1917. Harriet Martineau to EBB
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 10, 218–221.
Lenton nr Nottingham.
May 15th [1845] [1]
Dear Miss Barrett
I have desired that Mrs Follen’s Life of her husband [2] may be left at your door; & you will accept it from me, I know. Some day I may come & write your name in it. It will show you what you have done in cheering & animating such a heart & soul. He was the greatest & most exquisite human being I have ever known. You will observe how his fortunes ebbed from the hour when he called on Garrison: [3] & I think it will strike you how strong an instance his life presents of the loftiest kind of Xn life,—he failing in all wh did not depend on himself, & succeeding in all that did:—his direct aims perpetually disappointed, while vast gains accrued wh were never thought of. I know many who had not my personal interest in that book who found themselves inspired by the reading of it; & there are some,—no mean judges—who think this the most beautiful biography in existence. His death was most awful. He was to finish his sermon on his passage. The passengers, (I think the vessel had about 150 on board) had tea at seven,—the alarm of fire was given soon after,—the boats were badly got out,—the capn having disappeared early,—& were all swamped;—& only one person was saved. He cd give little acct,—the noise of the flames & the confusion had been so bewildering. He escaped on a bale of cotton, & as he floated past, saw the desperate attempts of many to escape. Till 3 in the morng, clusters of people were seen hanging outside on the chains, tossing between the flames above & the ice below. For a fortnight I fully believed that Mrs F. & Charley [4] (he is a fine fellow) were gone too, & I did not grieve much. They were never before separated for 24 hours, & they had told me of their intended voyage together. She was hardly herself for some months after,—being still so ill when the shock came. She clung to me as to her only interest (except Charley, who was too young to be her companion) on earth: & then supposed she must lose me too. Now she has recovered gloriously, & has got her woes under her feet. O! I wish I might bring her to you when she comes to London,—wh may be next year, or the one after. —I have avoided Mrs Sigourney,—though there is no avoiding one’s share of the flattering & intrusive letters she sends to all distinguished literary persons in all countries,—that she may have their answers to show. She bored the Carlyles horribly, & many others. —One of the most beautiful books I know from Amera is Wm Ware’s “Letters from Palmyra.” [5] There are many Swedenborgians dispersed among the Amern churches; & they have put out some curious & pretty books, very new to us,—as Sampson Reed’s “Growth of the Mind,” [6] —a little vol: wh has great charms for me.
Poor Mr Chorley! It must be his own consciousness wh makes him suppose he has lost my friendship, for it so happens, I have not mentioned his name, more or less, since the Athenm assault. Surely his case must be clear to him, as to every body else.
He is supposed to be sub-editor of the Athenm, & to have his portion of responsy for the doings of the paper. He cannot, of course, have both that responsy & my friendship, or that of any honourable person,—honourable persons feeling that the responsible parties have proved themselves (to use the language of honest men on this occasion) “dirty scamps.” But if he is not more or less responsible, he must, of course, make this clear to me & to all whose esteem he values. I have never said or held that he is responsible; & he has only to show me & the world that he is not. If he cannot, then he is of necessity lost,—wh I earnestly hope is not the case.
