Jane Porter

“ It chanced to be late in the evening before we had an opportunity of enquiring the name of this lady, and, when we heard who she was, we recognized at once that very unusual phenomenon—a complete fitness of the outer temple to the fame whose deathless lamp is enshrined within it. It was Jane Porter, and she looked as one would have expected her to look, who had conjured up her image by aid of magic, after being carried away by her enchantments of story. ”

“ Rejection cannot alienate their faithful hearts; years and absence cannot chill their fervour. They belong to a race of men who, if they ever existed at all, are now as extinct as the mastodon.
It was Miss Jane Porter who successfully transferred to a conquering hero that exquisite sensibility of soul which had erstwhile belonged to the conquering heroine,—to the Emmelines and Adelinas of fiction. Dipping her pen "in the tears of Poland," she conveyed the glittering drops to the eyes of "Thaddeus of Warsaw," whence they gush in rills,—like those of the Prisoner of Chillon's brother. ”

“ No one could be more alive to praise or more grateful for attention, but the heart of a genuine, pure, loving woman, beat within Jane Porter’s bosom, and she was never drawn out of her domestic circle by the flattery that has spoiled so many, men as well as women. ”

“ I got away at eleven, and reached the opera in time to hear the last act of the Puritani, and see the Elsslers dance in the ballet, and with a look in at a ball, I concluded one of those exhausting, exciting, overdone London days, which are pleasanter to remember than to enjoy, and pleasanter to read about than either.
One of the most elegant and agreeable persons I ever saw was Miss Jane Porter, and I think her conversation more delightful to remember than any person’s I ever knew. A distinguished artist told me that he remembered her when she was his beau-ideal of female beauty ”

“ Thaddeus of Warsaw had the exact details of history with a romance added to please the author's fancy. Thus did Jane Porter discover to the world the possibilities of the historical novel. [Pg 142]
Her next novel, The Scottish Chiefs, grew out of the stories she had heard in her childhood. Besides the tales of Scotland's struggle for independence which she heard from the servants in her own home, a venerable old woman called Luckie Forbes, who lived not far from Mrs. Porter's house, used to tell her of the wonderful deeds of William Wallace. ”

“ Lady Crandall plumed herself with secret joy.
Jane looked up, puzzled.
"Oh, that's old Lady Porter—a perfect dragon," the general's wife rattled on. "Poor old dear; she thinks the Lord put her on the Rock for a purpose. Her own collars get higher and higher. I believe if she ever was presented at court she'd emulate the old Scotch lady who followed the law of décollete, but preserved her self-respect by wearing a red flannel chest protector. You must meet her."
"I'm afraid I won't have time to get a look at your dragon," Jane returned, with a little laugh, all happiness. ”

“ She had, in common with her three brothers and her charming sister, the advantage of a wise and loving mother—a woman pious without cant, and worldly-wise without being worldly. Mrs. Porter was born at Durham, and when very young bestowed her hand and heart on Major Porter. An old friend of the family assures us that two or three of their children were born in Ireland, and that certainly Jane was amongst the number. ”

“ From the door Genevieve called back incoherently—the hug had been as short in duration as it had been sudden in action:
"I don't think I can be late now, Miss Jane, ever—with that lovely thing to keep time for me. And I wanted you to know—next year, when I come back, I'm just sure I shall cook and sew beautifully, and do my practising and everything, without once being told. And if I do sprain my ankle I'll be a perfect angel—truly I will. And I won't ever keep folks waiting, either, or—mercy! there's Nancy's first ring now, and I'm not one bit ready!" ”

“ It will oblige me."
"Well, sir, as you please!" and then, laying her withered hand fearfully upon his arm, "forgive me, dear sir," said she, "if my attentions are troublesome. Indeed, I fear that sometimes great love appears like great impertinence; I would always be serving you, and therefore I often forget the wide difference between your honor's station and mine."
The count could only press her hand gratefully, and with an emotion which made him hurry up stairs to hide. When in his own room, he shut the door, and cast a wild and inquisitive gaze around the apartment ”

