Elizabeth Hamilton. Anna Porter. Jane Porter
Elizabeth Hamilton was also an Irish writer, but through her one novel
she will always be associated with Scotland. In _The Cottagers of
Glenburnie_ she did for the Scotch people what Maria Edgeworth had done
for the Irish, and represented for the first time in fiction the life of
the common people. It is a story of poor people of the serving class.
Mrs. Mason, who had been an upper servant in the family of a lord, has
been pensioned and takes up her abode with a cousin in the village of
Glenburnie. She was among the earliest of our settlement workers. This
little village with the pretty name, situated in a beautiful country,
had accumulated about its homes as much filth as the tenements of the
poorest ward of a large city, and for the same reason, that its
inhabitants did not understand the value of cleanliness. Its thatched
cottages, had it not been for their chimneys and the smoke issuing from
them, would have passed for stables or hog-sties, for there was a
dunghill in front of every door.
Mrs. MacClarty's cottage, where Mrs. Mason was to live, was like all the
rest. It was as dirty inside as out. Mrs. MacClarty picked up a cloth
from the floor beside her husband's boots, with which to wipe her
dishes, and made her cheese in a kettle which had not been washed since
the chickens had eaten their last meal from it, although the remains of
their feast still adhered to the sides. When Mrs. MacClarty put her
black hands into the cheese to stir it, Mrs. Mason reminded her gently
that she had not washed them:
"'Hoot,' returned the gudewife, 'my hands do weel eneugh. I canna be
fash'd to clean them at ilka turn.'"
When Mrs. Mason proposed that the windows should be hung on hinges and
supplied with iron hooks, so that they could be opened at pleasure, Mr.
MacClarty objected to the plan:
"'And wha do you think wad put in the cleek?' returned he. 'Is there
ane, think ye, aboot this hoose, that would be at sic a fash?'
"'Ilka place has just its ain gait,' said the gudewife, 'and ye needna
think that ever we'll learn yours. And, indeed, to be plain wi' you,
cusine, I think you hae owre mony fykes. There, didna ye keep Grizzy for
mair than twa hours, yesterday morning, soopin' and dustin' your room
in every corner, an' cleanin' out the twa bits of buird, that are for
naething but to set your foot on after a'?'"
It may be well to explain that the chickens had been roosting in this
chamber before Mrs. Mason's arrival.
The story of Mr. MacClarty's death is pathetic. He is lying ill with a
fever in the press-bed in the kitchen, where not a breath of air reaches
him. The neighbours have crowded in to offer sympathy. The doors are
tightly closed, and his wife has piled blankets over him and given him
whiskey and hot water to drink. When Mrs. Mason, who knows that with
proper care his life can be saved, urges that he be removed to her room
where he can have air, all the neighbours violently oppose her advice.
But Peter MacGlashon, the oracle of the village, looks at it more
philosophically:
"'If it's the wull o' God that he's to dee, it's a' ane whar ye tak him;
ye canna hinder the wull o' God.'"
But upon Mrs. Mason's insisting that we should do our best to save the
life of the sick with the reason God has given us, Peter becomes
alarmed:
"'That's no soond doctrine,' exclaimed Peter. 'It's the law of works.'"
Elizabeth Hamilton had been a teacher and had written books on
education, so that her description of the school which Mrs. Mason
opened in the village gives an accurate idea of the Scottish schools for
the poorer classes. Each class was divided into landlord, tenants, and
under-tenants, one order being responsible for a specific amount of
reading and writing to the order above it. The landlord was responsible
to the master both for his own diligence and the diligence of his
vassals. If the tenants disobeyed the laws they were tried by a jury of
their mates. The results of the training at Mrs. Mason's school might
well be an aim of teachers to-day: "To have been educated at the school
of Glenburnie implied a security for truth, diligence and honesty."
The pupils in the school gradually learned to love cleanliness and
order. The little flower-garden in front gave pleasure to all. The
villagers declared, "The flowers are a hantel bonnier than the midden
and smell a hantel sweeter, too." With this improvement in taste, the
"gude auld gaits" gave way to a better order of things.
_The Cottagers of Glenburnie_ is more realistic in detail than anything
which had yet been written. It is a short simple story told in simple
language. There is a slight plot, but it is the village upon which our
attention is fastened. One individual stands out more strongly than the
rest: that is Mrs. MacClarty with her constant expression, "It is well
eneugh. I canna be fashed."
