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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/37956-8.txt b/37956-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f4726db --- /dev/null +++ b/37956-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11422 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Life and Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft +Shelley, Volume II (of 2), by Florence A. Thomas Marshall + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Life and Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Volume II (of 2) + + +Author: Florence A. Thomas Marshall + + + +Release Date: November 8, 2011 [eBook #37956] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF MARY +WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY, VOLUME II (OF 2)*** + + +E-text prepared by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team +(http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by +Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries +(http://www.archive.org/details/toronto) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 37956-h.htm or 37956-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37956/37956-h/37956-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37956/37956-h.zip) + + + Project Gutenberg also has Volume I of this work. + See http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37955 + + + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries. See + http://www.archive.org/details/lifelettersofmar02marsrich + + + + + +THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY + +II + +[Illustration: Photogravure by Annan & Swan + +_E. J. TRELAWNY._ + +_From a portrait after Severn._ + +_in the possession of Sir Percy F. Shelley, Bart._ + +London. Richard Bentley & Son: 1889.] + + +THE LIFE & LETTERS OF MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY + +by + +MRS. JULIAN MARSHALL + +With Portraits and Facsimile + +In Two Volumes + +VOL. II + + + + + + + +London +Richard Bentley & Son +Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen +1889 + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGES + + CHAPTER XVII + + JULY-SEPTEMBER 1822 + + 1822 (July).--Mary and Mrs. Williams go to Pisa--They can + learn nothing--Trelawny accompanies them back to Casa + Magni--The bodies of Shelley and Williams are washed + ashore--Trelawny brings Mary, Jane, and Clare back to + Pisa--Mary's endurance--Letters from Godwin--Mary's letter + to Mrs. Gisborne--The bodies are cremated--Dispute about + Shelley's heart--It remains with Mary--Mary's decision to + remain for a time with the Hunts, and to assist them and + Byron with the _Liberal_--Goes to Genoa--Mrs. Williams goes + to England--Letter from Mary to Mrs. Gisborne and Clare-- + Letters from Clare and Jane Williams--The Hunts and Byron + are established at Albaro 1-35 + + + CHAPTER XVIII + + SEPTEMBER 1822-JULY 1823 + + 1822 (October).--Mary's desolate condition--Her diary-- + Extracts--Discomfort with the Hunts--Byron's antipathy to + them all--Note from him to Mary--Trelawny's presence a + refreshment--Letters to and from him--Letter from Godwin-- + Journal--Letter to Clare--Mary's poem "The Choice." + + 1823. Trelawny's zealous care for Shelley's tomb--Mary's + gratitude--She decides on returning to England--Sir Timothy + Shelley's refusal to assist her--Letter from Godwin-- + Correspondence between Mary and Trelawny--Letter from + Godwin criticising _Valperga_--Byron is induced to go to + Greece--Summons Trelawny to accompany him--Mrs. Hunt's + confinement--Letters from Mary to Jane Williams--She starts + on her journey to England--Diary 36-88 + + + CHAPTER XIX + + JULY 1823-DECEMBER 1824 + + 1823. Mary's journey--Letters to the Leigh Hunts--Arrival + in London--Jane Williams--Her attractiveness--_Frankenstein_ + on the stage--Publication of Shelley's Posthumous Poems. + + 1824. Journal--Mary's wish to write for the stage--Godwin + discourages the idea--Affairs of the _Examiner_ newspaper-- + The Novellos--Mrs. Cowden Clarke's reminiscences of Mary-- + Death of Byron--Profound sensation--Journal--Letters from + Trelawny--Description of the "Cavern Fortress of Mount + Parnassus"--Letter from Mary to Trelawny--Letter to Leigh + Hunt--Negotiation with Sir T. Shelley--Allowance-- + Suppression of the Posthumous Poems--Journal--Medwin's + Memoirs of Byron--Asks Mary to assist him--Her feelings on + the subject--Letter to Mrs. Hunt--Journal 89-129 + + + CHAPTER XX + + JANUARY 1825-JULY 1827 + + 1825. Improvement in Mary's prospects--Letter to Miss + Curran--Letter to Leigh Hunt about his article on Shelley-- + Shelley's portrait arrives--Journal--Trelawny's adventures + and escape from Greece--Mary's letter to him (February 1826). + + 1826. Reminiscences of Lord Byron's projected performance + of _Othello_ at Pisa--Clare Clairmont's life as a governess + in Russia--Description of her--Letter from her to Jane + Williams--Publication of _The Last Man_--Hogg's + appreciation--Stoppage of Mary's allowance--Peacock's + intervention in her behalf--Death of Charles Shelley--Mary's + letter to Leigh Hunt on the subject of Shelley's intended + legacy--Increase of allowance--Melancholy letter from + Trelawny. + + 1827. Mary's reply--Letter from Clare to Jane Williams--Jane + Williams' duplicity--Mary becomes aware of it--Her misery-- + Journal 130-167 + + + CHAPTER XXI + + JULY 1827-AUGUST 1830 + + 1827. Letter to Mary from Frances Wright presented by + Robert Dale Owen--Friendly Correspondence--Acquaintance-- + Fanny Wright's history--Her personal appearance--Contrast + between her and Mrs. Shelley--She returns to America--Letter + from her--Letter from Godwin to Mary--Mary's stay at + Arundel--The Miss Robinsons--Letter from Trelawny-- + Explanation with Jane Williams--Letter from Mary--Visit to + Paris--Mary catches the small-pox--Trelawny arrives in + England--Letters from him. + + 1829. He returns to Italy--Letter to Mary to say he is + writing his own life--Asks Mary to help him with + reminiscences of Shelley--She declines--He is angry--Letter + from Lord Dillon--_Perkin Warbeck_. + + 1830. Journal (January)--Mrs. Shelley's "at homes" in + Somerset Street--T. Moore--_Perkin Warbeck_ a + disappointment--Need of money--Letter from Clare--Mary + writes for the _Keepsake_ 168-203 + + + CHAPTER XXII + + AUGUST 1830-OCTOBER 1831 + + 1830. Trelawny's autobiographical adventures to be entitled + _A Man's Life_--Correspondence with Mary respecting the + preparation and publication of the book. + + 1831. She negotiates the matter--Entreats for certain + modifications--The title is altered to _Adventures of a + Younger Son_--The author's vexation--Mary's patience--Horace + Smith's assistance--Trelawny surmises that "fate" may unite + him and Mary Shelley some day--"My name will never be + Trelawny"--Publication of the _Adventures_--Trelawny's later + _Recollections of Shelley, Byron, and the Author_--His rare + appreciation of Shelley--Singular discrepancies between the + first and second editions of the book--Complete change of + tone in later life with regard to Mrs. Shelley--Conclusions 204-232 + + + CHAPTER XXIII + + OCTOBER 1831-OCTOBER 1839 + + Godwin's _Thoughts on Man_ (1830)--Letter to Mary--Letter + from Clare--Question of Percy's going to a public school. + + 1831. Mary Shelley applies to Sir Timothy for an increase of + allowance--She is refused. + + 1832. Letter from Godwin asking for an idea or suggestion-- + Mary writes "Lives of Italian and Spanish Literary Men" for + Lardner's _Cyclopędia_--Clare's tale--Cholera in London-- + Mary goes to Sandgate--Trelawny returns--His daughter stays + with Mary at Sandgate--Death of Lord Dillon--Letter from + Godwin--His son William dies of cholera--Posthumous novel, + _Transfusion_--Clare's letters to Jane and Mary. + + 1833. Mrs. Shelley goes to live at Harrow--Letter to Mrs. + Gisborne--Influenza--Solitude--Hard work--Letter from + 1834 Godwin--Letters from Mary to Trelawny and to Mrs. + Gisborne--Offer of £600 for annotated edition of Shelley's + works--Difficulties. + + 1835. _Lodore_--Its success--Reminiscences of her own + experiences--Letter from Clare--Melancholy letter from Mary + to Mrs. Gisborne--"A Dirge"--Trelawny returns from America-- + Mary's friendship with Mrs. Norton--Letter to Mrs. + Gisborne--Godwin's 1836 death--Efforts to get an annuity for + his widow--Letters from Mrs. Norton and Trelawny. + + 1837. Letters from Mary to Trelawny--Death of the Gisbornes-- + Impediments to Mary's undertaking the biography of her + father--Her edition of Shelley's works--Painful task. + + 1839. Letter from Sir E. L. Bulwer--Fragment from Mrs. + Norton--The Diplomatic Service--Journal--Bitter Vexations-- + Illness--Recovery 233-291 + + + CHAPTER XXIV + + OCTOBER 1839-FEBRUARY 1851 + + 1839. Publication of Shelley's prose works--Motto--Letter + from Carlyle. + + 1840. Journal--Brighton--Continental tour with Percy and his + reading-party--Stay at Como--Mary's enjoyment--Her son takes + his degree, and receives allowance from his grandfather-- + Letter of congratulation from Mrs. Norton--Mary 1841 and + Percy go abroad again--Kissingen; Gotha; Weimar; Leipzig; + Berlin; Dresden; Prague; Linz; Salzburg; Venice-- + Associations--Winter at Florence--Rome--Sorrento--Home again. + + 1844. _Rambles in Germany and Italy_--Dedication to Rogers: + note from him--Death of Sir T. Shelley--Mary's letter to + Leigh Hunt--Shelley's various legacies--Letter from Hogg-- + Portrait--Mrs. Shelley's literary friendships--Letter from + Walter Savage Landor--Hogg's _Shelley Papers_--Subsequent + _Life of Shelley_--Facsimile of fragment in Mary's + handwriting--Medwin's book inaccurate and objectionable-- + Mary fails to write Shelley's Life--Marriage of Sir 1847 + Percy Shelley--Mary lives with her son and daughter-in-law-- + Her sweetness and unselfishness--Her kindness to her son's + friends--Clare's visits to Field Place--Her excitability and + eccentricity--Her death at Florence; 1878. + + 1851. Mary Shelley's health declines--Her death--Her grave + in Bournemouth Churchyard--Retrospect of her history and + mental development--Extract from Journal of October 1838, + giving her own views--The success of her life a moral rather + than an intellectual one--Her nobility of character--Her + influence on Shelley--Her lifelong devotion to him 292-325 + + + + +THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +JULY-SEPTEMBER 1822 + + +They set off at once, death in their hearts, yet clinging outwardly to any +semblance of a hope. They crossed to Lerici, they posted to Pisa; they +went first to Casa Lanfranchi. Byron was there; he could tell them +nothing. It was midnight, but to rest or wait was impossible; they posted +on to Leghorn. They went about inquiring for Trelawny or Roberts. Not +finding the right inn they were forced to wait till next morning before +prosecuting their search. They found Roberts; he only knew the _Ariel_ had +sailed on Monday; there had been a storm, and no more had been heard of +her. Still they did not utterly despair. Contrary winds might have driven +the boat to Corsica or elsewhere, and information was perhaps withheld. + + "So remorselessly," says Trelawny, "are the quarantine laws enforced + in Italy that, when at sea, if you render assistance to a vessel in + distress, or rescue a drowning stranger, on returning to port you are + condemned to a long and rigorous quarantine of fourteen or more days. + The consequence is, should one vessel see another in peril, or even + run it down by accident, she hastens on her course, and by general + accord not a word is said or reported on the subject." + +Trelawny accompanied the forlorn women back to Casa Magni, whence, for the +next seven or eight days, he patrolled the coast with the coastguards, +stimulating them to keep a good look-out by the promise of a reward. On +Thursday, the 18th, he left for Leghorn, and on the next day a letter came +to him from Captain Roberts with the intelligence that the bodies of +Shelley and Williams had been washed ashore. The letter was received and +opened by Clare Clairmont. To communicate its contents to Mary or Jane was +more than she could do: in her distress she wrote to Leigh Hunt for help +or counsel. + + _Friday Evening, 19th July 1822._ + + MY DEAR SIR--Mr. Trelawny went for Livorno last night. There came this + afternoon a letter to him from Captain Roberts--he had left orders + with Mary that she might open it; I did not allow her to see it. He + writes there is no hope, but they are lost, and their bodies found + three miles from Via Reggio. This letter is dated 15th July, and says + he had heard this news 14th July. Outside the letter he has added, "I + am now on my way to Via Reggio, to ascertain the facts or _no facts_ + contained in my letter." This then implies that he doubts, and as I + also doubt the report, because we had a letter from the captain of + the port at Via Reggio, 15th July, later than when Mr. Roberts writes, + to say nothing had been found, for this reason I have not shown his + letter either to Mary or Mrs. Williams. How can I, even if it were + true? + + I pray you to answer this by return of my messenger. I assure you I + cannot break it to them, nor is my spirit, weakened as it is from + constant suffering, capable of giving them consolation, or protecting + them from the first burst of their despair. I entreat you to give me + some counsel, or to arrange some method by which they may know it. I + know not what further to add, except that their case is desperate in + every respect, and death would be the greatest kindness to us + all.--Ever your sincere friend, + + CLARE. + +This letter can hardly have been despatched before Trelawny arrived. He +had seen the mangled, half-devoured corpses, and had identified them at +once. It remained for him now to pronounce sentence of doom, as it were, +on the survivors. This is his story, as he tells it-- + + I mounted my horse and rode to the Gulf of Spezzia, put up my horse, + and walked until I caught sight of the lone house on the sea-shore in + which Shelley and Williams had dwelt, and where their widows still + lived. Hitherto in my frequent visits--in the absence of direct + evidence to the contrary--I had buoyed up their spirits by maintaining + that it was not impossible but that the friends still lived; now I had + to extinguish the last hope of these forlorn women. I had ridden fast + to prevent any ruder messenger from bursting in upon them. As I stood + on the threshold of their house, the bearer or rather confirmer of + news which would rack every fibre of their quivering frames to the + uttermost, I paused, and, looking at the sea, my memory reverted to + our joyous parting only a few days before. The two families then had + all been in the verandah, overhanging a sea so clear and calm that + every star was reflected on the water as if it had been a mirror; the + young mothers singing some merry tune with the accompaniment of a + guitar. Shelley's shrill laugh--I heard it still--rang in my ears, + with Williams' friendly hail, the general _buona notte_ of all the + joyous party, and the earnest entreaty to me to return as soon as + possible, and not to forget the commissions they had severally given + me. I was in a small boat beneath them, slowly rowing myself on board + the _Bolivar_, at anchor in the bay, loath to part from what I verily + believed to have been at that time the most united and happiest set of + human beings in the whole world. And now by the blow of an idle puff + of wind the scene was changed. Such is human happiness. + + My reverie was broken by a shriek from the nurse Caterina as, crossing + the hall, she saw me in the doorway. After asking her a few questions + I went up the stairs, and unannounced entered the room. I neither + spoke nor did they question me. Mrs. Shelley's large gray eyes were + fixed on my face. I turned away. Unable to bear this horrid silence, + with a convulsive effort she exclaimed-- + + "Is there no hope?" + + I did not answer, but left the room, and sent the servant with the + children to them. The next day I prevailed on them to return with me + to Pisa. The misery of that night and the journey of the next day, and + of many days and nights that followed, I can neither describe nor + forget. + +There is no journal or contemporary record of the next three or four +weeks; only from a few scattered hints in letters can any idea be gleaned +of this dark time, when the first realisation of incredible misfortune was +being lived out in detail. Leigh Hunt was almost broken-hearted. + + "Dearest Mary," he wrote from Casa Lanfranchi on the 20th July, "I + trust you will have set out on your return from that dismal place + before you receive this. You will also have seen Trelawny. God bless + you, and enable us all to be a support for one another. Let us do our + best if it is only for that purpose. It is easier for me to say that I + will do it than for you: but whatever happens, this I can safely say, + that I belong to those whom Shelley loves, and that all which it is + possible to me to do for them now and for ever is theirs. I will + grieve with them, endure with them, and, if it be necessary, work for + them, while I have life.--Your most affectionate friend, + + LEIGH HUNT. + + Marianne sends you a thousand loves, and longs with myself to try + whether we can say or do one thing that can enable you and Mrs. + Williams to bear up a little better. But we rely on your great + strength of mind." + +Mary bore up in a way that surprised those who knew how ill she had been, +how weak she still was, and how much she had previously been suffering in +her spirits. It was a strange, tense, unnatural endurance. Except to Miss +Curran at Rome, she wrote to no one for some time, not even to her father. +This, which would naturally have been her first communication, may well +have appeared harder to make than any other. Godwin's relations with +Shelley had of late been strained, to say the least,--and then, Mary could +not but remember his letters to her after Williams' death, and the +privilege he had claimed "as a father and a philosopher" of rebuking, nay, +of contemptuously deprecating her then excess of grief. How was she to +write now in such a tone as to avert an answer of that sort? how write at +all? She did accomplish it at last, but before her letter arrived Godwin +had heard of the catastrophe through Miss Kent, sister of Mrs. Leigh Hunt. +His fatherly feeling of anxiety for his daughter was aroused, and after +waiting two days for direct news, he wrote to her as follows-- + + GODWIN TO MARY. + + NO. 195 STRAND, _6th August 1822_. + + DEAR MARY--I heard only two days ago the most afflicting intelligence + to you, and in some measure to all of us, that can be imagined--the + death of Shelley on the 8th ultimo. I have had no direct information; + the news only comes in a letter from Leigh Hunt to Miss Kent, and, + therefore, were it not for the consideration of the writer, I should + be authorised to disbelieve it. That you should be so overcome as not + to be able to write is perhaps but too natural; but that Jane could + not write one line I could never have believed; and the behaviour of + the lady at Pisa towards us on the occasion is peculiarly cruel. + + Leigh Hunt says you bear up under the shock better than could have + been imagined; but appearances are not to be relied on. It would have + been a great relief to me to have had a few lines from yourself. In a + case like this, one lets one's imagination loose among the + possibilities of things, and one is apt to rest upon what is most + distressing and intolerable. I learned the news on Sunday. I was in + hope to have had my doubts and fears removed by a letter from yourself + on Monday. I again entertained the same hope to-day, and am again + disappointed. I shall hang in hope and fear on every post, knowing + that you cannot neglect me for ever. + + All that I expressed to you about silence and not writing to you again + is now put an end to in the most melancholy way. I looked on you as + one of the daughters of prosperity, elevated in rank and fortune, and + I thought it was criminal to intrude on you for ever the sorrows of an + unfortunate old man and a beggar. You are now fallen to my own level; + you are surrounded with adversity and with difficulty; and I no longer + hold it sacrilege to trouble you with my adversities. We shall now + truly sympathise with each other; and whatever misfortune or ruin + falls upon me, I shall not now scruple to lay it fully before you. + + This sorrowful event is, perhaps, calculated to draw us nearer to each + other. I am the father of a family, but without children; I and my + wife are falling fast into infirmity and helplessness; and in addition + to all our other calamities, we seem destined to be left without + connections and without aid. Perhaps now we and you shall mutually + derive consolation from each other. + + Poor Jane is, I am afraid, left still more helpless than you are. + Common misfortune, I hope, will incite between you the most friendly + feelings. + + Shelley lived, I know, in constant anticipation of the uncertainty of + his life, though not in this way, and was anxious in that event to + make the most effectual provision for you. I am impatient to hear in + what way that has been done; and perhaps you will make me your lawyer + in England if any steps are necessary. I am desirous to call on + Longdill, but I should call with more effect if I had authority and + instructions from you. Mamma desires me to say how truly and deeply + she sympathises in your affliction, and I trust you know enough of her + to feel that this is the language of her heart. + + I suppose you will hardly stay in Italy. In that case we shall be near + to, and support each other.--Ever and ever affectionately yours, + + WILLIAM GODWIN. + + I have received your letter dated (it has no date) since writing the + above; it was detained for some hours by being directed to the care of + Monro, for which I cannot account. William wrote to you on the 14th of + June, and I on the 23d of July. I will call on Peacock and Hogg as you + desire. Perhaps Williams' letter, and perhaps others, have been kept + from you. Let us now be open and unreserved in all things. + +This letter was doubtless intended to be kind and sympathetic, even in the +persistent prominence given to the business aspect of recent events. Yet +it was comical in its solemnity. For when had Godwin held it sacrilege to +trouble his daughter with his adversities, or shown the slightest scruple +in laying before her any misfortune or ruin that may have fallen on him? +and what new prospect was afforded her in the future by his promise of +doing so now? No; this privilege of a father and a philosopher had never +been neglected by him. + +Well indeed might he feel anxious as to what provision had been made for +his daughter by her husband. In these matters he had long ceased to have a +conscience, yet it was impossible he should be unaware that the utmost his +son-in-law had been able to effect, and that at the expense of enormous +sacrifices on the part of himself and his heirs, and of all the credit he +possessed with publishers and the one or two friends who were not also +dependents, had been to pay his, Godwin's, perpetual debts, and to keep +him, as long as he could be kept, afloat. + +Small opportunity had Shelley's "dear"[1] friends allowed him as yet to +make provision for his family in case of sudden misfortune! + +Godwin, however, was really anxious about Mary, and his anxiety was +perhaps increased by his letter; for in three days he wrote again, with +out alluding to money. + + GODWIN TO MARY. + + _9th August 1822._ + + MY DEAR MARY--I am inexpressibly anxious to hear from you, and your + present situation renders the reciprocation of letters and + answers--implying an interval of a month between each letter I receive + from you to the next--intolerable. + + My poor girl, what do you mean to do with yourself? You surely do not + mean to stay in Italy? How glad I should be to be near you, and to + endeavour by new expedients each day to endeavour to make up your + loss. But you are the best judge. If Italy is a country to which in + these few years you are naturalised, and if England is become dull and + odious to you, then stay! + + I should think, however, that now that you have lost your closest + friend, your mind would naturally turn homeward, and to your earliest + friend. Is it not so? Surely we might be a great support to each other + under the trials to which we are reserved. What signify a few outward + adversities if we find a friend at home? + + One thing I would earnestly recommend in our future intercourse, is + perfect frankness. I think you are of a frank nature, I am sure I am + so. We have now no battle to fight,--no contention to maintain,--that + is over now. + + Above all, let me entreat you to keep up your courage. You have many + duties to perform; you must now be the father as well as the mother; + and I trust you have energy of character enough to enable you to + perform your duties honourably and well.--Ever and ever most + affectionately yours, + + W. GODWIN. + +The stunning nature of the blow she had endured, the uncertainty and +complication of her affairs, and the absence of any one preponderating +motive, made it impossible for Mary to settle at once on any scheme for +the future. Her first idea was to return to England without delay, so as +to avoid any possible risk to her boy from the Italian climate. Her one +wish was to possess herself, before leaving, of the portrait of Shelley +begun at Rome by Miss Curran, and laid aside in an unfinished state as a +failure. In the absence of any other likeness it would be precious, and it +might perhaps be improved. It was on this subject that she had written to +Miss Curran in the quite early days of her misfortune; no answer had come, +and she wrote again, now to request "that favour now nearer my heart than +any other thing--the picture of my Shelley." + + "We leave Italy soon," she continued, "so I am particularly anxious to + obtain this treasure, which I am sure you will give me as soon as + possible. I have no other likeness of him, and in so utter desolation, + how invaluable to me is your picture. Will you not send it? Will you + not answer me without delay? Your former kindness bids me hope + everything." + +She was awakening to life again; in other words, to pain: with keen +anguish, like that of returning circulation to a limb which has been +frozen and numb, her feelings, her forces, her intellect, began to respond +to outward calls upon them, with a sensation, at times, of even morbid +activity. It was a kind of relief, now, to write to Mrs. Gisborne that +letter which contains the most graphic and connected of all accounts of +the past tragedy. + + MRS. SHELLEY TO MRS. GISBORNE. + + _15th August 1822._ + + I said in a letter to Peacock, my dear Mrs. Gisborne, that I would + send you some account of the last miserable months of my disastrous + life. From day to day I have put this off, but I will now endeavour to + fulfil my design. The scene of my existence is closed, and though + there be no pleasure in retracing the scenes that have preceded the + event which has crushed my hopes, yet there seems to be a necessity in + doing so, and I obey the impulse that urges me. I wrote to you either + at the end of May or the beginning of June. I described to you the + place we were living in--our desolate house, the beauty yet + strangeness of the scenery, and the delight Shelley took in all this. + He never was in better health or spirits than during this time. I was + not well in body or mind. My nerves were wound up to the utmost + irritation, and the sense of misfortune hung over my spirits. No words + can tell you how I hated our house and the country about it. Shelley + reproached me for this--his health was good, and the place was quite + after his own heart. What could I answer? That the people were wild + and hateful, that though the country was beautiful yet I liked a more + _countrified_ place, that there was great difficulty in living, that + all our Tuscans would leave us, and that the very jargon of these + _Genovesi_ was disgusting. This was all I had to say, but no words + could describe my feelings; the beauty of the woods made me weep and + shudder; so vehement was my feeling of dislike that I used to rejoice + when the winds and waves permitted me to go out in the boat, so that I + was not obliged to take my usual walk among the shaded paths, alleys + of vine festooned trees--all that before I doated on, and that now + weighed on me. My only moments of peace were on board that unhappy + boat when, lying down with my head on his knee, I shut my eyes and + felt the wind and our swift motion alone. My ill health might account + for much of this. Bathing in the sea somewhat relieved me, but on the + 8th of June (I think it was) I was threatened with a miscarriage, and + after a week of great ill health, on Sunday, the 16th, this took place + at 8 in the morning. I was so ill that for seven hours I lay nearly + lifeless--kept from fainting by brandy, vinegar, and eau-de-Cologne, + etc. At length ice was brought to our solitude; it came before the + doctor, so Clare and Jane were afraid of using it, but Shelley + overruled them, and by an unsparing application of it I was restored. + They all thought, and so did I at one time, that I was about to die, I + hardly wished that I had,--my own Shelley could never have lived + without me; the sense of eternal misfortune would have pressed too + heavily upon him, and what would have become of my poor babe? My + convalescence was slow, and during it a strange occurrence happened to + retard it. But first I must describe our house to you. The floor on + which we lived was thus-- + + +--------------------------------------------+ + | | | | + | 5 | 7 | 3 | + | | | | + |-----| |-----| + | | | | + | 6 | 2 | 4 | + | | | | + |-----+--------------------------------+-----| + | | + | 1 | + +--------------------------------------------+ + + 1 is a terrace that went the whole length of our house and was + precipitous to the sea; 2, the large dining-hall; 3, a private + staircase; 4, my bedroom; 5, Mrs. Williams' bedroom; 6, Shelley's; and + 7, the entrance from the great staircase. Now to return. As I said, + Shelley was at first in perfect health, but having over-fatigued + himself one day, and then the fright my illness gave him, caused a + return of nervous sensations and visions as bad as in his worst times. + I think it was the Saturday after my illness, while yet unable to + walk, I was confined to my bed--in the middle of the night I was awoke + by hearing him scream and come rushing into my room; I was sure that + he was asleep, and tried to waken him by calling on him, but he + continued to scream, which inspired me with such a panic that I jumped + out of bed and ran across the hall to Mrs. Williams' room, where I + fell through weakness, though I was so frightened that I got up again + immediately. She let me in, and Williams went to Shelley, who had been + wakened by my getting out of bed--he said that he had not been asleep, + and that it was a vision that he saw that had frightened him. But as + he declared that he had not screamed, it was certainly a dream, and no + waking vision. What had frightened him was this. He dreamt that, lying + as he did in bed, Edward and Jane came in to him; they were in the + most horrible condition; their bodies lacerated, their bones starting + through their skin, their faces pale yet stained with blood; they + could hardly walk, but Edward was the weakest, and Jane was supporting + him. Edward said, "Get up, Shelley, the sea is flooding the house, and + it is all coming down." Shelley got up, he thought, and went to his + window that looked on the terrace and the sea, and thought he saw the + sea rushing in. Suddenly his vision changed, and he saw the figure of + himself strangling me; that had made him rush into my room, yet, + fearful of frightening me, he dared not approach the bed, when my + jumping out awoke him, or, as he phrased it, caused his vision to + vanish. All this was frightful enough, and talking it over the next + morning, he told me that he had had many visions lately; he had seen + the figure of himself, which met him as he walked on the terrace and + said to him, "How long do you mean to be content?" no very terrific + words, and certainly not prophetic of what has occurred. But Shelley + had often seen these figures when ill; but the strangest thing is that + Mrs. Williams saw him. Now Jane, though a woman of sensibility, has + not much imagination, and is not in the slightest degree nervous, + neither in dreams nor otherwise. She was standing one day, the day + before I was taken ill, at a window that looked on the terrace, with + Trelawny. It was day. She saw, as she thought, Shelley pass by the + window, as he often was then, without a coat or jacket; he passed + again. Now, as he passed both times the same way, and as from the side + towards which he went each time there was no way to get back except + past the window again (except over a wall 20 feet from the ground), + she was struck at her seeing him pass twice thus, and looked out and + seeing him no more, she cried, "Good God, can Shelley have leapt from + the wall? Where can he be gone?" "Shelley," said Trelawny, "no Shelley + has passed. What do you mean?" Trelawny says that she trembled + exceedingly when she heard this, and it proved, indeed, that Shelley + had never been on the terrace, and was far off at the time she saw + him. Well, we thought no more of these things, and I slowly got + better. Having heard from Hunt that he had sailed from Genoa, on + Monday, 1st July, Shelley, Edward, and Captain Roberts (the gentleman + who built our boat) departed in our boat for Leghorn to receive him. I + was then just better, had begun to crawl from my bedroom to the + terrace, but bad spirits succeeded to ill health, and this departure + of Shelley's seemed to add insufferably to my misery. I could not + endure that he should go. I called him back two or three times, and + told him that if I did not see him soon I would go to Pisa with the + child. I cried bitterly when he went away. They went, and Jane, Clare, + and I remained alone with the children. I could not walk out, and + though I gradually gathered strength, it was slowly, and my ill + spirits increased. In my letters to him I entreated him to return; + "the feeling that some misfortune would happen," I said, "haunted me." + I feared for the child, for the idea of danger connected with him + never struck me. When Jane and Clare took their evening walk, I used + to patrol the terrace, oppressed with wretchedness, yet gazing on the + most beautiful scene in the world. This Gulf of Spezzia is subdivided + into many small bays, of which ours was far the most beautiful. The + two horns of the bay (so to express myself) were wood-covered + promontories, crowned with castles; at the foot of these, on the + farthest, was Lerici, on the nearest San Terenzo; Lerici being above a + mile by land from us, and San Terenzo about a hundred or two yards. + Trees covered the hills that enclosed this bay, and their beautiful + groups were picturesquely contrasted with the rocks, the castle, and + the town. The sea lay far extended in front, while to the west we saw + the promontory and islands, which formed one of the extreme boundaries + of the Gulf. To see the sun set upon this scene, the stars shine, and + the moon rise, was a sight of wondrous beauty, but to me it added only + to my wretchedness. I repeated to myself all that another would have + said to console me, and told myself the tale of love, peace, and + competence which I enjoyed; but I answered myself by tears--Did not my + William die, and did I hold my Percy by a firmer tenure? Yet I thought + when he, when my Shelley, returns, I shall be happy; he will comfort + me, if my boy be ill he will restore him, and encourage me. I had a + letter or two from Shelley, mentioning the difficulties he had in + establishing the Hunts, and that he was unable to fix the time of his + return. Thus a week passed. On Monday, 8th, Jane had a letter from + Edward, dated Saturday; he said that he waited at Leghorn for Shelley, + who was at Pisa; that Shelley's return was certain; "but," he + continued, "if he should not come by Monday, I will come in a felucca, + and you may expect me Tuesday evening at farthest." This was Monday, + the fatal Monday, but with us it was stormy all day, and we did not at + all suppose that they could put to sea. At 12 at night we had a + thunderstorm; Tuesday it rained all day, and was calm--wept on their + graves. On Wednesday the wind was fair from Leghorn, and in the + evening several feluccas arrived thence; one brought word that they + had sailed on Monday, but we did not believe them. Thursday was + another day of fair wind, and when 12 at night came, and we did not + see the tall sails of the little boat double the promontory before + us, we began to fear, not the truth, but some illness--some + disagreeable news for their detention. Jane got so uneasy that she + determined to proceed the next day to Leghorn in a boat, to see what + was the matter. Friday came, and with it a heavy sea and bad wind. + Jane, however, resolved to be rowed to Leghorn (since no boat could + sail), and busied herself in preparations. I wished her to wait for + letters, since Friday was letter day. She would not; but the sea + detained her; the swell rose so that no boat could venture out. At 12 + at noon our letters came; there was one from Hunt to Shelley; it said, + "Pray write to tell us how you got home, for they say that you had bad + weather after you sailed Monday, and we are anxious." The paper fell + from me. I trembled all over. Jane read it. "Then it is all over," she + said. "No, my dear Jane," I cried, "it is not all over, but this + suspense is dreadful. Come with me, we will go to Leghorn; we will + post to be swift, and learn our fate." We crossed to Lerici, despair + in our hearts; they raised our spirits there by telling us that no + accident had been heard of, and that it must have been known, etc., + but still our fear was great, and without resting we posted to Pisa. + It must have been fearful to see us--two poor, wild, aghast creatures + driving (like Matilda) towards the sea, to learn if we were to be for + ever doomed to misery. I knew that Hunt was at Pisa, at Lord Byron's + house, but I thought that Lord Byron was at Leghorn. I settled that we + should drive to Casa Lanfranchi, that I should get out, and ask the + fearful question of Hunt, "Do you know anything of Shelley?" On + entering Pisa, the idea of seeing Hunt for the first time for four + years, under such circumstances, and asking him such a question, was + so terrific to me, that it was with difficulty that I prevented myself + from going into convulsions. My struggles were dreadful. They knocked + at the door, and some one called out, _chi č?_ It was the Guiccioli's + maid. Lord Byron was in Pisa. Hunt was in bed; so I was to see Lord + Byron instead of him. This was a great relief to me. I staggered + upstairs; the Guiccioli came to meet me, smiling, while I could + hardly say, "Where is he--Sapete alcuna cosa di Shelley?" They knew + nothing; he had left Pisa on Sunday; on Monday he had sailed; there + had been bad weather Monday afternoon. More they knew not. Both Lord + Byron and the lady have told me since, that on that terrific evening I + looked more like a ghost than a woman--light seemed to emanate from my + features; my face was very white; I looked like marble. Alas! I had + risen almost from a bed of sickness for this journey; I had travelled + all day; it was now 12 at night, and we, refusing to rest, proceeded + to Leghorn--not in despair--no, for then we must have died; but with + sufficient hope to keep up the agitation of the spirits, which was all + my life. It was past 2 in the morning when we arrived. They took us to + the wrong inn; neither Trelawny nor Captain Roberts were there, nor + did we exactly know where they were, so we were obliged to wait until + daylight: we threw ourselves drest on our beds, and slept a little, + but at 6 o'clock we went to one or two inns, to ask for one or the + other of these gentlemen. We found Roberts at the "Globe." He came + down to us with a face that seemed to tell us that the worst was true, + and here we learned all that occurred during the week they had been + absent from us, and under what circumstances they had departed on + their return. + + Shelley had passed most of the time at Pisa, arranging the affairs of + the Hunts, and screwing Lord Byron's mind to the sticking place about + the journal. He had found this a difficult task at first, but at + length he had succeeded to his heart's content with both points. Mrs. + Mason said that she saw him in better health and spirits than she had + ever known him, when he took leave of her, Sunday, July 7, his face + burnt by the sun, and his heart light, that he had succeeded in + rendering the Hunts tolerably comfortable. Edward had remained at + Leghorn. On Monday, July 8, during the morning, they were employed in + buying many things, eatables, etc., for our solitude. There had been a + thunderstorm early, but about noon the weather was fine, and the wind + right fair for Lerici. They were impatient to be gone. Roberts said, + "Stay until to-morrow, to see if the weather is settled;" and Shelley + might have stayed, but Edward was in so great an anxiety to reach + home, saying they would get there in seven hours with that wind, that + they sailed; Shelley being in one of those extravagant fits of good + spirits, in which you have sometimes seen him. Roberts went out to the + end of the mole, and watched them out of sight; they sailed at 1, and + went off at the rate of about seven knots. About 3, Roberts, who was + still on the mole, saw wind coming from the Gulf, or rather what the + Italians call _a temporale_. Anxious to know how the boat would + weather the storm, he got leave to go up the tower, and, with the + glass, discovered them about ten miles out at sea, off Via Reggio; + they were taking in their topsails. "The haze of the storm," he said, + "hid them from me, and I saw them no more. When the storm cleared, I + looked again, fancying that I should see them on their return to us, + but there was no boat on the sea." + + This, then, was all we knew, yet we did not despair; they might have + been driven over to Corsica, and not knowing the coast, have gone God + knows where. Reports favoured this belief; it was even said that they + had been seen in the Gulf. We resolved to return with all possible + speed; we sent a courier to go from tower to tower, along the coast, + to know if anything had been seen or found, and at 9 A.M. we quitted + Leghorn, stopped but one moment at Pisa, and proceeded towards Lerici. + When at two miles from Via Reggio, we rode down to that town to know + if they knew anything. Here our calamity first began to break on us; a + little boat and a water cask had been found five miles off--they had + manufactured a _piccolissima lancia_ of thin planks stitched by a + shoemaker, just to let them run on shore without wetting themselves, + as our boat drew four feet of water. The description of that found + tallied with this, but then this boat was very cumbersome, and in bad + weather they might have been easily led to throw it overboard,--the + cask frightened me most,--but the same reason might in some sort be + given for that. I must tell you that Jane and I were not alone. + Trelawny accompanied us back to our home. We journeyed on and reached + the Magra about half-past 10 P.M. I cannot describe to you what I felt + in the first moment when, fording this river, I felt the water splash + about our wheels. I was suffocated--I gasped for breath--I thought I + should have gone into convulsions, and I struggled violently that Jane + might not perceive it. Looking down the river I saw the two great + lights burning at the _foce_; a voice from within me seemed to cry + aloud, "That is his grave." After passing the river I gradually + recovered. Arriving at Lerici we were obliged to cross our little bay + in a boat. San Terenzo was illuminated for a festa. What a scene! The + waving sea, the sirocco wind, the lights of the town towards which we + rowed, and our own desolate hearts, that coloured all with a shroud. + We landed. Nothing had been heard of them. This was Saturday, July 13, + and thus we waited until Thursday July 18, thrown about by hope and + fear. We sent messengers along the coast towards Genoa and to Via + Reggio; nothing had been found more than the _Lancetta_; reports were + brought us; we hoped; and yet to tell you all the agony we endured + during those twelve days, would be to make you conceive a universe of + pain--each moment intolerable, and giving place to one still worse. + The people of the country, too, added to one's discomfort; they are + like wild savages; on festas, the men and women and children in + different bands--the sexes always separate--pass the whole night in + dancing on the sands close to our door; running into the sea, then + back again, and screaming all the time one perpetual air, the most + detestable in the world; then the sirocco perpetually blew, and the + sea for ever moaned their dirge. On Thursday, 18th, Trelawny left us + to go to Leghorn, to see what was doing or what could be done. On + Friday I was very ill; but as evening came on, I said to Jane, "If + anything had been found on the coast, Trelawny would have returned to + let us know. He has not returned, so I hope." About 7 o'clock P.M. he + did return; all was over, all was quiet now; they had been found + washed on shore. Well, all this was to be endured. + + Well, what more have I to say? The next day we returned to Pisa, and + here we are still. Days pass away, one after another, and we live + thus; we are all together; we shall quit Italy together. Jane must + proceed to London. If letters do not alter my views, I shall remain in + Paris. Thus we live, seeing the Hunts now and then. Poor Hunt has + suffered terribly, as you may guess. Lord Byron is very kind to me, + and comes with the Guiccioli to see me often. To-day, this day, the + sun shining in the sky, they are gone to the desolate sea-coast to + perform the last offices to their earthly remains, Hunt, Lord Byron, + and Trelawny. The quarantine laws would not permit us to remove them + sooner, and now only on condition that we burn them to ashes. That I + do not dislike. His rest shall be at Rome beside my child, where one + day I also shall join them. _Adonais_ is not Keats', it is his own + elegy; he bids you there go to Rome. I have seen the spot where he now + lies,--the sticks that mark the spot where the sands cover him; he + shall not be there, it is too near Via Reggio. They are now about this + fearful office, and I live! + + One more circumstance I will mention. As I said, he took leave of Mrs. + Mason in high spirits on Sunday. "Never," said she, "did I see him + look happier than the last glance I had of his countenance." On Monday + he was lost. On Monday night she dreamt that she was somewhere, she + knew not where, and he came, looking very pale and fearfully + melancholy. She said to him, "You look ill; you are tired; sit down + and eat." "No," he replied, "I shall never eat more; I have not a + soldo left in the world." "Nonsense," said she, "this is no inn, you + need not pay." "Perhaps," he answered, "it is the worse for that." + Then she awoke; and, going to sleep again, she dreamt that my Percy + was dead; and she awoke crying bitterly--so bitterly, and felt so + miserable--that she said to herself, "Why, if the little boy should + die, I should not feel it in this manner." She was so struck with + these dreams, that she mentioned them to her servant the next day, + saying she hoped all was well with us. + + Well, here is my story--the last story I shall have to tell. All that + might have been bright in my life is now despoiled. I shall live to + improve myself, to take care of my child, and render myself worthy to + join him. Soon my weary pilgrimage will begin. I rest now, but soon I + must leave Italy, and then there is an end of all but despair. Adieu! + I hope you are well and happy. I have an idea that while he was at + Pisa, he received a letter from you that I have never seen; so not + knowing where to direct, I shall send this letter to Peacock. I shall + send it open; he may be glad to read it.