Читать книгу The Life of Sir Walter Scott: A Biography - S. Fowler Wright - Страница 21

CHAPTER XVII.

In the latter days of the reign of Louis XVI, there had been living in Lyons, with his wife and two young children, a M. Jean Charpentier, a government official of some wealth and position. Among his friends had been the Marquis of Downshire, who had stayed at his house for some time when travelling on the Continent. When the revolution broke out, M. Charpentier did not fly—he may probably have been in no condition of health to do so—but he prudently sent some of his money to England, about £4,000 in all.

The Marquis of Downshire was his good friend in the matter. He appears to have arranged its investment, part of the money being secured by a mortgage on his own estate. When her husband died, as he did shortly afterwards, Madame Charpentier left Lyons for Paris, and then fled with her two children to London, as the murderous horrors of the revolution darkened around her. Lord Downshire gave the fugitives shelter in his own house. The mother died almost immediately, and he acted from that time as the guardian of the two orphans who had been left on his hands. He appears to have acted throughout with kindness and probity. He educated the children wisely, and conserved their property. In due time, he procured for the boy, Charles Charpentier, an appointment under the East India Company, who in 1797 already held a good position as a commercial resident at Salem. It is probable that some of the children’s original capital had been invested in connection with this appointment, subject to Charles contributing to his sister’s support, for at this date we find that Charlotte Charpentier (or Carpenter, as she had now taken to writing it, in the English style) reckoned her income at £500 a year, part of which was from interest on secure investments, and the remainder dependent upon the regularity of her brother’s remittances.

Charlotte’s education had been entrusted to Miss Jane Nicholson, a daughter of the Dean of Exeter, and grand-daughter of William Nicholson, Bishop of Carlisle. The Bishop of Carlisle was dead, but Jane Nicholson still had friends or relatives in Carlisle with whom she kept up acquaintance. Charlotte’s education was over, but Lord Downshire still retained Miss Nicholson’s services as a companion for the lonely girl.

It followed from these circumstances that when Charlotte and Miss Nicholson took a holiday together in August of this year, Carlisle was the selected spot, from which they went to Gilsland, to spend some summer weeks among the beauties of the English lakes.

At the same time, the legal session at Edinburgh having closed in July, and the new yeomanry regiment having suspended its drills (after three weeks in camp at Musselburgh), John and Walter Scott, with Walter’s friend, Adam Fergusson, came southward on a wandering holiday, stopping at several places before they put up their horses at a Gilsland hotel. The next morning Walter and Adam took a long ride together to explore the district in Walter’s usual manner. Charlotte Carpenter was fond of riding. She had a slim figure, which looked well in a riding-habit, as she doubtless knew. There is no evidence that Miss Nicholson had a similar figure, or a similar liking for a horse’s back. There is no evidence either way, beyond the fact that next morning Charlotte rode out alone. She was a dark girl by English, and still more by Scottish, standards. We have her son-in-law’s testimony that her complexion was “of the clearest and lightest olive”; that her eyes were “large, deep-set and dazzling, of the finest Italian brown.” The two young Scotsmen who reined up their horses to watch her ride must have seen more of her figure, and of jet-black hair that blew loose in the wind. From that hour Charlotte’s fate was a settled thing.

Etiquette did not permit that the girl should be accosted on the lonely moorland. But she could be discreetly followed, and her dwelling marked down for a more circumspect approach. We do not know whether she knew that she was stalked, or disliked the experience, but they rounded her up satisfactorily in Gilsland; which prevented any necessity for changing their own location. There was a dance that night, at which, by whatever combination of chance and swift contriving, they were all present together.

John had found time to change into the scarlet splendours of his lieutenant’s uniform. Adam had put on that of the volunteer regiment which Walter had founded. Walter was content with a more civilian aspect.

John danced with Charlotte. Adam danced with Charlotte. The lame Walter waited his time, and took her in to supper, as his patience gave him a claim to do.

A week or two later, he addressed his mother in the following letter.

“My dear Mother,

I should very ill deserve the care and affection with which you have ever regarded me, were I to neglect my duty so far as to omit consulting my father and you in the most important step which I can possibly take in life, and upon the success of which my future happiness must depend. It is with pleasure I think that I can avail myself of your advice and instructions in an affair of so great importance as that which I have at present on my hands. You will probably guess from this preamble that I am engaged in a matrimonial plan, which is really the case. Though my acquaintance with the young lady has not been of long standing, this circumstance is in some degree counterbalanced by the intimacy in which we have lived, and by the opportunities which that intimacy has afforded me of remarking her conduct and sentiments on many different occasions, some of which were rather of a delicate nature, so that in fact I have seen more of her during the few weeks we have been together than I could have done after a much longer acquaintance, shackled by the common forms of ordinary life. You will not expect from me a description of her person—for which I refer you to my brother, as also for a fuller account of all the circumstances attending the business than can be comprised in the compass of a letter. Without flying into raptures—for I must assure you that my judgement as well as my affections are consulted upon this occasion—without flying into raptures, then, I may safely assure you, that her temper is sweet and cheerful, her understanding good, and, what I know will give you pleasure, her principles of religion very serious. I have been very explicit with her upon the nature of my expectations, and she thinks she can accommodate herself to the situation which I should wish her to hold in society as my wife, which, you will easily comprehend, I mean should neither be extravagant nor degrading. Her fortune, though partly dependent upon—her brother, who is high in office at Madras, is very considerable—at present £500 a-year. This, however, we must, in some degree, regard as precarious—I mean to the full extent; and indeed, when you know her, you will not be surprised thatI regard this circumstance chiefly because it removes those prudential considerations which would otherwise render our union impossible for the present. Betwixt her income and my own professional exertions, I have little doubt we will be enabled to hold the rank in society which my family and situation entitle me to fill. Write to me very fully upon this important subject—send me your opinion, your advice, and, above all, your blessing.”

