If the reader can realise what deafness means, he will know how great was her disablement Asking questions is the surest way of acquiring knowledge, or verifying it. Harriet Martineau was discouraged in asking questions, because she could not hear the answers, unless given through a speaking-tube, which imposed efforts on her friends she was loath5 to subject them to. She could hear no great singer, actor, or orator6. These noble sources of pleasure and ideas were denied to her. She could take no part in public meetings or conferences, save those of which the business was foreknown to her. Then she was dependent upon some friend who indicated to her the time when she might intervene. Not hearing conversation, she could only learn indirectly7 what had gone before. Nor was it always possible to hear accurately8, or interpret what was told to her. How, under these disadvantages, she acquired her large knowledge, her wonderful judgment9 of character, her unrivalled mastery of political questions of the day—which made her the greatest political woman in English history—proves the possibility of seemingly impossible things. She wrote some twenty small volumes of "Tales of Political Economy," which were as eagerly looked forward to as the small volumes in which Sterne's "Tristram Shandy" appeared, or Dickens's "Pickwick Papers." James Mill and Charles Buller told her it was impossible to make the "Dismal10 Science" entertaining, but she did it, and she was the first who did it. She translated Comte's "Positive Philosophy" so well that Comte had it retranslated from English into French, as being better than his own work.
In 1852-3 Harriet Martineau invited me to visit her at Ambleside, saying, "I should like a good long conversation with you on the Abolitionists and American slavery, and also on the intolerable iniquities11 of the Leader?" What they were I do not recall—probably Copperheadism* in one of the editors, which she could sharply detect.
* "Copperhead" was the name of a venomous American snake,
which gave no warning of its approach. The slavery
Copperhead during the Civil War proclaimed his attachment12 to
the union, and argued against it. There are Copperheads in
every movement.
On Sunday, the day after my arrival, she drove me to Wordsworth's house and other places of interest. At my request she extended the drive to Coniston Water, some miles away, and on to Brantwood, the place Mr. Ruskin afterwards bought of Mr. Joseph Cowen, who held a mortgage of £7,000 upon it. Brantwood was then the residence of W. J. Linton, and Col. Stolzman and his wife were inmates13. The Colonel was an old Polish officer, who, when a young man, was present at Fontainebleau, when Napoleon took leave of his Old Guard. Miss Martineau's quick eye took in at a glance the surroundings of the dwelling14, and she explained to Mrs. Linton, who looked delicate, what should be done to render the house healthier, as the rains falling on the hill behind made the undrained foundation damp. Miss Martineau had an instinct of domesticity.
I never knew a more womanly woman. Her life was an answer to those who think that active interest in public affairs is incompatible15 with household affection. After my return home she wrote: "I enjoyed your visit very much; and I hope you will come as often as you conveniently can. It will be a great benefit, as well as pleasure to me. My good girls, Caroline and Elizabeth, send you respectful thanks for your remembrance of them. I, too, am obliged by your thoughtfulness of them. But let this be once for all. You will come again, I hope; and my girls will enjoy being hospitable16, in their own way, to one whom I had led them to respect as they do you"—mentionable as showing the tact17, judgment, independence, and friendliness18 of the hostess to visitors and those of her household.
She aided the diffusion19 of opinions she thought ought to have a hearing without altogether coinciding with them. She sent £10 towards the establishment of the Fleet Street House. She took in the Reasoned sending a double subscription20. Many editors will appreciate so excellent an example. Her interest in the Reasoner was less in the subjects discussed, than in its endeavour to maintain in controversy21 that fairness to adversaries22, which we should have wished (but did not even expect) to be shown towards ourselves.
Of the £500 given by Mr. Loombs in aid of her translation of Comte's great work, she arranged to reserve £150 for Comte, whose rights, as author, she considered ought to be respected. Many unrequited authors would be glad if all translators held the same opinion.
In 1854-5 she was told by her physicians that she had heart disease, which might end her life any day. I mentioned to Professor Francis William Newman the jeopardy23 she was said to be in. At times restoratives had to be administered before she could be brought down to dinner. Mr. Newman desired me to tell her that he had had, some years previously24, heart trouble. All at once a shock came as though a pistol had been discharged in his brain, and he expected fatal results. Yet he recovered his usual health and lived to a great age. Harriet Martineau lived twenty-two years after her friends were instructed to expect her death daily. Fearless and indifferent when the end might come, she was saved from the apprehensiveness25 by which the timid invite what they dread26.