This little book was read in every Scotch village, and many of the poor
people saw in it a picture of their own homes. But its sound
common-sense appealed to them. It was reasonable that butter without
hairs would sell for more than with them, and that gardens without weeds
would produce more vegetables than when so encumbered. The book did for
the cottagers of Scotland what Mrs. Mason had done for those of
Glenburnie.
* * * * *
The lives of Anna Maria and Jane Porter resemble in a few particulars
that of Elizabeth Hamilton. Like her they belonged, at least on the
father's side, to Ireland, and like her they lived in Scotland, and
their names will always be associated with that country. But Elizabeth
Hamilton wrote the first novel of Scotland's poor, the ancestor of _The
Window in Thrums_ and _Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush_; Jane Porter wrote
the first novel of Scotland's kings, the immediate forerunner of
_Waverley_, _The Abbot_, and _The Monastery_.
Upon the death of Major Porter, who had been stationed for some years
with his regiment at Durham, Mrs. Porter removed to Edinburgh, where her
children were educated. Their quick lively imaginations found food for
growth on Scottish soil. At that time Caledonia was a land of cliff and
crag, inhabited by a quarrelsome people, whom the English still regarded
with something the same aversion which Dr. Johnson had so often
expressed to Boswell. But every castle had its story of brave knights
and fair ladies, and every brae had been the scene of renowned deeds of
arms. In every cottage the memory of the past was kept alive, and
fathers and mothers related to their children stories of Wallace and of
Bruce, until the romantic past became more real than the living present.
Mrs. Porter's servants delighted to relate to her eager children stories
of Scotland's glory. The maids would sing to them the songs of "Wallace
wight," and the serving-man would tell them tales of Bannockburn and
Cambus-Kenneth.
Rarely have stories fallen on such fertile soil. In a short time, three
of these children became famous. Sir Robert Ker Porter, the brother of
Anna and Jane, followed closely in the footsteps of Scotland's heroes,
and became distinguished as a soldier and diplomat, as well as a famous
painter of battles. He painted the enormous canvas of _The Storming of
Seringapatam_, a sensational panorama, one hundred and twenty feet in
length, the first of its kind, but in a style that has often been
followed in recent years. The idol of his family, it would seem that he
was endowed with many of those qualities which his sisters gave to the
heroes of their romances.
Anna Maria Porter, the youngest of the group, was the first to appear in
print. At the age of fifteen, she published a little volume called
_Artless Tales_. From this time until her death, at least every two
years a new book from her pen was announced. She wrote a large number of
historical romances, which were widely read and translated into many
languages. This kind of story, in the hands of Sophia Lee, was tame and
uninteresting. Anna Porter increased its scope and its popularity. Her
plots are well worked out with many thrilling adventures. Her
imagination, however, had been quickened by reading, not by observation,
and although her scenes cover many countries of Europe and many periods
of history, they differ but little in pictorial detail, and her
characters are lifeless. Her style of writing is, moreover, so inflated
that it gives an air of unreality to her books.
She thus describes the Hungarian brothers: "They were, indeed, perfect
specimens of the loveliness of youth and the magnificence of manhood."
This novel, dealing with the French Revolution, was one of the most
popular of all her stories. It went through several editions both in
England and on the continent. Superlative expressions seem to have been
fashionable in that age which was still encumbered by much that was
artificial in dress and manners. Miss Porter with proper formality thus
writes of her heroine as she was recovering from a fainting fit: "With a
blissful shiver, Ippolita slowly unclosed her eyes, and turning them
round, with such a look as we may imagine blessed angels cast, when
awakening amid the raptures of another world, she met those of her sweet
and gracious uncle."
Some of her society novels are witty and have a lively style, which
suggests the truth of Mr. S. C. Hall's description of the sisters. Anna,
a blonde, handsome and gay, he named L'Allegro, in contrast to Jane, a
brunette, equally handsome, but with the dignified manners of the
heroines of her own romances, whom he styled Il Penseroso.