--Yours ever truly, + + MARY W. S. + + + PISA, _15th August 1822_. + + I shall probably write soon again. I have left out a material + circumstance. A fishing-boat saw them go down. It was about 4 in the + afternoon. They saw the boy at mast-head, when baffling winds struck + the sails. They had looked away a moment, and, looking again, the boat + was gone. This is their story, but there is little doubt that these + men might have saved them, at least Edward, who could swim. They could + not, they said, get near her; but three-quarters of an hour after + passed over the spot where they had seen her. They protested no wreck + of her was visible; but Roberts, going on board their boat, found + several spars belonging to her: perhaps they let them perish to obtain + these. Trelawny thinks he can get her up, since another fisherman + thinks that he has found the spot where she lies, having drifted near + shore. Trelawny does this to know, perhaps, the cause of her wreck; + but I care little about it. + +All readers know Trelawny's graphic account of the burning of the bodies +of Shelley and Williams. Subsequent to this ceremony a painful episode +took place between Mary and Leigh Hunt. Hunt had witnessed the obsequies +(from Lord Byron's carriage), and to him was given by Trelawny the heart +of Shelley, which in the flames had remained unconsumed. This precious +relic he refused to give up to her who was its rightful owner, saying +that, to induce him to part with it, her claim must be maintained by +"strong and conclusive arguments." It was difficult to advance arguments +strong enough if the nature of the case was not in itself convincing. He +showed no disposition to yield, and Mary was desperate. Where logic, +justice, and good feeling failed, a woman's tact, however, succeeded. Mrs. +Williams "wrote to Hunt, and represented to him how grievous it was that +Shelley's remains should become a source of dissension between his dearest +friends. She obtained her purpose. Hunt said she had brought forward the +only argument that could have induced him to yield." + +Under the influence of a like feeling Mary seems to have borne Hunt no +grudge for what must, at least, have appeared to her as an act of most +gratuitous selfishness. + +But Mary Shelley and Jane Williams had, both of them, to face facts and +think of the future. Hardest of all, it became evident that, for the +present, they must part. Their affection for each other, warm in happier +times, had developed by force of circumstances into a mutual need; so much +nearer, in their sorrow, were they to each other than either could be to +any one else. But Jane had friends in England, and she required to enlist +the interest of Edward's relations in behalf of his orphan children. + +Meanwhile, if Mary had for the moment any outward tie or responsibility, +it was towards the Leigh Hunts, thus expatriated at the request and desire +of others, with a very uncertain prospect of permanent result or benefit. +Byron, having helped to start the _Liberal_ with contributions of his own, +and thus fulfilled a portion of his bond, might give them the slip at any +moment. Shelley, although little disposed toward the "coalition," had +promised assistance, and any such promise from him would have been sure to +mean, in practice, more, and not less, than it said. Mary had his MSS.; +she knew his intentions; she was, as far as any mortal could be, his +fitting literary representative. She had little to call her elsewhere. The +Hunts were friendly and affectionate and full of pity for her; they were +also poor and dependent. All tended to one result; she and they must for +the present join forces, so saving expense; and she was to give all the +help she could to the _Liberal_. Lord Byron was going to Genoa. Mary and +the Hunts agreed to take a house together there for several months or a +year. + +Once more she wrote from Pisa to her friend. + + MARY SHELLEY TO MRS. GISBORNE. + + PISA, _10th September 1822_. + + And so here I am! I continue to exist--to see one day succeed the + other; to dread night, but more to dread morning, and hail another + cheerless day. My Boy, too, is alas! no consolation. When I think how + he loved him, the plans he had for his education, his sweet and + childish voice strikes me to the heart. Why should he live in this + world of pain and anguish? At times I feel an energy within me to + combat with my destiny; but again I sink. I have but one hope for + which I live, to render myself worthy to join him,--and such a feeling + sustains one during moments of enthusiasm, but darkness and misery + soon overwhelm the mind when all near objects bring agony alone with + them. People used to call me lucky in my star; you see now how true + such a prophecy is! I was fortunate in having fearlessly placed my + destiny in the hands of one who, a superior being among men, a bright + "planetary" spirit enshrined in an earthly temple, raised me to the + height of happiness. So far am I now happy, that I would not change my + situation as his widow with that of the most prosperous woman in the + world; and surely the time will at length come when I shall be at + peace, and my brain and heart no longer be alive with unutterable + anguish. I can conceive of but one circumstance that could afford me + the semblance of content, that is the being permitted to live where I + am now, in the same house, in the same state, occupied alone with my + child, in collecting his manuscripts, writing his life, and thus to go + easily to my grave. But this must not be! Even if circumstances did + not compel me to return to England, I would not stay another summer in + Italy with my child. I will at least do my best to render him well and + happy, and the idea that my circumstances may at all injure him is the + fiercest pang my mind endures. + + I wrote you a long letter containing a slight sketch of my sufferings. + I sent it directed to Peacock, at the India House, because accident + led me to fancy that you were no longer in London. I said in that, + that on that day (15th August) they had gone to perform the last + offices for him; however, I erred in this, for on that day those of + Edward were alone fulfilled, and they returned on the 16th to + celebrate Shelley's. I will say nothing of the ceremony, since + Trelawny has written an account of it, to be printed in the + forthcoming journal. I will only say that all, except his heart (which + was inconsumable), was burnt, and that two days ago I went to Leghorn + and beheld the small box that contained his earthly dross; those + smiles, that form--Great God! no, he is not there, he is with me, + about me--life of my life, and soul of my soul; if his divine spirit + did not penetrate mine I could not survive to weep thus. + + I will mention the friends I have here, that you may form an idea of + our situation. Mrs. Williams, Clare, and I live all together; we have + one purse, and, joined in misery, we are for the present joined in + life. She, poor girl, withers like a lily; she lives for her children, + but it is a living death. Lord Byron has been very kind; the Guiccioli + restrains him. She, being an Italian, is capable of being jealous of a + living corpse, such as I. Of Hunt I will speak when I see you. But the + friend to whom we are eternally indebted is Trelawny. I have, of + course, mentioned him to you as one who wishes to be considered + eccentric, but who was noble and generous at bottom. I always thought + so, even when no fact proved it, and Shelley agreed with me, as he + always did, or rather I with him. We heard people speak against him on + account of his vagaries; we said to one another, "Still we like + him--we believe him to be good." Once, even, when a whim of his led + him to treat me with something like impertinence, I forgave him, and I + have now been well rewarded. In my outline of events you will see how, + unasked, he returned with Jane and me from Leghorn to Lerici; how he + stayed with us poor miserable creatures[2] five days there, + endeavouring to keep up our spirits; how he left us on Thursday, and, + finding our misfortune confirmed, then without rest returned on Friday + to us, and again without rest returned to Pisa on Saturday. These were + no common services. Since that he has gone through, by himself, all + the annoyances of dancing attendance on Consuls and Governors for + permission to fulfil the last duties to those gone, and attending the + ceremony himself; all the disagreeable part, and all the fatigue, fell + on him. As Hunt said, "He worked with the meanest and felt with the + best." He is generous to a distressing degree. But after all these + benefits to us, what I most thank him for is this. When on that night + of agony, that Friday night, he returned to announce that hope was + dead for us; when he had told me that his earthly frame being found, + his spirit was no longer to be my guide, protector, and companion in + this dark world, he did not attempt to console me--that would have + been too cruelly useless,--but he launched forth into, as it were, an + overflowing and eloquent praise of my divine Shelley, till I was + almost happy that thus I was unhappy, to be fed by the praise of him, + and to dwell on the eulogy that his loss thus drew from his friend. Of + my friends I have only Mrs. Mason to mention; her coldness has stung + me; yet she felt his loss keenly, and would be very glad to serve me; + but it is not cold offers of service one wants; one's wounded spirit + demands a number of nameless slight but dear attentions that are a + balm, and wanting these, one feels a bitterness which is a painful + addition to one's other sufferings. + + God knows what will become of me! My life is now very monotonous as to + outward events, yet how diversified by internal feeling! How often in + the intensity of grief does one instant seem to fill and embrace the + universe! As to the rest, the mechanical spending of my time: of + course I have a great deal to do preparing for my journey. I make no + visits, except one once in about ten days to Mrs. Mason. I have not + seen Hunt these nine days. Trelawny resides chiefly at Leghorn, since + he is captain of Lord Byron's vessel, the _Bolivar_; he comes to see + us about once a week, and Lord Byron visits me about twice a week, + accompanied by the Guiccioli; but seeing people is an annoyance which + I am happy to be spared. Solitude is my only help and resource; + accustomed, even when he was with me, to spend much of my time alone, + I can at those moments forget myself, until some idea, which I think + I would communicate to him, occurs, and then the yawning and dark + gulph again displays itself, unshaded by the rainbow which the + imagination had formed. Despair, energy, love, desponding and + excessive affliction are like clouds driven across my mind, one by + one, until tears blot the scene, and weariness of spirit consigns me + to temporary repose. + + I shudder with horror when I look back on what I have suffered, and + when I think of the wild and miserable thoughts that have possessed me + I say to myself, "Is it true that I ever felt thus?" and then I weep + in pity of myself; yet each day adds to the stock of sorrow, and death + is the only end. I would study, and I hope I shall. I would write, and + when I am settled I may. But were it not for the steady hope I + entertain of joining him, what a mockery would be this world! without + that hope I could not study or write, for fame and usefulness (except + as regards my child) are nullities to me. Yet I shall be happy if + anything I ever produce may exalt and soften sorrow, as the writings + of the divinities of our race have mine. But how can I aspire to that? + + The world will surely one day feel what it has lost when this bright + child of song deserted her. Is not _Adonais_ his own elegy? and there + does he truly depict the universal woe which should overspread all + good minds since he has ceased to be their fellow-labourer in this + worldly scene. How lovely does he paint death to be, and with what + heartfelt sorrow does one repeat that line-- + + But I am chained to Time, and cannot thence depart. + + How long do you think I shall live? as long as my mother? Then eleven + long years must intervene. I am now on the eve of completing my five + and twentieth year; how drearily young for one so lost as I. How young + in years for one who lives ages each day in sorrow. Think you that + these moments are counted in my life as in other people's? Oh no! The + day before the sea closed over mine own Shelley he said to Marianne, + "If I die to-morrow I have lived to be older than my father; I am + ninety years of age." Thus, also, may I say. The eight years I passed + with him was spun out beyond the usual length of a man's life, and + what I have suffered since will write years on my brow and intrench + them in my heart. Surely I am not long for this world; most sure + should I be were it not for my boy, but God grant that I may live to + make his early years happy. + + Well, adieu! I have no events to write about, and can, therefore, only + scrawl about my feelings; this letter, indeed, is only the sequel of + my last. In that I closed the history of all events that can interest + me; that letter I wish you to send my Father, the present one it is + best not. + + I suppose I shall see you in England some of these days, but I shall + write to you again before I quit this place. Be as happy as you can, + and hope for better things in the next world; by firm hope you may + attain your wishes. Again, adieu!--Affectionately yours, + + M. S. + + Do not write to me again here, or at all, until I write to you. + +Within a day or two after this letter was written, Mary, with Jane +Williams and their children, quitted Pisa; Clare only remaining behind. + +From a letter--a very indignant one--of Mrs. Mason's, it may be inferred +that appeals for a little assistance had been made on Clare's behalf to +Byron, who did not respond. He had been, unwittingly, contributing to her +support during the last few weeks of Shelley's life; Shelley having +undertaken to get some translations (from Goethe) made for Byron, and +giving the work secretly to Clare. The truth now came out, and she found +more difficulty than heretofore in getting paid. Dependent for the future +on her own exertions, she was going, according to her former resolution, +to Vienna, where Charles Clairmont was now established. Mary's departure +left her dreadfully solitary, and within a few hours she despatched one of +her characteristic epistles, touched with that motley of bitter cynicism +and grotesque, racy, humour which developed in her later letters. + + _Half-past 2, Wednesday Morning._ + + MY DEAR MARY--You have only been gone a few hours. I have been + inexpressibly low-spirited. I hope dear Jane will be with you when + this arrives. Nothing new has happened--what should? To me there seems + nothing under the sun, except the old tale of misery, misery! + + * * * * * + + + _Thursday._ + + I am to begin my journey to Vienna on Monday. Mrs. Mason will make me + go, and the consequence is that it will be double as much, as I am to + go alone. Imagine all the lonely inns, the weary long miles, if I do. + Observe, whatever befalls in life, the heaviest part, the very dregs + of the misfortune fall on me. + + Alone, alone, all, all alone, + Upon a wide, wide sea, + And Christ would take no mercy + Upon my soul in agony. + + But I believe my Minerva[3] is right, for I might wait to all eternity + for a party. You may remember what Lord Byron said about paying for + the translation; now he has mumbled and grumbled and demurred, and + does not know whether it is worth it, and will only give forty crowns, + so that I shall not be overstocked when I arrive at Vienna, unless, + indeed, God shall spread a table for me in the wilderness. I mean to + chew rhubarb the whole way, as the only diversion I can think of at + all suited to my present state of feeling, and if I should write you + scolding letters, you will excuse them, knowing that, with the + Psalmist, "Out of the bitterness of my mouth have I spoken." + + * * * * * + + Kiss the dear little Percy for me, and if Jane is with you, tell her + how much I have thought of her, and that her image will always float + across my mind, shining in my dark history like a ray of light across + a cave. Kiss her children also with all a grandmother's love. Accept + my best wishes for your happiness. Dio ti da, Maria, ventura.--Your + affectionate + + CLARE. + +Mary answered this letter from Genoa. + + FROM MARY TO CLARE. + + GENOA, _15th September 1822_. + + MY DEAR CLARE--I do not wonder that you were and are melancholy, or + that the excess of that feeling should oppress you. Great God! what + have we gone through, what variety of care and misery, all close now + in blackest night. And I, am I not melancholy? here in this busy + hateful Genoa, where nothing speaks to me of him, except the sea, + which is his murderer. Well, I shall have his books and manuscripts, + and in those I shall live, and from the study of these I do expect + some instants of content. In solitude my imagination and ever-moving + thoughts may afford me some seconds of exaltation that may render me + both happier here and more worthy of him hereafter. + + Such as I felt walking up a mountain by myself at sunrise during my + journey, when the rocks looked black about me, and a white mist + concealed all but them. I thought then, that, thinking of him and + exciting my mind, my days might pass in a kind of peace; but these + thoughts are so fleeting; and then I expect unhappiness alone from all + the worldly part of my life--from my intercourse with human beings. I + know that will bring nothing but unhappiness to me, if, indeed, I + except Trelawny, who appears so truly generous and kind. + + But I will not talk of myself, you have enough to annoy and make you + miserable, and in nothing can I assist you. But I do hope that you + will find Germany better suited to you in every way than Italy, and + that you will make friends, and, more than all, become really attached + to some one there. + + I wish, when I was in Pisa, that you had said that you thought you + should be short of money, and I would have left you more; but you + seemed to think 150 francesconi plenty. I would not go on with Goethe + except with a fixed price per sheet, to be paid regularly, and that + price not less than five guineas. Make this understood fully through + Hunt before you go, and then I will take care that you get the money; + but if you do not _fix_ it, then I cannot manage so well. You are + going to Vienna--how anxiously do I hope to find peace; I do not hope + to find it here. Genoa has a bad atmosphere for me, I fear, and + nothing but the horror of being a burthen to my family prevents my + accompanying Jane. If I had any fixed income I would go at least to + Paris, and I shall go the moment I have one. Adieu, my dear Clare; + write to me often, as I shall to you.--Affectionately yours, + + MARY W. S. + + I cannot get your German dictionary now, since I must have packed it + in my great case of books, but I will send it by the first + opportunity. + +Jane and her children were the next to depart, and for a short time Mary +Shelley and her boy were alone. Besides taking a house for the Hunts and +herself, she had the responsibility of finding one for Lord Byron. People +never scrupled to make her of use; but any object, any duty to fulfil, was +good for her in her solitary misery, and she devoted some of her vacant +time to sending an account of her plans to Mrs. Gisborne. + + MARY SHELLEY TO MRS. GISBORNE. + + GENOA, _17th September 1822_. + + ... I am here alone in Genoa; quite, quite alone! J. has left me to + proceed to England, and, except my sleeping child, I am alone. Since + you do not communicate with my Father, you will perhaps be surprised, + after my last letter, that I do not come to England. I have written to + him a long account of the arguments of all my friends to dissuade me + from that miserable journey; Jane will detail them to you; and, + therefore, I merely say now that, having no business there, I am + determined not to spend that money which will support me nearly a year + here, in a journey, the sole end of which appears to me the necessity + I should be under, when arrived in London, of being a burthen to my + Father. When my crowns are gone, if Sir Timothy refuses, I hope to be + able to support myself by my writings and mine own Shelley's MSS. At + least during many long months I shall have peace as to money affairs, + and one evil the less is much to one whose existence is suffering + alone. Lord Byron has a house here, and will arrive soon. I have taken + a house for the Hunts and myself outside one of the gates. It is large + and neat, with a _podere_ attached; we shall pay about eighty crowns + between us, so I hope that I shall find tranquillity from care this + winter, though that may be the last of my life so free, yet I do not + hope it, though I say so; hope is a word that belongs not to my + situation. He--my own beloved, the exalted and divine Shelley--has + left me alone in this miserable world; this earth, canopied by the + eternal starry heaven--where he is--where, oh, my God! yes, where I + shall one day be. + + Clare is no longer with me. Jane quitted me this morning at 4. After + she left me I again went to rest, and thought of Pugnano, its halls, + its cypresses, the perfume of its mountains, and the gaiety of our + life beneath their shadow. Then I dozed awhile, and in my dream saw + dear Edward most visibly; he came, he said, to pass a few hours with + us, but could not stay long. Then I woke, and the day began. I went + out, took Hunt's house; but as I walked I felt that which is with me + the sign of unutterable grief. I am not given to tears, and though my + most miserable fate has often turned my eyes to fountains, yet oftener + I suffer agonies unassuaged by tears. But during these last sufferings + I have felt an oppression at my heart I never felt before. It is not a + palpitation, but a _stringimento_ which is quite convulsive, and, did + I not struggle greatly, would cause violent hysterics. Looking on the + sea, or hearing its roar, his dirge, it comes upon me; but these are + corporeal sufferings I can get over, but that which is insurmountable + is the constant feeling of despair that shadows me: I seem to walk on + a narrow path with fathomless precipices all around me. Yet where can + I fall? I have already fallen, and all that comes of bad or good is a + mere mockery. + + Those about me have no idea of what I suffer; none are sufficiently + interested in me to observe that, though my lips smile, my eyes are + blank, or to notice the desolate look that I cast up towards the sky. + Pardon, dear friend, this selfishness in writing thus. There are + moments when the heart must _sfogare_ or be suffocated, and such a + moment is this--when quite alone, my babe sleeping, and dear Jane + having just left me, it is with difficulty I prevent myself from + flying from mental misery by bodily exertion, when to run into that + vast grave (the sea) until I sink to rest, would be a pleasure to me, + and instead of this I write, and as I write I say, Oh God, have pity + on me. At least I will have pity on you. Good-night, I will finish + this when people are about me, and I am in a more cheerful mood. + Good-night. I will go look at the stars. They are eternal, so is he, + so am I. + + You have not written to me since my misfortune. I understand this; you + first waited for a letter from me, and that letter told you not to + write. But answer this as soon as you receive it; talk to me of + yourselves, and also of my English affairs. I am afraid that they will + not go on very well in my absence, but it would cost more to set them + right than they are worth. I will, however, let you know what I think + my friends ought to do, that when you talk to Peacock he may learn + what I wish. A claim should be made on the part of Shelley's executors + for a maintenance for my child and myself from Sir Timothy. Lord Byron + is ready to do this or any other service for me that his office of + executor demands from him; but I do not wish it to be done separately + by him, and I want to hear from England before I ask him to write to + Whitton on the subject. Secondly, Ollier must be asked for all MSS., + and some plan be reflected on for the best manner of republishing + Shelley's works, as well as the writings he has left. Who will allow + money to Ianthe and Charles? + + As for you, my dear friends, I do not see what you can do for me, + except to send me the originals or copies of Shelley's most + interesting letters to you. I hope soon to get into my house, where + writing, copying Shelley's MSS., walking, and being of some use in the + education of Marianne's children will be my occupations. Where is that + letter in verse Shelley once wrote to you? Let me have a copy of it. + Is not Peacock very lukewarm and insensible in this affair? Tell me + what Hogg says and does, and my Father also, if you have an + opportunity of knowing. Here is a long letter all about myself, but + though I cannot write, I like to hear of others. Adieu, dear + friends.--Your sincerely attached, + + MARY W. SHELLEY. + +The fragment that follows is from Mrs. Williams' first letter, written +from Geneva, where she and Edward had lived in such felicity, and where +they had made friends with Medwin, Roberts, and Trelawny: a happy, +light-hearted time on which it was torture to look back. + + JANE WILLIAMS TO MARY SHELLEY. + + GENEVA, _September 1822_. + + I only arrived this day, my dearest Mary, and find your letter, the + only friend who welcomes me. I will not detail all the misery I have + suffered, let it be added to the heap that must be piled up; and when + the measure is brimful, it needs must overflow; and then, peace! What + have been my feelings to-day? I have gazed on that lake, still and + ever the same, rolling on in its course, as if this gap in creation + had never been made. I have passed that place where our little boat + used to land, but where is the hand stretched out to meet mine, where + the glad voice, the sweet smile, the beloved form? Oh! Mary, is my + heart human that I endure scenes like this, and live? My arrival at + the inn here has been one of the most painful trials I have yet + undergone. The landlady, who came to the door, did not recognise me + immediately, and when she did, our mutual tears prevented both + interrogation and answer for some minutes. I then bore my sorrowful + burden up these stairs he had formerly passed in all the pride of + youth, hope, and love. When will these heartrending scenes be + finished? Never! for, when they cease, memory will furnish others. + + * * * * * + + God bless you, dearest girl; take care of yourself. Remember me to the + Hunts.--Ever yours, + + JANE. + +Not long after this Byron arrived at Genoa with his train, and the Hunts +with their tribe. + + "All that were now left of our Pisan circle," writes Trelawny, + "established themselves at Albaro,--Byron, Leigh Hunt, and Mrs. + Shelley. The fine spirit that had animated and held us together was + gone. Left to our own devices, we degenerated apace." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +SEPTEMBER 1822-JULY 1823 + + +An eminent contemporary writer, speaking of Trelawny's writings, has +remarked: "So long as he dwells on Shelley, he is, like the visitants to +the _Witch of Atlas_, 'imparadised.'" This was true, in fact not as to the +writings, but the natures, of all who had friendly or intimate relations +with Shelley. His personality was like a clear, deep lake, wherein the sky +and the surrounding objects were reflected. Now and again a breeze, or +even a storm, might sweep across the "watery glass," playing strange, +grotesque pranks with the distorted reflections. But in general those who +surrounded it saw themselves, and saw each other, not as they were, but as +they appeared,--transfigured, idealised, glorified, by the impalpable, +fluid, medium. And like a tree that overhangs the water's edge, whose +branches dip and play in the clear ripples, nodding and beckoning to their +own living likeness there, so Mary had grown up by the side of this, her +own image in him,--herself indeed, but "imparadised" in the immortal +unreality of the magic mirror. + +Now the eternal frost had fallen: black ice and dreary snow had +extinguished that reflection for ever, and the solitary tree was left to +weather all storms in a wintry world, where no magic mirror was to be hers +any more. + +Mary Shelley's diary, now she was alone, altered its character. In her +husband's lifetime it had been a record of the passing facts of every day; +almost as concise in statement as that of her father. Now and then, in +travelling, she would stereotype an impression of beautiful scenery by an +elaborate description; sometimes, but very rarely, she had indulged (as at +Pisa) on reflections on people or things in general. + +The case was now exactly reversed. Alone with her child, with no one else +to live for; having no companion-mind with which to exchange ideas, and +having never known what it was to be without one before, her diary became +her familiar,--or rather her shadow, for it took its sombre colouring from +her and could give nothing back. The thoughts too monotonously sad, too +harrowing in their eloquent self-pity to be communicated to other people, +but which filled her heart, the more that heart was thrown back on itself, +found here an outlet, inadequate enough, but still the only one they had. +In thus recording her emotions for her own benefit, she had little idea +that these melancholy self-communings would ever be gathered up and +published for the satisfaction of the "reading world"; a world that loves +nothing so well as personal details, and would rather have the object of +its interest misrepresented than not represented at all. Outwardly +uneventful as Mrs. Shelley's subsequent life was, its few occurrences are, +as a rule, not even alluded to in her journal. Such things for the most +part lost their intrinsic importance to her when Shelley disappeared; it +was only in the world of abstractions that she felt or could imagine his +companionship. Her journal, in reality, records her first essay in living +alone. It was, to an almost incredible degree, a beginning. + +Her existence, from its outset, had been offered up at the shrine of one +man. To animate his solitude, to foster his genius, to help--as far as +possible--his labours, to companion him in a world that did not understand +him,--this had been her life-work, which lay now as a dream behind her, +while she awakened to find herself alone with the solitude, the work, the +cold unfriendly world, and without Shelley. + +Could any woman be as lonely? All who share an abnormal lot must needs be +isolated when cut adrift from the other life which has been their _raison +d'źtre_; and Mary had begun so early, that she had grown, as it were, to +this state of double solitude. She had not been unconscious of the slight +hold they had on actualities. + + "Mary," observed Shelley one day at Pisa, when Trelawny was present, + "Trelawny has found out Byron already. How stupid we were; how long it + took us!" + + "That," she observed, "is because he lives with the living and we with + the dead." + +And as a fact, Shelley lived with the immortals; finite things were +outside his world; in his contemporaries it was what he would have +considered their immortal side that he cared for. There are conjurors who +can be tied by no knot from which they cannot escape, and so the +limitations of practical convention, those "ideas and feelings which are +but for a day," had no power to hold Shelley. + +And Mary knew no world but his. Now, young,--only twenty-five,--yet with +the past experience of eight years of chequered married life, and of a +simultaneous intellectual development almost perilously rapid, she stood, +an utter novice, on the threshold of ordinary existence. + + _Journal, October 2._--On the 8th of July I finished my journal. This + is a curious coincidence. The date still remains--the fatal 8th--a + monument to show that all ended then. And I begin again? Oh, never! + But several motives induce me, when the day has gone down, and all is + silent around me, steeped in sleep, to pen, as occasion wills, my + reflections and feelings. First, I have no friend. For eight years I + communicated, with unlimited freedom, with one whose genius, far + transcending mine, awakened and guided my thoughts. I conversed with + him, rectified my errors of judgment; obtained new lights from him; + and my mind was satisfied. Now I am alone--oh, how alone! The stars + may behold my tears, and the wind drink my sighs, but my thoughts are + a sealed treasure which I can confide to none. But can I express all I + feel? Can I give words to thoughts and feelings that, as a tempest, + hurry me along? Is this the sand that the ever-flowing sea of thought + would impress indelibly? Alas! I am alone. No eye answers mine; my + voice can with none assume its natural modulation. What a change! O my + beloved Shelley! how often during those happy days--happy, though + chequered--I thought how superiorly gifted I had been in being united + to one to whom I could unveil myself, and who could understand me! + Well, then, now I am reduced to these white pages, which I am to blot + with dark imagery. As I write, let me think what he would have said + if, speaking thus to him, he could have answered me. Yes, my own + heart, I would fain know what to think of my desolate state; what you + think I ought to do, what to think. I guess you would answer thus: + "Seek to know your own heart, and, learning what it best loves, try to + enjoy that." Well, I cast my eyes around, and, looking forward to the + bounded prospect in view, I ask myself what pleases me there. My + child;--so many feelings arise when I think of him, that I turn aside + to think no more. Those I most loved are gone for ever; those who held + the second rank are absent; and among those near me as yet, I trust to + the disinterested kindness of one alone. Beneath all this, my + imagination never flags. Literary labours, the improvement of my mind, + and the enlargement of my ideas, are the only occupations that elevate + me from my lethargy: all events seem to lead me to that one point, and + the courses of destiny having dragged me to that single resting-place, + have left me. Father, mother, friend, husband, children--all made, as + it were, the team which conducted me here, and now all, except you, my + poor boy (and you are necessary to the continuance of my life), all + are gone, and I am left to fulfil my task. So be it. + + _October 5._--Well, they are come;[4] and it is all as I said. I awoke + as from sleep, and thought how I had vegetated these last days; for + feeling leaves little trace on the memory if it be, like mine, + unvaried. I have felt for, and with myself alone, and I awake now to + take a part in life. As far as others are concerned, my sensations + have been most painful. I must work hard amidst the vexations that I + perceive are preparing for me, to preserve my peace and tranquillity + of mind. I must preserve some, if I am to live; for, since I bear at + the bottom of my heart a fathomless well of bitter waters, the + workings of which my philosophy is ever at work to repress, what will + be my fate if the petty vexations of life are added to this sense of + eternal and infinite misery? + + Oh, my child! what is your fate to be? You alone reach me; you are the + only chain that links me to time; but for you, I should be free. And + yet I cannot be destined to live long. Well, I shall commence my task, + commemorate the virtues of the only creature worth loving or living + for, and then, may be, I may join him. Moonshine may be united to her + planet, and wander no more, a sad reflection of all she loved on + earth. + + _October 7._--I have received my desk to-day, and have been reading my + letters to mine own Shelley during his absences at Marlow. What a + scene to recur to! My William, Clara, Allegra, are all talked of. They + lived then, they breathed this air, and their voices struck on my + sense; their feet trod the earth beside me, and their hands were warm + with blood and life when clasped in mine, where are they all? This is + too great an agony to be written about. I may express my despair, but + my thoughts can find no words. + + * * * * * + + I would endeavour to consider myself a faint continuation of his + being, and, as far as possible, the revelation to the earth of what he + was, yet, to become this, I must change much, and, above all, I must + acquire that knowledge and drink at those fountains of wisdom and + virtue from which he quenched his thirst. Hitherto I have done + nothing; yet I have not been discontented with myself. I speak of the + period of my residence here. For, although unoccupied by those studies + which I have marked out for myself, my mind has been so active that + its activity, and not its indolence, has made me neglectful. But now + the society of others causes this perpetual working of my ideas + somewhat to pause; and I must take advantage of this to turn my mind + towards its immediate duties, and to determine with firmness to + commence the life I have planned. You will be with me in all my + studies, dearest love! your voice will no longer applaud me, but in + spirit you will visit and encourage me: I know you will. What were I, + if I did not believe that you still exist? It is not with you as with + another, I believe that we all live hereafter; but you, my only one, + were a spirit caged, an elemental being, enshrined in a frail image, + now shattered. Do they not all with one voice assert the same? + Trelawny, Hunt, and many others. And so at last you quitted this + painful prison, and you are free, my Shelley; while I, your poor + chosen one, am left to live as I may. + + What a strange life mine has been! Love, youth, fear, and fearlessness + led me early from the regular routine of life, and I united myself to + this being, who, not one of _us_, though like to us, was pursued by + numberless miseries and annoyances, in all of which I shared. And then + I was the mother of beautiful children, but these stayed not by me. + Still he was there; and though, in truth, after my William's death + this world seemed only a quicksand, sinking beneath my feet, yet + beside me was this bank of refuge--so tempest-worn and frail, that + methought its very weakness was strength, and, since Nature had + written destruction on its brow, so the Power that rules human affairs + had determined, in spite of Nature, that it should endure. But that is + gone. His voice can no longer be heard; the earth no longer receives + the shadow of his form; annihilation has come over the earthly + appearance of the most gentle creature that ever yet breathed this + air; and I am still here--still thinking, existing, all but hoping. + Well, I close my book. To-morrow I must begin this new life of mine. + + _October 19._--How painful all change becomes to one, who, entirely + and despotically engrossed by [his] own feelings leads, as it were, an + _internal_ life, quite different from the outward and apparent one! + Whilst my life continues its monotonous course within sterile banks, + an under-current disturbs the smooth face of the waters, distorts all + objects reflected in it, and the mind is no longer a mirror in which + outward events may reflect themselves, but becomes itself the painter + and creator. If this perpetual activity has power to vary with endless + change the everyday occurrences of a most monotonous life, it appears + to be animated with the spirit of tempest and hurricane when any real + occurrence diversifies the scene. Thus, to-night, a few bars of a + known air seemed to be as a wind to rouse from its depths every + deep-seated emotion of my mind. I would have given worlds to have sat, + my eyes closed, and listened to them for years. The restraint I was + under caused these feelings to vary with rapidity; but the words of + the conversation, uninteresting as they might be, seemed all to convey + two senses to me, and, touching a chord within me, to form a music of + which the speaker was little aware. I do not think that any person's + voice has the same power of awakening melancholy in me as Albé's. I + have been accustomed, when