Читать книгу Ariel (A Shelley Romance) - Andre Maurois - Страница 12

Table of Contents

A pair of young lovers, persecuted and charming, exercises a fascination which is almost irresistible. The citizens of Edinburgh, difficult to get at where their purse is concerned, could not prevent themselves from giving an amused and indulgent welcome to the very young couple who arrived at their gates in such brilliant penury.

Before leaving London Shelley had borrowed a few pounds from a friend. When he got to Edinburgh he hadn’t a penny left. It was useless to hope for help from his father, whom the news of his elopement must have thrown into paroxysms of rage.

However, he found a good-humoured landlord to whom he told his story; this, with Harriet’s beauty and a promise of speedy payment, induced him to give the travellers an excellent ground-floor flat in his house.

Better still, he advanced them the money they needed to pay their way during the first few days, and to arrange the wedding, according to the simple rites of the Scottish Church. His only condition was that Shelley should treat him and his friends to a supper on the wedding night.

So it was in the midst of Edinburgh tradesmen that the grandson of Sir Bysshe ate his wedding-feast. The fumes of the wines and the spectacle of the young people going to the heads of the guests, these honest Puritans became a trifle too wanton for Shelley’s taste. The jests grew ribald. The modest Harriet blushed crimson, and Shelley rising announced that he and his wife would say good night.

A roar of laughter was the reply.

A little later there came a knock at their door. Shelley opened it to find his landlord, followed by all his friends. He spoke tipsily: “It’s the custom here when there’s a wedding, to come up in the middle of the night and wash the bride with whisky....”

“Take another step into the room, and I blow your brains out!” cried Shelley, seizing a pistol in each hand.

Perceiving that there was something dangerous in this young man who looked so like a girl, the intruders wished him a respectful good night, and tumbled precipitately downstairs.

Thus Shelley and Harriet found themselves husband and wife, free and alone in a big unknown city. They looked at each other in rapture.

A few days had sufficed to render the young husband, who in the stage had reflected with melancholy, “An act of will and not of passion,” over head and ears in love.

Harriet was really delightful to look upon: always pretty, always bright, always blooming, her head well dressed, not a hair out of its place; smart, usually plain in her neatness, without a wrinkle, without a spot, she resembled some pink-and-white flower.

Without being really cultivated she was remarkably well-informed. She had read a prodigious number of books, she still read all day long, and works of a high ethical tone for choice.

Her master, who was her lover, had given her his own veneration for Virtue, and Fénelon’s Télémaque was his favourite hero. She practised saying over the magic words “Intolerance,” “Equality,” “Justice,” and her child-lips uttered maxims which would have staggered the Lord Chancellor. As to the Anglican religion she ignored it as completely as did Calypso and Nausicaa.

Children are delightful, but their society is fatiguing. Fully alive to the charm, sweet temper, and unselfishness of Harriet, nevertheless Shelley now and again sighed for Hogg’s caustic talk, or Miss Hitchener’s ardent enthusiasm. He asked himself uneasily what the latter would think of his marriage.

“My dearest Friend,” he wrote to her, “if I may still address you so? Or have I lost, through my equivocal conduct, the esteem of the virtuous and the wise? ... How in one week all my plans have changed, and to what an extent are we the slaves of circumstance! You will ask how I, an atheist, could submit myself to the marriage ceremony, how my conscience could ever consent to it? This is what I want to explain to you....”

Thereupon, treading in Hogg’s footsteps, he proved that one has not the right to deprive a beloved being of all the advantages which are bound up with a good reputation.

“Blame if thou wilt, dearest friend, for still thou art dearest to me, yet pity even this error if thou blamest me. If Harriet be not at sixteen all you are at a more advanced age, assist me to mould a really noble soul into all that can make its nobleness useful and lovely.... Charming she is already unless I am the weakest of error’s slaves.”

The letter finished with an invitation that the lady should join them at Edinburgh, where Harriet’s presence would prevent any thought of impropriety. Miss Kitchener did not accept. Evidently the poetic “thee’s” and “thou’s” were not sufficient to buy pardon for the somewhat unfortunate reference to Harriet’s and Miss Hitchener’s respective ages.

But though the virgin of Cuckfield declined to come and help in the moulding of Harriet’s soul, one sunny morning Shelley heard a knock at the door of his flat, and looking out of the window was overjoyed to see Hogg standing in the street, bag in hand.

Having just given himself a few weeks’ holiday, he came to pass them in Edinburgh. He received a triumphal reception.

“We have met at last once more!” cried Shelley. “And we will never part again! You must have a bed in the house!”

Harriet came in. Hogg was charmed with her. He had never seen such blooming, radiant youth and beauty. The landlord was summoned.

“We want another bedroom, instantly, urgently, indispensably!” When the poor man was permitted to answer, he offered them a room at the top of the house.

The three friends had a thousand things to tell and to ask. They all talked at once, while a dirty little nymph, the servant of the house, brought in tea, with many discordant ejaculations.

So soon as the excitement had somewhat subsided Shelley proposed a walk, and they went to visit the palace of Mary Stuart.

Harriet, as an excellent pupil of the Academy for Young Ladies and a tireless reader of historical romances, explained the history of the unhappy Queen. On leaving Holyrood House Shelley declared he must go home and write letters, but he wished Hogg and Harriet to climb to Arthur’s Seat, whence they would get a view of the whole city.

Hogg having admired the scene, they sat there a long time together, and probably in such delightful company he would have found any view admirable.

As they came down, the wind having begun to blow, displayed Harriet’s ankles, which Hogg by a side glance examined with interest.

This made Harriet sit down again upon a rock and declare she would remain there “for ever”!

Hogg who was desperately hungry, protested in vain. So he left her ... and presently she came running down after him.

Thus began for the three young people some delightful weeks.

The money question remained an anxious one, but jolly Uncle Pilfold sent frequent presents. “To be confoundedly angry with his son is all very well, but to stop the supplies is a great deal too bad.” Hogg also had some spare cash, although Timothy Shelley had taken the trouble to write to Hogg senior: “I think it my duty to warn you that my young man has just set off for Scotland with a young female, and that your young man has joined them.”

Every morning Shelley would go out to fetch his letters, the number of which remained prodigious. After breakfast he worked at a translation of Buffon which he had undertaken, while Hogg and Harriet went for a walk. If the weather were bad she read aloud to Hogg. She was fond of reading aloud and she read remarkably well, with a very distinct enunciation and an agreeable voice.

Hogg listened to the greater part of Télémaque and never complained. The virtuous Idomeneus giving wise laws to Crete was horribly boring, but the reader was so lovely to look upon that he would have listened without complaining the whole day through.

Shelley, less polite, would sometimes drop off to sleep, and his innocent slumbers gave serious offence. His friend would support his wife in stigmatizing him as an inattentive wretch, Hogg taking an unconscious pleasure in making common cause with Harriet.

It was the year of the famous comet and of the still more famous vintage 1811. The nights were clear and bright.