Correspondence

1649.  Harriet Martineau to EBB

As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 9, 44–48.

[In the hand of an amanuensis] Tynemouth

July 11th [1844] [1]

Dear Miss Barrett

I was much disposed to answer your letter immediately, but was prevented, not by the quantity of society you suppose, for my summer receptions do not begin till the holiday. I am amused at your mighty idea of my enjoyments of society, my seeing more in a day than you in a year & so forth—whereas if I see more than two in a day I rue it. My own family come by ones & twos; & so do my friends from London, establishing themselves at the little Hotel, & sitting with me during the best hours of the day. The very sight of a third seems to have a malignant power, sickening & wearying me, .. & even between the ones & the twos it is necessary to have an interval of perfect solitude when I may rely on seeing no face but my maid’s– [2] I do not go out, even lying on cushions on the grass– My foot has not been on the stairs for above two years. Till that time, I occasionally went down to tea in the room below, but found the consequent sickness & back-ache more than the frolic was worth. The light & the open air would make me so sick, that the pain of being in the garden would not be worth their cost: & I cannot sit many minutes: & then, am not in Wimpole St, but have a perfect glory of a window, the view from which you know, thro’ a certain book of which you speak affectionately. [3] Mr Horne must have been rather amused at our eagerness to disclaim the Dedication being to you. I wrote to him to tell him how much too young you were, both as to illness & years, for that to apply; & it surprised me much, that so many, who know your age, should have named you so confidently. I am glad to hear what you have to say of Mr. Horne– I thought that the book, tho’ poor, had—spirit of uncommon candour & good humour. They must be cross people indeed, who could be angry, (except Ingoldsby.) I had to tell him of a few mistakes, [4] & found his manner in asking this so frank & kind that if the notice of me had been one of the severest, I think I could hardly have quarrelled with it. I am rather surprised at his preparations for a second edition, & am wondering whether the first really is dispersed; for I can scarcely hear of any one, who has even seen the book. By the way, as we have never met, it may be worth while to mention, that the portrait of me is cried out upon, as a perfect monster. I myself tried it, with the name hidden, upon the people here, & found no recognition. When I tell you that my head & face are remarkably small, you will imagine how unlike it must be. (The scribe puts in not under hung) [5] I like the Landor & Tennyson much—but think it a partial & unsound book on the whole. I am very grateful for the promise of your poems, & run my eye over the advertisements in hope that as the season is closing, they may possibly be in time for Mrs Reid to bring, who comes on Saturday week. I enter cordially into what you say of your need of utterance—the poetry actually lying within you. Our Doctors don’t understand these matters, which yet it seems to me they ought. If we find one recommending authorship as an amusement, as if one could take it up like wool-work & with no more wear & tear, we find another forbidding all excitement & intellectual labour, as if one could hush ones mind, as you pat your dog to sleep! It appears to me that all you can do, is, to empty yourself as you are now doing, & then before beginning to fill again, getting interested in something that will not turn to poetry. This is somewhat self-denying advice, as far as the rest of us are concerned, but I for my own part would rather know that your pulses are getting into order than that more poems were uttering themselves: & I am confirmed in this by your being actually better– I should never expect you to get well, by keeping a burning & thrilling weight of poetry on your heart & brain; but once spoken out I should be glad to hear of your interests being such as less deeply affect your nerves & brain– My last volume [6] was to me what your poetry is to you; but that uttered, I do not feel the slightest need to write more, & only a passing desire occasionally, when I see certain “Weekly Volumes” wanted, which I am told & believe I could do usefully—as for instance a whole set of world-pictures, like “Feats on the Fiord.” [7] I have not yet spoken to you about that enterprise of ours, because I would not trouble you about any scheme or object, without a clear view of your being able to do good, but the truth is, since Jany last I have been occupied in conceiving, propounding & furthering the great plan, whose outward presentiment now is, “Knight’s Weekly Volume”. [8] We hope that scores of thousands of new Readers, a great special public of our own finding, will become humanized from & enlightened by being admitted among the regular reading public of Great Britain. Lady Mary Lambton & I began, &, by getting help, have constituted ourselves an organ of communication, (& not at all an agency of charity,) between this vast new public, crying out for intellectual food, & that most heroic of publishers, my friend Knight—who, by his unequalled resources of character, intellect[,] corps of authors & machinery of publication, can bring the very best & choicest literature, in a well arranged body, to the hands held out so eagerly. We were little aware when we began, what a difficulty Government & all manner of officials were in, about supplying with books, by parliamenty grants, [9] ships, barracks, prisons, coast-guard & railroad stations, work-houses, pit & factory villages &c &c. We have now brought into co-operation with us the Queen, the Home Secretary, [10] the prison & factory Inspectors, Mr Cobden [11] & other influential individuals, & have facts whereby we hope to silence the objections of Ld Ashley & Co that the people are too tired to read– Instead of this, we find the mothers & sisters of the hardest working young men in the pits, alleging & almost complaining, that the said young men become careless of supper, talk & everything, & if they can get into a loft, a chamber, a tree or any corner, there is no getting them away from their book. Ld Ashley will learn that tho’ they want rest they find more of it, in pleasurable, intellectual recreation than in brute sleep: & if you have, as I hope, seen our second vol. (“Mind Amongst the Spindles”) [12] you will perceive that mind is the spring under which twelve hours of toil become tolerable, & not fatal to health of mind or body. This is all I will trouble you with about a matter which has filled my mind more than any other subject since mid-winter. I agree word for word with what you say about repose versus excitement. When young & well I felt as you did; & therefore it is that I find the “trickling of society” instead of its “full flow & ebb,” [13] what suits me now: & indeed from its likeness to my old tastes, what alone I can bear. Next to my deep & thorough winter solitude, I know no calm sweeter & more pervading, than in my summer evengs with my inestimable friend Mrs Reid, a woman strangely under-rated, even by many who fully appreciate her moral beauty—but who are, some how or other, blinded by some outward peculiarities, to the vital ability of mind & soul, which I find amply supplies my needs, instead of leaving my intellect longing while my heart is enjoying. I wish you knew this quiet little friend of mine, if you could learn her thoroughly enough to enjoy her:—but I have known of one or two persons, who have so gratuitously taken it upon themselves to look down upon her, that I feel some uncertainty about mentioning her thus to London people. I have a fancy however that Mr Kenyon must appreciate her; & so I freely mention her to you, which I certainly should not do, if hers were an exciting presence, instead of a sweet & tranquillizing one. Oh yes, I have the pleasure of knowing Mr Kenyon, & spent a remarkably pleasant day with him at Mr Harness’s, & some Evenings elsewhere; & he gave me his poems & gave me the impression of a thoroughly kindly, liberal-minded gentlemanly man: of whom, as of others, I could say more, only I must stop. Will you remember me kindly to him, if he does not forget me,—which I do not at all suppose. In health I am much as usual, thank you. With every hope for the welfare of your poems & for your own further improvement in health, believe me most truly yours