hearing it, to listen and to speak little; + another voice, not mine, ever replied--a voice whose strings are + broken. When Albé ceases to speak, I expect to hear _that other_ + voice, and when I hear another instead, it jars strangely with every + association. I have seen so little of Albé since our residence in + Switzerland, and, having seen him there every day, his voice--a + peculiar one--is engraved on my memory with other sounds and objects + from which it can never disunite itself. I have heard Hunt in company + and in conversation with many, when my own one was not there. + Trelawny, perhaps, is associated in my mind with Edward more than with + Shelley. Even our older friends, Peacock and Hogg, might talk + together, or with others, and their voices suggest no change to me. + But, since incapacity and timidity always prevented my mingling in the + nightly conversations of Diodati, they were, as it were, entirely + _tźte-ą-tźte_ between my Shelley and Albé; and thus, as I have said, + when Albé speaks and Shelley does not answer, it is as thunder without + rain,--the form of the sun without light or heat,--as any familiar + object might be shorn of its best attributes; and I listen with an + unspeakable melancholy that yet is not all pain. + + The above explains that which would otherwise be an enigma--why Albé, + by his mere presence and voice, has the power of exciting such deep + and shifting emotions within me. For my feelings have no analogy + either with my opinion of him, or the subject of his conversation. + With another I might talk, and not for the moment think of Shelley--at + least not think of him with the same vividness as if I were alone; + but, when in company with Albé, I can never cease for a second to have + Shelley in my heart and brain with a clearness that mocks + reality--interfering even by its force with the functions of + life--until, if tears do not relieve me, the hysterical feeling, + analogous to that which the murmur of the sea gives me, presses + painfully upon me. + + Well, for the first time for about a month, I have been in company + with Albé for two hours, and, coming home, I write this, so necessary + is it for me to express in words the force of my feelings. Shelley, + beloved! I look at the stars and at all nature, and it speaks to me of + you in the clearest accents. Why cannot you answer me, my own one? Is + the instrument so utterly destroyed? I would endure ages of pain to + hear one tone of your voice strike on my ear! + +For nearly a year--not a happy one--Mary lived with the Hunts. A bruised +and bleeding heart exposed to the cuffs and blows of everyday life, a +nervous temperament--too recently strained to its utmost pitch of +endurance--liable to constant, unavoidable irritation, a nature sensitive +and reserved, accustomed to much seclusion and much independence, thrown +into the midst of a large, noisy, and disorderly family,--these conditions +could hardly result in happiness. Leigh Hunt was nervous, delicate, +overworked, and variable in mood: his wife an invalid, condemned by the +doctors on her arrival in Italy, now expecting her confinement in the +ensuing summer, an event which she was told would be, for good or evil, +the crisis of her fate. Six children they had already had, who were +allowed--on principle--to do exactly as they chose, "until such time as +they were of an age to be reasoned with." + +The opening for activity and usefulness would, at another time, have been +beneficial to Mary, and, to some extent, was so now; but it was too early, +the change from her former state was too violent; she was not fit yet for +such severe bracing. She met her trials bravely; but it was another case +where buoyancy of spirits was indispensable to real success, and buoyancy +of spirits she had not, nor was likely to acquire in her present +surroundings. + +There was another person to whom these surroundings were even more +supremely distasteful than to her, and this was Byron. Small sympathy had +he for domestic life or sentiment even in their best aspects, and this +virtuous, slipshod, cockney Bohemianism had no attraction for him +whatever. The poor man must have suffered many things while the Hunts were +in possession of his _pian terreno_ at Pisa; he was rid of them now, but +the very sight of them was too much for him. + + LORD BYRON TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + _6th October 1822._ + + The sofa--which I regret is _not_ of your furniture--it was purchased + by me at Pisa since you left it. + + It is convenient for my room, though of little value (about 12 pauls), + and I offered to send another (now sent) in its stead. I preferred + retaining the purchased furniture, but always intended that you should + have as good or better in its place. I have a particular dislike to + anything of Shelley's being within the same walls with Mrs. Hunt's + children. They are dirtier and more mischievous than Yahoos. What they + can't destroy with their filth they will with their fingers. I presume + you received ninety and odd crowns from the wreck of the _Don Juan_, + and also the price of the boat purchased by Captain R., if not, you + will have _both_. Hunt has these in hand. + + With regard to any difficulties about money, I can only repeat that I + will be your banker till this state of things is cleared up, and you + can see what is to be done; so there is little to hinder you on that + score. I was confined for four days to my bed at Lerici. Poor Hunt, + with his six little blackguards, are coming slowly up; as usual he + turned back once--was there ever such a _kraal_ out of the Hottentot + country before? + + N. B. + +Among those of their former acquaintance who now surrounded Mary, the one +who by his presence ministered most to the needs of her fainting moral +nature was Trelawny. Leigh Hunt, when not disagreeing from her, was +affectionate, nay, gushing, and he had truly loved Shelley, but he was a +feeble, facetious, feckless creature,--a hypochondriac,--unable to do +much to help himself, still less another. Byron was by no means +ill-disposed, especially just now, but he was egotistic and indolent, and +too capricious,--as the event proved,--to be depended on. + +Trelawny's fresh vigorous personality, his bright originality and rugged +independence, and his unbounded admiration for Shelley, made him +wonderfully reviving to Mary; he had the effect on her of a gust of fresh +air in a close crowded room. He was unconventional and outspoken, and by +no means always complimentary, but he had a just appreciation of Mary's +real mental and moral superiority to the people around her, and a frank +liking for herself. Their friendship was to extend over many years, during +which Mary had ample opportunity of repaying the debt of obligation she +always felt she owed him for his kindness to her and Mrs. Williams at the +time of their great misery. + +The letters which follow were among the earliest of a long and varied +correspondence. + + MARY SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + _November 1822._ + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--I called on you yesterday, but was too late for you. + I was much pained to see you out of spirits the other night. I can in + no way make you better, I fear, but I should be glad to see you. Will + you dine with me Monday after your ride? If Hunt rides, as he + threatens, with Lord Byron, he will also dine late and make one of + our party. Remember, you will also do Hunt good by this, who pines in + this solitude. You say that I know so little of the world that I am + afraid I may be mistaken in imagining that you have a friendship for + me, especially after what you said of Jane the other night; but + besides the many other causes I have to esteem you, I can never + remember without the liveliest gratitude all you said that night of + agony when you returned to Lerici. Your praises of my lost Shelley + were the only balm I could endure, and he always joined with me in + liking you from the first moment we saw you. Adieu.--Your attached + friend, + + M. W. S. + + Have you got my books on shore from the _Bolivar_? If you have, pray + let me have them, for many are odd volumes, and I wish to see if they + are too much destroyed to rank with those I have. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + _November 1822._ + + DEAR MARY--I will gladly dine on Monday with you. As to melancholy, I + refer you to the good Antonio in Shylock. "Alas! I know now why I am + so sad. It is time, I think." You are not so learned in human dealings + as Iago, but you cannot so sadly err as to doubt the extent or truth + of my friendship. As to gain esteem, I do not think it a word + applicable to such a lawless character. Ruled by impulse, not by + reason, I am satisfied you should like me upon my own terms--impulse. + As to gratitude for uttering my thoughts of him I so loved and + admired, it was a tribute that all who knew him have paid to his + memory. "But weeping never could restore the dead," and if it could, + hope would prevent our tears. You may remember I always in preference + selected as my companion Edward, not Jane, and that I always dissented + from your general voice of her being perfection. I am still of the + same opinion; nothing more. But I have and ever shall feel deeply + interested, and would do much to serve her, and if thinking on those + trifles which diminish her lustre in my eyes makes me flag, Edward's + memory and my perfect friendship for him is sufficient excitement to + spur me on to anything. It is impossible to dislike Jane; but to have + an unqualified liking, such as I had for Edward, no--no--no! Talking + of gratitude, I really am and ought to be so to you, for bearing on, + untired, with my spleen, humours, and violence; it is a proof of real + liking, particularly as you are not of the sect who profess or + practise meekness, humility, and patience in common. + + T. + +Mary had not as yet been successful in getting possession of the +half-finished portrait of Shelley. Her letters had followed Miss Curran to +Paris, whence, in October, a reply at last arrived. + + "I am sorry," Miss Curran wrote, "I am not at Rome to execute your + melancholy commission. I mean to return in spring, but it may be then + too late. I am sure Mr. Brunelli would be happy to oblige you or me, + but you may have left Pisa before this, so I know not what to propose. + Your picture and Clare's I left with him to give you when you should + be at Rome, as I expected, before you returned to England. The one you + now write for I thought was not to be inquired for; it was so ill + done, and I was on the point of burning it with others before I left + Italy. I luckily saved it just as the fire was scorching, and it is + packed up with my other pictures at Rome; and I have not yet decided + where they can be sent to, as there are serious difficulties in the + way I had not adverted to. I am very sorry indeed, dear Mary, but you + shall have it as soon as I possibly can."... + +This was the early history of that portrait, which was recovered a year or +two later, and which has passed, and passes still, for Shelley's likeness, +and which, bad or good, is the only authentic one in existence. + +Mary now began to feel it a matter of duty as well as of expediency to +resume literary work, but she found it hard at first. + + "I am quite well, but very nervous," she wrote to Mrs. Gisborne; "my + excessive nervousness (how new a disorder for me--my illness in the + summer is the foundation of it) is the cause I do not write." + +She made a beginning with an article for the _Liberal_. Shelley's _Defence +of Poetry_ was, also, to be published in the forthcoming number, and the +MS. of this had to be got from England. She had reason to believe, too, +that Ollier, the publisher, had in his keeping other MSS. of Shelley's, +and she was restlessly desirous to get possession of all these, feeling +convinced that among them there was nothing perfect, nothing ready for +publication exactly as it stood. In her over-anxiety she wrote to several +people on this subject, thereby incurring the censure of her father, whom +she had also consulted about her literary plans. His criticisms on his +daughter's style were not unsound; she had not been trained in a school of +terseness, and, like many young authors, she was apt to err on the side of +length, and not to see that she did so. + + GODWIN TO MARY. + + NO. 195 STRAND, _15th November 1822_. + + MY DEAR MARY--I have devoted the last two days to the seeing everybody + an interview with whom would best enable me to write you a + satisfactory letter. Yesterday I saw Hogg and Mrs. Williams, and + to-day Peacock and Hanson junior. From Hogg I had, among other things, + to learn Mrs. Williams' address, for, owing to your neglect, she had + been a fortnight in London before I knew of her arrival. She appeared + to be in better health and better spirits than I expected; she did not + drop one tear; occasionally she smiled. She is a picturesque little + woman, and, as far as I could judge from one interview, I like her. + + Peacock has got Ollier's promise to deliver all Shelley's manuscripts, + and as earnest, he has received _Peter Bell_ and _A Curse on L.E._, + which he holds at your disposal. By the way, you should never give one + commission but to one person; you commissioned me to recover these + manuscripts from Ollier, you commissioned Peacock, and, I believe, + Mrs. Gisborne. This puts us all in an awkward situation. I heard of + Peacock's applying just in time to prevent me from looking like a + fool. Peacock says he cannot make up a parcel for you till he has been + a second time to Marlow on the question, which cannot be till about + Christmas. He appears to me, not lukewarm, but assiduous. Mrs. + Williams told me she should write to you by this day's post. She had + been inquiring in vain for Miss Curran's address--you should have + referred her to me for it, but you referred her to me for nothing. + This, by the way, is another instance of your giving one commission to + more than one person. You gave the commission about Miss Curran to + Mrs. Williams and to me. I received your letter, inclosing one to Miss + Curran, 21st October, which I immediately forwarded to her by a safe + hand, through her brother. You have probably heard from her by this + time; she is in Paris.... I have a plan upon the house of Longman + respecting _Castruccio_, but that depends upon coincidences, and I + must have patience. + + You ask my opinion of your literary plans. If you expect any price, + you must think of something new: _Manfred_ is a subject that nobody + interests himself about; the interest, therefore, must be made, and no + bookseller understands anything about that contingency. A book about + Italy as it is, written with any talent, would be sure to sell; but + I am afraid you know very little about the present race of Italians. + + As to my own affairs, nothing is determined. I expected something + material to have happened this week, but as yet I have heard nothing. + If the subscription fills, I shall perhaps be safe; if not, I shall be + driven to sea on a plank. + + Perhaps it may be of some use to you if I give you my opinion of + _Castruccio_. I think there are parts of high genius, and that your + two females are exceedingly interesting; but I am not satisfied. + _Frankenstein_ was a fine thing; it was compressed, muscular, and + firm; nothing relaxed and weak; no proud flesh. _Castruccio_ is a work + of more genius; but it appears, in reading, that the first rule you + prescribed to yourself was, I will let it be long. It contains the + quantity of four volumes of _Waverley_. No hard blow was ever hit with + a woolsack! Mamma desires me to remember her to you in the kindest + manner, and to say that she feels a deep interest in everything that + concerns you. She means to take the earliest opportunity to see Mrs. + Williams, both as she feels an earnest sympathy in her calamity, and + as she will be likely to learn a hundred particulars respecting the + dispositions and prospects of yourself and Jane, which she might in + vain desire to learn in any other quarter. You asked Mamma for some + present, a remembrance of your mother. She has reserved for you a ring + of hers, with Fanny Blood's hair set round with pearls. + + You will, of course, rely on it that I will send you the letters you + ask for by Peacock's parcel. Miss Curran's address is Hotel de + Dusseldorf Rue Petits St. Augustin, ą Paris.--Believe me, ever your + most affectionate Father, + + WILLIAM GODWIN. + + My last letter was dated 11th October. + + + _Journal, November 10._--I have made my first probation in writing, + and it has done me much good, and I get more calm; the stream begins + to take to its new channel, insomuch as to make me fear change. But + people must know little of me who think that, abstractedly, I am + content with my present mode of life. Activity of spirit is my sphere. + But we cannot be active of mind without an object; and I have none. I + am allowed to have some talent--that is sufficient, methinks, to cause + my irreparable misery; for, if one has genius, what a delight it is to + be associated with a superior! Mine own Shelley! the sun knows of none + to be likened to you--brave, wise, noble-hearted, full of learning, + tolerance, and love. Love! what a word for me to write! yet, my + miserable heart, permit me yet to love,--to see him in beauty, to feel + him in beauty, to be interpenetrated by the sense of his excellence; + and thus to love singly, eternally, ardently, and not fruitlessly; for + I am still his--still the chosen one of that blessed spirit--still + vowed to him for ever and ever! + + _November 11._--It is better to grieve than not to grieve. Grief at + least tells me that I was not always what I am now. I was once + selected for happiness; let the memory of that abide by me. You pass + by an old ruined house in a desolate lane, and heed it not. But if you + hear that that house is haunted by a wild and beautiful spirit, it + acquires an interest and beauty of its own. + + I shall be glad to be more alone again; one ought to see no one, or + many; and, confined to one society, I shall lose all energy except + that which I possess from my own resources; and I must be alone for + those to be put in activity. + + A cold heart! Have I a cold heart? God knows! But none need envy the + icy region this heart encircles; and at least the tears are hot which + the emotions of this cold heart forces me to shed. A cold heart! yes, + it would be cold enough if all were as I wished it--cold, or burning + in the flame for whose sake I forgive this, and would forgive every + other imputation--that flame in which your heart, beloved, lay + unconsumed. My heart is very full to-night. + + I shall write his life, and thus occupy myself in the only manner + from which I can derive consolation. That will be a task that may + convey some balm. What though I weep? All is better than inaction + and--not forgetfulness--that never is--but an inactivity of + remembrance. + + And you, my own boy! I am about to begin a task which, if you live, + will be an invaluable treasure to you in after times. I must collect + my materials, and then, in the commemoration of the divine virtues of + your Father, I shall fulfil the only act of pleasure there remains for + me, and be ready to follow you, if you leave me, my task being + fulfilled. I have lived; rapture, exultation, content--all the varied + changes of enjoyment--have been mine. It is all gone; but still, the + airy paintings of what it has gone through float by, and distance + shall not dim them. If I were alone, I had already begun what I had + determined to do; but I must have patience, and for those events my + memory is brass, my thoughts a never-tired engraver. + France--Poverty--A few days of solitude, and some uneasiness--A + tranquil residence in a beautiful + spot--Switzerland--Bath--Marlow--Milan--the Baths of + Lucca--Este--Venice--Rome--Naples--Rome and + misery--Leghorn--Florence--Pisa--Solitude--The Williams'--The + Baths--Pisa: these are the heads of chapters, and each containing a + tale romantic beyond romance. + + I no longer enjoy, but I love. Death cannot deprive me of that living + spark which feeds on all given it, and which is now triumphant in + sorrow. I love, and shall enjoy happiness again. I do not doubt that; + but when? + +These fragments of journal give the course of her inward reflections; her +letters sometimes supply the clue to her outward life, _au jour le jour_. + + MARY SHELLEY TO CLARE CLAIRMONT. + + _20th December 1822._ + + MY DEAR CLARE--I have delayed writing to you so long for two reasons. + First, I have every day expected to hear from you; and secondly, I + wished to hear something decisive from England to communicate to you. + But I have waited in vain for both things. You do not write, and I + begin to despair of ever hearing from you again. A few words will tell + you all that has been done in England. When I wrote to you last, I + think that I told you that Lord Byron had written to Hanson, bidding + him call upon Whitton. Hanson wrote to Whitton desiring an interview, + which Whitton declined, requesting Hanson to make his application by + letter, which Hanson has done, and I know no more. This does not look + like an absolute refusal, but Sir Timothy is so capricious that we + cannot trust to appearances. + + And now the chapter about myself is finished, for what can I say of my + present life? The weather is bitterly cold with a sharp wind, very + unlike dear, _carissima_ Pisa; but soft airs and balmy gales are not + the attributes of Genoa, which place I daily and duly join Marianne in + detesting. There is but one fireplace in the house, and although + people have been for a month putting up a stove in my room, it smokes + too much to permit of its being lighted. So I am obliged to pass the + greater part of my time in Hunt's sitting-room, which is, as you may + guess, the annihilation of study, and even of pleasure to a great + degree. For, after all, Hunt does not like me: it is both our faults, + and I do not blame him, but so it is. I rise at 9, breakfast, work, + read, and if I can at all endure the cold, copy my Shelley's MSS. in + my own room, and if possible walk before dinner. After that I work, + read Greek, etc., till 10, when Hunt and Marianne go to bed. Then I am + alone. Then the stream of thought, which has struggled against its + _argine_ all through the busy day, makes a _piena_, and sorrow and + memory and imagination, despair, and hope in despair, are the winds + and currents that impel it. I am alone, and myself; and then I begin + to say, as I ever feel, "How I hate life! What a mockery it is to + rise, to walk, to feed, and then go to rest, and in all this a statue + might do my part. One thing alone may or can awake me, and that is + study; the rest is all nothing." And so it is! I am silent and + serious. Absorbed in my own thoughts, what am I then in this world if + my spirit live not to learn and become better? That is the whole of my + destiny; I look to nothing else. For I dare not look to my little + darling other than as--not the sword of Damocles, that is a wrong + simile, or to a wrecked seaman's plank--true, he stands, and only he, + between me and the sea of eternity; but I long for that plunge! No, I + fear for him pain, disappointment,--all, all fear. + + You see how it is, it is near 11, and my good friends repose. This is + the hour when I can think, unobtruded upon, and these thoughts, + _malgré moi_, will stain this paper. But then, my dear Clare, I have + nothing else except my nothingless self to talk about. You have + doubtless heard from Jane, and I have heard from no one else. I see no + one. The Guiccioli and Lord Byron once a month. Trelawny seldom, and + he is on the eve of his departure for Leghorn.... + + * * * * * + + Marianne suffers during this dreadfully cold weather, but less than I + should have supposed. The children are all well. So also is my Percy, + poor little darling: they all scold him because he speaks loud _ą + l'Italien_. People love to, nay, they seem to exist on, finding fault + with others, but I have no right to complain, and this unlucky stove + is the sole source of all my _dispiacere_; if I had that, I should not + tease any one, or any one me, or my only one; but after all, these are + trifles. I have sent for another _ingeniere_, and I hope, before many + days are elapsed, to retire as before to my hole. + + I have again delayed finishing this letter, waiting for letters from + England, that I might not send you one so barren of all intelligence. + But I have had none. And nothing new has happened except Trelawny's + departure for Leghorn, so that our days are more monotonous than ever. + The weather is drearily cold, and an eternal north-east whistles + through every crevice. Percy, however, is far better in this cold than + in summer; he is warmly clothed, and gets on. + + Adieu. Pray write. My love to Charles; I am ashamed that I do not + write to him, but I have only an old story to repeat, and this letter + tells that.--Affectionately yours, + + MARY SHELLEY. + + + _Journal, December 31._--So this year comes to an end. Shelley, + beloved! the year has a new name from any thou knewest. When spring + arrives leaves you never saw will shadow the ground, and flowers you + never beheld will star it; the grass will be of another growth, and + the birds sing a new song--the aged earth dates with a new number. + + Sometimes I thought that fortune had relented towards us; that your + health would have improved, and that fame and joy would have been + yours, for, when well, you extracted from Nature alone an endless + delight. The various threads of our existence seemed to be drawing to + one point, and there to assume a cheerful hue. + + Again, I think that your gentle spirit was too much wounded by the + sharpness of this world; that your disease was incurable, and that in + a happy time you became the partaker of cloudless days, ceaseless + hours, and infinite love. Thy name is added to the list which makes + the earth bold in her age and proud of what has been. Time, with + unwearied but slow feet, guides her to the goal that thou hast + reached, and I, her unhappy child, am advanced still nearer the hour + when my earthly dress shall repose near thine, beneath the tomb of + Cestius. + +It must have been at about this time that Mary wrote the sad, +retrospective poem entitled "The Choice." + + THE CHOICE. + + My Choice!--My Choice, alas! was had and gone + With the red gleam of last autumnal sun; + Lost in that deep wherein he bathed his head, + My choice, my life, my hope together fled:-- + A wanderer here, no more I seek a home, + The sky a vault, and Italy a tomb. + Yet as some days a pilgrim I remain, + Linked to my orphan child by love's strong chain; + And, since I have a faith that I must earn, + By suffering and by patience, a return + Of that companionship and love, which first + Upon my young life's cloud like sunlight burst, + And now has left me, dark, as when its beams, + Quenched in the might of dreadful ocean streams, + Leave that one cloud, a gloomy speck on high, + Beside one star in the else darkened sky;-- + Since I must live, how would I pass the day, + How meet with fewest tears the morning's ray, + How sleep with calmest dreams, how find delights, + As fireflies gleam through interlunar nights? + + First let me call on thee! Lost as thou art, + Thy name aye fills my sense, thy love my heart. + Oh, gentle Spirit! thou hast often sung, + How fallen on evil days thy heart was wrung; + Now fierce remorse and unreplying death + Waken a chord within my heart, whose breath, + Thrilling and keen, in accents audible + A tale of unrequited love doth tell. + It was not anger,--while thy earthly dress + Encompassed still thy soul's rare loveliness, + All anger was atoned by many a kind + Caress or tear, that spoke the softened mind.-- + It speaks of cold neglect, averted eyes, + That blindly crushed thy soul's fond sacrifice:-- + My heart was all thine own,--but yet a shell + Closed in its core, which seemed impenetrable, + Till sharp-toothed misery tore the husk in twain, + Which gaping lies, nor may unite again. + Forgive me! let thy love descend in dew + Of soft repentance and regret most true;-- + In a strange guise thou dost descend, or how + Could love soothe fell remorse,--as it does now?-- + By this remorse and love, and by the years + Through which we shared our common hopes and fears, + By all our best companionship, I dare + Call on thy sacred name without a fear;-- + And thus I pray to thee, my friend, my Heart! + That in thy new abode, thou'lt bear a part + In soothing thy poor Mary's lonely pain, + As link by link she weaves her heavy chain!-- + And thou, strange star! ascendant at my birth, + Which rained, they said, kind influence on the earth, + So from great parents sprung, I dared to boast + Fortune my friend, till set, thy beams were lost! + And thou, Inscrutable, by whose decree + Has burst this hideous storm of misery! + Here let me cling, here to the solitudes, + These myrtle-shaded streams and chestnut woods; + Tear me not hence--here let me live and die, + In my adopted land--my country--Italy. + + A happy Mother first I saw this sun, + Beneath this sky my race of joy was run. + First my sweet girl, whose face resembled _his_, + Slept on bleak Lido, near Venetian seas. + Yet still my eldest-born, my loveliest, dearest, + Clung to my side, most joyful then when nearest. + An English home had given this angel birth, + Near those royal towers, where the grass-clad earth + Is shadowed o'er by England's loftiest trees: + Then our companion o'er the swift-passed seas, + He dwelt beside the Alps, or gently slept, + Rocked by the waves, o'er which our vessel swept, + Beside his father, nurst upon my breast, + While Leman's waters shook with fierce unrest. + His fairest limbs had bathed in Serchio's stream; + His eyes had watched Italian lightnings gleam; + His childish voice had, with its loudest call, + The echoes waked of Este's castle wall; + Had paced Pompeii's Roman market-place; + Had gazed with infant wonder on the grace + Of stone-wrought deities, and pictured saints, + In Rome's high palaces--there were no taints + Of ruin on his cheek--all shadowless + Grim death approached--the boy met his caress, + And while his glowing limbs with life's warmth shone, + Around those limbs his icy arms were thrown. + His spoils were strewed beneath the soil of Rome, + Whose flowers now star the dark earth near his tomb: + Its airs and plants received the mortal part, + His spirit beats within his mother's heart. + Infant immortal! chosen for the sky! + No grief upon thy brow's young purity + Entrenched sad lines, or blotted with its might + The sunshine of thy smile's celestial light;-- + The image shattered, the bright spirit fled, + Thou shin'st the evening star among the dead. + And thou, his playmate, whose deep lucid eyes, + Were a reflection of these bluest skies; + Child of our hearts, divided in ill hour, + We could not watch the bud's expanding flower, + Now thou art gone, one guileless victim more, + To the black death that rules this sunny shore. + + Companion of my griefs! thy sinking frame + Had often drooped, and then erect again + With shows of health had mocked forebodings dark;-- + Watching the changes of that quivering spark, + I feared and hoped, and dared to trust at length, + Thy very weakness was my tower of strength. + Methought thou wert a spirit from the sky, + Which struggled with its chains, but could not die, + And that destruction had no power to win + From out those limbs the soul that burnt within. + + Tell me, ye ancient walls, and weed-grown towers, + Ye Roman airs and brightly painted flowers, + Does not his spirit visit that recess + Which built of love enshrines his earthly dress?-- + No more! no more!--what though that form be fled, + My trembling hand shall never write thee--dead-- + Thou liv'st in Nature, Love, my Memory, + With deathless faith for aye adoring thee, + The wife of Time no more, I wed Eternity. + + 'Tis thus the Past--on which my spirit leans, + Makes dearest to my soul Italian scenes. + In Tuscan fields the winds in odours steeped + From flowers and cypresses, when skies have wept, + Shall, like the notes of music once most dear, + Which brings the unstrung voice upon my ear + Of one beloved, to memory display + Past scenes, past hopes, past joys, in long array. + Pugnano's trees, beneath whose shade he stood, + The pools reflecting Pisa's old pine wood, + The fireflies beams, the aziola's cry + All breathe his spirit which can never die. + Such memories have linked these hills and caves, + These woodland paths, and streams, and knelling waves + Past to each sad pulsation of my breast, + And made their melancholy arms the haven of my rest. + + Here will I live, within a little dell, + Which but a month ago I saw full well:-- + A dream then pictured forth the solitude + Deep in the shelter of a lovely wood; + A voice then whispered a strange prophecy, + My dearest, widowed friend, that thou and I + Should there together pass the weary day, + As we before have done in Spezia's bay, + As though long hours we watched the sails that neared + O'er the far sea, their vessel ne'er appeared; + One pang of agony, one dying gleam + Of hope led us along, beside the ocean stream, + But keen-eyed fear, the while all hope departs, + Stabbed with a million stings our heart of hearts. + The sad revolving year has not allayed + The poison of these bleeding wounds, or made + The anguish less of that corroding thought + Which has with grief each single moment fraught. + Edward, thy voice was hushed--thy noble heart + With aspiration heaves no more--a part + Of heaven-resumčd past thou art become, + Thy spirit waits with his in our far home. + +Trelawny had departed for Leghorn and his favourite Maremma, _en route_ +for Rome, where, by his untiring zeal for the fit interment of Shelley's +ashes, he once more earned Mary's undying gratitude. The ashes, which had +been temporarily consigned to the care of Mr. Freeborn, British Consul at +Rome, had, before Trelawny arrived, been buried in the Protestant +cemetery: the grave was amidst a cluster of others. In a niche--formed by +two buttresses--in the old Roman wall, immediately under an ancient +pyramid, said to be the tomb of Caius Cestius, Trelawny (having purchased +the recess) built two tombs. In one of these the box containing Shelley's +ashes was deposited, and all was covered over with solid stone. The +details of the transaction, which extended over several months, are +supplied in his letters. + + TRELAWNY TO MARY SHELLEY. + + PIOMBINO, _7th_ and _11th January 1823_. + + Thus far into the bowels of the land + Have we marched on without impediment. + + DEAR MARY SHELLEY--Pardon my tardiness in writing, which from day to + day I have postponed, having no other cause to plead than idleness. On + my arrival at Leghorn I called on Grant, and was much grieved to find + our fears well founded, to wit, that nothing definitely had been done. + Grant had not heard from his correspondent at Rome after his first + statement of the difficulties; the same letter that was enclosed me + and read by you he (Grant) had written, but not received a reply. I + then requested Grant to write and say that I would be at Rome in a + month or five weeks, and if I found the impediments insurmountable, I + would resume possession of the ashes, if on the contrary, to + personally fulfil your wishes, and in the meantime to deposit them + secure from molestation, so that, without Grant writes to me, I shall + say nothing more till I am at Rome, which will be early in February. + In the meantime Roberts and myself are sailing along the coast, + shooting, and visiting the numerous islands in our track. We have been + here some days, living at the miserable hut of a cattle dealer on the + marshes, near this wretched town, well situated for sporting. + To-morrow we cross over to Elba, thence to Corsica, and so return + along the Maremma, up the Tiber in the boat, to Rome.... + + ... I like this Maremma, it is lonely and desolate, thinly populated, + particularly after Genoa, where human brutes are so abundant that the + air is dense with their garlic breath, and it is impossible to fly the + nuisance. Here there is solitude enough: there are less of the human + form here in midday than at Genoa midnight; besides, this vagabond + life has restored my health. Next year I will get a tent, and spend my + winter in these marshes.... + + ... Dear Mary, of all those that I know of, or you have told me of, + as connected with you, there is not one now living has so tender a + friendship for you as I have. I have the far greater claims on you, + and I shall consider it as a breach of friendship should you employ + any one else in services that I can execute. + + My purse, my person, my extremest means + Lye all unlocked to your occasion. + + I hope you know my heart so well as to make all professions needless. + To serve you will ever be the greatest pleasure I can experience, and + nothing could interrupt the almost unmingled pleasure I have received + from our first meeting but you concealing your difficulties or wishes + from me. With kindest remembrances to my good friends the Hunts, to + whom I am sincerely attached, and love and salaam to Lord Byron, I am + your very sincere + + EDWARD TRELAWNY. + + + "Indeed, I do believe, my dear Trelawny," wrote Mary in reply, on the + 30th of January 1823, "that you are the best friend I have, and most + truly would I rather apply to you in any difficulty than to any one + else, for I know your heart, and rely on it. At present I am very well + off, having still a considerable residue of the money I brought with + me from Pisa, and besides, I have received £33 from the _Liberal_. + Part of this I have been obliged to send to Clare. You will be sorry + to hear that the last account she has sent of herself is that she has + been seriously ill. The cold of Vienna has doubtless contributed to + this,--as it is even a dangerous aggravation of her old complaint. I + wait anxiously to hear from her. I sent her fifteen napoleons, and + shall send more if necessary and if I can. Lord B. continues kind: he + has made frequent offers of money. I do not want it, as you see." + + + _Journal, February 2nd._--On the 21st of January those rites were + fulfilled. Shelley! my own beloved! you rest beneath the blue sky of + Rome; in that, at least, I am satisfied. + + What matters it that they cannot find the grave of my William? That + spot is sanctified by the presence of his pure earthly vesture, and + that is sufficient--at least, it must be. I am too truly miserable to + dwell on what at another time might have made me unhappy. He is + beneath the tomb of Cestius. I see the spot. + + _February 3._--A storm has come across me; a slight circumstance has + disturbed the deceitful calm of which I boasted. I thought I heard my + Shelley call me--not my Shelley in heaven, but my Shelley, my + companion in my daily tasks. I was reading; I heard a voice say, + "Mary!" "It is Shelley," I thought; the revulsion was of agony. Never + more.... + +Mrs. Shelley's affairs now assumed an aspect which made her foresee the +ultimate advisability, if not necessity, of returning to England. Sir +Timothy Shelley had declined giving any answer to the application made to +him for an allowance for his son's widow and child; and Lord Byron, as +Shelley's executor, had written to him directly for a decisive answer, +which he obtained. + + SIR TIMOTHY SHELLEY TO LORD BYRON. + + FIELD PLACE, _6th February 1823_. + + MY LORD--I have received your Lordship's letter, and my solicitor, Mr. + Whitton, has this day shown me copies of certificates of the marriage + of Mrs. Shelley and of the baptism of her little boy, and also, a + short abstract of my son's will, as the same have been handed to him + by Mr. Hanson. + + The mind of my son was withdrawn from me and my immediate family by + unworthy and interested individuals, when he was about nineteen, and + after a while he was led into a new society and forsook his first + associates. + + In this new society he forgot every feeling of duty and respect to me + and to Lady Shelley. + + Mrs. Shelley was, I have been told, the intimate friend of my son in + the lifetime of his first wife, and to the time of her death, and in + no small degree, as I suspect, estranged my son's mind from his + family, and all his first duties in life; with that impression on my + mind, I cannot agree with your Lordship that, though my son was + unfortunate, Mrs. Shelley is innocent; on the contrary, I think that + her conduct was the very reverse of what it ought to have been, and I + must, therefore, decline all interference in matters in which Mrs. + Shelley is interested. As to the child, I am inclined to afford the + means of a suitable protection and care of him in this country, if he + shall be placed with a person I shall approve; but your Lordship will + allow me to say that the means I can furnish will be limited, as I + have important duties to perform towards others, which I cannot + forget. + + I have thus plainly told your Lordship my determination, in the hope + that I may be spared from all further correspondence on a subject so + distressing to me and my family. + + With respect to the will and certificates, I have no observation to + make. I have left them with Mr. Whitton, and if anything is necessary + to be done with them on my part, he will, I am sure, do it.--I have + the honour, my Lord, to be your Lordship's most obedient humble + servant, + + T. SHELLEY. + +Granting the point of view from which it was written, this letter, though +hard, was not unnatural. The author of _Adonais_ was, to Sir Timothy, a +common reprobate, a prodigal who, having gone into a far country, would +have devoured his father's living--could he have got it--with harlots; but +who had come there to well-deserved grief, and for whose widow even husks +were too good. To any possible colouring or modification of this view he +had resolutely shut his eyes and ears. No modification of his conclusions +was, therefore, to be looked for. + +But neither could it be expected that his point of view should be +intelligible to Mary. Nor did it commend itself to Godwin. It would have +been as little for his daughter's interest as for her happiness to +surrender the custody of her child. + + MARY SHELLEY TO LORD BYRON. + + MY DEAR LORD BYRON-- ... It appears to me that the mode in which Sir + Timothy Shelley expresses himself about my child plainly shows by what + mean principles he would be actuated. He does not offer him an asylum + in his own house, but a beggarly provision under the care of a + stranger. + + Setting aside that, I would not part with him. Something is due to me. + I should not live ten days separated from him. If it were necessary + for me to die for his benefit the sacrifice would be easy; but his + delicate frame requires all a mother's solicitude; nor shall he be + deprived of my anxious love and assiduous attention to his happiness + while I have it in my power to bestow it on him; not to mention that + his future respect for his excellent Father and his moral wellbeing + greatly depend upon his being away from the immediate influence of his + relations. + + This, perhaps, you will think nonsense, and it is inconceivably + painful to me to discuss a point which appears to me as clear as + noonday; besides I lose all--all honourable station and name--when I + admit that I am not a fitting person to take charge of my infant. The + insult is keen; the pretence of heaping it upon me too gross; the + advantage to them, if the will came to be contested, would be too + immense. + + As a matter of feeling, I would never consent to it. I am said to have + a cold heart; there are feelings, however, so strongly implanted in my + nature that, to root them out, life will go with it.