“ They want ye ter come,” he panted. “Somethin’ has took him. He’s in Mackey’s drug store, talkin’ awful queer. He ain’t his self, ye know. They thought maybe you could--do somethin’.”
Jane went at once--but she could do nothing except to lead gently home the chattering, shifting-eyed thing that had once been her father. One after another the village physicians shook their heads--they could do nothing. Skilled alienists from the city--they, too, could do nothing. There was nothing that could be done, they said, except to care for him as one would for a child. He would live years, probably. ”

“ One sorrow after another pressed heavily upon her, yet she was still the same sweet, gentle, holy-minded woman she had ever been, bending with Christian faith to the will of the Almighty—“biding her time.”
JANE PORTER’S COTTAGE AT ESHER.
How differently would she have “watched and waited” had she been tainted by vanity, or fixed her soul on the mere triumphs of “literary reputation.” While firm to her own creed, she fully enjoyed the success of those who scramble up—where she bore the standard to the heights—of Parnassus ”

“ No one who knows much of the women and their books can doubt the vital religious principles of Jane Austen and Jane and Anna Maria Porter. But though Jane Porter always included fervent religious faith among the attributes of her idealised fantastic heroes of romance, Anna Maria, in the only tale in which she showed how well and pleasantly she could deal with contemporary life, apologised anxiously in the preface for the serious tone of the later volumes. ”

“ In the chamber above a woman sprang to her feet. Harriet had quite forgotten the stove-pipe hole to the room below, and every sob and moan and wailing cry had been woefully distinct to her ears. With streaming eyes and quivering lips she hurried down the stairs and threw open the sitting-room door.
“Jehiel! Hannah Jane! I’m here, right here--alive!” she cried. “An’ I’ve been a wicked, wicked woman! I never thought how bad ‘twas goin’ ter make you feel. I truly never, never did. ’Twas only myself--I wanted yer so. Oh, children, children, I’ve been so wicked--so awful wicked!” ”

“ Jane, in particular, is always wishing she could do something for “Poor Maggie,” so I dare say she’ll be looked out for all right.
As to who will prove to be the wisest handler of the hundred thousand, and thus my eventual heir, I haven’t the least idea. As I said before, they all need money, and need it badly—need it to be comfortable and happy, I mean. They aren’t really poor, any of them, except, perhaps, Miss Flora. She is a little hard up, poor soul. Bless her heart! I wonder what she’ll get first, Niagara, the phonograph, or something to eat without looking at the price. ”

“ I saw you when you flew out of the yard an hour ago, and I fancy Miss Jane must have seen you, too. At any rate, she's been to the door three times since, to my knowledge, to look for you."
Genevieve clapped her hand to her lips.
"Mercy! I never thought to tell them a word. I just ran."
"Yes, I noticed you—ran," observed Harold, dryly.
"And they always want to know just where I am," sighed Genevieve. "O dear! if you do something bad in order to do something good, which is it—bad or good?" ”

“ The girls bit their lips still harder and lifted their chins still higher: they were not quite sure whether they more disliked to be "children" or "young ladies"—in that tone of voice.
"Oh, but Miss Jane," argued Genevieve, "you know Sunbridge station is just dead, simply dead at three o'clock in the afternoon. Nobody ever comes on that train, hardly, and there wasn't a soul around but that sleepy Mr. Jones and the station men, and that old Mrs. Palmer. And you know she wouldn't hear a gun go off right under her nose."
"Genevieve, my dear!" murmured Mrs. Kennedy—but her eyes were twinkling. ”

“ Jane was fifty-five now, a thin-faced, stoop-shouldered, tired woman--but a woman to whom release from this constant care was soon to come, for she was not yet fifty-six when her father died.
All the children and some of the grandchildren came to the funeral. In the evening the family, with the exception of Jane, gathered in the sitting-room and discussed the future, while upstairs the woman whose fate was most concerned laid herself wearily in bed with almost a pang that she need not now first be doubly sure that doors were locked and spoons were counted. ”

“ But Mellicent thought you were, and it seems she was right. Oh, of course, we’d all thought once Mr. Smith might take a fancy to you, but we never dreamed of such a thing as this—Mr. Stanley G. Fulton! Sakes alive—I can hardly sense it yet!
Jane, for a minute, forgot how rich he was, and spoke right up real quick—“It’s for her money, of course. I knew some one would marry her for that fifty thousand dollars!” But she laughed then, right off, with the rest of us, at the idea of a man worth twenty millions marrying anybody for fifty thousand dollars. ”