No,—I was not warned—, as you ask. So far from it—I hold, in the handwriting of both Mr Dilke & Mr Chorley, a pledge that my stipulation shd be respected,—that I & my papers shd be “treated with the respect due to the testimony of a conscientious & thoughtful observer, on a scientific matter.” I made this stipulation because of the known unbelief in Mesmm of the Editor. I was warned of his being dishonest & malicious; but took Chorley’s engagement for him that it was not true, & he wd be liberal & gentlemanly to me. And Mr Chorley has not yet expressed his remorse for having so misled me, though he knows the fact from myself. I am now assured on very high authority, that Chorley is no friend of mine in his present conduct & conversation; but I keep this to myself; & wait to hear what he has to say for himself. Thus stands the matter. —I may tell you that I don’t regret,—& never did for an instant,—having sent my papers there. If they had gone to a favourable Journal, they wd have been read by believers only, who know already much more wonderful things than I had to tell. As it is, a large number of thoughtful persons have had their attention effectually drawn to the subject: & a yet larger number see that such passion & lying in my adversaries show that there is fear under their assumed contempt. As for the mere mob, who don’t look back to the charges as first put forth, or compare the evidence, Jane & Mrs Wynyard & I feel no objection to their thinking us knaves & fools for the present. Their opinion is of no consequence to us. —You are right,—it was, no doubt, my maid who was indicated,—the parties not being aware that she had joined me: & what they say of her is just as false as the rest. To show up all their lies,—especy Headlam G’s, [7] wd take a whole Athenm: & it is not worth while. Nor is it necessy, for I know Dilke hears not a little from people of value of the damage he has done himself & his paper. He will drop the matter now till he is quite sure that I am at Rome, or on the Missisi, or somewhere where I can’t hear of his attacks.
Meantime, it has troubled me only for the wretches themselves. It is very strange to me,—this new feeling of freedom & strength,—of all troubles rolling off from me like the raindrops from a birdie’s wings. I have only to give myself a little shake when any evil lights upon me, & off it rolls, leaving no trace. Jane is well & strong,—Mrs Wynyard deep in her benevolent work, & now just setting about a case as important as my own. I am for ever helping strangers to the remedy, & inquirers to conviction, & enjoying myself meantime by the “silver Trent,” [8] gathering cowslips in the meadows, or strolling late in the grounds with friends of 25 years’ intimacy. I am now come in from the sweet fields & the brook side, (where I leaped the same brook very dexterously)—am now awaiting a visit from my young friend Ld Durham, [9] who is at school 14 miles off;—beside me is one of my hostesses, dressing a tray full of flowers, & opposite is one of her mesmeric patients, asleep & looking as if in heaven,—her hand at this moment on his head. He is a poor youth, in an early stage of consumption,—so early that there is every hope of her saving him. Upstairs is the surgeon, in attendce on a guest from Ireland,—a lady who has ovarian tumour & dropsy, & is here to be mesmerized by my other hostess. After 3 trials, she is wonderfully recruited, & has sensations in the seat of disease wh give hope to us all, & most to herself. —We talk as much of twenty things as of Mesmm We are not at all engrossed by it: but this duty of healing comes in naturally & clearly, where there is a good & trusty medical man who practices & authorizes it. I have the power, & I mean to use it, in moderation & quietness. —My address is here up to the 30th Thenceforwd to “Ambleside.” I will write you of Wordsworth, shall I?—supposing I have much intercourse,—of wh there seems no doubt.
Your letter is upstairs, & I am obliged to close. If I have left any thing unanswered, next time will satisfy you. —I think of you as the days get slowly warmer.
Yours affecly, dear friend
H. Martineau.
Address: Miss Barrett / 50. Wimpole St / London.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Yale University.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. Presumably The Life of Charles Follen, by Eliza Follen, issued by Chapman and Hall (London, 1845); see letter 1886, note 2.
3. William Lloyd Garrison (1805–79), an ardent abolitionist whom Harriet Martineau had met while travelling in the United States in 1835.
4. Charles Christopher Follen (1830–72?) was the son of Charles and Eliza Follen.
5. Letters of Lucius M. Piso from Palmyra, to his friend Marcus Curtius, at Rome (New York 1837).
6. Observations on the Growth of the Mind (Boston 1826) by Sampson Reed (1800–80).
7. Edward Headlam Greenhow (1814–88), nephew of Harriet Martineau’s brother-in-law, Thomas Michael Greenhow.
8. I Henry IV, III, 1, 101.
9. George Lambton (1828–79), 2nd Earl of Durham, had succeeded to the title on the death of his father, John George Lambton, in 1840.
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