Florence Nightingale had
sung her praises, and the Czar of Russia had ordered that "all the books
of Harriet Martineau's found in Russia shall be destroyed." Besides, she
had incurred the wrath of King Philippe of France, who after first
lavishly praising her and ordering the "Illustrations" translated into
French, to be used in the public schools, suddenly discovered a hot
chapter entitled, "The Error Called the Divine Right of Kings," and
although Philippe was only a "citizen-king" he made haste to recall his
kind words.

And I wish here to remark in parentheses that the author who has not made
warm friends and then lost them in an hour by writing things that did not
agree with the preconceived idea of these friends, has either not written
well or not been read. Every preacher who preaches ably has two doors to
his church--one where the people come in and another through which he
preaches them out. And I do not see how any man, even though he be
divine, could expect or hope to have as many as twelve disciples and hold
them for three years without being doubted, denied and betrayed. If you
have thoughts, and honestly speak your mind, Golgotha for you is not far
away.

Harriet Martineau was essentially an agitator. She entered into life in
its fullest sense, and no phase of existence escaped her keen and
penetrating investigation. From writing books giving minute directions to
housemaids, to lengthy advice to prime ministers, her work never lagged.
She was widely read, beloved, respected, feared and well hated.

When her political-economy tales were selling their best, the Government
sent her word that on application she could have a pension of two hundred
pounds a year for life. A pension of this kind comes nominally as a reward
for excellent work or heroic service. But a pension may mean something
else: it often implies that the receiver shall not offend nor affront the
one that bestows it. Could we trace the true inner history of pensions
granted by monarchies, we would find that they are usually diplomatic
moves.

Harriet made no response to the generous offer of a lifelong maintenance
from the State, but continued to work away after her own methods. Yet the
offer of a pension did her good in one way: it suggested the wisdom of
setting aside a sum that would support her when her earning powers were
diminished. From her two books written concerning her trip to America she
received the sum of seven thousand five h