[Continued in Miss Martineau’s hand] H. Martineau

If you have really seen so little of human nature as you tell me, how am I to account for your winter’s poem being “dramatic”? The sight of it will tell me, I dare say. I have seen a vast deal of human natures & also the Mississippi, Mackinaw, Niagara, the Alps, Venice, & (not least) Iona & Staffa,—perhaps the most solemn & ineffaceable impression of all. These experiences do avail much in a position like ours, & I mourn that you have them not. Yet how much more than most you have! —I do know Browning, & vastly admire some of his sayings, while I can make nothing of others. I read Tennyson with deep & high delight, yet with the mournful feeling that his operation & immortality must be restricted by the want of simplicity wh is the curse of our poets now-a-days. None can live who do not speak out clear & substantial, well-rounded thoughts in the most lucid & direct expression. Scarcely one does this,—& for want of it I do fear none will live. I must stop.— Farewell.

Address: Miss Barrett / 50. Wimpole St / London.

Publication: Browning Society Notes, vol. 9, no. 3 (December 1979), p. 11 (in part).

Manuscript: Wellesley College.

1. Year provided by the postmark.

2. Jane Arrowsmith, whose aunt was Miss Martineau’s landlady.

3. i.e., Life in the Sick-Room.

4. See SD1196 and SD1208, vol. 8.

5. This parenthetical phrase is written in the hand of the amanuensis; its wording suggests that it was her own interjection. The portrait is reproduced in vol. 8, facing p. 271.

6. i.e., Life in the Sick-Room.

7. Published in 1841, this was the third of four volumes issued under the general title of The Playfellow.

8. Miss Martineau was instrumental in persuading Charles Knight (1791–1873) to launch a series of weekly volumes, to which she contributed. The first number appeared on 29 June 1844, and the series continued for four years thereafter. Knight had previously been associated with publications of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, such as The Penny Magazine (1832–45) and The Penny Cyclopædia (1833–44).

9. Grants for school societies, provided by the government through the Committee of Council of Education, were initiated in 1833. See R.K. Webb, Harriet Martineau: A Radical Victorian (1960), pp. 219–221.

10. James Robert George Graham (1792–1861) was Home Secretary in Peel’s 1841–46 administration.

11. Richard Cobden (1804–65), M.P. for Stockport 1841–46, was one of the principals of the Anti-Corn Law League.

12. The title given to a selection from The Lowell Offering, which was written by female factory workers, reprinted in Knight’s series of weekly volumes.

13. Cf. King Lear, V, 3, 19.

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