* * * * *
Jane Porter took a more serious view of the responsibilities of
authorship than her sister. Her first novel, _Thaddeus of Warsaw_, was
written while England was agitated against France and excited over the
wrongs of Poland. It grew out of popular feeling. Miss Porter had become
acquainted with friends of Kosciusko, men who had taken part with him in
his country's struggle for liberty, and made him the hero of the story.
The scenery of Poland was so well described that the Poles refused to
believe that she had not visited their country; and events were related
in a manner so pleasing to them that they distinguished the author by
many honours. It is one thing to write an historical novel of people and
events that have long been buried in oblivion; but to write a story of
times so near the present that its chief actors are still living, is,
indeed, a rash task. And for any history to meet with the approval of
its hero and his friends bespeaks rare excellence in the work.
In the light of the classic standing of the historical novel, due to the
genius of Scott and Dumas, it is interesting to read how _Thaddeus of
Warsaw_ came to be published. Miss Porter wrote the romance merely for
her own amusement, with no thought of its being read outside the circle
of her family and intimate friends. They urged her to publish it. But
for a long time she resisted their importunities on the ground that it
did not belong to any known style of writing: stories of real life, like
_Tom Jones_, or improbable romances, like _The Mysteries of Udolpho_,
were the only legitimate forms of fiction. _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.
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. Of the influence these stories had upon her childish mind, Jane
Porter has thus written:
"I must avow, that to Luckie Forbes's familiar, and even endearing,
manner of narrating the lives of William Wallace and his dauntless
followers; her representation of their heart-sacrifices for the good of
their country, filling me with an admiration and a reverential
amazement, like her own; and calling forth my tears and sobs, when she
told of the deaths of some, and of the cruel execution of the virtuous
leader of them all;--to her I must date my early and continued
enthusiasm in the character of Sir William Wallace! and in the friends
his truly hero-soul delighted to honour."
Before writing _The Scottish Chiefs_, Miss Porter read everything she
could find bearing upon the history of England and Scotland during the
reigns of the first two Edwards. She personally visited the places she
described. She wrote in the preface: "I assure the reader that I seldom
lead him to any spot in Scotland whither some written or oral testimony
respecting my hero had not previously conducted myself." Besides these
sources of information, Miss Porter was familiar with the poem of
_Wallace_ by Blind Harry the Minstrel, the biographer of Scotland's
national hero. Blind Harry lived nearly two centuries after the death of
Wallace, but he had access to books now lost, and collected stories
about Scotland's struggle for independence while it was still prominent
in the public mind. Although he tells many exalted stories of the
numbers whom Wallace overcame by his single arm, the poem is on the
whole authentic. Sheriff Mackay in the _Dictionary of National
Biography_ writes that the life of Wallace by Blind Harry "became the
secular bible of his countrymen, and echoes through their later
history." Miss Porter introduced love scenes to vary the deeds of war,
but there is nothing else in _The Scottish Chiefs_ which is not true to
history, or to that more legitimate source of romance, the traditions
common among the people.
From the opening chapter, in which Wallace is described as an outlaw
because he had refused to take the oath of allegiance to an English
king, to his death in London and the final crowning of Bruce, there is
not a dull page. Especially interesting is the scene between William
Wallace and the Earl of Carrick, after the battle of Falkirk, and the
appearance of Robert Bruce, who overheard this conversation, fighting by
the side of Wallace. The truth of this incident has been denied, but it
is related by Blind Harry. The trial of William Wallace in the great
hall at Westminster for treason, and his defence that he had never
acknowledged the English government, is most impressive, and is a matter
of record.
_The Scottish Chiefs_ is the first historical novel in which the author
made diligent research in order to give a truthful representation of the
times. It has the atmosphere of feudal days. Notwithstanding the
ridicule cast upon Wallace as a lady's hero, he is drawn in heroic
proportions. Miss Mitford declared that she scarcely knew "one _heros de
roman_ whom it is possible to admire, except Wallace in Miss Porter's
story." The work is written in the style of the old epics. The many
puerile attempts of the last few years to write an historical romance in
which Washington or Lincoln should figure have shown how difficult is
the task. How weak and commonplace have these great men appeared in
fiction! It requires a nature akin to the heroic to draw it. In 1810,
when it was published, _The Scottish Chiefs_ was the only great
historical romance. Four years later _Waverley_ was published, the first
of the novels of Sir Walter Scott. This was superior in imagination and
in craftsmanship to Miss Porter's novel, but not in interest. _The
Scottish Chiefs_ has since been excelled by many others of the Waverley
novels, though not by all, by _Henry Esmond_, and _A Tale of Two
Cities_, but it preceded all these in time, and still holds a place as a
classic of the second rank.