--Most truly + yours, + + MARY SHELLEY. + + + GODWIN TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + STRAND, _14th February 1823_. + + MY DEAR MARY--I have this moment received a copy of Sir Timothy + Shelley's letter to Lord Byron, dated 6th February, and which, + therefore, you will have seen long before this reaches you. You will + easily imagine how anxious I am to hear from you, and to know the + state of your feelings under this, which seems like the last, blow of + fate. + + I need not, of course, attempt to assist your judgment upon the + proposition of taking the child from you. I am sure your feelings + would never allow you to entertain such a proposition. + + * * * * * + + I requested you to let Lord Byron's letter to Sir Timothy Shelley pass + through my hands, and you did so; but to my great mortification, it + reached me sealed with his Lordship's arms, so that I remained wholly + ignorant of its contents. If you could send me a copy, I should be + then much better acquainted with your present situation. + + Your novel is now fully printed and ready for publication. I have + taken great liberties with it, and I fear your _amour propre_ will be + proportionately shocked. I need not tell you that all the merit of the + book is exclusively your own. Beatrice is the jewel of the book; not + but that I greatly admire Euthanasia, and I think the characters of + Pepi, Binda, and the witch decisive efforts of original genius. I am + promised a character of the work in the _Morning Chronicle_ and the + _Herald_, and was in hopes to have sent you the one or the other by + this time. I also sent a copy of the book to the _Examiner_ for the + same purpose. + + + _Tuesday, 18th February._ + + Do not, I entreat you, be cast down about your worldly circumstances. + You certainly contain within yourself the means of your subsistence. + Your talents are truly extraordinary. _Frankenstein_ is universally + known, and though it can never be a book for vulgar reading, is + everywhere respected. It is the most wonderful work to have been + written at twenty years of age that I ever heard of. You are now five + and twenty, and, most fortunately, you have pursued a course of + reading, and cultivated your mind, in a manner the most admirably + adapted to make you a great and successful author. If you cannot be + independent, who should be? + + Your talents, as far as I can at present discern, are turned for the + writing of fictitious adventures. + + If it shall ever happen to you to be placed in sudden and urgent want + of a small sum, I entreat you to let me know immediately; we must see + what I can do. We must help one another.--Your affectionate Father, + + WILLIAM GODWIN. + +Mary felt the truth of what her father said, but, wounded and embittered +as she was, she had little heart for framing plans. + + _Journal, February 24._--Evils throng around me, my beloved, and I + have indeed lost all in losing thee. Were it not for my child, this + would be rather a soothing reflection, and, if starvation were my + fate, I should fulfil that fate without a sigh. But our child demands + all my care now that you have left us. I must be all to him: the + Father, death has deprived him of; the relations, the bad world + permits him not to have. What is yet in store for me? Am I to close + the eyes of our boy, and then join you? + + The last weeks have been spent in quiet. Study could not give repose + to, but somewhat regulated, my thoughts. I said: "I lead an innocent + life, and it may become a useful one. I have talent, I will improve + that talent; and if, while meditating on the wisdom of ages, and + storing my mind with all that has been recorded of it, any new light + bursts upon me, or any discovery occurs that may be useful to my + fellows, then the balm of utility may be added to innocence. + + What is it that moves up and down in my soul, and makes me feel as if + my intellect could master all but my fate? I fear it is only youthful + ardour--the yet untamed spirit which, wholly withdrawn from the hopes, + and almost from the affections of life, indulges itself in the only + walk free to it, and, mental exertion being all my thought except + regret, would make me place my hopes in that. I am indeed become a + recluse in thought and act; and my mind, turned heavenward, would, but + for my only tie, lose all commune with what is around me. If I be + proud, yet it is with humility that I am so. I am not vain. My heart + shakes with its suppressed emotions, and I flag beneath the thoughts + that oppress me. + + Each day, as I have taken my solitary walk, I have felt myself exalted + with the idea of occupation, improvement, knowledge, and peace. + Looking back to my life as a delicious dream, I steeled myself as well + as I could against such severe regrets as should overthrow my + calmness. Once or twice, pausing in my walk, I have exclaimed in + despair, "Is it even so?" yet, for the most part resigned, I was + occupied by reflection--on those ideas you, my beloved, planted in my + mind--and meditated on our nature, our source, and our destination. + To-day, melancholy would invade me, and I thought the peace I enjoyed + was transient. Then that letter came to place its seal on my + prognostications. Yet it was not the refusal, or the insult heaped + upon me, that stung me to tears. It was their bitter words about our + Boy. Why, I live only to keep him from their hands. How dared they + dream that I held him not far more precious than all, save the hope of + again seeing you, my lost one. But for his smiles, where should I now + be? + + Stars that shine unclouded, ye cannot tell me what will be--yet I can + tell you a part. I may have misgivings, weaknesses, and momentary + lapses into unworthy despondency, but--save in devotion towards my + Boy--fortune has emptied her quiver, and to all her future shafts I + oppose courage, hopelessness of aught on this side, with a firm trust + in what is beyond the grave. + + Visit me in my dreams to-night, my beloved Shelley! kind, loving, + excellent as thou wert! and the event of this day shall be forgotten. + + _March 19._--As I have until now recurred to this book to discharge + into it the overflowings of a mind too full of the bitterest waters of + life, so will I to-night, now that I am calm, put down some of my + milder reveries; that, when I turn it over, I may not only find a + record of the most painful thoughts that ever filled a human heart + even to distraction. + + I am beginning seriously to educate myself; and in another place I + have marked the scope of this somewhat tardy education, intellectually + considered. In a moral point of view, this education is of some years' + standing, and it only now takes the form of seeking its food in books. + I have long accustomed myself to the study of my own heart, and have + sought and found in its recesses that which cannot embody itself in + words--hardly in feelings. I have found strength in the conception of + its faculties; much native force in the understanding of them; and + what appears to me not a contemptible penetration in the subtle + divisions of good and evil. But I have found less strength of + self-support, of resistance to what is vulgarly called temptation; yet + I think also that I have found true humility (for surely no one can be + less presumptuous than I), an ardent love for the immutable laws of + right, much native goodness of emotion, and purity of thought. + + Enough, if every day I gain a profounder knowledge of my defects, and + a more certain method of turning them to a good direction. + + Study has become to me more necessary than the air I breathe. In the + questioning and searching turn it gives to my thoughts, I find some + relief to wild reverie; in the self-satisfaction I feel in commanding + myself, I find present solace; in the hope that thence arises, that I + may become more worthy of my Shelley, I find a consolation that even + makes me less wretched than in my most wretched moments. + + _March 30._--I have now finished part of the _Odyssey_. I mark this. I + cannot write. Day after day I suffer the most tremendous agitation. I + cannot write, or read, or think. Whether it be the anxiety for letters + that shakes a frame not so strong as hitherto--whether it be my + annoyances here--whether it be my regrets, my sorrow, and despair, or + all these--I know not; but I am a wreck. + +A letter from Trelawny gladdened her heart. It said-- + + I must confess I am to blame in not having sooner written, + particularly as I have received two letters from you here. Nothing + particular has happened to me since our parting but a desperate + assault of Maremma fever, which had nearly reunited me to my friends, + or, as Iago says, removed me. On my arrival here, my first object was + to see the grave of the noble Shelley, and I was most indignant at + finding him confusedly mingled in a heap with five or six common + vagabonds. I instantly set about removing this gross neglect, and + selecting the only interesting spot. I enclosed it apart from all + possibility of sacrilegious intrusion, and removed his ashes to it, + placed a stone over it, am now planting it, and have ordered a granite + to be prepared for myself, which I shall place in this beautiful + recess (of which the enclosed is a drawing I took), for when I am + dead, I have none to do me this service, so shall at least give one + instance in my life of proficiency. + +In reply Mary wrote informing him of her change of plan, and begging for +all minute details about the tomb, which she was not likely, now, to see. +Trelawny was expecting soon to rejoin Byron at Genoa, but he wrote at +once. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + ROME, _27th April 1823_. + + DEAR MARY--I should have sooner replied to your last, but that I + concluded you must have seen Roberts, who is or ought to be at Genoa. + He will tell you that the ashes are buried in the new enclosed + Protestant burying-ground, which is protected by a wall and gates from + every possible molestation, and that the ashes are so placed apart, + and yet in the centre and most conspicuous spot of the burying-ground. + I have just planted six young cypresses and four laurels, in front of + the recess you see by the drawing is formed by two projecting parts of + the old ruin. My own stone, a plain slab till I can decide on some + fitting inscription, is placed on the left hand. I have likewise dug + my grave, so that, when I die, there is only to lift up my coverlet + and roll me into it. You may lie on the other side, if you like. It is + a lovely spot. The only inscription on Shelley's stone, besides the + _Cor cordium_ of Hunt, are the lines I have added from Shakespeare-- + + Nothing of him that doth fade, + But doth suffer a sea-change + Into something rich and strange. + + This quotation, by its double meaning, alludes both to the manner of + his death and his genius, and I think the element on which his soul + took wing, and the subtle essence of his being mingled, may still + retain him in some other shape. The waters may keep the dead, as the + earth may, and fire and air. His passionate fondness might have been + from some secret sympathy in their natures. Thence the fascination + which so forcibly attracted him, without fear or caution, to trust an + element almost all others hold in superstitious dread, and venture as + cautiously on as they would in a lair of lions. I have just compiled + an epitaph for Keats and sent it to Severn, who likes it much better + than the one he had designed. He had already designed a lyre with only + two of the strings strung, as indicating the unaccomplished maturity + and ripening of his genius. He had intended a long inscription about + his death having been caused by the _neglect_ of his countrymen, and + that, as a mark of his displeasure, he said--thus and then. What I + wished to substitute is simply thus-- + + Here lies the spoils + of a + Young English Poet, + "Whose master-hand is cold, whose silver lyre unstrung," + And by whose desire is inscribed, + That his name was writ in water. + + The line quoted, you remember, is in Shelley, _Adonais_, and the last + Keats desired might be engraved on his tomb. Ask Hunt if he thinks it + will do, and to think of something to put on my ante-dated grave. I am + very anxious to hear how Marianne is getting on, and Hunt. You never + mention a word of them or the _Liberal_. + + I have been delayed here longer than I had intended, from want of + money, having lent and given it away thoughtlessly. However, old Dunn + has sent me a supply, so I shall go on to Florence on Monday. I will + assuredly see you before you go, and, if my exchequer is not + exhausted, go part of the way with you. However, I will write further + on this topic at Florence. Do not go to England, to encounter poverty + and bitter retrospections. Stay in Italy. I will most gladly share my + income with you, and if, under the same circumstances, you would do + the same by me, why then you will not hesitate to accept it. I know of + nothing would give me half so much pleasure. As you say, in a few + years we shall both be better off. Commend me to Marianne and Hunt, + and believe me, yours affectionately, + + E. TRELAWNY. + + Poste Restante a Gčnes. + + * * * * * + + You need not tell me that all your thoughts are concentrated on the + memory of your loss, for I have observed it, with great regret and + some astonishment. You tell me nothing in your letters of how the + _Liberal_ is getting on. Why do you not send me a number? How many + have come out? Does Hunt stay at Genoa the summer, and what does Lord + Byron determine on? I am told the _Bolivar_ is lent to some one, and + at sea. Where is Jane? and is Mrs. Hunt likely to recover? I shall + certainly go on to Switzerland if I can raise the wind. + + * * * * * + + + MARY SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + _10th May 1823._ + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--You appear to have fulfilled my entire wish in all + you have done at Rome. Do you remember the day you made that quotation + from Shakespeare in our living room at Pisa? Mine own Shelley was + delighted with it, and thus it has for me a pleasing association. Some + time hence I may visit the spot which, of all others, I desire most to + see. + + * * * * * + + It is not on my own account, my excellent friend, that I go to + England. I believe that my child's interests will be best consulted by + my return to that country.... + + Desiring solitude and my books only, together with the consciousness + that I have one or two friends who, although absent, still think of me + with affection, England of course holds out no inviting prospect to + me. But I am sure to be rewarded in doing or suffering for my little + darling, so I am resigned to this last act, which seems to snap the + sole link which bound the present to the past, and to tear aside the + veil which I have endeavoured to draw over the desolations of my + situation. Your kindness I shall treasure up to comfort me in future + ill. I shall repeat to myself, I have such a friend, and endeavour to + deserve it. + + Do you go to Greece? Lord Byron continues in the same mind. The G---- + is an obstacle, and certainly her situation is rather a difficult one. + But he does not seem disposed to make a mountain of her resistance, + and he is far more able to take a decided than a petty step in + contradiction to the wishes of those about him. If you do go, it may + hasten your return hither. I remain until Mrs. Hunt's confinement is + over; had it not been for that, the fear of a hot journey would have + caused me to go in this month,--but my desire to be useful to her, and + my anxiety concerning the event of so momentous a crisis has induced + me to stay. You may think with what awe and terror I look forward to + the decisive moment, but I hope for the best. She is as well, perhaps + better, than we could in any way expect. + + I had no opportunity to send you a second No. of the _Liberal_; we + only received it a short time ago, and then you were on the wing: the + third number has come out, and we had a copy by post. It has little in + it we expected, but it is an amusing number, and L. B. is better + pleased with it than any other.... + + I trust that I shall see you soon, and then I shall hear all your + news. I shall see you--but it will be for so short a time--I fear even + that you will not go to Switzerland; but these things I must not dwell + upon,--partings and separations, when there is no circumstance to + lessen any pang. I must brace my mind, not enervate it, for I know I + shall have much to endure. + + I asked Hunt's opinion about your epitaph for Keats; he said that the + line from _Adonais_, though beautiful in itself, might be applied to + any poet, in whatever circumstances or whatever age, that died; and + that to be in accord with the two-stringed lyre, you ought to select + one that alluded to his youth and immature genius. A line to this + effect you might find in _Adonais_. + + Among the fragments of my lost Shelley, I found the following poetical + commentary on the words of Keats,--not that I recommend it for the + epitaph, but it may please you to see it. + + Here lieth one, whose name was writ in water, + But, ere the breath that could erase it blew, + Death, in remorse for that fell slaughter, + Death, the immortalising winter, flew + Athwart the stream, and time's mouthless torrent grew + A scroll of crystal, emblazoning the name + Of Adonais. + + I have not heard from Jane lately; she was well when she last wrote, + but annoyed by various circumstances, and impatient of her lengthened + stay in England. How earnestly do I hope that Edward's brother will + soon arrive, and show himself worthy of his affinity to the noble and + unequalled creature she has lost, by protecting one to whom protection + is so necessary, and shielding her from some of the ills to which she + is exposed. + + Adieu, my dear Trelawny. Continue to think kindly of me, and trust in + my unalterable friendship. + + MARY SHELLEY. + + Albaro, 10th May. + +On his journey to Genoa, Trelawny stayed a night at Lerici, and paid a +last visit to the Villa Magni. There, "sleeping still on the mud floor," +its mast and oars broken, was Shelley's little skiff, the "Boat on the +Serchio." + +He mounted the "stairs, or rather ladder," into the dining-room. + + As I surveyed its splotchy walls, broken floor, cracked ceiling, and + poverty-struck appearance, while I noted the loneliness of the + situation, and remembered the fury of the waves that in blowing + weather lashed its walls, I did not marvel at Mrs. Shelley's and Mrs. + Williams' groans on first entering it; nor that it had required all + Ned Williams' persuasive powers to induce them to stop there. + +But these things were all far away in the past. + + As music and splendour + Survive not the lamp and the lute, + The heart's echoes render + No song when the spirit is mute. + + No song but sad dirges, + Like the wind through a ruined cell, + Or the mournful surges + That ring the dead seaman's knell. + +At Genoa he found the "Pilgrim" in a state of supreme indecision. He had +left him discontented when he departed in December. The new magazine was +not a success. Byron had expected that other literary and journalistic +advantages, leading to fame and power, would accrue to him from the +coalition with Leigh Hunt and Shelley, but in this he was disappointed, +and he was left to bear the responsibility of the partnership alone. + + "The death of Shelley and the failure of the _Liberal_ irritated + Byron," writes Trelawny; "the cuckoo-note, 'I told you so,' sung by + his friends, and the loud crowing of enemies, by no means allayed his + ill humour. In this frame of mind he was continually planning how to + extricate himself. His plea for hoarding was that he might have a good + round tangible sum of current coin to aid him in any emergency.... + + "He exhausted himself in planning, projecting, beginning, wishing, + intending, postponing, regretting, and doing nothing: the unready are + fertile in excuses, and his were inexhaustible." + +Since that time he had been flattered and persuaded into joining the Greek +Committee, formed in London to aid the Greeks in their war of +independence. Byron's name and great popularity would be a tower of +strength to them. Their proposals came to him at a right moment, when he +was dissatisfied with himself and his position. He hesitated for months +before committing himself, and finally summoned Trelawny, in peremptory +terms, to come to him and go with him. + + _15th June 1823._ + + MY DEAR T.--You must have heard that I am going to Greece. Why do you + not come to me? I want your aid and am extremely anxious to see + you.... They all say I can be of use in Greece. I do not know how, nor + do they; but, at all events, let us go.--Yours, etc., truly, + + N. BYRON. + +And, always ready for adventure, the "Pirate" came. Before his arrival +Mary's journey had been decided on. Mrs. Hunt's confinement was over: she +and the infant had both done well, and she was now in a fair way to live, +in tolerable health, for many years longer. Want of funds was now the +chief obstacle in Mary's way, but Byron was no longer ready, as he had +been, with offers of help. Changeable as the wind, and utterly unable to +put himself in another person's place, he, without absolutely declining to +fulfil his promises, made so many words about it, and treated the matter +as so great a favour on his own part, that Mary at last declined his +assistance, although it obliged her to take advantage of Trelawny's +often-repeated offers of help, which she would not rather have accepted, +as he was poor, while Byron was rich. The whole story unfolds itself in +the three ensuing letters. + + MARY SHELLEY TO JANE WILLIAMS. + + ALBARO, NEAR GENOA, _July 1823_. + + I write to you in preference to my Father, because you, to a great + degree, understand the person I have to deal with, and in + communicating what I say concerning him, you can, _viva voce_, add + such comments as will render my relation more intelligible. + + The day after Marianne's confinement, the 9th June, seeing all went on + so prosperously, I told Lord Byron that I was ready to go, and he + promised to provide means. When I talked of going post, it was because + he said that I should go so, at the same time declaring that he would + regulate all himself. I waited in vain for these arrangements. But, + not to make a long story, since I hope soon to be able to relate the + details--he chose to transact our negotiation through Hunt, and gave + such an air of unwillingness and sense of the obligation he conferred, + as at last provoked Hunt to say that there was no obligation, since he + owed me £1000. + + Glad of a quarrel, straight I clap the door! + + Still keeping up an appearance of amity with Hunt, he has written + notes and letters so full of contempt against me and my lost Shelley + that I could stand it no longer, and have refused to receive his still + proffered aid for my journey. This, of course, delays me. I can muster + about £30 of my own. I do not know whether this is barely sufficient, + but as the delicate constitution of my child may oblige me to rest + several times on the journey, I cannot persuade myself to commence my + journey with what is barely necessary. I have written, therefore, to + Trelawny for the sum requisite, and must wait till I hear from him. I + see you, my poor girl, sigh over these mischances, but never mind, I + do not feel them. My life is a shifting scene, and my business is to + play the part allotted for each day well, and, not liking to think of + to-morrow, I never think of it at all, except in an intellectual way; + and as to money difficulties, why, having nothing, I can lose nothing. + Thus, as far as regards what are called worldly concerns, I am + perfectly tranquil, and as free or freer from care as if my signature + should be able to draw £1000 from some banker. The extravagance and + anger of Lord Byron's letters also relieve me from all pain that his + dereliction might occasion me, and that his conscience twinges him is + too visible from his impatient kicks and unmannerly curvets. You would + laugh at his last letter to Hunt, when he says concerning his + connection with Shelley "that he let himself down to the level of the + democrats." + + In the meantime Hunt is all kindness, consideration, and + friendship--all feeling of alienation towards me has disappeared even + to its last dregs. He perfectly approves of what I have done. So I am + still in Italy, and I doubt not but that its sun and vivifying + geniality relieve me from those biting cares which would be mine in + England, I fear, if I were destitute there. But I feel above the mark + of Fortune, and my heart too much wounded to feel these pricks, on all + occasions that do not regard its affections, _s'arma di se, e d'intero + diamante_. Thus am I changed; too late, alas! for what ought to have + been, but not too late, I trust, to enable me, more than before, to be + some stay and consolation to my own dear Jane. + + MARY. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + _Saturday._ + + DEAR MARY--Will you tell me what sum you want, as I am settling my + affairs? You must from time to time let me know your wants, that I may + do my best to relieve them. You are sure of me, so let us use no more + words about it. I have been racking my memory to remember some person + in England that would be of service to you for my sake, but my rich + friends and relations are without hearts, and it is useless to + introduce you to the unfortunate; it would but augment your repinings + at the injustice of Fortune. My knight-errant heart has led me many a + weary journey foolishly seeking the unfortunate, the miserable, and + the outcast; and when found, I have only made myself as one of them + without redressing their grievances, so I pray you avoid, as you value + your peace of mind, the wretched. I shall see you, I hope, + to-day.--Yours very faithfully, + + E. TRELAWNY. + + + MARY SHELLEY TO JANE WILLIAMS. + + ALBARO, _23d July 1823_. + + DEAREST JANE--I have at length fixed with the _vetturino_. I depart on + the 25th, my best girl. I leave Italy; I return to the dreariest + reality after having dreamt away a year in this blessed and beloved + country. + + Lord Byron, Trelawny, and Pierino Gamba sailed for Greece on the 17th + inst. I did not see the former. His unconquerable avarice prevented + his supplying me with money, and a remnant of shame caused him to + avoid me. But I have a world of things to tell you on that score when + I see you. If he were mean, Trelawny more than balanced the moral + account. His whole conduct during his last stay here has impressed us + all with an affectionate regard, and a perfect faith in the + unalterable goodness of his heart. They sailed together; Lord Byron + with £10,000, Trelawny with £50, and Lord Byron cowering before his + eye for reasons you shall hear soon. The Guiccioli is gone to + Bologna--_e poi cosa farą? Chi lo sa? Cosa vuoi che lo dico?_... + + I travel without a servant. I rest first at Lyons; but do you write to + me at Paris, Hotel Nelson. It will be a friend to await me. Alas! I + have need of consolation. Hunt's kindness is now as active and warm as + it was dormant before; but just as I find a companion in him I leave + him. I leave him in all his difficulties, with his head throbbing with + overwrought thoughts, and his frame sometimes sinking under his + anxieties. Poor Marianne has found good medicine, _facendo un bimbo_, + and then nursing it, but she, with her female providence, is more bent + by care than Hunt. How much I wished, and wish, to settle near them at + Florence; but I must submit with courage, and patience may at last + come and give opiate to my irritable feelings. + + Both Hunt and Trelawny say that Percy is much improved since Maria + left me. He is affectionately attached to Sylvan, and very fond of + _Bimbo nuovo_. He kisses him by the hour, and tells me, _Come il + Signore Enrico ha comprato un Baby nuovo--forse ti darą il Baby + vecchio_, as he gives away an old toy on the appearance of a new one. + + I will not write longer. In conversation, nay, almost in thought, I + can, at this most painful moment, force my excited feelings to laugh + at themselves, and my spirits, raised by emotion, to seem as if they + were light, but the natural current and real hue overflows me and + penetrates me when I write, and it would be painful to you, and + overthrow all my hopes of retaining my fortitude, if I were to write + one word that truly translated the agitation I suffer into language. + + I will write again from Lyons, where I suppose I shall be on the 3d of + August. Dear Jane, can I render you happier than you are? The idea of + that might console me, at least you will see one that truly loves you, + and who is for ever your affectionately attached + + MARY SHELLEY. + + If there is any talk of my accommodations, pray tell Mrs. Gisborne + that I cannot sleep on any but a _hard_ bed. I care not how hard, so + that it be a mattress. + +And now Mary's life in Italy was at an end. Her resolution of returning to +England had been welcomed by her father in the letter which follows, and +it was to his house, and not to Mrs. Gisborne's that she finally decided +to go on first arriving. + + GODWIN TO MARY. + + NO. 195 STRAND, _6th May 1823_. + + It certainly is, my dear Mary, with great pleasure that I anticipate + that we shall once again meet. It is a long, long time now since you + have spent one night under my roof. You are grown a woman, have been a + wife, a mother, a widow. You have realised talents which I but faintly + and doubtfully anticipated. I am grown an old man, and want a child of + my own to smile on and console me. I shall then feel less alone than + I do at present. + + What William will be, I know not; he has sufficient understanding and + quickness for the ordinary concerns of life, and something more; and, + at any rate, he is no smiler, no consoler. + + When you first set your foot in London, of course I and Mamma expect + that it will be in this house. But the house is smaller, one floor + less, than the house in Skinner Street. It will do well enough for you + to make shift with for a few days, but it would not do for a permanent + residence. But I hope we shall at least have you near us, within a + call. How different from your being on the shores of the + Mediterranean! + + Your novel has sold five hundred copies--half the impression. + + Peacock sent your box by the _Berbice_, Captain Wayth. I saw him a + fortnight ago, and he said that he had not yet received the bill of + lading himself, but he should be sure to have it in time, and would + send it. I ought to have written to you sooner. Your letter reached me + on the 18th ult., but I have been unusually surrounded with + perplexities.--Your affectionate Father, + + WILLIAM GODWIN. + +On the 25th of July she left Genoa, Hunt accompanying her for the first +twenty miles. If one thought more than any other sustained her in her +unprotected loneliness, it was that of being reunited in England to her +sister in misfortune, Jane Williams, to whom her heart turned with a +singular tenderness, and to whom on her journey she addressed one more +letter, full of grateful affection and of a touching humility, new in her +character. + + MARY SHELLEY TO JANE WILLIAMS. + + ST. JEAN DE LA MAURIENNE, + _30th July 1823_. + + MY BEST JANE--I wrote to you from Genoa the day before I quitted it, + but I afterwards lost the letter. I asked the Hunts to look for it, + and send it if found, but ten to one you will never receive it. It + contained nothing, however, but what I can tell you in five minutes if + I see you. It told you of the departure of Lord Byron and Trelawny for + Greece, the former escaping with all his crowns, and the other + disbursing until he had hardly £10 left. It went to my heart to borrow + the sum from him necessary to make up my journey, but he behaved with + so much quiet generosity that one was almost glad to put him to that + proof, and witness the excellence of his heart. In this and in another + trial he acquitted himself so well that he gained all our hearts, + while the other--but more when we meet. + + I left Genoa Thursday, 25th. Hunt and Thornton accompanied me the + first twenty miles. This was much, you will say, for Hunt. But, thank + heaven, we are now the best friends in the world. He set his heart on + my quitting Italy with as comfortable feelings as possible, and he did + so much that notwithstanding all the [bitterness] that such an event, + joined to parting with a dear friend, occasioned me, yet I have borne + up with better spirits than I could in any way have hoped. It is a + delightful thing, my dear Jane, to be able to express one's affection + upon an old and tried friend like Hunt, and one so passionately + attached to my Shelley as he was, and is. It is pleasant also to feel + myself loved by one who loves me. You know somewhat of what I suffered + during the winter, during his alienation from me. He was displeased + with me for many just reasons, but he found me willing to expiate, as + far as I could, the evil I had done, so his heart was again warmed; + and if, my dear friend, when I return, you find me more amiable and + more willing to suffer with patience than I was, it is to him that I + owe this benefit, and you may judge if I ought not to be grateful to + him. I am even so to Lord Byron, who was the cause that I stayed at + Genoa, and thus secured one who, I am sure, can never change. + + The illness of one of our horses detains me here an afternoon, so I + write, and shall put the letter in the post at Chambéry. I have come + without a servant or companion; but Percy is perfectly good, and no + trouble to me at all. We are both well; a little tired or so. Will you + tell my Father that you have heard from me, and that I am so far on my + journey. I expect to be at Lyons in three days, and will write to him + from that place. If there be any talk of my accommodations, pray put + in a word for a _hard_ bed, for else I am sure I cannot sleep. + + So I have left Italy, and alone with my child I am travelling to + England. What a dream I have had! and is it over? Oh no! for I do + nothing but dream; realities seem to have lost all power over me,--I + mean, as it were, mere tangible realities,--for, where the affections + are concerned, calamity has only awakened greater sensitiveness. + + I fear things do not go on well with you, my dearest girl! you are not + in your mother's house, and you cannot have settled your affairs in + India,--mine too! Why, I arrive poor to nothingness, and my hopes are + small, except from my own exertions; and living in England is dear. My + thoughts will all bend towards Italy; but even if Sir Timothy Shelley + should do anything, he will not, I am sure, permit me to go abroad. At + any rate we shall be together a while. We will talk of our lost ones, + and think of realising my dreams; who knows? Adieu, I shall soon see + you, and you will find how truly I am your affectionate + + MARY SHELLEY. + +With the following fragment, the last of her Italian journal, this chapter +may fitly close. + + _Journal, May 31._--The lanes are filled with fire-flies; they dart + between the trunks of the trees, and people the land with earth-stars. + I walked among them to-night, and descended towards the sea. I passed + by the ruined church, and stood on the platform that overlooks the + beach. The black rocks were stretched out among the blue waters, which + dashed with no impetuous motion against them. The dark boats, with + their white sails, glided gently over its surface, and the + star-enlightened promontories closed in the bay: below, amid the + crags, I heard the monotonous but harmonious voices of the fishermen. + + How beautiful these shores, and this sea! Such is the scene--such the + waves within which my beloved vanished from mortality. + + The time is drawing near when I must quit this country. It is true + that, in the situation I now am, Italy is but the corpse of the + enchantress that she was. Besides, if I had stayed here, the state of + things would have been different. The idea of our child's advantage + alone enables me to keep fixed in my resolution to return to England. + It is best for him--and I go. + + Four years ago we lost our darling William; four years ago, in + excessive agony, I called for death to free me from all I felt that I + should suffer here. I continue to live, and _thou_ art gone. I leave + Italy and the few that still remain to me. That I regret less; for our + intercourse is so much chequered with all of dross that this earth so + delights to blend with kindness and sympathy, that I long for + solitude, with the exercise of such affections as still remain to me. + Away, I shall be conscious that these friends love me, and none can + then gainsay the pure attachment which chiefly clings to them because + they knew and loved you--because I knew them when with you, and I + cannot think of them without feeling your spirit beside me. + + I cannot grieve for you, beloved Shelley; I grieve for thy + friends--for the world--for thy child--most for myself, enthroned in + thy love, growing wiser and better beneath thy gentle influence, + taught by you the highest philosophy--your pupil, friend, lover, + wife, mother of your children! The glory of the dream is gone. I am a + cloud from which the light of sunset has passed. Give me patience in + the present struggle. _Meum cordium cor!_ Good-night! + + I would give all that I am to be as now thou art, + But I am chained to time, and cannot thence depart. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +JULY 1823-DECEMBER 1824 + + +Mary's journey extended over a month, one week of which was passed in +Paris and Versailles, for the sake of seeing the Horace Smiths and other +old acquaintances now living there. Her letters to the Hunts, describing +the incidents and impressions of her journey, were as lively and cheerful +as she could make them. A few extracts follow here. + + TO LEIGH HUNT. + + ASTI, _26th July_. + + * * * * * + + Percy is very good and does not in the least _annoy_ me. In the state + of mind I am now in, the motion and change is delightful to me: my + thoughts run with the coach and wind, and double, and jerk, and are up + and down, and forward, and most often backward, till the labyrinth of + Crete is a joke in comparison to my intricate wanderings. They now + lead me to you, Hunt. You rose early, wrote, walked, dined, whistled, + sang and punned most outrageously, the worst puns in the world. My + best Polly, you, full of your chicks and of your new darling, yet + sometimes called "Henry" to see a beautiful new effect of light on the + mountains.... Dear girl, I have a great affection for you, believe + that, and don't talk or think sorrowfully, unless you have the + toothache, and then don't think, but talk infinite nonsense mixed with + infinite sense, and Hunt will listen, as I used. Thorny, you have not + been cross yet. Oh, my dear Johnny (don't be angry, Polly, with this + nonsense), do not let your impatient nature ever overcome you, or you + may suffer as I have done--which God forbid! Be true to yourself, and + talk much to your Father, who will teach you as he has taught me. It + is the idea of his lessons of wisdom that makes me feel the affection + I do for him. I profit by them, so do you: may you never feel the + remorse of having neglected them when his voice and look are gone, and + he can no longer talk to you; that remorse is a terrible feeling, and + it requires a faith and a philosophy immense not to be destroyed by + the stinging monster. + + + _28th July._ + + ... I was too late for the post yesterday at Turin, and too early this + morning, so as I determined to put this letter in the post myself, I + bring it with me to Susa, and now open it to tell you how delighted I + am with my morning's ride--the scenery is so divine. The high, dark + Alps, just on this southern side tipt with snow, close in a plain; the + meadows are full of clover and flowers, and the woods of ash, elm, and + beech descend and spread, and lose themselves in the fields; stately + trees, in clumps or singly, arise on each side, and wherever you look + you see some spot where you dream of building a home and living for + ever. The exquisite beauty of nature, and the cloudless sky of this + summer day soothe me, and make this 28th so full of recollections that + it is almost pleasurable. Wherever the spirit of beauty dwells, _he_ + must be; the rustling of the trees is full of him; the waving of the + tall grass, the moving shadows of the vast hills, the blue air that + penetrates their ravines and rests upon their heights. I feel him near + me when I see that which he best loved. Alas! nine years ago he took + to a home in his heart this weak being, whom he has now left for more + congenial spirits and happier regions. She lives only in the hope that + she may become one day as one of them. + + Absolutely, my dear Hunt, I will pass some three summer months in this + divine spot, you shall all be with me. There are no gentlemen's seats + at Palazzi, so we will take a cottage, which we will paint and refit, + just as this country here is, in which I now write, clean and plain. + We will have no servants, only we will give out all the needlework. + Marianne shall make puddings and pies, to make up for the vegetables + and meat which I shall boil and spoil. Thorny shall sweep the rooms, + Mary make the beds, Johnny clean the kettles and pans, and then we + will pop him into the many streams hereabouts, and so clean him. + Swinny, being so quick, shall be our Mercury, Percy our gardener, + Sylvan and Percy Florence our weeders, and Vincent our plaything; and + then, to raise us above the vulgar, we will do all our work, keeping + time to Hunt's symphonies; we will perform our sweepings and dustings + to the March in _Alceste_, we will prepare our meats to the tune of + the _Laughing Trio_, and when we are tired we will lie on our turf + sofas, while all our voices shall join in chorus in _Notte e giorno + faticar_. You see my paper is quite out, so I must say, for the last + time, Adieu! God bless you. + + MARY W. S. + + + _Tuesday, 5th August._ + + I have your letter, and your excuses, and all. I thank you most + sincerely for it: at the same time I do entreat you to take care of + yourself with regard to writing; although your letters are worth + infinite pleasure to me, yet that pleasure cannot be worth pain to + you; and remember, if you must write, the good, hackneyed maxim of + _multum in parvo_, and, when your temples throb, distil the essence of + three pages into three lines, and my "fictitious adventure"[5] will + enable me to open them out and fill up intervals. Not but what three + pages are best, but "you can understand me." And now let me tell you + that I fear you do not rise early, since you doubt my _ore mattutine_. + Be it known to you, then, that on the journey I always rise _before_ 3 + o'clock, that I _never_ once made the _vetturino_ wait, and, moreover, + that there was no discontent in our jogging on on either side, so + that I half expect to be a _Santa_ with him. He indeed got a little + out of his element when he got into France,--his good humour did not + leave him, but his self-possession. He could not speak French, and he + walked about as if treading on eggs. + + When at Paris I will tell you more what I think of the French. They + still seem miracles of quietness in comparison with Marianne's noisy + friends. And the women's dresses afford the drollest contrast with + those in fashion when I first set foot in Paris in 1814. Then their + waists were between their shoulders, and, as Hogg observed, they were + rather curtains than gowns; their hair, too, dragged to the top of the + head, and then lifted to its height, appeared as if each female wished + to be a Tower of Babel in herself. Now their waists are long (not so + long, however, as the Genoese), and their hair flat at the top, with + quantities of curls on the temples. I remember, in 1814, a Frenchman's + pathetic horror at Clare's and my appearance in the streets of Paris + in "Oldenburgh" (as they were called) hats; now they all wear machines + of that shape, and a high bonnet would of course be as far out of the + right road as if the earth were to take a flying leap to another + system. + + After you receive this letter, you must direct to me at my Father's + (pray put William Godwin, Esq., since the want of that etiquette + annoys him. I remember Shelley's unspeakable astonishment when the + author of _Political Justice_ asked him, half reproachfully, why he + addressed him _Mr._ Godwin), 195 Strand. + +On the 25th of August Mary met her father once more. At his house in the +Strand she spent her first ten days in England. Consideration for others, +and the old habit of repressing all show of feeling before Godwin helped +to