It was during this—the period when her physicians apprehended27 her early death—that I one day (February 5, 1855) received the following note at 147, Fleet Street:—
"Miss H. Martineau presents her compliments to Mr. Holyoake, and is happy to find that she may hope to see him this week, and to thank him for his kindness in sending her some interesting papers by post.
"Miss H. Martineau will be happy to see Mr. Holyoake at tea on Wednesday evening next, if he can favour her with his company at seven o'clock.
"55, Devonshire Street, Portland Place."
In accordance with this note I took tea with her. She conversed28 in her accustomed unperturbed way, and said, "I sent for you that you may bear witness that I die on your side. An attempt will be made to represent that my opinions have vacillated. Whereas I have gone right on, as, I believe, from truth to truth. My views may not, however, have been those of progress."
I remarked that I had bought her earlier works to satisfy myself of the successiveness of her convictions, as expressed in her writings, and thought she rightly described them as being intrinsically progressive.
"Yes," she added, "my views from time to time were at successive stages, as they are now, clear and decided29. Certainly I was never happier in my life than at the present time. Christians30, if they think it worth while to attempt it, will not be able to make a 'Death Bed' out of me. I wish you to know my opinions at this time. We have to vindicate32 the truth as well as to teach it."*
* I put these words down the same night; thus I am able to
quote them.
For myself, I was neither priest nor confessor. Had I been, I should have felt it presumption33 to attempt to confirm one better able to teach me than I was to teach her. All I said was: "It is certainly a moral relief not to hold the cardinal34 Christian31 tenets of faith, as so many preachers speaking, as they assume to do, in the name of God, explain them. To act according to conscience and speak according to knowledge, never ceasing to consider what we can do for the service of others, is the one duty which a future life, if it comes, will not contradict."
Though no one was so well able as herself to write her biography, it was not in her mind to do it, and she wrote to me to give her the names of persons I thought might undertake it. I named three: Charles Knight35, who knew more of her life than any one else, eligible36 to write it; next Francis William Newman, who, being a many-sided thinker, and largely coinciding with her views, could justly estimate her earlier and later convictions. The third was Mr. H. G. Atkinson, who was entirely37 conversant38 with her convictions and career, but who declined with expressions of diffidence, though I urged him to undertake the work. At length she did it herself, in a way which showed no one else could have done it so well. She left instructions in her will that I should receive a copy of her Autobiography39, which appeared in three volumes, and came to me (February 28, 1877) from Mr. Thomas Martineau, one of her executors.
No autobiography produced in its day a greater impression. The treatment Miss Martineau had received from eminent40 adversaries astonished a generation in which greater controversial fairness had come to prevail. The friends of those who had assailed41 her felt some consternation42 at the imperishable descriptions of their conduct, which would never cease to be associated with their names, and they made public attempts to explain the facts away.
Her mind was photographic in other respects. She saw social facts and their influences, their nature and sequences, with a vividness no other writer of her day did. Her charming romance, the "Feats43 of the Fiord" impressed Norwegians with the belief that she was personally familiar with the country, where she had never been. There was "caller" air in the pages which made the reader hungry.
The autobiography contains a small gallery of statues of contemporaries, of note in their time, sculptured from life, as perfect in their way as Grecian statues. Their excellencies are generously portrayed44 for admiration45, and their defects described for the guidance of survivors46. Not like the false eulogies47 of the dead, which, by pretending perfection, lie to the living, where silence on errors or deficiencies are of the nature of deceit, and sure to be resented when the truth comes to be known. Only that admiration is lasting48 which is fully49 informed.
No character of Lord Brougham so striking and true as hers, has ever been drawn50. Eminent biographers and critics, including Carlyle, have delineated him, but her portrait—drawn twenty years before theirs appeared—Professor Masson assured me her character of Brougham was the most perfect of all.