The letter seems formal to the ideas and practices of today, but a consideration of the circumstances under which it was written, and the difficulties which had to be overcome, reveal it as a very diplomatic document. It does not palter with truth: its statements of fact—as far as they go—are explicit and exact. Neither does it suggest difficulty. Yet there is argument in every line. There is menace also, of a kind. For while it asks advice and even ‘instructions’, it has a tone of resolution which his mother knew him too well not to be able to understand. That it was addressed to her has been explained, perhaps rightly, as being due to the weakness of his father’s health. But it might have been more natural to address it jointly, even under such circumstances. As it stands, his father is not ignored. The minimum of the filial deference of the period is observed. He would “neglect his duty” if he should omit to “consult” both parents upon a step so important to his own welfare. The girl’s nationality is not mentioned. Her religion—by Heaven’s mercy she was not a Catholic, but it is equally sure that she was not a Presbyterian—is only vaguely indicated. These things are left for John (who carried the letter) to explain.

For Walter did not go home himself. Neither did Charlotte return to London. She went to her friends in Carlisle. Walter found a lodging in the same place. He meant that there should be no mistake on this occasion. Neither mistake nor delay. And he had a double difficulty to overcome. He had to persuade Charlotte to a willingness to face life with him under the strange and perhaps repellent conditions of the cold northern capital, and he had to persuade his own relatives, not merely to a passive consent to the marriage, but to give his wife the reception that he was resolved that she should have. In the meantime he would neither risk leaving Charlotte, nor introduce her to Edinburgh without invitation, and assurance of welcome there.

In the result, he stayed in Carlisle till the end of September, when the opening of the Jedburgh court called for his presence. Charlotte stayed, too, treating her guardian in the same way. The matter must be settled by correspondence, unless he should come to her. Miss Nicholson doubtless stayed also, and made her own representations. There might be doubt in London and perturbation in Edinburgh, but there were two young people in Carlisle who meant to have their own way.

We may suppose that, in spite of the delays and expense of correspondence at that time, Walter’s post-bag was heavy during those six weeks. The idea that he should marry a foreign woman whom he had only just met could not be well received in Edinburgh’s rigid Calvinistic atmosphere. John may have said what he could in his brother’s cause. He was a man of slow brain, but the women must have questioned him more than enough. He may have mentioned that her speech had a foreign accent; that her pronunciation was imperfect. She would always say ‘dat’ for ‘that’. It was very different from the type of English which was spoken in George’s Square.

People may admire such a girl’s looks, but they don’t marry her if they are wise. They know too well what the French are.

In any case, what kind of wife would she be likely to make? With no common interests or sympathies, knowing nothing of the customs or conventions of the society to which she would be introduced? Probably she would waste, or quarrel, or sulk, or mope. She might even be faithless or run away.

Is it surprising if Mr. Walter Scott senior intimated that any rash and sudden step would incur his severe displeasure? If others, even Christian Rutherford, even Jane Cranston (now busily preparing for her own marriage), wrote in remonstrance, or with a hesitation that was too easy to understand?

There are families in which marital disaster is a frequent incident, and is regarded as an almost normal mischance upon the journey of life. There are others in which you may search in all their branches, and for many generations, and find no matrimonial troubles, though they may have their share of crime and follies of other kinds. The Scotts had always been of the latter category. We have seen already that they chose their wives well.

All the correspondence which passed has not been preserved, and we must guess with equity, if at all; but one fact stands out in unmistakable significance. There came a point when Walter wrote that he intended to marry Miss Carpenter, and that as soon as he could prevail upon her to attend the ceremony. But he would not bring her to Edinburgh unless he were assured that she would be received in the right way. Otherwise, he would go with her to the Colonies, and make a career there.

He could not have written this unless he had ascertained her willingness to adventure with him. In fact, she may have thought the programme at least as attractive as that of settling down in that dull northern atmosphere, among people who were so plainly reluctant to make her one of themselves.

The moment was critical, both for those most concerned, and for a large part of the world’s reading during the succeeding century. But courage and resolution conquered, as they most often do. Edinburgh answered with a flag of truce, if not of surrender. Walter, who had emphasised his determination by returning from Jedburgh to Carlisle, instead of proceeding to Edinburgh in the normal course of his legal procession, now agreed to come home. He fulfilled his usual attendances at the Court during the latter part of the autumn session, and returned to Carlisle at its close, in time to marry Charlotte Carpenter in St Mary’s Church on December 24, 1797. He had successfully carried out his purpose without the risk that would have been involved in a meeting between Miss Carpenter and the Edinburgh ladies before the event had become irrevocable, and he had the promise that she should be received into the family when he brought her home.