steel her nerves and heart to bear the stings and aches of this +strange, mournful reunion. + +And now again, too, she saw her friend Jane. But fondly as Mary ever clung +to her, she must have been sensible of the difference between them. Mrs. +Williams' situation was forlorn indeed; in some respects even more so than +Mrs. Shelley's. But, though she had grieved bitterly, as well she might, +for Edward's loss, her nature was not _impressible_, and the catastrophe +which had fallen upon her had left her unaltered. Jane was unhappy, but +she was not inconsolable; her grief was becoming to her, and lent her a +certain interest which enhanced her attractions. And to men in general she +was very attractive. Godwin himself was somewhat fascinated by the +"picturesque little woman" who had called on him on her first arrival; who +"did not drop one tear" and occasionally smiled. As for Hogg, he lost his +heart to her at once. + +All this Mary must have seen. But Jane was an attaching creature, and Mary +loved her as the greater nature loves the lesser; she lavished on her a +wealth of pent-up tenderness, content to get what crumbs she could in +return. For herself a curious surprise was in store, which entertained, if +it did not cheer her. + +Just at the time of its author's return to England, _Frankenstein_, in a +dramatised form, was having a considerable "run" at the English Opera +House. + + MRS. SHELLEY TO LEIGH HUNT. + + _9th September 1823._ + + MY DEAR HUNT--Bessy promised me to relieve you from any inquietude you + might suffer from not hearing from me, so I indulged myself with not + writing to you until I was quietly settled in lodgings of my own. Want + of time is not my excuse; I had plenty, but, until I saw all quiet + around me, I had not the spirit to write a line. I thought of you + all--how much? and often longed to write, yet would not till I called + myself free to turn southward; to imagine you all, to put myself in + the midst of you, would have destroyed all my philosophy. But now I do + so. I am in little neat lodgings, my boy in bed, I quiet, and I will + now talk to you, tell you what I have seen and heard, and with as + little repining as I can, try (by making the best of what I have, the + certainty of your friendship and kindness) to rest half content that I + am not in the "Paradise of Exiles." Well, first I will tell you, + journalwise, the history of my sixteen days in London. + + I arrived Monday, the 25th of August. My Father and William came for + me to the wharf. I had an excellent passage of eleven hours and a + half, a glassy sea, and a contrary wind. The smoke of our fire was + wafted right aft, and streamed out behind us; but wind was of little + consequence; the tide was with us, and though the engine gave a "short + uneasy motion" to the vessel, the water was so smooth that no one on + board was sick, and Persino played about the deck in high glee. I had + a very kind reception in the Strand, and all was done that could be + done to make me comfortable. I exerted myself to keep up my spirits. + The house, though rather dismal, is infinitely better than the Skinner + Street one. I resolved not to think of certain things, to take all as + a matter of course, and thus contrive to keep myself out of the gulf + of melancholy, on the edge of which I was and am continually peeping. + + But lo and behold! I found myself famous. _Frankenstein_ had + prodigious success as a drama, and was about to be repeated, for the + twenty-third night, at the English Opera House. The play-bill amused + me extremely, for, in the list of _dramatis personę_, came "----, by + Mr. T. Cooke." This nameless mode of naming the unnameable is rather + good. + + On Friday, 29th August, Jane, my Father, William, and I went to the + theatre to see it. Wallack looked very well as Frankenstein. He is at + the beginning full of hope and expectation. At the end of the first + act the stage represents a room with a staircase leading to + Frankenstein's workshop; he goes to it, and you see his light at a + small window, through which a frightened servant peeps, who runs off + in terror when Frankenstein exclaims "It lives!" Presently + Frankenstein himself rushes in horror and trepidation from the room, + and, while still expressing his agony and terror, "----" throws down + the door of the laboratory, leaps the staircase, and presents his + unearthly and monstrous person on the stage. The story is not well + managed, but Cooke played ----'s part extremely well; his seeking, as + it were, for support; his trying to grasp at the sounds he heard; all, + indeed, he does was well imagined and executed. I was much amused, and + it appeared to excite a breathless eagerness in the audience. It was a + third piece, a scanty pit filled at half-price, and all stayed till it + was over. They continue to play it even now. + + On Saturday, 30th August, I went with Jane to the Gisbornes. I know + not why, but seeing them seemed more than anything else to remind me + of Italy. Evening came on drearily, the rain splashed on the pavement, + nor star nor moon deigned to appear. I looked upward to seek an image + of Italy, but a blotted sky told me only of my change. I tried to + collect my thoughts, and then, again, dared not think, for I am a ruin + where owls and bats live only, and I lost my last _singing bird_ when + I left Albaro. It was my birthday, and it pleased me to tell the + people so; to recollect and feel that time flies, and what is to + arrive is nearer, and my home not so far off as it was a year ago. + This same evening, on my return to the Strand, I saw Lamb, who was + very entertaining and amiable, though a little deaf. One of the first + questions he asked me was, whether they made puns in Italy: I said, + "Yes, now Hunt is there." He said that Burney made a pun in Otaheite, + the first that was ever made in that country. At first the natives + could not make out what he meant, but all at once they discovered the + _pun_, and danced round him in transports of joy.... + + ... On the strength of the drama, my Father had published for my + benefit a new edition of _Frankenstein_, for he despaired utterly of + my doing anything with Sir Timothy Shelley. I wrote to him, however, + to tell him of my arrival, and on the following Wednesday had a note + from Whitton, where he invited me, if I wished for an explanation of + Sir T. Shelley's intentions concerning my boy, to call on him. I went + with my Father. Whitton was very polite, though long-winded: his great + wish seemed to be to prevent my applying again to Sir T. Shelley, whom + he represented as old, infirm, and irritable. However, he advanced me + £100 for my immediate expenses, told me that he could not speak + positively until he had seen Sir T. Shelley, but that he doubted not + but that I should receive the same annually for my child, and, with a + little time and patience, I should get an allowance for myself. This, + you see, relieved me from a load of anxieties. + + Having secured neat cheap lodgings, we removed hither last night. + Such, dear Hunt, is the outline of your poor exile's history. After + two days of rain, the weather has been _uncommonly_ fine, _cioč_, + without rain, and cloudless, I believe, though I trusted to other eyes + for that fact, since the white-washed sky is anything but blue to any + but the perceptions of the natives themselves. It is so cold, however, + that the fire I am now sitting by is not the first that has been + lighted, for my Father had one two days ago. The wind is east and + piercing, but I comfort myself with the hope that softer gales are now + fanning your _not_ throbbing temples, that the climate of Florence + will prove kindly to you, and that your health and spirits will return + to you. Why am I not there? This is quite a foreign country to me, + the names of the places sound strangely, the voices of the people are + new and grating, the vulgar English they speak particularly + displeasing. But for my Father, I should be with you next spring, but + his heart and soul are set on my stay, and in this world it always + seems one's duty to sacrifice one's own desires, and that claim ever + appears the strongest which claims such a sacrifice. + + * * * * * + +It is difficult to imagine _Frankenstein_ on the stage; it must, at least, +lose very much in dramatic representation. Like its modern successor, _Dr. +Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_,--that remarkable story which bears a certain +affinity to _Frankenstein_,--its subtle allegorical significance would be +overweighted, if not lost, by the effect of the grosser and more material +incidents which are all that could be _played_, and which, as described, +must have bordered on the ludicrous. Still the charm of life imparted by a +human impersonation to any portion, even, of one's own idea, is singularly +powerful; and so Mary felt it. She would have liked to repeat the +experience. Her situation, looked at in the face, was unenviable. She was +unprovided for, young, delicate, and with a child dependent on her. Her +rich connections would have nothing to do with her, and her boy did not +possess in their eyes the importance which would have attached to him had +he been heir to the baronetcy. She had talent, and it had been cultivated, +but with her sorely-tried health and spirits, the prospect of +self-support by the compulsory production of imaginative work must, at the +time, have seemed unpromising enough. + +Two sheet-anchors of hope she had, and by these she lived. They were, her +child--so friendless but for her--and the thought of Shelley's fame. The +collecting and editing of his MSS., this was her work; no one else should +do it. It seemed as though her brief life with him had had for its purpose +to educate her for this one object. + +Those who now, in naming Shelley, feel they name a part of everything +beautiful, ethereal, and spiritual--that his words are so inextricably +interwoven with certain phases of love and beauty as to be +indistinguishable from the very thing itself--may well find it hard to +realise how little he was known at the time when he died. + +With other poets their work is the blossom and fruit of their lives, but +Shelley's poetry resembles rather the perfume of the flower, that subtle +quality pertaining to the bloom which can be neither described, nor +pourtrayed, nor transmitted; an essence of immortality. + +Not many months after this the news of Byron's early death struck a kind +of remorseful grief into the hearts of his countrymen. A letter of Miss +Welsh's (Mrs. Carlyle) gives an idea of the general feeling-- + + "I was told it," she says, "in a room full of people. Had I heard that + the sun and moon had fallen out of their spheres it could not have + conveyed to me the feeling of a more awful blank than did the simple + words, 'Byron is dead.'" + +How many, it may be asked, were conscious of any blank when the news +reached them that Shelley had been "accidentally drowned"? Their numbers +might be counted by tens. + + The sale, in every instance, of Mr. Shelley's works has been very + confined, + +was his publishers' report to his widow. One newspaper dismissed his +memory by the passing remark, "He will now find out whether there is a +Hell or not." + +The small number of those who recognised his genius did not even include +all his personal friends. + + "Mine is a life of failures;" so he summed it up to Trelawny and + Edward Williams. "Peacock says my poetry is composed of day-dreams and + nightmares, and Leigh Hunt does not think it good enough for the + _Examiner_. Jefferson Hogg says all poetry is inverted sense, and + consequently nonsense.... + + "I wrote, and the critics denounced me as a mischievous visionary, and + my friends said that I had mistaken my vocation, that my poetry was + mere rhapsody of words...." + +Leigh Hunt, indeed, thought his own poetry more than equal to Shelley's or +Byron's. Byron knew Shelley's power well enough, but cared little for the +subjects of his sympathy. Trelawny was more appreciative, but his +admiration for the poetry was quite secondary to his enthusiasm for the +man. In Hogg's case, affection for the man may be said to have _excused_ +the poetry. All this Mary knew, but she knew too--what she was soon to +find out by experience--that among his immediate associates he had created +too warm an interest for him to escape posthumous discussion and +criticism. And he had been familiar with some of those regarding whom the +world's curiosity was insatiable, concerning whom any shred of +information, true or false, was eagerly snapped up. His name would +inevitably figure in anecdotes and gossip. His fame was Mary's to guard. +During the years she lived at Albaro she had been employed in collecting +and transcribing his scattered MSS., and at the end of this year, 1823, +the volume of Posthumous Poems came out. + +One would imagine that publishers would have bid against each other for +the possession of such a treasure. Far from it. Among the little band of +"true believers" three came forward to guarantee the expenses of +publication. They were, the poet Thomas Lovell Beddoes, Procter, and T. F. +Kelsall. + +The appearance of this book was a melancholy satisfaction to Mary, though, +as will soon be seen, she was not long allowed to enjoy it. + + MRS. SHELLEY TO MRS. HUNT. + + LONDON, _27th November 1823_. + + MY DEAREST POLLY--Are you not a naughty girl? How could you copy a + letter to that "agreeable, unaffected woman, Mrs. Shelley," without + saying a word from yourself to your loving...? My dear Polly, a line + from you forms a better picture for me of what you are about + than--alas! I was going to say three pages, but I check myself--the + rare one page of Hunt. Do not think that I forget you--even Percy does + not, and he often tells me to bid the Signor Enrico and you to get in + a carriage and then into a boat, and to come to _questo paese_ with + _Baby nuovo_, Henry, Swinburne, _e tutti_. But that will not be, nor + shall I see you at Mariano; this is a dreary exile for me. During a + long month of cloud and fog, how often have I sighed for my beloved + Italy, and more than ever this day when I have come to a conclusion + with Sir Timothy Shelley as to my affairs, and I find the miserable + pittance I am to have. Nearly sufficient in Italy, here it will not go + half-way. It is £100 per annum. Nor is this all, for I foresee a + thousand troubles; yet, in truth, as far as regards mere money matters + and worldly prospects, I keep up my philosophy with excellent success. + Others wonder at this, but I do not, nor is there any philosophy in + it. After having witnessed the mortal agonies of my two darling + children, after that journey from and to Lerici, I feel all these as + pictures and trifles as long as I am kept out of contact with the + unholy. I was upset to-day by being obliged to see Whitton, and the + prospect of seeing others of his tribe. I can earn a sufficiency, I + doubt not. In Italy I should be content: here I will not bemoan. + Indeed I never do, and Mrs. Godwin makes _large eyes_ at the quiet way + in which I take it all. It is England alone that annoys me, yet + sometimes I get among friends and almost forget its fogs. I go to + Shacklewell rarely, and sometimes see the Novellos elsewhere. He is my + especial favourite, and his music always transports me to the seventh + heaven.... I see the Lambs rather often, she ever amiable, and Lamb + witty and delightful. I must tell you one thing and make Hunt laugh. + Lamb's new house at Islington is close to the New River, and George + Dyer, after having paid them a visit, on going away at 12 at noonday, + walked deliberately into the water, taking it for the high road. + "But," as he said afterwards to Procter, "I soon found that I was in + the water, sir." So Miss Lamb and the servant had to fish him out.... + I must tell Hunt also a good saying of Lamb's,--talking of some one, + he said, "Now some men who are very veracious are called + matter-of-fact men, but such a one I should call a matter-of-lie man." + + I have seen also Procter, with his "beautifully formed head" (it is + beautifully formed), several times, and I like him. He is an + enthusiastic admirer of Shelley, and most zealous in bringing out the + volume of his poems; this alone would please me; and he is, moreover, + gentle and gentlemanly, and apparently endued with a true poetic + feeling. Besides, he is an invalid, and some time ago I told you, in a + letter, that I have always a sneaking (for sneaking read open) + kindness for men of literary and particularly poetic habits, who have + delicate health. I cannot help revering the mind delicately attuned + that shatters the material frame, and whose thoughts are strong enough + to throw down and dilapidate the walls of sense and dikes of flesh + that the unimaginative contrive to keep in such good repair.... + + After all, I spend a great deal of my time in solitude. I have been + hitherto too fully occupied in preparing Shelley's MSS. It is now + complete, and the poetry alone will make a large volume. Will you tell + Hunt that he need not send any of the MSS. that he has (except the + Essay on Devils, and some lines addressed to himself on his arrival in + Italy, if he should choose them to be inserted), as I have recopied + all the rest? We should be very glad, however, of his notice as + quickly as possible, as we wish the book to be out in a month at + furthest, and that will not be possible unless he sends it + immediately. It would break my heart if the book should appear without + it.[6] When he does send a packet over (let it be directed to his + brother), will he also be so good as to send me a copy of my "Choice," + beginning after the line + + Entrenched sad lines, or blotted with its might? + + Perhaps, dear Marianne, you would have the kindness to copy them for + me, and send them soon. I have another favour to ask of you. Miss + Curran has a portrait of Shelley, in many things very like, and she + has so much talent that I entertain great hopes that she will be able + to make a good one; for this purpose I wish her to have all the aids + possible, and among the rest a profile from you.[7] If you could not + cut another, perhaps you would send her one already cut, and if you + sent it with a note requesting her to return it when she had done with + it, I will engage that it will be most faithfully returned. At present + I am not quite sure where she is, but if she should be there, and you + can find her and send her this, I need not tell you how you would + oblige me. + + I heard from Bessy that Hunt is writing something for the _Examiner_ + for me. I _conjecture_ that this may be concerning _Valperga_. I shall + be glad, indeed, when that comes, or in lieu of it, anything else. + John Hunt begins to despair. + + * * * * * + + And now, dear Polly, I think I have done with gossip and business: + with words of affection and kindness I should never have done. I am + inexpressibly anxious about you all. Percy has had a similar though + shorter attack to that at Albaro, but he is now recovered. I have a + cold in my head, occasioned, I suppose, by the weather. Ah, Polly! if + all the beauties of England were to have only the mirror that Richard + III desires, a very short time would be spent at the looking-glass! + + What of Florence and the gallery? I saw the Elgin marbles to-day; + to-morrow I am to go to the Museum to look over the prints: that will + be a great treat. The Theseus is a divinity, but how very few statues + they have! Kiss the children. Ask Thornton for his forgotten and + promised P.S., give my love to Hunt, and believe me, my dear + Marianne, the exiled, but ever, most affectionately yours, + + MARY W. SHELLEY. + + + _Journal, January 18_ (1824).--I have now been nearly four months in + England, and if I am to judge of the future by the past and the + present, I have small delight in looking forward. I even regret those + days and weeks of intense melancholy that composed my life at Genoa. + Yes, solitary and unbeloved as I was there, I enjoyed a more + pleasurable state of being than I do here. I was still in Italy, and + my heart and imagination were both gratified by that circumstance. I + awoke with the light and beheld the theatre of nature from my window; + the trees spread their green beauty before me, the resplendent sky was + above me, the mountains were invested with enchanting colours. I had + even begun to contemplate painlessly the blue expanse of the tranquil + sea, speckled by the snow-white sails, gazed upon by the unclouded + stars. There was morning and its balmy air, noon and its exhilarating + heat, evening and its wondrous sunset, night and its starry pageant. + Then, my studies; my drawing, which soothed me; my Greek, which I + studied with greater complacency as I stole every now and then a look + on the scene near me; my metaphysics, that strengthened and elevated + my mind. Then my solitary walks and my reveries; they were + magnificent, deep, pathetic, wild, and exalted. I sounded the depths + of my own nature; I appealed to the nature around me to corroborate + the testimony that my own heart bore to its purity. I thought of _him_ + with hope; my grief was active, striving, expectant. I was worth + something then in the catalogue of beings. I could have written + something, been something. Now I am exiled from these beloved scenes; + its language is becoming a stranger to mine ears; my child is + forgetting it. I am imprisoned in a dreary town; I see neither fields, + nor hills, nor trees, nor sky; the exhilaration of enwrapt + contemplation is no more felt by me; aspirations agonising, yet grand, + from which the soul reposed in peace, have ceased to ascend from the + quenched altar of my mind. Writing has become a task; my studies + irksome; my life dreary. In this prison it is only in human + intercourse that I can pretend to find consolation; and woe, woe, and + triple woe to whoever seeks pleasure in human intercourse when that + pleasure is not founded on deep and intense affection; as for the + rest-- + + The bubble floats before, + The shadow stalks behind. + + My Father's situation, his cares and debts, prevent my enjoying his + society. + + I love Jane better than any other human being, but I am pressed upon + by the knowledge that she but slightly returns this affection. I love + her, and my purest pleasure is derived from that source--a capacious + basin, and but a rill flows into it. I love some one or two more, + "with a degree of love," but I see them seldom. I am excited while + with them, but the reaction of this feeling is dreadfully painful, but + while in London I cannot forego this excitement. I know some clever + men, in whose conversation I delight, but this is rare, like angels' + visits. Alas! having lived day by day with one of the wisest, best, + and most affectionate of spirits, how void, bare, and drear is the + scene of life! + + Oh, Shelley, dear, lamented, beloved! help me, raise me, support me; + let me not feel ever thus fallen and degraded! my imagination is dead, + my genius lost, my energies sleep. Why am I not beneath that + weed-grown tower? Seeing Coleridge last night reminded me forcibly of + past times; his beautiful descriptions reminded me of Shelley's + conversations. Such was the intercourse I once daily enjoyed, added to + supreme and active goodness, sympathy, and affection, and a wild, + picturesque mode of living that suited my active spirit and satisfied + its craving for novelty of impression. + + I will go into the country and philosophise; some gleams of past + entrancement may visit me there. + +Lonely, poor, and dull as she was, these first months were a dreadful +trial. She was writing, or trying to write, another novel, _The Last +Man_, but it hung heavy; it did not satisfy her. Shrinking from company, +yet recoiling still more from the monotony of her own thoughts, she was +possessed by the restless wish to write a drama, perhaps with the idea +that out of dramatic creations she might (Frankenstein-like) manufacture +for herself companions more living than the characters of a novel. It may +have been fortunate for her that she did not persevere in the attempt. Her +special gifts were hardly of a dramatic order, and she had not the +necessary experience for a successful playwright. She consulted her +father, however, sending him at the same time some specimens of her work, +and got some sound advice from him in return. + + GODWIN TO MARY. + + NO. 195 STRAND, _27th February 1824_. + + MY DEAR MARY--Your appeal to me is a painful one, and the account you + give of your spirits and tone of mind is more painful. Your appeal to + me is painful, because I by no means regard myself as an infallible + judge, and have been myself an unsuccessful adventurer in the same + field toward which, in this instance, you have turned your regards. As + to what you say of your spirits and tone of mind, your plans, and your + views, would not that much more profitably and agreeably be made the + subject of a conversation between us? You are aware that such a + conversation must be begun by you. So begun, it would be quite a + different thing than begun by me. In the former case I should be + called in as a friend and adviser, from whom some advantage was hoped + for; in the latter I should be an intruder, forcing in free speeches + and unwelcome truths, and should appear as if I wanted to dictate to + you and direct you, who are well capable of directing yourself. You + have able critics within your command--Mr. Procter and Mr. Lamb. You + have, however, one advantage in me; I feel a deeper interest in you + than they do, and would not mislead you for the world. + + As to the specimens you have sent me, it is easy for me to give my + opinion. There is one good scene--Manfred and the Two Strangers in the + Cottage; and one that has some slight hints in it--the scene where + Manfred attempts to stab the Duke. The rest are neither good nor bad; + they might be endured, in the character of cement, to fasten good + things together, but no more. Am I right? Perhaps not. I state things + as they appear to my organs. Thus far, therefore, you afford an + example, to be added to Barry Cornwall, how much easier it is to write + a detached dramatic scene than to write a tragedy. + + Is it not strange that so many people admire and relish Shakespeare, + and that nobody writes or even attempts to write like him? To read + your specimens, I should suppose that you had read no tragedies but + such as have been written since the date of your birth. Your + personages are mere abstractions--the lines and points of a + mathematical diagram--and not men and women. If A crosses B, and C + falls upon D, who can weep for that? Your talent is something like + mine--it cannot unfold itself without elbow-room. As Gray sings, "Give + ample room and verge enough the characters of hell to trace." I can do + tolerably well if you will allow me to explain as much as I like--if, + in the margin of what my personage says, I am permitted to set down + and anatomise all that he feels. Dramatic dialogue, in reference to + any talent I possess, is the devil. To write nothing more than the + very words spoken by the character is a course that withers all the + powers of my soul. Even Shakespeare, the greatest dramatist that ever + existed, often gives us riddles to guess and enigmas to puzzle over. + Many of his best characters and situations require a volume of + commentary to make them perspicuous. And why is this? Because the law + of his composition confines him to set down barely words that are to + be delivered. + + For myself, I am almost glad that you have not (if you have not) a + dramatic talent. How many mortifications and heart-aches would that + entail on you. Managers are to be consulted; players to be humoured; + the best pieces that were ever written negatived, and returned on the + author's hands. If these are all got over, then you have to encounter + the caprice of a noisy, insolent, and vulgar-minded audience, whose + senseless _non fiat_ shall turn the labour of a year in a moment into + nothing. + + Full little knowest thou, that hast not tried, + What hell it is---- + To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares, + To eat thy heart through comfortless despairs; + To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to run, + To spend, to give, to want, to be undone. + + It is laziness, my dear Mary, that makes you wish to be a dramatist. + It seems in prospect a short labour to write a play, and a long one to + write a work consisting of volumes; and as much may be gained by the + one as by the other. But as there is no royal road to geometry, so + there is no idle and self-indulgent activity that leads to literary + eminence. + + As to the idea that you have no literary talent, for God's sake, do + not give way to such diseased imaginations. You have, fortunately, + ascertained that at a very early period. What would you have done if + you had passed through my ordeal? I did not venture to face the public + till I was seven and twenty, and for ten years after that period could + not contrive to write anything that anybody would read; yet even I + have not wholly miscarried. + +Much of this was shrewd, and undeniable, but the _wish_ to write for the +stage continued to haunt Mary, and recurred two years later when she saw +Kean play _Othello_. To the end of her life she expressed regret that she +had not tried her hand at a tragedy. + +Meanwhile, besides her own novel, she was at no loss for literary jobs and +literary occupation; her friends took care of that. Her pen and her powers +were for ever at their service, and they never showed any scruple in +working the willing horse. Her disinterested integrity made her an +invaluable representative in business transactions. The affairs of the +_Examiner_ newspaper, edited in England by Leigh Hunt's brother John, were +in an unsatisfactory condition; and there was much disagreement between +the two brothers as to both pecuniary and literary arrangements. Mary had +to act as arbiter between the two, softening the harsh and ungracious +expressions which, in his annoyance, were used by John; looking after +Leigh Hunt's interests, and doing all she could to make clear to him the +complicated details of the concern. In this she was aided by Vincent +Novello, the eminent musician, and intimate friend of the Hunts, to whom +she had had a letter of introduction on arriving in Italy. The Novellos +had a large, old-fashioned house on Shacklewell Green; they were the very +soul of hospitality and kindness, and the centre of a large circle of +literary and artistic friends, they had made Shelley's acquaintance in the +days when the Leigh Hunts lived at the Vale of Health in Hampstead, and +they now welcomed his widow, as well as Mrs. Williams, doing all in their +power to shed a little cheerfulness over these two broken and melancholy +lives. + +"Very, very fair both ladies were," writes Mrs. Cowden Clarke, then Mary +Victoria Novello, who in her charming _Recollections of Writers_ has given +us a pretty sketch of Mary Shelley as she then appeared to a "damsel +approaching towards the age of 'sweet sixteen,' privileged to consider +herself one of the grown-up people." + + "Always observant as a child," she writes, "I had now become a greater + observer than ever; and large and varied was the pleasure I derived + from my observation of the interesting men and women around me at this + time of my life. Certainly Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin Shelley was the + central figure of attraction then to my young-girl sight; and I looked + upon her with ceaseless admiration,--for her personal graces, as well + as for her literary distinction. + + "The daughter of William Godwin and Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, the + wife of Shelley, the authoress of _Frankenstein_, had for me a + concentration of charm and interest that perpetually excited and + engrossed me while she continued a visitor at my parents' house." + +Elsewhere she describes + + ... "Her well-shaped, golden-haired head, almost always a little bent + and drooping; her marble-white shoulders and arms statuesquely visible + in the perfectly plain black velvet dress, which the customs of that + time allowed to be cut low, and which her own taste adopted (for + neither she nor her sister-in-sorrow ever wore the conventional + 'widow's weeds' and 'widow's cap'); her thoughtful, earnest eyes; her + short upper lip and intellectually curved mouth, with a certain + close-compressed and decisive expression while she listened, and a + relaxation into fuller redness and mobility when speaking; her + exquisitely formed, white, dimpled, small hands, with rosy palms, and + plumply commencing fingers, that tapered into tips as slender and + delicate as those in a Vandyke portrait." + +And though it was not in the power of these kind genial people to change +Mary's destiny, or even to modify very sensibly the tenour of her inner +life and thought, still their friendship was a solace to her; she was +grateful for it, and did her utmost to respond with cheerfulness to their +kindly efforts on her behalf. To Leigh Hunt (from whom depression, when it +passed into querulousness, met with almost as little quarter as it did +from Godwin) she wrote-- + + I am not always in spirits, but if my friends say that I am good, + contrive to fancy that I am so, and so continue to love yours most + truly, + + MARY SHELLEY. + +The news of Lord Byron's death in Greece, which in May of this year +created so profound a sensation in England, fell on Mary's heart as a +fresh calamity. She had small reason, personally, to esteem or regret him. +Circumstances had made her only too painfully familiar with his worst +side, and she might well have borne him more than one serious grudge. But +he was associated in her mind with Shelley, and with early, happy days, +and now he, like Shelley, was dead and gone, and his faults faded into +distance, while all that was great and might have been noble in him--the +hero that should have been rather than the man that was--survived, and +stood out in greater clearness and beauty, surrounded by the tearful halo +of memory. The tidings reached her at a time of unusual--it afterwards +seemed of prophetic--dejection. + + _Journal, May 14._--This, then, is my English life; and thus I am to + drag on existence; confined in my small room, friendless. Each day I + string me to the task. I endeavour to read and write, my ideas + stagnate and my understanding refuses to follow the words I read; day + after day passes while torrents fall from the dark clouds, and my mind + is as gloomy as this odious sky. Without human friends I must attach + myself to natural objects; but though I talk of the country, what + difference shall I find in this miserable climate. Italy, dear Italy, + murderess of those I love and of all my happiness, one word of your + soft language coming unawares upon me, has made me shed bitter tears. + When shall I hear it again spoken, when see your skies, your trees, + your streams? The imprisonment attendant on a succession of rainy days + has quite overcome me. God knows I strive to be content, but in vain. + Amidst all the depressing circumstances that weigh on me, none sinks + deeper than the failure of my intellectual powers; nothing I write + pleases me. Whether I am just in this, or whether the want of + Shelley's (oh, my loved Shelley, it is some alleviation only to write + your name!) encouragement I can hardly tell, but it seems to me as if + the lovely and sublime objects of nature had been my best inspirers, + and, wanting them, I am lost. Although so utterly miserable at Genoa, + yet what reveries were mine as I looked on the aspect of the ravine, + the sunny deep and its boats, the promontories clothed in purple + light, the starry heavens, the fireflies, the uprising of spring. Then + I could think, and my imagination could invent and combine, and self + became absorbed in the grandeur of the universe I created. Now my mind + is a blank, a gulf filled with formless mist. + + The Last Man! Yes, I may well describe that solitary being's + feelings: I feel myself as the last relic of a beloved race, my + companions extinct before me. + + And thus has the accumulating sorrow of days and weeks been forced to + find a voice, because the word _lucena_ met my eyes, and the idea of + lost Italy sprang in my mind. What graceful lamps those are, though of + base construction and vulgar use; I thought of bringing one with me; I + am glad I did not. I will go back only to have a _lucena_. + + If I told people so they would think me mad, and yet not madder than + they seem to be now, when I say that the blue skies and verdure-clad + earth of that dear land are necessary to my existence. + + If there be a kind spirit attendant on me in compensation for these + miserable days, let me only dream to-night that I am in Italy! Mine + own Shelley, what a horror you had (fully sympathised in by me) of + returning to this miserable country! To be here without you is to be + doubly exiled, to be away from Italy is to lose you twice. Dearest, + why is my spirit thus losing all energy? Indeed, indeed, I must go + back, or your poor utterly lost Mary will never dare think herself + worthy to visit you beyond the grave. + + _May 15._--This then was the coming event that cast its shadow on my + last night's miserable thoughts. Byron had become one of the people of + the grave--that miserable conclave to which the beings I best loved + belong. I knew him in the bright days of youth, when neither care nor + fear had visited me--before death had made me feel my mortality, and + the earth was the scene of my hopes. Can I forget our evening visits + to Diodati? our excursions on the lake, when he sang the Tyrolese + Hymn, and his voice was harmonised with winds and waves. Can I forget + his attentions and consolations to me during my deepest + misery?--Never. + + Beauty sat on his countenance and power beamed from his eye. His + faults being, for the most part, weaknesses, induced one readily to + pardon them. + + Albé--the dear, capricious, fascinating Albé--has left this desert + world! God grant I may die young! A new race is springing about me. At + the age of twenty-six I am in the condition of an aged person. All my + old friends are gone, I have no wish to form new. I cling to the few + remaining; but they slide away, and my heart fails when I think by how + few ties I hold to the world. "Life is the desert and the + solitude--how populous the grave"--and that region--to the dearer and + best beloved beings which it has torn from me, now adds that + resplendent spirit whose departure leaves the dull earth dark as + midnight. + + _June 18._--What a divine night it is! I have just returned from + Kentish Town; a calm twilight pervades the clear sky; the lamp-like + moon is hung out in heaven, and the bright west retains the dye of + sunset. If such weather would continue, I should write again; the lamp + of thought is again illumined in my heart, and the fire descends from + heaven that kindles it. Such, my loved Shelley, now ten years ago, at + this season, did we first meet, and these were the very scenes--that + churchyard, with its sacred tomb, was the spot where first love shone + in your dear eyes. The stars of heaven are now your country, and your + spirit drinks beauty and wisdom in those spheres, and I, beloved, + shall one day join you. Nature speaks to me of you. In towns and + society I do not feel your presence; but there you are with me, my + own, my unalienable! + + I feel my powers again, and this is, of itself, happiness; the eclipse + of winter is passing from my mind. I shall again feel the enthusiastic + glow of composition, again, as I pour forth my soul upon paper, feel + the winged ideas arise, and enjoy the delight of expressing them. + Study and occupation will be a pleasure, and not a task, and this I + shall owe to sight and companionship of trees and meadows, flowers and + sunshine. + + England, I charge thee, dress thyself in smiles for my sake! I will + celebrate thee, O England! and cast a glory on thy name, if thou wilt + for me remove thy veil of clouds, and let me contemplate the country + of my Shelley and feel in communion with him! + + I have been gay in company before, but the inspiriting sentiment of + the heart's peace I have not felt before to-night; and yet, my own, + never was I so entirely yours. In sorrow and grief I wish sometimes + (how vainly!) for earthly consolation. At a period of pleasing + excitement I cling to your memory alone, and you alone receive the + overflowing of my heart. + + Beloved Shelley, good-night. One pang will seize me when I think, but + I will only think, that thou art where I shall be, and conclude with + my usual prayer,--from the depth of my soul I make it,--May I die + young! + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + MISSOLONGHI, _30th April 1824_. + + MY DEAR MARY--My brain is already dizzy with business and writing. I + am transformed from the listless being you knew me to one of all + energy and fire. Not content with the Camp, I must needs be a great + diplomatist, I am again, dear Mary, in my _element_, and playing no + _second_ part in Greece. If I live, the outcast Reginald will cut his + name out on the Grecian hills, or set on its plains. I have had the + merit of discovering and bringing out a noble fellow, a gallant + _soldier_, and a man of most wonderful mind, with as little bigotry as + Shelley, and nearly as much imagination; he is a glorious being. I + have lived with him--he calls me brother--wants to connect me with his + family. We have been inseparable now for eight months--fought side by + side. But I am sick at heart with losing my friend,[8]--for still I + call him so, you know, with all his weakness, you know I loved him. I + cannot live with men for years without feeling--it is weak, it is want + of judgment, of philosophy,--but this is my weakness. Dear Mary, if + you love me,--_write_--write--write, for my heart yearns after you. I + certainly must have you and Jane out. I am serious. + + This is the place after my own heart, and I am certain of our good + cause triumphing. Believe nothing you hear; Gamba will tell you + everything about me--about Lord Byron, but he knows nothing of + Greece--nothing; nor does it appear any one else does by what I see + published. Colonel Stanhope is here; he is a good fellow, and does + much good. The loan is achieved, and that sets the business at rest, + but it is badly done--the Commissioners are bad. A word as to your + wooden god, Mavrocordato. He is a miserable Jew, and I hope, ere long, + to see his head removed from his worthless and heartless body. He is a + mere shuffling soldier, an aristocratic brute--wants Kings and + Congresses; a poor, weak, shuffling, intriguing, cowardly fellow; so + no more about him. Dear Mary, dear Jane, I am serious, turn you + thoughts this way. No more a nameless being, I am now a Greek + Chieftain, willing and able to shelter and protect you; and thus I + will continue, or follow our friends to wander over some other planet, + for I have nearly exhausted this.