“ But I don’t believe he cares for her—that way.”
“Then why does he come to see her and take her auto-riding, and hang around her every minute he gets a chance?” snapped Jane. “I know how he acts at the house, and I hear he scarcely left her side at the tennis match the other day.”
“Yes, I—” Miss Maggie did not finish her sentence. A slow change came to her countenance. The flush receded, leaving her face a bit white.
“I wonder if the man really thinks he stands any chance,” spluttered Jane, ignoring Miss Maggie’s unfinished sentence. “Why, he’s worse than that Donald Gray. ”

“ Now, was it?”
“Perhaps not.”
“What’s the good of giving, if you aren’t going to get any credit, or thanks, just because you’re rich, I should like to know? And they aren’t the only ones. Nothing has been appreciated,” went on Mrs. Jane discontentedly. “Look at Cousin Mary Davis—you know how poor they’ve always been, and how hard it’s been for them to get along. Her Carrie—Mellicent’s age, you know—has had to go to work in Hooper’s store. Well, I sent Mellicent’s old white lace party dress to Mary. ’Twas some soiled, of course, and a little torn ”

“ There’s safety in numbers, you know.”
“But I don’t like to have her flirt at all, Mr. Smith.”
“It isn’t flirting. It’s just her bottled-up childhood and youth bubbling over. She can’t help bubbling, she’s been repressed so long. She’ll come out all right, and she won’t come out hand in hand with Hibbard Gaylord. You see if she does.”
Miss Maggie shook her head and sighed. “You don’t know Jane. Jane will never give up. She’ll be quiet, but she’ll be firm. With one hand she’ll keep Gray away, and with the other she’ll push Gaylord forward. Even Mellicent herself won’t know how it’s done. ”

“ Jane is thoroughly angry as well as mortified. She says Mellicent is every whit as good as those Pennocks, and that the woman who would let a paltry thing like money stand in the way of her son’s affections is a pretty small specimen. For her part, she never did have any use for rich folks, anyway, and she is proud and glad that she’s poor! ”

“ Jane, “and kept the money himself. Don’t you suppose he knew what he’d written in that letter, and don’t you suppose he’d have saved those three hundred thousand dollars if he could? Well, I guess he would! The man is dead. That’s certain enough.”
“Well, anyhow, we’re not going into mourning till we have to.” Mrs. Harriet’s lips snapped together with firm decision.
“Of course not. I’m sure I don’t see any use in having the money if we’ve got to wear black and not go anywhere,” pouted Bessie.
“Are we rich, then, really, ma?” demanded Benny. ”

“ Why, seems as if I must look changed a lot,” chirruped Jane. “I’m so rested, and Fred and Sally were so good to me! Why, they tried not to have me do a thing--and I didn’t do much, only a little puttering around just to help out with the work.”
“Hm-m,” murmured Edgar. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re--rested.”
Julia met them in the hall of the beautiful Brookline residence. Lined up with her were the four younger children, who lived at home. They made an imposing array, and Jane was visibly affected. ”

“ She doesn’t take any more comfort with them than she did with the ingrain carpets and cheap chairs. Of course, that’s a little thing. I only mentioned it to illustrate my meaning. Jane doesn’t know how to play. She never did. When you can’t spend five cents out of a hundred dollars for pleasure without wincing, you needn’t expect you’re going to spend five dollars out of a hundred thousand without feeling the pinch,” laughed Miss Maggie.
“And Miss Flora? You haven’t mentioned her,” observed Mr. Smith, a little grimly. ”

“ So overwhelmed with grief were they, indeed, that they fled from the room almost immediately upon seeing him, and Edgar took the first train out of town.
Mary, shiveringly, crept from room to room, trying to find a place where the cackling laugh and the fretful voice would not reach her. But the old man, like a child with a new toy, was pleased at his daughter’s arrival, and followed her about the house with unfailing persistence.
“But, Mary, he won’t hurt you. Why do you run?” remonstrated Jane. ”