Her two-sided estimate gave discomfort51 to those content with obliqueness52 in knowledge, but those who have the impartial53 instinct seek reality, by which no one is deceived. The light and shade of character, like the light and shade of a painting, alone give distinctiveness54 and truth. But whoever delineates so must suffer no distorting tints55 of pique56, or spite, or prejudice on his palate.
Miss Martineau entered into a correspondence on "Man's Nature and Development," with Mr. Henry G. Atkinson, which, when published, was reviewed by her brother, Dr. James Martineau, in the Prospective57 Review No. xxvi., Art 4, for which he selected the offensive and ignorant title of "Mesmeric Atheism58." It was misleading, because mesmerism has no theology. It was ignorant, because neither Mr. Atkinson nor Dr. Martineau's sister were Atheists. Their disavowal of Atheism was in the book before him.
点击收听单词发音
1 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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2 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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3 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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4 turbulence | |
n.喧嚣,狂暴,骚乱,湍流 | |
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5 loath | |
adj.不愿意的;勉强的 | |
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6 orator | |
n.演说者,演讲者,雄辩家 | |
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7 indirectly | |
adv.间接地,不直接了当地 | |
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8 accurately | |
adv.准确地,精确地 | |
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9 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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10 dismal | |
adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
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11 iniquities | |
n.邪恶( iniquity的名词复数 );极不公正 | |
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12 attachment | |
n.附属物,附件;依恋;依附 | |
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13 inmates | |
n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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14 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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15 incompatible | |
adj.不相容的,不协调的,不相配的 | |
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16 hospitable | |
adj.好客的;宽容的;有利的,适宜的 | |
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17 tact | |
n.机敏,圆滑,得体 | |
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18 friendliness | |
n.友谊,亲切,亲密 | |
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19 diffusion | |
n.流布;普及;散漫 | |
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20 subscription | |
n.预订,预订费,亲笔签名,调配法,下标(处方) | |
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21 controversy | |
n.争论,辩论,争吵 | |
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22 adversaries | |
n.对手,敌手( adversary的名词复数 ) | |
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23 jeopardy | |
n.危险;危难 | |
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24 previously | |
adv.以前,先前(地) | |
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25 apprehensiveness | |
忧虑感,领悟力 | |
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26 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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27 apprehended | |
逮捕,拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 ); 理解 | |
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28 conversed | |
v.交谈,谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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29 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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30 Christians | |
n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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31 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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32 vindicate | |
v.为…辩护或辩解,辩明;证明…正确 | |
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33 presumption | |
n.推测,可能性,冒昧,放肆,[法律]推定 | |
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34 cardinal | |
n.(天主教的)红衣主教;adj.首要的,基本的 | |
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35 knight | |
n.骑士,武士;爵士 | |
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36 eligible | |
adj.有条件被选中的;(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
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37 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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38 conversant | |
adj.亲近的,有交情的,熟悉的 | |
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39 autobiography | |
n.自传 | |
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40 eminent | |
adj.显赫的,杰出的,有名的,优良的 | |
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41 assailed | |
v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 );困扰;质问;毅然应对 | |
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42 consternation | |
n.大为吃惊,惊骇 | |
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43 feats | |
功绩,伟业,技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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44 portrayed | |
v.画像( portray的过去式和过去分词 );描述;描绘;描画 | |
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45 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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46 survivors | |
幸存者,残存者,生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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47 eulogies | |
n.颂词,颂文( eulogy的名词复数 ) | |
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48 lasting | |
adj.永久的,永恒的;vbl.持续,维持 | |
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49 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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50 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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51 discomfort | |
n.不舒服,不安,难过,困难,不方便 | |
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52 obliqueness | |
倾度,歪斜 | |
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53 impartial | |
adj.(in,to)公正的,无偏见的 | |
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54 distinctiveness | |
特殊[独特]性 | |
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55 tints | |
色彩( tint的名词复数 ); 带白的颜色; (淡色)染发剂; 痕迹 | |
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56 pique | |
v.伤害…的自尊心,使生气 n.不满,生气 | |
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57 prospective | |
adj.预期的,未来的,前瞻性的 | |
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58 atheism | |
n.无神论,不信神 | |
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