--Your attached + + TRELAWNY. + + Care of John Hunt, Esq., _Examiner_ Office, + Catherine Street, London. + + Tell me of Clare, do write me of her! This is written with the other + in desperate haste. I have received a letter from you, one from Jane, + and none from Hunt. + +This letter reached Mary at about the same time as the fatal news. +Trelawny also sent her his narrative of the facts (now so well known to +every one) of Byron's death. It had been intended for Hobhouse, but the +writer changed his mind and entrusted it to Mrs. Shelley instead, adding, +"Hunt may pick something at it if he please." + +Trelawny had been Byron's friend, and clearly as he saw the Pilgrim's +faults and deficiencies, there would seem no doubt that he genuinely +admired him, in spite of all. But his mercurial, impulsive temperament, +ever in extremes, was liable to the most sudden revulsions of feeling, +and retrospect hardened his feeling as much as it softened Mary Shelley's +towards the great man who was gone. Only four months later he was writing +again, from Livadia-- + + I have much to say to you, Mary, both as regards myself and the part I + am enacting here. I would give much that I could, as in times dead, + look in on you in the evening of every day and consult with you on its + occurrences, as I used to do in Italy. It is curious, but, considering + our characters, natural enough, that Byron and I took the + diametrically opposite roads in Greece--I in Eastern, he in Western. + He took part with, and became the paltry tool of the weak, imbecile, + cowardly being calling himself Prince Mavrocordato. Five months he + dozed away. By the gods! the lies that are said in his praise urge one + to speak the truth. It is well for his name, and better for Greece, + that he is dead. With the aid of his name, his fame, his talents, and + his fortune, he might have been a tower of strength to Greece, instead + of which the little he did was in favour of the aristocrats, to + destroy the republic, and smooth the road for a foreign King. But he + is dead, and I now feel my face burn with shame that so weak and + ignoble a soul could so long have influenced me. It is a degrading + reflection, and ever will be. I wish he had lived a little longer, + that he might have witnessed how I would have soared above him here, + how I would have triumphed over his mean spirit. I would do much to + see and talk to you, but as I am now too much irritated to disclose + the real state of things, I will not mislead you by false statements. + +With this fine flourish was enclosed a "Description of the Cavern Fortress +of Mount Parnassus," which he was commanding (and of which a full account +is given in his _Recollections_), and then followed a P.S. to this +effect-- + + DEAR MARY--Will you make an article of this, as Leigh Hunt calls it, + and request his brother to publish it in the _Examiner_, which will + very much oblige me. + + + FROM MARY SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + 28th July 1824. + + So, dear Trelawny, you remember still poor Mary Shelley; thank you for + your remembrance, and a thousand times for your kind letter. It is + delightful to feel that absence does not diminish your affection, + excellent, warm-hearted friend, remnant of our happy days, of my + vagabond life in beloved Italy, our companion in prosperity, our + comforter in sorrow. You will not wonder that the late loss of Lord + Byron makes me cling with greater zeal to those dear friends who + remain to me. He could hardly be called a friend, but, connected with + him in a thousand ways, admiring his talents, and (with all his + faults) feeling affection for him, it went to my heart when, the other + day, the hearse that contained his lifeless form--a form of beauty + which in life I often delighted to behold--passed my windows going up + Highgate Hill on his last journey to the last seat of his ancestors. + Your account of his last moments was infinitely interesting to me. + Going about a fortnight ago to the house where his remains lay, I + found there Fletcher and Lega--Lega looking a most preposterous + rogue,--Fletcher I expect to call on me when he returns from + Nottingham. From a few words he imprudently let fall, it would seem + that his Lord spoke of Clare in his last moments, and of his wish to + do something for her, at a time when his mind, vacillating between + consciousness and delirium, would not permit him to do anything. Did + Fletcher mention this to you? It seems that this doughty Leporello + speaks of his Lord to strangers with the highest respect; more than he + did a year ago,--the best, the most generous, the most wronged of + peers,--the notion of his leading an irregular life,--quite a false + one. Lady B. sent for Fletcher; he found her in a fit of passionate + grief, but perfectly implacable, and as much resolved never to have + united herself again to him as she was when she first signed their + separation. Mrs. Claremont (the governess) was with her. + + His death, as you may guess, made a great sensation here, which was + not diminished by the destruction of his Memoirs, which he wrote and + gave to Moore, and which were burned by Mrs. Leigh and Hobhouse. There + was not much in them, I know, for I read them some years ago at + Venice, but the world fancied it was to have a confession of the + hidden feelings of one concerning whom they were always passionately + curious. Moore was by no means pleased: he is now writing a life of + him himself, but it is conjectured that, notwithstanding he had the + MS. so long in his possession, he never found time to read it. I + breakfasted with him about a week ago, and he is anxious to get + materials for his work. I showed him your letter on the subject of + Lord Byron's death, and he wishes very much to obtain from you any + anecdote or account you would like to send. If you know anything that + ought to be known, or feel inclined to detail anything that you may + remember worthy of record concerning him, perhaps you will communicate + with Moore. You have often said that you wished to keep up our + friend's name in the world, and if you still entertain the same + feeling, no way is more obvious than to assist Moore, who asked me to + make this request. You can write to him through me or addressed to + Longmans.... + + * * * * * + + Here then we are, Jane and I, in Kentish Town.... We live near each + other now, and, seeing each other almost daily, for ever dwell on one + subject.... The country about here is really pretty; lawny uplands, + wooded parks, green lanes, and gentle hills form agreeable and varying + combinations. If we had orange sunsets, cloudless noons, fireflies, + large halls, etc. etc., I should not find the scenery amiss, and yet I + can attach myself to nothing here; neither among the people, though + some are good and clever, nor to the places, though they be pretty. + Jane is my chosen companion and only friend. I am under a cloud, and + cannot form near acquaintances among that class whose manners and + modes of life are agreeable to me, and I think myself fortunate in + having one or two pleasing acquaintances among literary people, whose + society I enjoy without dreaming of friendship. My child is in + excellent health; a fine, tall, handsome boy. + + And then for money and the rest of those necessary annoyances, the + means of getting at the necessaries of life; Jane's affairs are yet + unsettled.... + + My prospects are somewhat brighter than they were. I have little doubt + but that in the course of a few months I shall have an independent + income of £300 or £400 per annum during Sir Timothy's life, and that + with small sacrifice on my part. After his death Shelley's will + secures me an income more than sufficient for my simple habits. + + One of my first wishes in obtaining the independence I mention, will + be to assist in freeing Clare from her present painful mode of life. + She is now at Moscow; sufficiently uncomfortable, poor girl, unless + some change has taken place: I think it probable that she will soon + return to England. Her spirits will have been improved by the + information I sent her that his family consider Shelley's will valid, + and that she may rely upon receiving the legacy.... + +But Mary's hopes of better fortune were again and again deferred, and she +now found that any concession on the part of her husband's family must be +purchased by the suppression of his later poems. She was too poor to do +other than submit. + + MARY SHELLEY TO LEIGH HUNT. + + KENTISH TOWN, _22d August 1824_. + + ... A negotiation has begun between Sir Timothy Shelley and myself, by + which, on sacrificing a small part of my future expectations on the + will, I shall ensure myself a sufficiency for the present, and not + only that, but be able, I hope, to relieve Clare from her + disagreeable situation at Moscow. I have been obliged, however, as an + indispensable preliminary, to suppress the posthumous poems. More than + 300 copies had been sold, so this is the less provoking, and I have + been obliged to promise not to bring dear Shelley's name before the + public again during Sir Timothy's life. There is no great harm in + this, since he is above seventy; and, from choice, I should not think + of writing memoirs now, and the materials for a volume of more works + are so scant that I doubted before whether I could publish it. Such is + the folly of the world, and so do things seem different from what they + are; since, from Whitton's account, Sir Timothy writhes under the fame + of his incomparable son, as if it were the most grievous injury done + to him; and so, perhaps, after all it will prove. + + All this was pending when I wrote last, but until I was certain I did + not think it worth while to mention it. The affair is arranged by + Peacock, who, though I seldom see him, seems anxious to do me all + these kind of services in the best manner that he can. + + It is long since I saw your brother, nor had he any news for me. I + lead a most quiet life, and see hardly any one. The Gliddons are gone + to Hastings for a few weeks. Hogg is on Circuit. Now that he is rich + he is so very queer, so unamiable, and so strange, that I look forward + to his return without any desire of shortening the term of absence. + + Poor Pierino is now in London, _Non fosse male questo paese_, he says, + _se vi vedesse mai il sole_. He is full of Greece, to which he is + going, and gave us an account of our good friend, Trelawny, which was + that he was not at all changed. Trelawny has made a hero of the Greek + chief, Ulysses, and declares that there is a great cavern in Attica + which he and Ulysses have provisioned for seven years, and to which, + if the cause fails, he and this chieftain are to retire; but if the + cause is triumphant, he is to build a city in the Negropont, colonise + it, and Jane and I are to go out to be queens and chieftainesses of + the island. When he first came to Athens he took to a Turkish life, + bought twelve or fifteen women, _brutti mostri_, Pierino says, one a + Moor, of all things, and there he lay on his sofa, smoking, these + gentle creatures about him, till he got heartily sick of idleness, + shut them up in his harem, and joined and combated with Ulysses.... + + * * * * * + + One of my principal reasons for writing just now is that I have just + heard Miss Curran's address (64 Via Sistina, Roma), and I am anxious + that Marianne should (if she will be so very good) send one of the + profiles already cut to her, of Shelley, since I think that, by the + help of that, Miss Curran will be able to correct her portrait of + Shelley, and make for us what we so much desire--a good likeness. I am + convinced that Miss Curran will return the profile immediately that + she has done with it, so that you will not sacrifice it, though you + may be the means of our obtaining a good likeness. + + + _Journal, September 3._--With what hopes did I come to England? I + pictured little of what was pleasurable, the feeling I had could not + be called hope; it was expectation. Yet at that time, now a year ago, + what should I have said if a prophet had told me that, after the whole + revolution of the year, I should be as poor in all estimable treasures + as when I arrived. + + I have only seen two persons from whom I have hoped or wished for + friendly feeling. One, a poet, who sought me first, whose voice, laden + with sentiment, passed as Shelley's, and who read with the same deep + feeling as he; whose gentle manners were pleasing, and who seemed to a + degree pleased; who once or twice listened to my sad plaints, and bent + his dark blue eyes upon me. Association, gratitude, esteem, made me + take interest in his long, though rare, visits. + + The other was kind; sought me, was pleased with me. I could talk to + him; that was much. He was attached to another, so that I felt at my + ease with him. They have disappeared from my horizon. Jane alone + remains; if she loved me as well as I do her it would be much; she is + all gentleness, and she is my only consolation, yet she does not + console me. + + I have just completed my twenty-seventh year; at such a time hope and + youth are still in their prime, and the pains I feel, therefore, are + ever alive and vivid within me. What shall I do? Nothing. I study, + that passes the time. I write; at times that pleases me, though double + sorrow comes when I feel that Shelley no longer reads and approves of + what I write; besides, I have no great faith in my success. + Composition is delightful; but if you do not expect the sympathy of + your fellow-creatures in what you write, the pleasure of writing is of + short duration. + + I have my lovely Boy, without him I could not live. I have Jane; in + her society I forget time; but the idea of it does not cheer me in my + griefful moods. It is strange that the religious feeling that exalted + my emotions in happiness, deserts me in my misery. I have little + enjoyment, no hope. I have given myself ten years more of life. God + grant that they may not be augmented. I should be glad that they were + curtailed. Loveless beings surround me; they talk of my personal + attractions, of my talents, my manners. + + The wisest and best have loved me. The beautiful, and glorious, and + noble, have looked on me with the divine expression of love, till + death, the reaper, carried to his overstocked barns my lamented + harvest. + + But now I am not loved! Never, oh, never more shall I love. Synonymous + to such words are, never more shall I be happy, never more feel life + sit triumphant in my frame. I am a wreck. By what do the fragments + cling together? Why do they not part, to be borne away by the tide to + the boundless ocean, where those are whom day and night I pray that I + may rejoin. + + I shall be happier, perhaps, in Italy; yet, when I sometimes think + that she is the murderess, I tremble for my boy. We shall see; if no + change comes, I shall be unable to support the burthen of time, and no + change, if it hurt not his dear head, can be for the worse. + +In the month of July Mary had received another request for literary help; +this time from Medwin, who wanted her aid in eking out and correcting his +notes of conversations with Lord Byron, shortly to be published. + + "You must have been, as I was, very much affected with poor Lord + Byron's death," he wrote to Mary. "All parties seem now writing in his + favour, and the papers are full of his praise.... + + "How do you think I have been employing myself? With writing; and the + subject I have chosen has been Memoirs of Lord Byron. Every one here + has been disappointed in the extreme by the destruction of his private + biography, and have urged me to give the world the little I know of + him. I wish I was better qualified for the task. When I was at Pisa I + made very copious notes of his conversations, for private reference + only, and was surprised to find on reading them (which I have never + done till his death, and hearing that his life had been burnt) that + they contained so many anecdotes of his life. During many nights that + we sat up together he was very confidential, and entered into his + history and opinions on most subjects, and from them I have compiled a + volume which is, I am told, highly entertaining. Shelley I have made a + very prominent feature in the work, and I think you will be pleased + with that part, at least, of the Memoir, and all the favourable + sentiments of Lord Byron concerning him. But I shall certainly not + publish the work till you have seen it, and would give the world to + consult you in person about the whole; you might be of the greatest + possible use to me, and prevent many errors from creeping in. I have + been told it cannot fail of having the greatest success, and have been + offered £500 for it--a large and tempting sum--in consequence of what + has been said in its praise by Grattan.... + + "Before deciding finally on the publication there are many things to + be thought of. Lady Byron will not be pleased with my account of the + marriage and separation; in fact, I shall be assailed on all sides. + Now, my dear friend, what do you advise? Let me have your full + opinion, for I mean to be guided by it. I hear to-day that Moore is + manufacturing five or six volumes out of the _burnt materials_, for + which Longman advanced £2000, and is to pay £2000 more; _they_ will be + in a great rage. If I publish, promptitude is everything, so that I + know you will answer this soon." + +The idea of entertaining the world, however highly, at whatever price, +with "tit-bits" from the private life and after-dinner talk of her late +intimate friends, almost before those friends were cold in their graves, +did not find favour with Mrs. Shelley. As an excuse for declining to have +any hand in this work, she gave her own desire to avoid publicity or +notice. In a later letter Medwin assured her that her name was not even +mentioned in the book. He frankly owned that most of his knowledge of +Byron had been derived from her and Shelley, but added, by way of excuse-- + + They tell me it is highly interesting, and there is at this moment a + longing after and impatience to know something about the most + extraordinary man of the age that must give my book a considerable + success. + +What Mary felt about this publication can be gathered from her allusion to +it in the following letter-- + + MRS. SHELLEY TO MRS. HUNT. + + KENTISH TOWN, _10th October 1824_. + + ... I write to you on the most dismal of all days, a rainy Sunday, + when dreary church-going faces look still more drearily from under + dripping umbrellas, and the poor plebeian dame looks reproachfully at + her splashed white stockings,--not her gown,--that has been warily + held high up, and the to-be-concealed petticoat has borne all the + ill-usage of the mud. Dismal though it is, dismal though I am, I do + not wish to write a discontented letter, but in a few words to + describe things as they are with me. A weekly visit to the Strand, a + monthly visit to Shacklewell (when we are sure to be caught in the + rain) forms my catalogue of visits. I have no visitors; if it were not + for Jane I should be quite alone. The eternal rain imprisons one in + one's little room, and one's spirits flag without one exhilarating + circumstance. In some things, however, I am better off than last year, + for I do not doubt but that in the course of a few months I shall have + an independence; and I no longer balance, as I did last winter, + between Italy and England. My Father wished me to stay, and, old as he + is, and wishing as one does to be of some use somewhere, I thought + that I would make the trial, and stay if I could. But the joke has + become too serious. I look forward to the coming winter with horror, + but it _shall be_ the last. I have not yet made up my mind to the + where in Italy. I shall, if possible, immediately on arriving, push on + to Rome. Then we shall see. I read, study, and write; sometimes that + takes me out of myself; but to live for no one, to be necessary to + none, to know that "Where is now my hope? for my hope, who shall see + it? They shall go down to the base of the pit, when our rest together + is in the dust." But change of scene and the sun of Italy will restore + my energy; the very thought of it smooths my brow. Perhaps I shall + seek the heats of Naples, if they do not hurt my darling Percy. And + now, what news?... + + * * * * * + + Hazlitt is abroad; he will be in Italy in the winter; he wrote an + article in the _Edinburgh Review_ on the volume of poems I published. + I do not know whether he meant it to be favourable or not; I do not + like it at all; but when I saw him I could not be angry. I never was + so shocked in my life, he has become so thin, his hair scattered, his + cheek-bones projecting; but for his voice and smile I should not have + known him; his smile brought tears into my eyes, it was like a sunbeam + illuminating the most melancholy of ruins, lightning that assured you + in a dark night of the identity of a friend's ruined and deserted + abode.... + + Have you, my Polly, sent a profile to Miss Curran in Rome? Now pray + do, and pray write; do, my dear girl. Next year by this time I shall, + perhaps, be on my way to you; it will go hard but that I contrive to + spend a week (that is, if you wish) at Florence, on my way to the + Eternal City. God send that this prove not an airy castle; but I own + that I put faith in my having money before that; and I know that I + could not, if I would, endure the torture of my English life longer + than is absolutely necessary. By the bye, I heard that you are keeping + your promise to Trelawny, and that in due time he will be blessed with + a namesake. How is _Occhi Turchini_, Thornton the reformed, Johnny + the--what Johnny? the good boy? Mary the merry, Irving the sober, + Percy the martyr, and dear Sylvan the good? + + Percy is quite well; tell his friend he goes to school and learns to + read and write, being very handy with his hands, perhaps having a pure + anticipated cognition of the art of painting in his tiny fingers. Mrs. + Williams' little girl, who calls herself Dina, is his wife. Poor + Clare, at Moscow! at least she will be independent one day, and if I + am so soon, her situation will be quickly ameliorated. + + Have you heard of Medwin's book? Notes of conversations which he had + with Lord Byron (when tipsy); every one is to be in it; every one will + be angry. He wanted me to have a hand in it, but I declined. Years + ago, when a man died, the worms ate him; now a new set of worms feed + on the carcase of the scandal he leaves behind him, and grow fat upon + the world's love of tittle-tattle. I will not be numbered among them. + Have you received the volume of poems? Give my love to "Very," and so, + dear, very patient, Adieu.--Yours affectionately, + + MARY SHELLEY. + + + _Journal, October 26._--Time rolls on, and what does it bring? What + can I do? How change my destiny? Months change their names, years + their cyphers. My brow is sadly trenched, the blossom of youth faded. + My mind gathers wrinkles. What will become of me? + + How long it is since an emotion of joy filled my once exulting heart, + or beamed from my once bright eyes. I am young still, though age + creeps on apace; but I may not love any but the dead. I think that an + emotion of joy would destroy me, so strange would it be to my withered + heart. Shelley had said-- + + Lift not the painted veil which men call life. + + Mine is not painted; dark and enshadowed, it curtains out all + happiness, all hope. Tears fill my eyes; well may I weep, solitary + girl! The dead know you not; the living heed you not. You sit in your + lone room, and the howling wind, gloomy prognostic of winter, gives + not forth so despairing a tone as the unheard sighs your ill-fated + heart breathes. + + I was loved once! still let me cling to the memory; but to live for + oneself alone, to read, and communicate your reflections to none; to + write, and be cheered by none; to weep, and in no bosom; no more on + thy bosom, my Shelley, to spend my tears--this is misery! + + Such is the Alpha and Omega of my tale. I can speak to none. Writing + this is useless; it does not even soothe me; on the contrary, it + irritates me by showing the pitiful expedient to which I am reduced. + + I have been a year in England, and, ungentle England, for what have I + to thank you? For disappointment, melancholy, and tears; for + unkindness, a bleeding heart, and despairing thoughts. I wish, + England, to associate but one idea with thee--immeasurable distance + and insurmountable barriers, so that I never, never might breathe + thine air more. + + Beloved Italy! you are my country, my hope, my heaven! + + _December 3._--I endeavour to rouse my fortitude and calm my mind by + high and philosophic thoughts, and my studies aid this endeavour. I + have pondered for hours on Cicero's description of that power of + virtue in the human mind which render's man's frail being superior to + fortune. + + "Eadem ratio habet in re quiddam amplum at que magnificum ad + imperandum magis quam ad parendum accommodatum; omnia humana non + tolerabilia solum sed etiam levia ducens; altum quiddam et excelsum, + nihil temens, nemini cedens, semper invictum." + + What should I fear? To whom cede? By whom be conquered? + + Little truly have I to fear. One only misfortune can touch me. That + must be the last, for I should sink under it. At the age of seven and + twenty, in the busy metropolis of native England, I find myself alone. + The struggle is hard that can give rise to misanthropy in one, like + me, attached to my fellow-creatures. Yet now, did not the memory of + those matchless lost ones redeem their race, I should learn to hate + men, who are strong only to oppress, moral only to insult. Oh ye + winged hours that fly fast, that, having first destroyed my happiness, + now bear my swift-departing youth with you, bring patience, wisdom, + and content! I will not stoop to the world, or become like those who + compose it, and be actuated by mean pursuits and petty ends. I will + endeavour to remain unconquered by hard and bitter fortune; yet the + tears that start in my eyes show pangs she inflicts upon me. + + So much for philosophising. Shall I ever be a philosopher? + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +JANUARY 1825-JULY 1827 + + +At the beginning of 1825 Mrs. Shelley's worldly affairs were looking +somewhat more hopeful. The following extract is from a letter to Miss +Curran, dated 2d January-- + + ... I have now better prospects than I had, or rather, a better + reality, for my prospects are sufficiently misty. I receive now £200 a + year from my Father-in-law, but this in so strange and embarrassed a + manner that, as yet, I hardly know what to make of it. I do not + believe, however, that he would object to my going abroad, as I + daresay he considers that the first step towards kingdom come, + whither, doubtless, he prays that an interloper like me may speedily + be removed. I talk, therefore, of going next autumn, and shall be + grateful to any power, divine or human, that assists me to leave this + desert country. Mine I cannot call it; it is too unkind to me. + + What you say of my Shelley's picture is beyond words interesting to + me. How good you are! Send it, I pray you, for perhaps I cannot come, + and, at least, it would be a blessing to receive it a few months + earlier. I am afraid you can do nothing about the cameo. As you say, + it were worth nothing, unless like; but I fancied that it might be + accomplished under your directions. Would it be asking too much to + lend me the copy you took of my darling William's portrait, since + mine is somewhat injured? But from both together I could get a nice + copy made. + + You may imagine that I see few people, so far from the centre of + bustling London; but, in truth, I found that even in town, poor, + undinner-giving as I was, I could not dream of society. It was a great + confinement for Percy, and I could not write in the midst of smoke, + noise, and streets. I live here very quietly, going once a week to the + Strand. My chief dependence for society is on Mrs. Williams, who lives + at no great distance. As to theatres, etc., how can a "lone woman" + think of such things? No; the pleasures and luxuries of life await me + in divine Italy; but here, privation, solitude, and desertion are my + portion. What a change for me! But I must not think of that. I + contrive to live on as I am; but to recur to the past and compare it + with the present is to deluge me in grief and tears. + + My Boy is well; a fine tall fellow, and as good as I can possibly + expect; he is improved in looks since he came here. Clare is in Moscow + still, not very pleasantly situated; but she is in a situation, and + being now well in health, waits with more patience for better times. + The Godwins go on as usual. My Father, though harassed, is in good + health, and is employed in the second volume of the _Commonwealth_. + + The weather here is astonishingly mild, but the rain continual; half + England is under water, and the damage done at seaports from storms + incalculable. In Rome, doubtless, it has been different. Rome, dear + name! I cannot tell why, but to me there is something enchanting in + that spot. I have another friend there, the Countess Guiccioli, now + unhappy and mournful from the death of Lord Byron. Poor girl! I + sincerely pity her, for she truly loved him, and I cannot think that + she can endure an Italian after him. You have there also a Mr. Taaffe, + a countryman of yours, who translates Dante, and rides fine horses + that perpetually throw him. He knew us all very well. + + The English have had many a dose of scandal. First poor dear Lord + Byron, from whom, now gone, many a poor devil of an author is now + fearless of punishment, then Mr. Fauntleroy, then Miss Foote; these + are now dying away. The fame of Mr. Fauntleroy, indeed, has not + survived him; that of Lord Byron bursts forth every now and then + afresh; whilst Miss Foote smokes most dismally still. Then we have had + our quantum of fires and misery, and the poor exiled Italians and + Spaniards have added famine to the list of evils. A subscription, + highly honourable to the poor and middle classes who subscribed their + mite, has relieved them. + + Will you write soon? How much delight I anticipate this spring on the + arrival of the picture! In all thankfulness, faithfully yours, + + MARY W. SHELLEY. + +The increase of allowance, from £100 to £200, had not been actually +granted at the beginning of the year, but it appeared so probable an event +that, thanks partly to the good offices of Mr. Peacock, Sir Timothy's +lawyers agreed, while the matter was pending, to advance Mrs. Shelley the +extra £100 on their own responsibility. The concession was not so great as +it looks, for all money allowed to her was only advanced subject to an +agreement that every penny was to be repaid, with interest, to Sir +Timothy's executors at the time when, according to Percy Bysshe Shelley's +will, she should come into the property; and every cheque was endorsed by +her to this effect. But her immediate anxieties were in some measure +relieved by this addition to her income. Not, indeed, that it set her free +from pressing money cares, for the ensuing letter to Leigh Hunt +incidentally shows that her father was a perpetual drain on her +resources, that there was every probability of her having to support him +partly--at times entirely--in the future, and that she was endeavouring, +with Peacock's help, to raise a large sum, on loan, to meet these possible +emergencies. + +The main subject of the letter is an article of Hunt's about Shelley, the +proof of which had been sent to Mary to read. It contained, in an extended +form, the substance of that biographical notice, originally intended for a +preface to the volume of Posthumous Poems. + + MRS. SHELLEY TO LEIGH HUNT. + + _8th April 1825._ + + MY DEAR HUNT--I have just finished reading your article upon Shelley. + It is with great diffidence that I write to thank you for it, because + perceiving plainly that you think that I have forfeited all claim on + your affection, you may deem my thanks an impertinent intrusion. But + from my heart I thank you. You may imagine that it has moved me + deeply. Of course this very article shows how entirely you have cast + me out from any corner in your affections. And from various + causes--none dishonourable to me--I cannot help wishing that I could + have received your goodwill and kindness, which I prize, and have ever + prized; but you have a feeling, I had almost said a prejudice, against + me, which makes you construe foreign matter into detractation against + me (I allude to the, to me, deeply afflicting idea you got upon some + vague expression communicated to you by your brother), and insensible + to any circumstances that might be pleaded for me. But I will not + dwell on this. The sun shines, and I am striving so hard for a + continuation of the gleams of pleasure that visit my intolerable state + of regret for the loss of beloved companionship during cloudless + days, that I will dash away the springing tears and make one or two + necessary observations on your article. + + I have often heard our Shelley relate the story of stabbing an upper + boy with a fork, but never as you relate it. He always described it, + in my hearing, as being an almost involuntary act, done on the spur of + anguish, and that he made the stab as the boy was going out of the + room. Shelley did not allow Harriet half his income. She received £200 + a year. Mr. Westbrook had always made his daughter an allowance, even + while she lived with Shelley, which of course was continued to her + after their separation. I think if I were near you, I could readily + persuade you to omit all allusion to Clare. After the death of Lord + Byron, in the thick of memoirs, scandal, and turning up of old + stories, she has never been alluded to, at least in any work I have + seen. You mention (having been obliged to return your MS. to Bowring, + I quote from memory) an article in _Blackwood_, but I hardly think + that this is of date subsequent to our miserable loss. In fact, poor + Clare has been buried in entire oblivion, and to bring her from this, + even for the sake of defending her, would, I am sure, pain her + greatly, and do her mischief. Would you permit this part to be erased? + I have, without waiting to ask your leave, requested Messrs. Bowring + to leave out your mention that the remains of dearest Edward were + brought to England. Jane still possesses this treasure, and has once + or twice been asked by his mother-in-law about it,--once an urn was + sent. Consequently she is very anxious that her secret should be kept, + and has allowed it to be believed that the ashes were deposited with + Shelley's at Rome. Such, my dear Hunt, are all the alterations I have + to suggest, and I lose no time in communicating them to you. They are + too trivial for me to apologise for the liberty, and I hope that you + will agree with me in what I say about Clare--Allegra no more--she at + present absent and forgotten. On Sir Timothy's death she will come in + for a legacy which may enable her to enter into society,--perhaps to + marry, if she wishes it, if the past be forgotten. + + I forget whether such things are recorded by "Galignani," or, if + recorded, whether you would have noticed it. My Father's complicated + annoyances, brought to their height by the failure of a very promising + speculation and the loss of an impossible-to-be-lost law-suit, have + ended in a bankruptcy, the various acts of which drama are now in + progress; that over, nothing will be left to him but his pen and me. + He is so full of his _Commonwealth_ that in the midst of every anxiety + he writes every day now, and in a month or two will have completed the + second volume, and I am employed in raising money necessary for my + maintenance, and in which he must participate. This will drain me + pretty dry for the present, but (as the old women say) if I live, I + shall have more than enough for him and me, and recur, at least to + some part of my ancient style of life, and feel of some value to + others. Do not, however, mistake my phraseology; I shall not live with + my Father, but return to Italy and economise, the moment God and Mr. + Whitton will permit. My Percy is quite well, and has exchanged his + constant winter occupation of drawing for playing in the fields (which + are now useful as well as ornamental), flying kites, gardening, etc. I + bask in the sun on the grass reading Virgil, that is, my beloved + _Georgics_ and Lord Shaftesbury's _Characteristics_. I begin to live + again, and as the maids of Greece sang joyous hymns on the revival of + Adonis, does my spirit lift itself in delightful thanksgiving on the + awakening of nature. + + Lamb is superannuated--do you understand? as Madame says. He has left + the India House on two-thirds of his income, and become a gentleman at + large--a delightful consummation. What a strange taste it is that + confines him to a view of the New River, with houses opposite, in + Islington! I saw the Novellos the other day. Mary and her new babe are + well; he, Vincent all over, fat and flourishing moreover, and she + dolorous that it should be her fate to add more than her share to the + population of the world. How are all yours--Henry and the rest? Percy + still remembers him, though occupied by new friendships and the + feelings incident to his state of matrimony, having taken for better + and worse to wife Mrs. Williams' little girl. + + I suppose you will receive with these letters Bessy's new book, which + she has done very well indeed, and forms with the other a delightful + prize for plant and flower worshippers, those favourites of God, which + enjoy beauty unequalled and the tranquil pleasures of growth and life, + bestowing incalculable pleasure, and never giving or receiving pain. + Have you seen Hazlitt's notes of his travels? He is going over the + same road that I have travelled twice. He surprised me by calling the + road from Susa to Turin dull; there, where the Alps sink into low + mountains and romantic hills, topped by ruined castles, watered by + brawling streams, clothed by magnificent walnut trees; there, where I + wrote to you in a fit of enchantment, exalted by the splendid scene; + but I remembered, first, that he travelled in winter, when snow covers + all; and, besides, he went from what I approached, and looked at the + plain of Lombardy with the back of the diligence between him and the + loveliest scene in nature; so much can _relation_ alter circumstances. + + Clare is still, I believe, at Moscow. When I return to Italy I shall + endeavour to enable her to go thither also. I shall not come without + my Jane, who is now necessary to my existence almost. She has recourse + to the cultivation of her mind, and amiable and dear as she ever was, + she is in every way improved and become more valuable. + + Trelawny is in the cave with Ulysses, not in Polypheme's cave, but in + a vast cavern of Parnassus; inaccessible and healthy and safe, but cut + off from the rest of the world. Trelawny has attached himself to the + part of Ulysses, a savage chieftain, without any plan but personal + independence and opposition to the Government. Trelawny calls him a + hero. Ulysses speaks a word or two of French; Trelawny, no Greek! + Pierino has returned to Greece. + + Horace Smith has returned with his diminished family (little Horace is + dead). He already finds London too expensive, and they are about to + migrate to Tunbridge Wells. He is very kind to me. + + I long to hear from you, and I am more tenderly attached to you and + yours than you imagine; love me a little, and make Marianne love me, + as truly I think she does. Am I mistaken, Polly?--Your affectionate + and obliged, + + MARY W. SHELLEY. + +Outwardly, this year was uneventful. Mary was busily working at her novel, +_The Last Man_. The occupation was good for her, and perhaps it was no bad +thing that Necessity should stand at her elbow to stimulate her to +exertion when her interest and energy flagged. For, in spite of her utmost +efforts to the contrary, her heart and spirit were often faint at the +prospect of an arduous and lonely life. And when, in early autumn, +Shelley's portrait was at last sent to her by Miss Curran, the sight of it +brought back the sense of what she had lost, and revived in all its +irrecoverable bitterness that past happy time, than to remember which in +misery there is no greater sorrow. + + _Journal, September 17_ (1825).--Thy picture is come, my only one! + Thine those speaking eyes, that animated look; unlike aught earthly + wert thou ever, and art now! + + If thou hadst still lived, how different had been my life and + feelings! + + Thou art near to guard and save me, angelic one! Thy divine glance + will be my protection and defence. I was not worthy of thee, and thou + hast left me; yet that dear look assures me that thou wert mine, and + recalls and narrates to my backward-looking mind a long tale of love + and happiness. + + My head aches. My heart--my hapless heart--is deluged in bitterness. + Great God! if there be any pity for human suffering, tell me what I am + to do. I strive to study, I strive to write, but I cannot live + without loving and being loved, without sympathy; if this is denied to + me I must die. Would that the hour were come! + +On the same day when Mary penned these melancholy lines, Trelawny was +writing to her from Cephalonia. + +He had been treacherously shot by an inmate of his mountain fortress, an +Englishman newly arrived, whom he had welcomed as a guest. The true +instigator of the crime was one Fenton, a Scotchman, who in the guise of a +volunteer had ostensibly served under Trelawny for a twelvemonth past, and +who by his capability and apparent zeal had so won his confidence as to be +entrusted with secret missions. He was, in fact, an emissary of the Greek +Government, foisted on Trelawny at Missolonghi to act as a spy on +Odysseus, the insurgent Greek chieftain. + +Through his machinations Odysseus was betrayed and murdered, and Trelawny +narrowly escaped death. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + CEPHALONIA, _17th September 1825_. + + DEAR MARY--I have just escaped from Greece and landed here, in the + hopes of patching up my broken frame and shattered constitution. Two + musket balls, fired at the distance of two paces, struck me and passed + through my framework, which damn'd near finished me; but 'tis a long + story, and my writing arm is rendered unfit for service, and I am yet + unpractised with the left. But a friend of mine here, a Major Bacon, + is on his way to England, and will enlighten you as to me. I shall be + confined here some time. Write to me then at this place. I need rest + and quiet, for I am shook to the foundation. Love to Jane and Clare, + and believe me still your devoted friend, + + EDWARD TRELAWNY. + +It would seem that this letter was many months in reaching Mary, for in +February 1826 she was writing to him in these terms-- + + I hear at last that Mr. Hodges has letters for me, and that prevents a + thousand things I was about to say concerning the pain your very long + silence had occasioned me. Consider, dear friend, that your last was + in April, so that nearly a year has gone by, and not only did I not + hear _from_ you, but until the arrival of Mr. Hodges, many months had + elapsed since I had heard of you. + + Sometimes I flattered myself that the foundations of my little + habitation would have been shaken by a "ship Shelley ahoy" that even + Jane, distant a mile, would have heard. That dear hope lost, I feared + a thousand things. + + Hamilton Browne's illness, the death of many English, the return of + every other from Greece, filled me with gloomy apprehensions. + + But you live,--what kind of life your letters will, I trust, inform + me,--what possible kind of life in a cavern surrounded by + precipices,--inaccessible! All this will satisfy your craving + imagination. The friendship you have for Odysseus, does that satisfy + your warm heart?... I gather from your last letter and other + intelligence that you think of marrying the daughter of your favourite + chief, and thus will renounce England and even the English for ever. + And yet,--no! you love some of us, I am sure, too much to forget us, + even if you neglect us for a while; but truly, I long for your + letters, which will tell all. And remember, dear friend, it is about + yourself I am anxious. Of Greece I read in the papers. I see many + informants, but I can learn your actions, hopes, and, above all + valuable to me, the continuation of your affection for me, from your + letters only. + + * * * * * + + + _27th February._ + + I now close my letter--I have not yet received yours. + + Last night Jane and I went with Gamba and my Father to see Kean in + _Othello_. This play, as you may guess, reminded us of you. Do you + remember, when delivering the killing news, you awoke Jane, as Othello + awakens Desdemona from her sleep on the sofa? Kean, abominably + supported, acted divinely; put as he is on his mettle by recent events + and a full house and applause, which he deserved, his farewell is the + most pathetic piece of acting to be imagined. Yet, my dear friend, I + wish we had seen it represented as was talked of at Pisa. Iago would + never have found a better representative than that strange and + wondrous creature whom one regrets daily more,--for who here can equal + him? Adieu, dear Trelawny, take care of yourself, and come and visit + us as soon as you can escape from the sorceries of Ulysses.