Critics of to-day smile at its enthusiastic style, but Miss Porter
speaks with no more enthusiasm than did the poor folk from whom she
heard the story. As long as enthusiastic youth loves an unblemished
hero, _The Scottish Chiefs_ will be read. It is impossible to analyse
these early impressions or to test their truth. One can only remember
them with gratitude. Jane Porter has, however, taught the youth of other
lands to reverence Scotland's popular hero, so that the mention of his
name awakens a thrill of pleasure, and the hills and glades associated
with his deeds glow with the light of romance.
In 1815, Jane Porter wrote a third historical novel, _The Pastor's
Fireside_. This is far inferior to _The Scottish Chiefs_. It has the
same elevated style, and the mystery which surrounds the hero awakens
and holds the attention. But the novel deals with the later Stuarts, and
one feels that the author herself was but little interested in the
historical events about which she was writing. The book has no abiding
qualities.
In 1832 was published a book bearing the title _Sir Edward Seaward's
Narrative of His Shipwreck and Consequent Discovery of certain Islands
in the Caribbean Sea, with a Detail of many extraordinary and highly
interesting Events in his Life from the year 1733 to 1749 as written in
his Own Diary. Edited by Jane Porter._ In the preface Miss Porter
explains how the manuscript was given to her by the relatives of Sir
Edward. The story reads like a second Robinson Crusoe. It has all the
minute details that give an air of verisimilitude to the writings of
Defoe. In the opening chapter, Edward Seaward supposedly gives this
account of himself:
"Born of loyal and honest parents, whose means were just sufficient to
give a common education to their children, I have neither to boast of
pedigree nor of learning; yet they bequeathed to me a better
inheritance--a stout constitution, a peaceable disposition, and a proper
sense of what is due to my superiors and equals; for such an inheritance
I am grateful to God, and to them."
In the story he is married to a woman of his own rank, and she embarks
with him for Jamaica, but they are shipwrecked on an island near Lat. 14
deg. 30 min. N. and Long. 81 deg. W. They find bags of money hidden on
the island, some negroes come to them, and a schooner is driven to
their haven. Edward sees in this a purpose which afterward is fulfilled.
He says to his wife: "I should be the most ungrateful of men, to the
good God who has bestowed all this on me, if I did not feel that this
money, so wonderfully delivered into my hands, was for some special
purpose of stewardship. The providential arrival of the poor castaway
negroes, and then of the schooner,--all--all working together to give us
the means of providing every comfort, towards planting a colony of
refuge in that blessed haven of our own preservation,--seem to me, in
solemn truth, as so many signs from the Divine Will, that it is our duty
to fulfil a task allotted to us, in that long unknown island."
This island becomes inhabited by a happy people, and Seaward is knighted
by George the Second.
Everybody read the book. A second edition was called for within the
year. Old naval officers got out their charts, and hunted up the
probable locality of the places mentioned. Nobody at first doubted its
veracity. The _Quarterly_, however, decided that no such man had ever
existed and that the whole story was a fiction. It hunted for a schooner
mentioned and the names of the naval officers. The latter had never
served in his Majesty's navy and the former had not timed her voyages
according to the story. The uniform of a naval officer described in the
narrative was not worn until thirteen years after these adventures had
taken place, and no man by the name of Seaward had been knighted during
this time, nor was there any village in England having the name of the
village which he gave as his birthplace. Supposing the editor had
changed names and dates, the _Quarterly_ criticism becomes valueless.
Although the magazine declared it a work of fiction, it gave both the
story and the style high praise, and declared it far superior to her
romances. When Miss Porter was asked about it, she declined to answer,
but said that Scott had his great secret and she might be permitted to
have her little one.
It is generally considered now to have been the work of Jane Porter. No
two books differ more in style than _The Scottish Chiefs_ and _Sir
Edward Seaward_. But twenty-two years had elapsed between them. The
former is written in dignified, stately language; the latter in simple
homely words, and both its invention and its style entitle it to a place
among English classics.