioned, under a man's name,
"Deciphalus." Once when at Mr. W. E. Forster's, at Burley, it fell to
me to take Mrs. Forster down to dinner. Being in doubt as to what was
etiquette in such cases, preferring to be thought uncouth than familiar,
I did not offer my hostess my arm. Afterwards I asked Miss Martineau
what I might have done. She answered that "a guest was an equal, and any
act of courtesy permissible in him was permissible in me," but in better
terms than I can invent. Recurring to the subject at another time, she
said, "I was well pleased at your consulting me as you did. It would
save a world of trouble and doubt and energy, if we all asked one
another what the other is qualified to tell. I, who have to be
economical of energy and time, always do it. I ask, point blank, what
it is important for me to know, from any one who can best tell me, and
I like to be inquired of in the same way. I hope no guest will feel
puzzled in my house, but ask, and what I can answer I will." The
readiness with which she placed her wisdom at the service of her friends
might have given Matthew Arnold (as she was a frequent visitor at Fox
Howe) his idea of "Sweetness and Light."
Greater than the difficulty of deafness was the fact that Miss Martineau
wrote on the side of Liberalism. Tory writers dipped their pens in the
best preparation of venom sold by Conservative chemists. The Church and
King party, which burnt down Dr. Priestley's house, soon discovered that
Miss Martineau was guilty of the further crime of being a Unitarian.
Nevertheless, she abandoned no principle, nor apologised for maintaining
what she believed to be true. Spinoza, as Renan has told us, gave great
offence to his adversaries by the integrity of his life, as it did not
give them a fair opportunity of attacking him, for the enormity of his
conduct in believing less than they believed. This was the case with
Harriet Martineau, who had said in one of her books, "A parent has a
considerable influence over the subsistence fund of his family, and an
absolute control over the numbers to be supported by that fund." The
_Quarterly Review_, "written by gentlemen for gentlemen," added, "We
venture to ask this maiden sage the meaning of this passage." Why not
ask the Rev. Thomas Maithus, whose words Miss Martineau merely repeated?
All that was meant was "deferred marriages." The reviewer put an obscene
construction upon it, and imputed to her his own malignant inference.
This was a common rascality of logic alike in theology and politics in
those days.
The intrepid authoress happened to believe there was some truth in
mesmerism. Dr. Elliotson, who thought so too, told me that his temerity
that way cost him L7,000 a year in fees. This mesmeric episode brought
the doctors upon the poor lady, who never forgave her being alive when
they said she ought to be dead. Eminent physicians predicted that she
would sink down in six months. When, instead of sinking down, she rode
on a camel to Mount Sinai and Petra, and on horseback to Damascus, they
said "she had never been ill!"
She had the unusual capacity which the gods only are said to give--that
of seeing herself as others saw her. She saw her own life and
intellectual power in its strength and in its limitation, as though
she stood away from them and looked at them; she saw them, as it were,
palpable and apart from herself. Of imagination, which sheds sunshine
over style, she had little. Her pictures were etchings rather than
paintings. Her strength lay in directness of expression and practical
thought She saw social facts and their influences, their nature and
sequences, with a vividness no other writer of her day did. When she had
completed the translation of Comte's "Positive Philosophy," she placed
at my disposal twenty-five copies to give to persons unable to buy
them, but able to profit by them; and to extend the knowledge of its
principles. She offered me the publication of an edition of "Household
Education." No book like it had been written before, and none since.
Four hundred copies were sold by my arrangement. The book was mainly
intended for women. The review of it for the _Reasoner_* was written by
my wife, as I advocated that women should take their own affairs in the
press into their own hands, and give their own opinion on what concerned
them. Miss Martineau's object in writing "Household Education" was, she
told me, "to indicate that, in her opinion, education should be on a
philosophical basis," adding: "I should see the great point of it is
ignoring rank in so important a matter as the development of human
beings. It was written for Buckingham Palace and the humblest cottage
where life is decently conducted." Miss Martineau lived twenty-two years
after receiving prognostications of early decease. Had she not been
a woman of courage she would have died, as was suggested to her. She
understood that she must accept new conditions of life. She had a bed
made in a railway carriage, and went down with her maids to Ambleside,
and never left her house except to take air and get the relief which
the smoking of a cigarette gave her, as she sat on summer evenings
just outside the open windows of her sitting-room. She might have given
herself greater liberty, for she did not die of heart ailment after all.
* Reasoner, vol. vi. pp. 378-9 and 390.
As I have seen in women of thought, Harriet Martineau, like George
Eliot, grew handsomer as she grew older, and acquired that queenly
dignity, such as is seen in George Richmond's painting of Miss Martineau
in mature years.
She devoted all her diversified genius to inspire public affairs with
loftier aims and persistent purpose. She was one of those Christians
mentioned by Shakespeare who "mean to be saved by believing rightly."*
Harriet Martineau did, and these words of Flavius might be her epitaph.
* "Twelfth Night," act iii., scene 2.