--In all + truth, yours affectionately, + + M. W. S. + + At Pisa, 1822, Lord Byron talked vehemently of our getting up a play + in his great hall at the Lanfranchi; it was to be _Othello_. He cast + the characters thus: Byron, Iago; Trelawny, Othello; Williams, Cassio; + Medwin, Roderigo; Mrs. Shelley, Desdemona; Mrs. Williams, Emilia. "Who + is to be our audience?" I asked. "All Pisa," he rejoined. He recited a + great portion of his part with great gusto; it exactly suited him,--he + looked it, too. + +All this time Miss Clairmont was pursuing her vocation as a governess in +Russia, and many interesting glimpses into Russian family and social life +are afforded by her letters to Mrs. Shelley and Mrs. Williams. She was a +voluminous letter-writer, and in these characteristic epistles she +unconsciously paints, as no other hand could have done, a vivid portrait +of herself. We can see her, with all her vivacity, versatility, and +resource, her great cleverness,--never at a loss for a word, an excuse, or +a good story,--her indefatigable energy, her shifting moods and wild +caprices, the bewildering activity of her restless brain, and the +astonishing facility with which she transferred to paper all her passing +impressions. In narration, in description, in panegyric, and in complaint +she is equally fluent. Unimpeachably correct as her conduct always was +after her one miserable adventure, she had, from first to last, an innate +affinity for anything in the shape of social gossip and scandal; her +really generous impulses were combined with the worldliest of worldly +wisdom, and the whole tinctured with the highest of high-flown sentiment. + +Fill in the few details wanting, the flat, sleek, black hair,--eyes so +black that the pupil was hardly to be distinguished from the iris (eyes +which seemed unmistakably to indicate an admixture of Portuguese, if not +of African, blood in her descent),--a complexion which may in girlhood +have been olive, but in later life was sallow,--features not beautiful, +and depending on expression for any charm they might have,--and she stands +before the reader, the unmanageable, amusing, runaway schoolgirl; a +stumbling-block first, then a bugbear, to Byron; a curse, which he +persistently treated as a blessing, to Shelley; a thorn in the side of +Mary and of every one who ever was responsible for her; yet liked by her +acquaintance, admired in society, commiserated by her early friends, and +regarded with well-deserved affection and gratitude by many of her pupils +and _protégés_. + + CLARE TO JANE. + + MOSCOW, _27th October 1825_. + + MY DEAREST JANE--It is now so long since I heard from you that I begin + to think you have quite forgotten me. I wrote twice to you during the + summer; both letters went by private hand, and to neither of which + have I received your answer. I enclosed also a letter or letters for + Trelawny, and I hope very much you have received them. Whenever some + time elapses without hearing from England, then I begin to grow + miserable with fear. In a letter I received from Mary in the autumn, + she mentions the approaching return of the Hunts from Italy, and I + console myself with believing that you are both so much taken up with + them that you have delayed from day to day to write to me. Be that as + it may, I have never been in greater need of your letters than for + these last two months, for I have been truly wretched. To convince you + that I am not given to fret for trifles, I will tell you how they have + been passed. I spent a very quiet time, if not a very agreeable one, + until the 12th of August; then a French newspaper fell into my hands, + in which it mentioned that Trelawny had been dangerously wounded in a + duel on the 13th of June. You who have known the misery of anxiety for + the safety and wellbeing of those dear to us may imagine what I + suffered. At last a letter from Mary came, under date of 26th of July, + not mentioning a word of this, and I allowed myself to hope that it + was not true, because certainly she would have heard of it by the time + she wrote. Then, a week after, another newspaper mentioned his being + recovered. This was scarcely passed when our two children fell ill; + one got better, but the other, my pupil, a little girl of six years + and a half old, died. I was truly wretched at her loss, and our whole + house was a scene of sorrow and confusion, that can only happen in a + savage country, where a disciplined temper is utterly unknown. We came + to town, and directly the little boy fell sick again of a putrid + fever, from which he was in imminent danger for some time. At last + after nights and days of breathless anxiety he did recover. By the + death of the little girl, I became of little or no use in the house, + and the thought of again entering a new house, and having to learn new + dispositions, was quite abhorrent to me. Nothing is so cruel as to + change from house to house and be perpetually surrounded by strangers; + one feels so forlorn, so utterly alone, that I could not have the + courage to begin the career over again; so I settled to remain in the + same house, to continue the boy's English, and to give lessons + out-of-doors. I do not know whether my plan will succeed yet, but, at + any rate, I am bent upon trying it. It is not very agreeable to walk + about in the snow and in a cold of twenty, sometimes thirty degrees; + but anything is better than being a governess in the common run of + Moscow houses. But you have not yet heard my greatest sorrow, and + which I think might well have been spared. I had one Englishwoman + here, to whom I was attached--a woman of the most generous heart, and + whom misfortune, perhaps imprudence, had driven to Russia. She thought + with me that nothing can equal the misery of our situation, and + accordingly she went last spring to Odessa, hoping to find some means + of establishing a boarding-house in order to have a home. If it + succeeded, she was to have sent for me; but, however, she wrote to me + that, after well considering everything, she found such a plan would + not succeed, and that I might expect her shortly in Moscow, to resume + her old manner of life. I expected her arrival daily, and began to + grow uneasy, and at length some one wrote to another acquaintance of + hers here that she had destroyed herself. I, who knew her thoughts, + have no doubt the horror of entering again as governess made her + resolve upon this as the only means to escape it. You see, dearest + Jane, whether these last two months have been fruitful in woes. I + cannot tell you what a consolation it would have been to have received + a letter from you whilst I have been suffering under such extreme + melancholy. The only amelioration in my present situation is that I + can withdraw to my room and be much more alone than I could formerly, + and this solitude is so friendly to my nature that it has been my only + comfort. I have heard all about the change in my mother's situation, + and am truly glad of it. I am sure she will be much better off than + she was before. As for Mary, her affairs seem inexplicable. Nothing + can ever persuade me that a will can dispose of estates which the + maker of it never possessed. Do clear up this mystery to me. What a + strange way of thinking must that be which can rely on such a hope! + Yet my brother, my mother, and Mary never cease telling me that one + day I shall be free, and the state of doubt, the contradiction between + their assertions and my intimate persuasion of the contrary, that + awakens in my mind, is very painful. You are almost quite silent upon + the subject, but I wish, my dear Jane, that you would answer me the + following questions. Has any professional man ever been consulted on + the subject? What is Hogg's opinion? Why in this particular case + should the law be set aside, which says that no man can dispose of + what he has never possessed? Do have the goodness to ask these + questions very clearly and to give me the answers, which no one has + ever done yet. They simply tell me, "Whitton has come forward," + "Whitton thinks the will valid," etc. etc., all of which cannot prove + to me that it is so. I know you will excuse my giving you so much + trouble, but really when you consider the painful uncertainty which + hangs on my mind, you will think it very natural that I should wish to + know the reasons of what is asserted to me. To say the truth, I daily + grow more indifferent about the issue of the affair. The time is past + when independence would have been an object of my desires, and I am + now old enough to know that misery is the universal malady of the + human race, and that there is no escaping from it, except by a + philosophic indifference to all external circumstances, and by a + disciplined mind completely absorbed in intellectual subjects. I + fashion my life accordingly to this, and I often enjoy moments of + serenest calm, which I owe to this way of thinking. Do not mistake and + think that I am indifferent to seeing you again; so far from this, I + dream of this as one dreams of Paradise after death, as a thing of + another world, and not to be obtained here. It would be too much + happiness for me to venture to hope it. I endeavour often to imagine + the circle in which you live, but it is impossible, and I think it + would be equally difficult for you to picture to yourself my mode of + life. I often think what in the world Mary or Jane would do in the + dull routine I tread; no talk of public affairs, no talk of books, no + subject do I ever hear of except cards, eating, and the different + manner of managing slaves. Now and then some heroic young man devotes + himself like a second Marcus Curtius to the public good, and, in order + to give the good ladies of Moscow something new to talk of, rouses + them from their lethargic gossipings by getting himself shot in a + duel; or some governess disputes with the mother of her pupils, and + what they both said goes over the town. Mary mentioned in her last + that she thought it very likely you might both go to Paris. I hope you + may be there, for I am sure you would find the mode of life more + cheerful than London. As I have told you so many of my sorrows, I must + tell you the only good piece of news I have to communicate. I have + lately made acquaintance with a German gentleman, who is a great + resource to me. In such a country as Russia, where nothing but + ignorant people are to be met, a cultivated mind is the greatest + treasure. His society recalls our former circle, for he is well versed + in ancient and modern literature, and has the same noble, enlarged + way of thinking. You may imagine how delighted he was to find me so + different from everything around him, and capable of understanding + what has been so long sealed up in his mind as treasures too precious + to be wasted on the coarse Russian soil. I talk to you thus freely + about him, because I know you will not believe that I am in love, or + that I have any other feeling than a most sincere and steady + friendship for him. What you felt for Shelley I feel for him. I feel + it also my duty to tell you I have a real friend, because, in case of + sickness or death happening to me, you would at least feel the + consolation of knowing that I had not died in the hands of strangers. + I talk to him very often of you and Mary, until his desire to see you + becomes quite a passion. He is, like all Germans, very sentimental, a + very sweet temper, and uncommonly generous. His attachment to me is + extreme, but I have taken the very greatest care to explain to him + that I cannot return it in the same degree. This does not make him + unhappy, and therefore our friendship is of the utmost importance to + both. I hope, my dear Jane, that you will one day see him, and that + both you and Mary may find such an agreeable friend in him as I have + had. I must now turn from this subject to speak of Trelawny, which + comes naturally into my mind with the idea of friendship; you cannot + think how uneasy I am at not hearing from him. I am not afraid of his + friendship growing cold for me, for I am sure he is unchangeable on + that point, but I am afraid for his happiness and safety. Is it true + that his friend Ulysses is dead? and if so, do pray write to him and + prevail upon him to return. I should be at ease if I were to know him + near you and Mary. Do think if you can do anything to draw him to you, + my dearest Jane. It would render me the happiest of human beings to + know him in the hands of two such friends. If this could be, how hard + I should work to gain a little independence here, and return perhaps + in ten years and live with you. As yet I have done nothing, + notwithstanding my utmost exertions, towards such a plan, but I am + turning over every possible means in my brain for devising some + scheme to get money, and perhaps I may. That is my reason for staying + in Russia, because there is no country so favourable to foreigners. + Pray, my dear Jane, do write to me the moment you receive this, and + answer very particularly the questions I have asked you. I have filled + this whole letter, do you the same in your answer, and tell me every + particular about Percy, Neddy, and Dina; they little guess how warm a + friend they have in this distant land, who thinks perpetually of them, + and wishes for nothing so much as to see them and to play with them. + Give my love to Mary. I will write soon again to her. In the meantime + do some of you pray write. These horrid long winters, and the sky, + which is from month to month of the darkest dun colour, need some news + from you to render life supportable. Kiss all the dear children for + me, and tell me everything about them.--Ever your affectionate friend, + + CLARE. + + Pray beg Mary to tell my mother that I wrote to her on or about the + 22d of August; has she had this letter? and do tell me in yours what + you know of her. I have just received your letter of the 3d of + September, for which I thank you most cordially. Thank heaven, you are + all well! What you say of Trelawny distresses me, as it seems to me + that you are unwilling to say what you have heard, as it is of a + disagreeable nature. You could do me a great benefit if you could make + yourself mistress of the Logier's system of teaching music, and + communicate it to me in its smallest details. I am sure it would take + here. Do, pray, make serious inquiries of some one who has been taught + by him. If any one would undertake to write me a very circumstantial + account of his method, I would cheerfully pay them. It might be the + means of my making a small independence here, and then I could join + you soon in Italy without fear for the future. Do think seriously of + this, my dear Jane, and do not take it into your head that it is an + idle project, for it would be of the greatest use to me. As to your + admirer, I think he is mad, and his society, which would otherwise be + a relief, must now be a burthen. You are very right in saying you + only find solace in mental occupation; it is the only thing that saves + me from such a depression of spirits taking hold of me when I have an + instant to reflect upon the past that I am ready for any rash act; but + I am occupied from 6 in the morning until 10 at night, and then am so + worn out I have no time for thinking. Once more farewell. My address + is--Chez Monsieur Lenhold, Marchand de Musique, a Moscow. + +_The Last Man_, Mrs. Shelley's third novel, was published early in 1826. +It differed widely from its predecessors. _Frankenstein_ was an +allegorical romance; _Valperga_ a historical novel, Italian, of the +fifteenth century; the plot of the one depends for its interest chiefly on +incident, that of the other on the development of character, but both have +a definite purpose in the inculcation of certain moral or philosophical +truths. The story of _The Last Man_ is purely romantic and imaginary, +probabilities and possibilities being entirely discarded. Its supposed +events take place in the twenty-first century of our era, when a devouring +plague depopulates by degrees the whole world, until the narrator remains, +to his own belief, the only surviving soul. At the book's conclusion he is +left, in a little boat, coasting around the shores of the sea-washed +countries of the Mediterranean, with the forlorn hope of finding a +companion solitary. He writes the history of his fate and that of his race +on the leaves of trees,--supposed to be discovered and deciphered long +afterwards in the Sibyl's Cave at Baiae,--the world having been (as we +must infer) repeopled by that time. It is not difficult to understand the +kind of fascination this curious, mournful fancy had for Mary in her +solitude. Much other matter is, of course, interwoven with the leading +idea. The characteristics of the hero, Adrian, his benevolence of heart, +his winning aspect, his passion of justice and self-devotion, and his +fervent faith in the possibilities of human nature and the future of the +human race, are unmistakably sketched from Shelley, and the portrait was +at once recognised by Shelley's earliest friend, the value of whose +appreciation was, if anything, enhanced by the fact of the great +unlikeness between his temperament and Shelley's. + + T. J. HOGG TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + YORK, _22d March 1826_. + + MY DEAR MARY--As I am about to send a frank to dearest Jane, I enclose + a note to you to thank you for the pleasure you have given me. I read + your _Last Man_ with an intense interest and not without tears. I + began it at Stamford yesterday morning as soon as it was light; I read + on all day, even during the short time that was allowed us for dinner, + and, if I had not finished it before it was dark, I verily believe + that I should have bought a candle and held it in my hand in the mail. + I think that it is a decided improvement, and that the character of + Adrian is most happy and most just.--I am, dear Mary, yours ever + faithfully, + + T. J. HOGG. + +The appearance of Mary's novel had for its practical consequence the +stoppage of her supplies. The book was published anonymously, as "by the +author of _Frankenstein_," but Mrs. Shelley's name found its way into some +newspaper notices, and this misdemeanour (for which she was not +responsible) was promptly punished by the suspension of her allowance. +Peacock's good offices were again in request, to try and avert this +misfortune, but it was not at once that he prevailed. He impressed on +Whitton (the solicitor) that the name did not appear in the title-page, +and that its being brought forward at all was the fault of the publisher +and quite contrary to the wishes of the writer, who, solitary and +despondent, could not be reasonably condemned for employing her time +according to her tastes and talents, with a view to bettering her +condition. This Whitton acknowledged, but said, "the name was the matter; +it annoyed Sir Timothy." He would promise nothing, and Peacock could only +assure Mary that he felt little doubt of her getting the money at last, +though she might be punished by a short delay. + +It may be assumed that this turned out so. Late in the year, however, +another turn was given to Mary's affairs by the death of Shelley's eldest +boy. + + _Journal, September 1826._--Charles Shelley died during this month. + Percy is now Shelley's only son. + +Mary's son being now direct heir to the estates, and her own prospects +being materially improved by this fact, she at once thought of others +whom Shelley had meant to benefit by his will, and who, she was resolved, +should not be losers by his early death, if she lived to carry out for him +his unwritten intentions. She did not think, when she wrote to Leigh Hunt +the letter which follows, that nearly twenty years more would elapse +before the will could take effect. + + MARY SHELLEY TO LEIGH HUNT. + + 5 BARTHOLOMEW PLACE, KENTISH TOWN, + _30th October 1826_. + + MY DEAR HUNT--Is it, or is it not, right that these few lines should + be addressed to you now? Yet if the subject be one that you may judge + better to have been deferred, set my _delay_ down to the account of + over-zeal in writing to relieve you from a part of the care which I + know is just now oppressing you; too happy I shall be if you permit + any act of mine to have that effect. + + I told you long ago that our dear Shelley intended on rewriting his + will to have left you a legacy. I think the sum mentioned was £2000. I + trust that hereafter you will not refuse to consider me your debtor + for this sum merely because I shall be bound to pay it you by the laws + of honour instead of a legal obligation. You would, of course, have + been better pleased to have received it immediately from dear + Shelley's bequest; but as it is well known that he intended to make + such an one, it is in fact the same thing, and so I hope by you to be + considered; besides, your kind heart will receive pleasure from the + knowledge that you are bestowing on me the greatest pleasure I am + capable of receiving. This is no resolution of to-day, but formed from + the moment I knew my situation to be such as it is. I did not mention + it, because it seemed almost like an empty vaunt to talk and resolve + on things so far off. But futurity approaches, and a feeling haunts me + as if this futurity were not far distant. I have spoken vaguely to + you on this subject before, but now, you having had a recent + disappointment, I have thought it as well to inform you in express + terms of the meaning I attached to my expressions. I have as yet made + no will, but in the meantime, if I should chance to die, this present + writing may serve as a legal document to prove that I give and + bequeath to you the sum of £2000 sterling. But I hope we shall both + live, I to acknowledge dear Shelley's intentions, you to honour me so + far as to permit me to be their executor. + + I have mentioned this subject to no one, and do not intend; an act is + not aided by words, especially an act unfulfilled, nor does this + letter, methinks, require any answer, at least not till after the + death of Sir Timothy Shelley, when perhaps this explanation would have + come with better grace; but I trust to your kindness to put my writing + now to a good motive.--I am, my dear Hunt, yours affectionately and + obliged, + + MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY. + +It was admitted by the Shelley family that, Percy being now the heir, some +sort of settlement should be made for his mother, yet for some months +longer nothing was done or arranged. Apparently Mary wrote to Trelawny in +low spirits, and to judge from his reply, her letter found him in little +better plight than herself. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + ZANTE, _16th December 1826_. + + DEAR MARY--I received your letter the other day, and nothing gives me + greater pleasure than to hear from you, for however assured we are of + a friend's durability of affection, it is soothing to be occasionally + reassured of it. I sympathise in your distresses. I have mine, too, on + the same score--a bountiful will and confined means are a curse, and + often have I execrated my fortunes so ill corresponding with my + wishes. But who can control his fate? Old age and poverty is a + frightful prospect; it makes the heart sick to contemplate, even in + the mind's eye the reality would wring a generous nature till the + heart burst. Poverty is the vampyre which lives on human blood, and + haunts its victims to destruction. Hell can fable no torment exceeding + it, and all the other calamities of human life--wars, pestilence, + fire--cannot compete with it. It is the climax of human ill. You may + be certain that I could not write thus on what I did not feel. I am + glad you say you have better hopes; when things are at the worst, they + say, there is hope. So do I hope. Lord Cochrane and his naval + expedition having so long and unaccountably been kept back, delayed me + here from month to month till the winter has definitively set in, and + I am in no state for a winter's voyage; my body is no longer + weatherproof. But I must as soon as possible get to England, though my + residence there will be transitory. I shall then most probably hurry + on to Italy. + + The frigate from America is at last arrived in Greece, but whether + Cochrane is on board of her I know not. With the loss of my friend + Odysseus, my enthusiasm has somewhat abated; besides that I could no + longer act with the prospect of doing service, and toiling in vain is + heartless work. But have I not done so all my life? The affairs of + Greece are so bad that little can be done to make them worse. If + Cochrane comes, and is supported with means sufficient, there is still + room for hope. I am in too melancholy a mood to say more than that, + whatever becomes of me.--I am always your true and affectionate + + E. TRELAWNY. + +Mary answered him at once, doing and saying, to console him, all that +friendship could. + + KENTISH TOWN, _4th March 1827_. + + [Direct me at W. Godwin, Esq., 44 Gower Place, Gower Street, London.] + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--Your long silence had instilled into me the delusive + hope that I should hear you sooner than from you. I have been silly + enough sometimes to start at a knock,--at length your letter is come. + [By] that indeed I entertain more reasonable hopes of seeing you. You + will come--Ah, indeed you must; if you are ever the kind-hearted being + you were--you must come to be consoled by my sympathy, exhilarated by + my encouragements, and made happy by my friendship. You are not happy! + Alas! who is that has a noble and generous nature? It is not only, my + noble-hearted friend, that your will is bountiful and your means + small,--were you richer you would still be tormented by ingratitude, + caprice, and change. Yet I say Amen to all your anathema against + poverty, it is beyond measure a torment and despair. I am poor, having + once been richer; I live among the needy, and see only poverty around. + I happen, as has always been my fate, to have formed intimate + friendships with those who are great of soul, generous, and incapable + of valuing money except for the good it may do--and these very people + are all even poorer than myself, is it not hard? But turning to you + who are dearest to me, who of all beings are most liberal, it makes me + truly unhappy to find that you are hard pressed: do not talk of old + age and poverty, both the one and the other are in truth far from + you,--for the one it will be a miracle if you live to grow old,--this + would appear a strange compliment if addressed to another, but you and + I have too much of the pure spirit of fire in our souls to wish to + live till the flickering beam waxes dim;--think then of the few + present years only. I have no doubt you will do your fortunes great + good by coming to this country. A too long absence destroys the + interest that friends take, if they are only friends in the common + acceptation of the word; and your relations ought to be reminded of + you. The great fault to us in this country is its expensiveness, and + the dreadful ills attendant here on poverty; elsewhere, though poor, + you may live--here you are actually driven from life, and though a few + might pity, none would help you were you absolutely starving. You say + you shall stay here but a short time and then go to Italy--alas! alas! + + It is impossible in a letter to communicate the exact state of one's + feelings and affairs here--but there is a change at hand--I cannot + guess whether for good or bad as far as regards me. This winter, whose + extreme severity has carried off many old people, confined Sir Tim. + for ten weeks by the gout--but he is recovered. All that time a + settlement for me was delayed, although it was acknowledged that Percy + now being the heir, one ought to be made; at length after much + parading, they have notified to me that I shall receive a magnificent + £250 a year, to be increased next year to £300. But then I am not + permitted to leave this cloudy nook. My desire to get away is + unchanged, and I used to look forward to your return as a period when + I might contrive--but I fear there is no hope for me during Sir T.'s + life. He and his family are now at Brighton. John Shelley, dear S.'s + brother, is about to marry, and talks of calling upon me. I am often + led to reflect in life how people situated in a certain manner with + regard to me might make my life less drear than it is--but it is + always the case that the people that might--won't, and it is a very + great mistake to fancy that they will. Such thoughts make me anxious + to draw tighter the cords of sympathy and friendship which are so much + more real than those of the world's forming in the way of relationship + or connection. + + From the ends of the world we were brought together to be friends till + death; separated as we are, this tie still subsists. I do not wonder + that you are out of heart concerning Greece; the mismanagement here is + not less than the misgovernment there, the discord the same, save that + here ink is spilt instead of blood. Lord Cochrane alone can assist + them--but without vessels or money how can he acquire sufficient + power? at any rate except as the Captain of a vessel I do not see what + good you can do them. But the mischief is this,--that while some cold, + unimpressive natures can go to a new country, reside among a few + friends, enter into the interests of an intimate and live as a brother + among them for a time, and then depart, leaving small trace, retaining + none,--as if they had ascended from a bath, they change their garments + and pass on;--while others of subtler nature receive into their very + essences a part of those with whom they associate, and after a while + they become enchained, either for better or worse, and during a series + of years they bear the marks of change and attachment. These natures + indeed are the purest and best, and of such are you, dear friend; + having you once, I ever have you; losing you once, I have lost you for + ever; a riddle this, but true. And so life passes, year is added to + year, the word youth is becoming obsolete, while years bring me no + change for the better. Yet I said, change is at hand--I know it, + though as yet I do not feel it--you will come, in the spring you will + come and add fresh delight for me to the happy change from winter to + summer. I cannot tell what else material is to change, but I feel sure + the year will end differently from its beginning. Jane is quite well, + we talk continually of you, and expect you anxiously. Her fortunes + have been more shifting than mine, and they are about to + conclude,--differently from mine,--but I leave her to say what she + thinks best concerning herself, though probably she will defer the + explanation until your arrival. She is my joy and consolation. I could + never have survived my exile here but for her. Her amiable temper, + cheerfulness, and never ceasing sympathy are all so much necessary + value for one wounded and lost as I. + + Come, dear friend, again I read your melancholy sentences and I say, + come! let us try if we can work out good from ill; if I may not be + able to throw a ray of sunshine on your path, at least I will lead you + as best I may through the gloom. Believe me that all that belongs to + you must be dear to me, and that I shall never forget all I owe to + you. + + Do you remember those pretty lines of Burns?-- + + A monarch may forget his crown + That on his head an hour hath been, + A bridegroom may forget his bride + Who was his wedded wife yest'reen, + A mother may forget her child + That smiles so sweetly on her knee, + But I'll remember thee, dear friend, + And all that thou hast done for me. + + Such feelings are not the growth of the moment. They must have lived + for years--have flourished in smiles, and retained their freshness + watered by tears; to feel them one must have sailed much of life's + voyage together--have undergone the same perils, and sympathised in + the same fears and griefs; such is our situation; and the heartfelt + and deep-rooted sentiments fill my eyes with tears as I think of you, + dear friend, we shall meet soon. Adieu, + + M. S. + + ... I cannot close this letter without saying a word about dear + Hunt--yet that must be melancholy. To feed nine children is no small + thing. His health has borne up pretty well hitherto, though his + spirits sink. What is it in the soil of this green earth that is so + ill adapted to the best of its sons? He speaks often of you with + affection. + + To Edward Trelawny, Esq., + To the care of Samuel Barff, Esq., + Zante, The Ionian Isles. + + Seal--Judgment of Paris. + Endorsed--Received 10th April 1827. + +Change was indeed at hand, though not of a kind that Mary could have +anticipated. The only event in prospect likely to affect her much was a +step shortly to be taken by Mrs. Williams. That intended step, vaguely +foreshadowed in Jane's correspondence, aroused the liveliest curiosity in +Clare Clairmont, as was natural. + + MISS CLAIRMONT TO MRS. WILLIAMS. + + MY DEAREST JANE--If I have not written to you before, it is owing to + low spirits. I have not been able to take the pen, because it would + have been dipped in too black a melancholy. I am tired of being in + trouble, particularly as it goes on augmenting every day. I have had a + hard struggle with myself lately to get over the temptation I had to + lay down the burthen at once, and be free as spirits are, and leave + this horrid world behind me. In order to let you understand what now + oppresses me, I must tell you my history since I came to Moscow. I + came here quite unknown. I was at first ill treated on that account, + but I soon acquired a great reputation, because all my pupils made + much more progress in whatever they undertook than those of other + people. I had few acquaintances among the English; to these I had + never mentioned a single circumstance of myself or fortunes, but took + care, on the contrary, to appear content and happy, as if I had never + known or seen any other society all my days. I sent you a letter by + Miss F., because I knew your name would excite no suspicions; but it + seems my mother got hold of Miss F., sought her out, and has thereby + done me a most incalculable mischief. Miss F. came back full of my + story here, and though she is very friendly to me, yet others who are + not so have already done me injury. The Professor at the University + here is a man of a good deal of talent, and was in close connection + with Lockhart, the son-in-law of Sir Walter Scott, and all that party; + he has a great deal of friendship for me, because, as he says, very + truly, I am the only person here besides himself who knows how to + speak English. He professes the most rigid principles, and is come to + that age when it is useless to endeavour to change them. I, however, + took care not to get upon the subject of principles, and so he was of + infinite use to me both by counselling and by protecting me with the + weight of his high approbation. You may imagine this man's horror when + he heard who I was; that the charming Miss Clairmont, the model of + good sense, accomplishments, and good taste, was brought, issued from + the very den of freethinkers. I see that he is in a complete puzzle on + my account; he cannot explain to himself how I can be so extremely + delightful, and yet so detestable. The inveteracy of his objections is + shaken. This, however, has not hindered him from doing me serious + mischief. I was to have undertaken this winter the education of an + only daughter, the child of a very rich family where the Professor + reigns despotic, because he always settles every little dispute with + some unintelligible quotation or reference to a Latin or Greek author. + I am extremely interested in the child, he used to say, and no one can + give her the education she ought to have but Miss Clairmont. The + father and the mother have been running after me these years to + persuade me to enter when the child should be old enough. I consented, + when now, all is broken off, because the scruples of my professor do + not allow of it. God knows, he says, what Godwinish principles she + might not instil. You may, therefore, think how teased I have been; + more so from the uncertainty of my position, as I do not know how far + this may extend. If this is only the beginning, what may be the end? I + am not angry with this man, he only acts according to his conscience; + nor am I surprised. I shall never cease feeling and thinking that if I + had my choice, I had rather a thousand times have a child of mine + resigned to an early grave, and lost for ever to me, than have it + brought up in principles I abhor. If you ask me what I shall do, I can + only answer you as did the Princess Mentimiletto, when buried under + the ruins of her villa by an earthquake, "I await my fate in silence." + In the meantime, while the page of fate is unrolling, I feel a secret + agitation which consumes me, the more so for being repressed. I am + fallen again into a bad state of health, but this is habitual to me + upon the recurrence of winter. What torments me the most is the + restraint I am under of always appearing gay in society, which I am + obliged to do to avoid their odious curiosity. Farewell awhile dismay + and terror, and let us turn to love and happiness. Never was + astonishment greater than mine on receiving your letter. I had somehow + imagined to myself that you never would love again, and you may say + what you like, dearest Jane, you won't drive that out of my head. + "Blue Bag" may be a friend to you, but he never can be a lover. A + happy attachment that has seen its end leaves a void that nothing can + fill up; therefore I counsel the timorous and the prudent to take the + greatest care always to have an unhappy attachment, because with it + you can veer about like a weathercock to every point of life. What + would I not give to have an unhappy passion, for then one has full + permission and a perfect excuse to fall into a happy one; one has + something to expect, but a _happy passion_, like death, has _finis_ + written in such large characters in its face there is no hoping for + any possibility of a change. You will allow me to talk upon this + subject, for I am unhappily the victim of a _happy passion_. I had + one; like all things perfect in its kind, it was fleeting, and mine + only lasted ten minutes, but these ten minutes have discomposed the + rest of my life. The passion, God knows for what cause, from no faults + of mine, however, disappeared, leaving no trace whatever behind it + except my heart wasted and ruined as if it had been scorched by a + thousand lightnings. You will therefore, I hope, excuse my not + following the advice you give me in your last letter, of falling in + love, and you will readily believe me when I tell you that I am not in + love, as you suspected, with my German friend Hermann. He went away + last spring for five years to the country. I have a great friendship + for him, because he has the most ardent love of all that is good and + beautiful of any one I know. I feel interested for his happiness and + welfare, but he is not the being who could make life feel less a + burthen to me than it does. It would, however, seem that you are a + little happier than you were, therefore I congratulate you on this + change of life. I am delighted that you have some one to watch over + you and guard you from the storms of life. Do pray tell me Blue Bag's + name, (for what is a man without a name?), or else I shall get into + the habit of thinking of him as Blue Bag, and never be able to divest + myself of this disagreeable association all my life. You say Trelawny + is coming home, but you have said so so long, I begin to doubt it. If + he does come, how happy you will be to see him. Happy girl! you have a + great many happinesses. I have written to him many times, but he never + answers my letters; I suppose he does not wish to keep up the + correspondence, and so I have left off. If he comes home I am sure he + will fall ill, because the change of climate is most pernicious to the + health. The first winter I passed in Russia I thought I should have + died, but then a good deal was caused by extreme anxiety. So take care + of Trelawny, and do not let him get his feet wet. You ask me to tell + you every particular of my way of life. For these last six months I + have been tormented to death; I am shut up with five hateful children; + they keep me in a fever from morning till night. If they fall into + their father's or mother's way, and are troublesome, they are whipped; + but the instant they are with me, which is pretty nearly all the day, + they give way to all their violence and love of mischief, because they + are not afraid of my mild disposition. They go on just like people in + a public-house, abusing one another with the most horrid names and + fighting; if I separate them, then they roll on the ground, shrieking + that I have broken their arm, or pretend to fall into convulsions, and + I am such a fool I am frightened. In short, I never saw the evil + spirit so plainly developed. What is worse, I cannot seriously be + angry with them, for I do not know how they can be otherwise with the + education they receive. Everything is a crime; they may neither jump, + nor run, nor laugh. It is now two months they have never been out of + the house, and the only thing they are indulged in is in eating, + drinking, and sleeping, so that I look upon their defects as + proceeding entirely from the pernicious lives they lead. This is a + pretty just picture of all Russian children, because the Russians are + as yet totally ignorant of anything like real education. You may, + therefore, imagine what a life I have been leading. In the summer, and + we had an Italian one, I bore up very well, because we were often in + the garden, but since the return of winter, which always makes me ill, + and their added tiresomeness, I am quite overpowered. The whole winter + long I have a fever, which comes on every evening, and prevents my + sleeping the whole night; sometimes it leaves me for a fortnight, but + then it begins again, but in summer I am as strong and healthy as + possible. The approach of winter fills me with horror, because I know + I have eight long months of suffering and sickness. The only amusement + I have is Sunday evening, to see Miss F. and some others like her, and + the only subject of conversation is to laugh at the Russians, or + dress. My God, what a life! But complaint is useless, and therefore I + shall not indulge in it. I have said, so as those I love live, I will + bear all without a murmur. If ever I am independent, I will instantly + retire to some solitude; I will see no one, not even you nor Mary, and + there I will live until the horrible disgust I feel at all that is + human be somewhat removed by quiet and retirement. My heart is too + full of hatred to be fit for society in its present mood. I am very + sorry for the death of little Charles. The chances for succession are + now so equally balanced--the life of an old man and the life of _one_ + young child--that I confess I see less hope than ever of the will's + taking effect. It is frightful for the despairing to have their hopes + suspended thus upon a single hair. Pray do not forget to write to me + when Trelawny is come. How glad I shall be to know he is in England, + and yet how frightened for fear he should catch cold. I wish you would + tell me how you occupy your days; at what hour you do this, and at + what hour that. From 11 till 4 I teach my children, then we dine; at 5 + we rise from the table. They have half an hour's dawdling, for play it + cannot be called, as they are in the drawing-room, and then they learn + two hours more. At 8 we drink tea, and then they go to bed, which is + never over till 11, because all must have their hair curled, which + takes up an enormous time. + + Since I have written the first part of my letter I have thought over + my affairs. I must go to Petersburgh, because it is quite another town + from Moscow, and being so much more foreign in their manners and ways + of thinking, I shall be less tormented. I have decided to go, + therefore I wish you very much to endeavour to procure me letters of + introduction. If Trelawny comes home, beg him to do so for me, + because, as he will be much in fashion, some of the numerous dear + female friends he will instantly have will do it for him. If I could + have a letter of recommendation, not a letter of introduction, to the + English ambassador or his wife, I should be able to get over the + difficulties which now beset my passage. Do think of this, Jane. My + head is so completely giddy from worry and torment, that I am unable + to think upon my own affairs; only this I know, that I am in a + tottering situation. It is absolutely necessary that I should have + letters of recommendation, and to people high in the world at + Petersburgh, because it is very common in Russia for adventurers, such + as opera dancers too old to dance any more, and milliners, and that + class of women to come here. They are received with open arms by the + Russians, who are very hospitable, and then naturally they betray + themselves by their atrocious conduct, and are thrown off; and I have + known since I have been here several lamentable instances of this, and + I shall be classed with these people if I cannot procure letters to + people whose countenance and protection must refute the possibility of + such a supposition. I must confess to you that my pride never could + stand this, for these adventurers are such detestable people that I + have the utmost horror of them. What a miserable imposture is life, + that such as follow philosophy, nature and truth, should be classed + with the very refuse of mankind; that people who ought to be cited as + models of virtue and self-sacrifice should be trampled under foot with + the dregs of vice. It was not thus in the time of the Greeks; and this + reflection makes me tired of life, for I might have been understood in + the time of Socrates, but never shall be by the moderns. For this + reason I do not wish to live, as I cannot be understood; in order, + therefore, not to be despised, I must renounce all worldly concerns + whatever. I have long done so, and therefore you will not wonder that + I have long since given my parting look to life. Do not be surprised I + am so dull; I am surrounded by difficulties which I am afraid I never + shall get out of, and after so many years of trouble and anguish it is + natural I should wish it were over. Do not, my dearest Jane, mention + to my mother the harm her indiscretion has done, for though I shall + frankly tell her of it, yet it would wound her if she were to know I + had told you, and there is already so much pain in the world it is + frightful to add ever so little to the stock. You can merely say I + have asked for letters of introduction at Petersburgh. + +From the time of her first arrival in England after Edward's death, Hogg +had been Jane Williams' persistent, devoted, and long-suffering admirer. +Not many months after receiving Clare's letter, she changed her name and +her abode, and was thenceforward known as Mrs. Hogg. Mary's familiar +intercourse with her might, in any case, have been somewhat checked by +this event, but such a change would have been a small matter compared to +the bitter discovery she was soon to make, that, while accepting her +affection, Jane had never really cared for her; that her feeling had been +of the most superficial sort. Once independent of Mary, and under other +protection, she talked away for the benefit and amusement of other +people,--talked of their past life, prating of her power over Shelley and +his devotion to her,--of Mary's gloom during those sad first weeks at +Lerici,--intimating that jealousy of herself was the cause. Stories which +lost nothing in the telling, wherein Jane Williams figured as a good +angel, while Mary Shelley was made to appear in an unfavourable or even an +absurd light. + +Mary had no suspicion, no foreboding of the mine that was preparing to +explode under her feet. She sympathised in her friend's happiness, for +she could not regard it but as happiness for one in Jane's circumstances +to be able to accept the love and protection of a devoted man. She herself +could not do it, but she often felt a wish that she were differently +constituted. She knew it was impossible; but no tinge of envy or +bitterness coloured her words to Trelawny when she wrote to tell him of +Jane's resolution. + + ... This is to be an eventful summer to us. Janey is writing to you + and will tell her own tale best. The person to whom she unites herself + is one of my oldest friends, the early friend of my own Shelley. It + was he who chose to share the honour, as he generously termed it, of + Shelley's expulsion from Oxford. (And yet he is unlike what you may + conceive to be the ideal of the best friend of Shelley.) He is a man + of talent,--of wit,--he has sensibility and even romance in his + disposition, but his exterior is composed and, at a superficial + glance, cold. He has loved Jane devotedly and ardently since she first + arrived in England, almost five years ago. At first she was too + faithfully attached to the memory of Edward, nor was he exactly the + being to satisfy her imagination; but his sincere and long-tried love + has at last gained the day. + + ... Nor will I fear for her in the risk she must run when she confides + her future happiness to another's constancy and good principles. He is + a man of honour, he longs for home, for domestic life, and he well + knows that none could make such so happy as Jane. He is liberal in his + opinions, constant in his attachments, if she is happy with him now + she will be always.... Of course after all that has passed it is our + wish that all this shall be as little talked of as possible, the + obscurity in which we have lived favours this. We shall remove hence + during the summer, for of course we shall still continue near each + other. I, as ever, must derive my only pleasure and solace from her + society. + +Before the summer of 1827 was over the cloud burst. + +Mary's journal in June is less mournful than usual. Congenial society +always had the power of cheering her and making her forget herself. And in +her acquaintance with Thomas Moore she found a novelty which yet was akin +to past enjoyment. + + _Journal, June 26_ (1827).