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The second great pillar of the portal of noble life seems to me to show still greater signs of being out of repair and in want of restoration, and that pillar is reverence, that heaven-eyed quality which Dr. Martineau rightly places at the very top of the ethical scale. Let that crumble, and the character which might have been a temple sinks into a mere counting-house.
"There's a lot about this I don't like," said the second doctor and drew Dr. Martineau by the arm towards the study. For a moment or so Sir Richmond listened to the low murmur of their voices, but he did not feel very deeply interested in what they were saying. He began to think what a decent chap Dr.
There was Spinoza; but Spinoza had been dead for ages. Now she came to think of it she had never heard anybody, not even Mr. Propart, speak of Spinoza. It would be worse for her than it had ever been for Aunt Lavvy who had actually known Dr. Martineau. Dr. Martineau was not dead; and if he had been there were still lots of Unitarian ministers alive all over England.
Martineau was very fine-minded in many respects, but he was an old maid; and like all old maids he saw man and woman in every encounter. But passion was a thing men and women fell back upon when they had nothing else in common. When they thought in the pleasantest harmony and every remark seemed to weave a fresh thread of common interest, then it wasn't so necessary.
I think I neglected to record that I saw Miss Martineau a few weeks since. She is a large, robust, elderly woman, and plainly dressed; but withal she has so kind, cheerful, and intelligent a face that she is pleasanter to look at than most beauties. Her hair is of a decided gray, and she does not shrink from calling herself old.
Already are the names of Madam de Stael, Edgeworth, Jameson, Martineau, and Hemans, abroad, and of Sigourney, Sedgwick, Child, Lee, and others, in our own land, enrolled on this bright register. Nor is the moral advancement of woman less remarkable than her literary attainments.
Instead of flicking the whip, we groan at last with Harriet Martineau at the inexorable laws of political economy that condemn us to comfort and direction, and those others to toil and hardship and indignity....
On one occasion Borrow had accepted an invitation from Miss Cobbe to meet some friends, but subsequently withdrew his acceptance "on finding that Dr Martineau was to be of the party . . . nor did he ever after attend our little assemblies without first ascertaining that Dr Martineau would not be present!"
Methinks I see it a modern temple of Vesta, without its tell-tale fires square, rectangular, simple, airy, isolated chaste as Diana and quiet as the grave the frescoed walls commemorating the legend of Saint Ursula and her eleven thousand the sacrifice of Jephtha's daughter Elizabeth Carter translating Epictetus Harriet Martineau revising the criminal code. Ponder upon this!
She accordingly accepted an invitation to spend a week or ten days with Miss Martineau at Ambleside. She also proposed to come to Manchester and see me, on her way to Westmoreland. But, unfortunately, I was from home, and unable to receive her. She acknowledged this invitation in a letter to me, dated "Dec. 13th, 1850. "My dear Mrs.
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