--I have just made acquaintance with Tom + Moore. He reminds me delightfully of the past, and I like him much. + There is something warm and genuine in his feelings and manner which + is very attractive, and redeems him from the sin of worldliness with + which he has been charged. + + _July 2._--Moore breakfasted with me on Sunday. We talked of past + times,--of Shelley and Lord Byron. He was very agreeable, and I never + felt myself so perfectly at my ease with any one. I do not know why + this is; he seems to understand and to like me. This is a new and + unexpected pleasure. I have been so long exiled from the style of + society in which I spent the better part of my life; it is an + evanescent pleasure, but I will enjoy it while I can. + + _July 11._--Moore has left town; his singing is something new and + strange and beautiful. I have enjoyed his visits, and spent several + happy hours in his society. That is much. + + _July 13._--My friend has proved false and treacherous! Miserable + discovery. For four years I was devoted to her, and earned only + ingratitude. Not for worlds would I attempt to transfer the deathly + blackness of my meditations to these pages. Let no trace remain save + the deep, bleeding, hidden wound of my lost heart of such a tale of + horror and despair. Writing, study, quiet, such remedies I must seek. + What deadly cold flows through my veins! My head weighed down; my + limbs sink under me. I start at every sound as the messenger of fresh + misery, and despair invests my soul with trembling horror. + + _October 9._--Quanto bene mi rammento sette anni fa, in questa + medesima stagione i pensieri, I sentimenti del mio cuore! Allora + cominciai Valperga--allora sola col mio Bene fui felice. Allora le + nuvole furono spinte dal furioso vento davanti alla luna, nuvole + magnifiche, che in forme grandiose e bianche parevano stabili quanto + le montagne e sotto la tirannia del vento si mostravano piu fragili + che un velo di seta minutissima, scendeva allor la pioggia, gli albori + si spogliavano. Autunno bello fosti allora, ed ora bello terribile, + malinconico ci sei, ed io, dove sono? + +By those who hold their hearts safe at home in their own keeping, these +little breezes are called "storms in tea-cups." The matter was of no +importance to any one but Mary. The aspect of her outward life was +unchanged by this heart-shipwreck over which the world's waves closed and +left no sign. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +JULY 1827-AUGUST 1830 + + +Many weary months passed away. Mary said nothing to the shallow-hearted +woman who had so grievously injured her. Jane had been so dear to her, and +was so inextricably bound up with a beloved past, that she shrank from +disturbing the superficial friendship which she nevertheless knew to be +hollow. + +To one of Mary's temperament there was actual danger in living alone with +such a sorrow, and it was a happy thing when, in August, an unforeseen +distraction occurred to compel her thoughts into a new channel. She +received from an unknown correspondent a letter, resulting in an +acquaintance which, though it passed out of her life without leaving any +permanent mark, was, at the time, not unfruitful of interest. + +The letter was as follows-- + + FRANCES WRIGHT TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + PARIS, _22d August 1827_. + + I shall preface this letter with no apology; the motive which + dictates it will furnish, as I trust, a sufficient introduction both + for it and its writer. As the daughter of your father and mother + (known to me only by their works and opinions), as the friend and + companion of a man distinguished during life, and preserved in the + remembrance of the public as one distinguished not by genius merely, + but, as I imagine, by the strength of his opinions and his + fearlessness in their expression;--viewed only in these relations you + would be to me an object of interest and--permit the word, for I use + it in no vulgar sense--of curiosity. But I have heard (vaguely indeed, + for I have not even the advantage of knowing one who claims your + personal acquaintance, nor have I, in my active pursuits and + engagements in distant countries, had occasion to peruse your works), + yet I have heard, or read, or both, that which has fostered the belief + that you share at once the sentiments and talents of those from whom + you drew your being. If you possess the opinions of your father and + the generous feelings of your mother, I feel that I could travel far + to see you. It is rare in this world, especially in our sex, to meet + with those opinions united with those feelings, and with the manners + and disposition calculated to command respect and conciliate + affection. It is so rare, that to obtain the knowledge of such might + well authorise a more abrupt intrusion than one by letter; but, + pledged as I am to the cause of what appears to me moral truth and + moral liberty, that I (should) neglect any means for discovering a + real friend of that cause, I were almost failing to a duty. + + In thus addressing my inquiries respecting you to yourself, it were + perhaps fitting that I should enter into some explanations respecting + my own views and the objects which have fixed my attention. I + conceive, however, the very motive of this letter as herein explained, + with the printed paper I shall enclose with it, will supply a + sufficient assurance of the heterodoxy of my opinions and the nature + of my exertions for their support and furtherance. It will be + necessary to explain, however, what will strike you but indistinctly + in the deed of Nashoba, that the object of the experiment has in view + an association based on those principles of moral liberty and + equality heretofore advocated by your father. That these principles + form its base and its cement, and that while we endeavour to undermine + the slavery of colour existing in the North American Republic, we + essay equally to destroy the slavery of mind now reigning there as in + other countries. With one nation we find the aristocracy of colour, + with another that of rank, with all perhaps those of wealth, + instruction, and sex. + + Our circle already comprises a few united co-operators, whose choice + of associates will be guided by their moral fitness only; saving that, + for the protection and support of all, each must be fitted to exercise + some useful employment, or to supply 200 dollars per annum as an + equivalent for their support. The present generation will in all + probability supply but a limited number of individuals suited in + opinion and disposition to such a state of society; but that that + number, however limited, may best find their happiness and best + exercise their utility by uniting their interests, their society, and + their talents, I feel a conviction. In this conviction I have devoted + my time and fortune to laying the foundations of an establishment + where affection shall form the only marriage, kind feeling and kind + action the only religion, respect for the feelings and liberties of + others to the only restraint, and union of interest the bond of peace + and security. With the protection of the negro in view, whose cruel + sufferings and degradation had attracted my special sympathy, it was + necessary to seek the land of his bondage, to study his condition and + imagine a means for effecting his liberation; with the emancipation of + the human mind in view, from the shackles of moral and religious + superstition, it was necessary to seek a country where political + institutions should allow free scope for experiment; and with a + practice in view in opposition to all the laws of public opinion, it + was necessary to seek the seclusion of a new country, and build up a + city of refuge in the wilderness itself. Youth, a good constitution, + and a fixed purpose enabled me to surmount the fatigues, difficulties, + and privations of the necessary journeys, and the first opening of a + settlement in the American forests. Fifteen months have placed the + establishment in a fair way of progress, in the hands of united and + firm associates, comprising a family of colour from New Orleans. As + might be expected, my health gave way under the continued fatigues of + mind and body [incidental] to the first twelvemonth. A brain fever, + followed by a variety of sufferings, seemed to point to a sea-voyage + as the only chance of recovery. Accordingly I left Nashoba in May + last, was placed on board a steamboat on the Mississippi for Orleans, + then on board a vessel for Havre, and landed in fifty days almost + restored to health. I am now in an advanced state of convalescence, + but still obliged to avoid fatigue either bodily or mental. The + approaching marriage of a dear friend also retains me in Paris, and as + I shall return by way of New Orleans to my forest home in the month of + November, or December, I do not expect to visit London. The bearer of + this letter, should he, as I trust, be able to deliver it, will be + able to furnish any intelligence you may desire respecting Nashoba and + its inhabitants. In the name of Robert Dale Owen you will recognise + one of the trustees, and a son of Robert Owen of Lanark. + + Whatever be the fate of this letter, I wish to convey to Mary + Wollstonecraft Godwin Shelley my respect and admiration of those from + whom she holds those names, and my fond desire to connect her with + them in my esteem, and in the knowledge of mutual sympathy to sign + myself her friend, + + FRANCES WRIGHT. + + My address while in Europe--Aux soins du General Lafayette, Rue + d'Anjou, and 7 St. Honoré, ą Paris. + +The bearer of this letter would seem to have been Robert Dale Owen +himself. His name must have recalled to Mary's mind the letter she had +received at Geneva, long, long ago, from poor Fanny, describing and +commenting on the schemes for social regeneration of his father, Robert +Owen. + +Mary Shelley's feeling towards Frances Wright's schemes in 1827 may have +been accurately expressed by Fanny Godwin's words in 1816. + + ... "The outline of his plan is this: 'That no human being shall work + more than two or three hours every day; that they shall be all equal; + that no one shall dress but after the plainest and simplest manner; + that they be allowed to follow any religion, or no religion, as they + please; and that their studies shall be Mechanics and Chemistry.' I + hate and am sick at heart at the misery I see my fellow-beings + suffering, but I own I should not like to live to see the extinction + of all genius, talent, and elevated generous feeling in Great Britain, + which I conceive to be the natural consequence of Mr. Owen's plan." + +But any plan for human improvement, any unselfish effort to promote the +common weal, commanded the sure sympathy of Shelley's widow and Mary +Wollstonecraft's daughter, whether her judgment accorded perfectly or not +with that of its promoters. She responded warmly to the letter of her +correspondent, who wrote back in almost rapturous terms-- + + FRANCES WRIGHT TO MARY SHELLEY. + + PARIS, _15th September 1827_. + + My Friend, my dear Friend--How sweet are the sentiments with which I + write that sacred word--so often prostituted, so seldom bestowed with + the glow of satisfaction and delight with which I now employ it! Most + surely will I go to England, most surely to Brighton, to wheresoever + you may be. The fond belief of my heart is realised, and more than + realised. You are the daughter of your mother. I opened your letter + with some trepidation, and perused it with more emotion than now suits + my shattered nerves. I have read it again and again, and acknowledge + it before I sleep. Most fully, most deeply does my heart render back + the sympathy yours gives. It fills up the sad history you have + sketched of blighted affections and ruined hopes. I too have suffered, + and we must have done so perhaps to feel for the suffering. We must + have loved and mourned, and felt the chill of disappointment, and + sighed over the moral blank of a heartless world ere we can be moved + to sympathy for calamity, or roused to attempt its alleviation. The + curiosity you express shall be most willingly answered in (as I trust) + our approaching meeting. You will see then that I have greatly pitied + and greatly dared, only because I have greatly suffered and widely + observed. I have sometimes feared lest too early affliction and too + frequent disappointment had blunted my sensibilities, when a + _rencontre_ with some one of the rare beings dropt amid the dull + multitude, like oases in the desert, has refreshed my better feelings, + and reconciled me with others and with myself. That the child of your + parents should be one among these sweet visitants is greatly soothing + and greatly inspiring. But have we only discovered each other to + lament that we are not united? I cannot, will not think it. When we + meet,--and meet we must, and I hope soon,--how eagerly, and yet + tremblingly, shall I inquire into all the circumstances likely to + favour an approach in our destinies. I am now on the eve of separation + from a beloved friend, whom marriage is about to remove to Germany, + while I run back to my forests. And I must return without a bosom + intimate? Yes; our little circle has mind, has heart, has right + opinions, right feelings, co-operates in an experiment having in view + human happiness, yet I do want one of my own sex to commune with, and + sometimes to lean upon in all the confidence of equality of + friendship. You see I am not so disinterested as you suppose. + Delightful indeed it is to aid the progress of human improvement, and + sweet is the peace we derive from aiding the happiness of others. But + still the heart craves something more ere it can say--I am satisfied. + + I must tell, not write, of the hopes of Nashoba, and of all your + sympathising heart wishes to hear. On the 28th instant I shall be in + London, where I must pass some days with a friend about to sail for + Madeira. Then, unless you should come to London, I will seek you at + Brighton, Arundel, anywhere you may name. Let me find directions from + you. I will not say, use no ceremony with me--none can ever enter + between us. Our intercourse begins in the confidence, if not in the + fulness of friendship. I have not seen you, and yet my heart loves + you. + + I cannot take Brighton in my way; my sweet friend, Julia Garnett, + detaining me here until the latest moment, which may admit of my + reaching London on the 28th. I must not see you in passing. However + short our meeting, it must have some repose in it. The feelings which + draw me towards you have in them I know not what of respect, of + pitying sympathy, of expectation, and of tenderness. They must steal + some quiet undivided hours from the short space I have yet to pass in + Europe. Tell me when they shall be, and where. I expect to sail for + America with Mr. Owen and his family early in November, and may leave + London to visit a maternal friend in the north of England towards the + 20th of October. Direct to me to the care of Mr. Robert Bayley, 4 + Basinghall Street, London. + + Permit me the assurance of my respect and affection, and accord me the + title, as I feel the sentiments, of a friend, + + FRANCES WRIGHT. + +Circumstances conspired to postpone the desired meeting for some weeks, +but the following extract from another letter of Fanny Wright's shows how +friendly was the correspondence. + + Yes, I do "understand the happiness flowing from confidence and entire + sympathy, independent of worldly circumstances." I know the latter + compared to the former are nothing. + + A delicate nursling of European luxury and aristocracy, I thought and + felt for myself, and for martyrised humankind, and have preferred all + hazards, all privations in the forests of the New World to the + dear-bought comforts of miscalled civilisation. I have made the hard + earth my bed, the saddle of my horse my pillow, and have staked my + life and fortune on an experiment having in view moral liberty and + human improvement. Many of course think me mad, and if to be mad mean + to be one of a minority, I am so, and very mad indeed, for our + minority is very small. Should that few succeed in mastering the first + difficulties, weaker spirits, though often not less amiable, may carry + forward the good work. But the fewer we are who now think alike, the + more we are of value to each other. To know you, therefore, is a + strong desire of my heart, and all things consistent with my + engagements (which I may call duties, since they are connected with + the work I have in hand) will I do to facilitate our meeting. + +Soon after this Mary made Frances Wright's acquaintance, and heard from +herself all the story of her stirring life. She was not of American, but +of Scottish birth (Dundee), and had been very early left an orphan. Her +father had been a man of great ability and culture, of advanced liberal +opinions, and independent fortune. Fanny had been educated in England by a +maternal aunt, and in 1818, when twenty-three years of age, had gone with +her younger sister to the United States. Since that time her life had been +as adventurous as it was independent. Enthusiastic, original, and +handsome, she found friends and adherents wherever she went. Two years she +spent in the States, where she found sympathy and stimulus for her +speculative energies, and free scope for her untried powers. She had +written a tragedy, forcible and effective, which was published at +Philadelphia and acted at New York. After that she had been three years in +Paris, where she enjoyed the friendship and sympathy of Lafayette and +other liberal leaders. In 1824 she was once more in America, fired with +the idea of solving the slavery question. She purchased a tract of land on +the Nashoba river (Tennessee), and settled negroes there, assuming, in her +impetuosity, that to convert slaves into freemen it was only necessary to +remove their fetters, and that they would soon work out their liberty. She +found out her error. In Shelley's words, slightly varied, "How should +slaves produce anything but idleness, even as the seed produces the +plant?" The slaves, freed from the lash, remained slaves as before, only +they did very little work. Fanny Wright was disappointed; but, as her +letters plainly show, her schemes went much farther than negro +emancipation; she aimed at nothing short of a complete social +reconstruction, to be illustrated on a small scale at the Nashoba +settlement. + +Overwork, exposure to the sun, and continuous excitement, told, at last, +on her constitution. As she informed Mrs. Shelley in her first letter, she +had broken down with brain fever, and, when convalescent, had been ordered +to Europe. + +In Mary Wollstonecraft's daughter she found a friend, hardly an adherent. +Fundamentally, their principles were alike, but their natures were +differently attuned. Neither mentally nor physically had Mary Shelley the +temperament of a revolutionary innovator. She had plenty of moral courage, +but she was too scrupulous, too reflective, and too tender. The cause of +liberty was sacred to her, so long as it bore the fruit of justice, +self-sacrifice, fidelity to duty. Fanny Wright worshipped liberty for its +own sake, confident that every other good would follow it, with the +generous, unpractical certainty of conviction that proceeds as much from a +sanguine disposition as from a set of opinions. Experience and +disappointment have little power over these temperaments, and so they +never grow old--or prudent. It may well be that all the ideas, all the +great changes, in which is summed up the history of progress, have +originated with natures like these. They are the salt of the earth; but +man cannot live by salt alone, and their ideas are carried out for them in +detail, and the actual everyday work of the world is unconsciously +accomplished, by those who, having put their hand to the plough, do not +look back, nor yet far forward. + +Still, it was a remarkable meeting, that of these two women. Fanny Wright +was a person who, once seen, was not easily forgotten. "She was like +Minerva;" such is the recollection of Mrs. Shelley's son. Mrs. Trollope +has described her personal appearance when, three years later, she was +creating a great sensation by lecturing in the chief American cities-- + + She came on the stage surrounded by a bodyguard of Quaker ladies in + the full costume of their sect.... Her tall and majestic figure, the + deep and almost solemn expression of her eyes, the simple contour of + her finely-formed head, her garment of plain white muslin, which hung + around her in folds that recalled the drapery of a Grecian + statue,--all contributed to produce an effect unlike anything that I + had ever seen before, or ever expect to see again. + +On the other hand the following is Robert Dale Owen's sketch of Mary +Shelley. + + ... In person she was of middle height and graceful figure. Her face, + though not regularly beautiful, was comely and spiritual, of winning + expression, and with a look of inborn refinement as well as culture. + It had a touch of sadness when at rest. She impressed me as a person + of warm social feelings, dependent for happiness on living + encouragement, needing a guiding and sustaining hand. + +It is certain that Mary felt a warm interest in her new friend. She made +her acquainted with Godwin, and lost no opportunity of seeing and +communing with her during her stay in England; nor did they part till +Fanny Wright was actually on board ship. + + "Dear love," wrote Fanny, from Torbay, "how your figure lives in my + mind's eye as I saw you borne away from me till I lost sight of your + little back among the shipping!" + +From Nashoba, a few months later, she addressed another letter to Mary, +which, though slightly out of place, is given here. There had, apparently, +been some passing discord between her and the founder of the "New Harmony" +colony.[9] + + FRANCES WRIGHT TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + NASHOBA, _20th March 1828_. + + Very, very welcome was your letter of the 16th November, which awaited + my return from a little excursion down the Mississippi, undertaken + soon after my arrival. Bless your sweet kind heart, my sweet Mary! + Your little enclosure, together with a little billet brought me by + Dale, and which came to the address of Mr. Trollope's chambers just as + he left London, is all the news I have yet received of or from our + knight-errant. Once among Greeks and Turks, correspondence must be + pretty much out of the question, so unless he address to you some more + French compliments from Toulon, I shall not look to hear of him for + some months. Ay, truly, they are incomprehensible animals, these same + _soi-disant_ lords of this poor planet! Like their old progenitor, + Father Adam, they walk about boasting of their wisdom, strength, and + sovereignty, while they have not sense so much as to swallow an apple + without the aid of an Eve to put it down their throats. I thank thee + for thine attempt to cram caution and wisdom into the cranium of my + wandering friend. Thy good offices may afford a chance for his + bringing his head on his shoulders to these forests, which otherwise + would certainly be left on the shores of the Euxine, on the top of + Caucasus, or at the sources of the Nile. + + I wrote thee hastily of my arrival and all our wellbeing in my last, + and of Dale's _amende honorable_, and of Fanny's departure up the + Western waters, nor have I now leisure for details too tedious for the + pen, though so short to give by the tongue. Dale arrived, his sweet + kind heart all unthawed, and truly when he left us for Harmony I think + the very last thin flake of Scotch ice had melted from him. Camilla + and Whitby leave me also in a few days for Harmony, from whence the + latter will probably travel back with Dale, and Whitby go up the Ohio + to engage a mechanic for the building of our houses. I hoped to have + sent you, with this, the last communication of our little knot of + trustees, in which we have stated the modification of our plan which + we have found it advisable to adopt, with the reasons of the same. We + have not been able to get it printed at Memphis, so Dale is to have it + thrown off at Harmony, from whence you will receive it. The substance + of it is, that we have reduced our co-operation to a simple + association, each throwing in from our private funds 100 dollars per + annum for the expenses of the table, including those of the cook, whom + we hire from the Institution, she being one of the slaves gifted to + it. All other expenses regard us individually, and need not amount to + 100 dollars more. Also, each of us builds his house or room, the cost + of which, simple furniture included, does not surpass 500 dollars. The + property of the trust will stand thus free of all burden whatsoever, + to be devoted to the foundation of a school, in which we would fain + attempt a thorough co-operative education, looking only to the next + generation to effect what we in vain attempted ourselves. You see that + the change consists in demanding as a requisite for admission an + independent income of 200 dollars, instead of receiving labour as an + equivalent. + + Yes, dear Mary, I do find the quiet of these forests and our + ill-fenced cabins of rough logs more soothing to the spirit, and now + no less suited to the body than the warm luxurious houses of European + society. Yet that it would be so with you, or to any less broken in by + enthusiastic devotion to human reform and mental liberty than our + little knot of associates, I cannot judge. I now almost forget the + extent of the change made in the last few years in my habits, yet more + than in my views and feelings; but when I recall it, I sometimes doubt + if many could imitate it without feeling the sacrifices almost equal + to the gains; to me sacrifices are nothing. I have not felt them as + such, and now forget that there were any made. + + Farewell, dear Mary. Recall me affectionately and respectfully to the + memory of your Father. You will wear me in your own, I know. Camilla + sends her affectionate wishes.--Yours fondly, + + F. WRIGHT. + +It was probably in connection with Fanny Wright's visit that Mrs. Shelley +had, in October of 1827, contemplated the possibility of a flying trip to +the Continent; an idea which alarmed her father (for his own sake) not a +little, although she had taken care to assure him of her intended speedy +return. He was in as bad a way, financially, and as dependent as ever, but +proud of the fact that he kept up his good spirits through it all, and +sorry for Mary that she could not say as much. + + GODWIN TO MARY. + + GOWER PLACE, _9th October 1827_. + + DEAR MARY--We received your letter yesterday, and I sent you the + _Examiner_. + + Nothing on earth, as you may perceive, could have induced me to break + silence respecting my circumstances, short of your letter of the 1st + instant, announcing a trip to the Continent, without the least hint + when you should return. It seems to me so contrary to the course of + nature that a father should look for supplies to his daughter, that it + is painful to me at any time to think of it. + + You say that [as] you had announced some time ago that you must be in + town in November, I should have inferred that that was irreversible. + All I can answer is, that I did not so infer. + + I called yesterday, agreeably to your suggestion, upon young Evans; + but all I got from him was, that the thing was quite out of his way; + to which he added (and I reproved him for it accordingly) that we had + better go to the Jews. I called on Hodgetts on the 7th of September, + and asked him to lend me £20 or £30. He said, "Would a month hence do? + he could then furnish £20." Last Saturday he supped here, and brought + me £10, adding that was all he could do. I have heard nothing either + from Peacock or from your anonymous friend. I wrote to you, of course, + at Brighton on Saturday (before supper-time), which letter I suppose + you have received. + + How differently you and I are organised. In my seventy-second year I + am all cheerfulness, and never anticipate the evil day (with + distressing feelings) till to do so is absolutely unavoidable. Would + to God you were my daughter in all but my poverty! But I am afraid you + are a Wollstonecraft. We are so curiously made that one atom put in + the wrong place in our original structure will often make us unhappy + for life. But my present cheerfulness is greatly owing to _Cromwell_, + and the nature of my occupation, which gives me an object _omnium + horarum_--a stream for ever running, and for ever new. Do you remember + Denham's verses on the Thames at Cooper's Hill?-- + + Oh! could I flow like thee, and make thy stream + My great example, as it is my theme! + Though deep, yet clear, though gentle, yet not dull; + Strong, without rage; without o'erflowing, full. + + Though I cannot attain this in my _Commonwealth_, you, perhaps, may in + your _Warbeck_. + + May blessings shower on you as fast as the perpendicular rain at this + moment falls by my window! prays your affectionate Father, + + WILLIAM GODWIN. + +During most of this autumn Mrs. Shelley and her boy were staying at +Arundel, in Sussex, with, or in the near neighbourhood of her friends, the +Miss Robinsons. There were several sisters, to one of whom, Julia, Mrs. +Shelley was much attached. + +While at Arundel another letter reached her from Trelawny, who was +contemplating the possibility of a return to England. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + ZANTE, IONIAN ISLANDS, _24th October 1827_. + + DEAREST MARY--I received your letter dated July, and replied to both + you and Hunt; but I was then at Cerigo, and as the communication of + the islands is carried on by a succession of boats, letters are + sometimes lost. I have now your letter from Arundel, 9th September. It + gives me pleasure to hear your anxieties as to money matters are at an + end; it is one weighty misery off your heart. You err most + egregiously if you think I am occupied with women or intrigues, or + that my time passes pleasantly. The reverse of all this is the case; + neither women nor amusements of any sort occupy my time, and a sadder + or more accursed kind of existence I never in all my experience of + life endured, or, I think, fell to the lot of human being. I have been + detained here for these last ten months by a villainous law-suit, + which may yet endure some months longer, and then I shall return to + you as the same unconnected, lone, and wandering vagabond you first + knew me. I have suffered a continual succession of fevers during the + summer; at present they have discontinued their attack; but they have, + added to what I suffered in Greece, cut me damnably, and I fancy now I + must look like an old patriarch who has outlived his generation. I + cannot tell whether to congratulate Jane or not; the foundation she + has built on for happiness implies neither stability nor permanent + security; for a summer bower 'tis well enough to beguile away the + summer months, but for the winter of life I, for my part, should like + something more durable than a fabric made up of vows and promises. Nor + can I say whether it would be wise or beneficial to either should + Clare consent to reside with you in England; in any other country it + might be desirable, but in England it is questionable. + + The only motive which has deterred me from writing to Jane and Clare + is that I have been long sick and ill at ease, daily anticipating my + return to the Continent, and concocting plans whereby I might meet you + all, for one hour after long absence is worth a thousand letters. And + as to my heart, it is pretty much as you left it; no new impressions + have been made on it or earlier affections erased. As we advance in + the stage of life we look back with deeper recollections from where we + first started; at least, I find it so. Since the death of Odysseus, + for whom I had the sincerest friendship, I have felt no private + interest for any individual in this country. The Egyptian fleet, and + part of the Turkish, amounting to some hundred sail, including + transports, have been totally destroyed by the united squadron of + England, France, and Russia in the harbour of Navarino; so we soon + expect to see a portion of Greece wrested from the Turks, and + something definitely arranged for the benefit of the Greeks.--Dearest + Mary, I am ever your + + EDWARD TRELAWNY. + + To Jane and Clare say all that is affectionate from me, and forget not + Leigh Hunt and his Mary Ann. _I_ would write them all, but I am sick + at heart. + +All these months the gnawing sorrow of her friend's faithlessness lay like +an ambush at Mary's heart. In responding to Fanny Wright's overtures of +friendship she had sought a distraction from the bitter thoughts and deep +dejection which had been mainly instrumental in driving her from town. But +in vain, like the hunted hare, she buried her head and hoped to be +forgotten. Slanderous gossip advances like a prairie-fire, laying +everything waste, and defying all attempts to stop or extinguish it. Jane +Williams' stories were repeated, and, very likely, improved upon. They got +known in a certain set. Mary Shelley might still have chosen not to hear +or not to notice, had she been allowed. But who may ignore such things in +peace? As the French dramatist says in _Nos Intimes_, "_Les amis sont +toujours lą_." _Les amis_ are there to enlighten you--if you are +ignorant--as to your enemies in disguise, to save you from illusions, and +to point out to you--should you forget it--the duty of upholding, at any +sacrifice, your own interests and your own dignity. + + _Journal, February 12, 1828._--Moore is in town. By his advice I + disclosed my discoveries to Jane. How strangely are we made! She is + horror-struck and miserable at losing my friendship; and yet how + unpardonably she trifled with my feelings, and made me all falsely a + fable to others. + + The visit of Moore has been an agreeable variety to my monotonous + life. I see few people--Lord Dillon, G. Paul, the Robinsons, _voilą + tout_. + + + MRS. SHELLEY TO MRS. HOGG. + + Since Monday I have been ceaselessly occupied by the scene begun and + interrupted, which filled me with a pain that now thrills me as I + revert to it. I then strove to speak, but your tears overcame me, + whilst the struggle gave me an appearance of coldness. + + If I revert to my devotion to you, it is to prove that no worldly + motives could estrange me from the partner of my miseries. Often, + having you at Kentish Town, I have wept from the overflow of + affection; often thanked God who had given you to me. Could any but + yourself have destroyed such engrossing and passionate love? And what + are the consequences of the change? + + When first I heard that you did not love me, every hope of my life + deserted me. The depression I sank under, and to which I am now a + prey, undermines my health. How many hours this dreary winter I have + paced my solitary room, driven nearly to madness, and I could not + expel from my mind the memories of harrowing import that one after + another intruded themselves! It was not long ago that, eagerly + desiring death, though death should only be oblivion, I thought that + how to purchase oblivion of what was revealed to me last July, a + tortuous death would be a bed of roses. + + * * * * * + + Do not ask me, I beseech you, a detail of the revelations made to + me. Some of those most painful you made to several; others, of less + import, but which tended more, perhaps, than the more important to + show that you loved me not, were made only to two. + + I could not write of these, far less speak of them. If any doubt + remain on your mind as to what I know, write to Isabel,[10] and she + will inform you of the extent of her communication to me. I have been + an altered being since then; long I thought that almost a deathblow + was given, so heavily and unremittingly did the thought press on and + sting me; but one lives on through all to be a wreck. + + Though I was conscious that, having spoken of me as you did, you could + not love me, I could not easily detach myself from the atmosphere of + light and beauty that ever surrounded you. Now I tried to keep you, + feeling the while that I had lost you; but you penetrated the change, + and I owe it to you not to disguise the cause. What will become of us, + my poor girl? + + * * * * * + + This explains my estrangement. While with you I was solely occupied by + endeavouring not to think or feel, for had I done either I should not + have been so calm as I daresay I appeared.... Nothing but my Father + could have drawn me to town again; his claims only prevent me now from + burying myself in the country. I have known no peace since July. I + never expect to know it again. Is it not best, then, that you forget + the unhappy + + M. W. S.? + +We hear no more of this painful episode. It did not put a stop to Jane's +intercourse with Mary. Friendship, in the old sense, could never be. But, +to the end of Mary's life, her letters show the tenderness, the +half-maternal solicitude she ever felt for the companion and sharer of her +deepest affliction. + +Another distraction came to her now in the shape of an invitation to +Paris, which she accepted, although she was feeling far from well, a fact +which she attributed to depression of spirits, but which proved to have +quite another cause. + + _Journal, April 11_ (1828).--I depart for Paris, sick at heart, yet + pining to see my friend (Julia Robinson). + +A lady, an intimate friend of hers at this time, who, in a little book +called _Traits of Character_, has given a very interesting (though, in +some details, inaccurate) sketch of Mary Shelley, says that her visit to +Paris was eagerly looked forward to by many. "Honour to the authoress and +admiration for the woman awaited her." But, directly after her arrival, +she was prostrated on a sick--it was feared, death-bed. Her journal, three +months later, tells the sequel. + + _Journal, July 8, Hastings._--There was a reason for my depression: I + was sickening of the small-pox. I was confined to my bed the moment I + arrived in Paris. The nature of my disorder was concealed from me till + my convalescence, and I am so easily duped. Health, buoyant and + bright, succeeded to my illness. The Parisians were very amiable, and, + a monster to look at as I was, I tried to be agreeable, to compensate + to them. + +The same authoress asserts that neither when she recovered nor ever after +was she in appearance the Mary Shelley of the past. She was not scarred by +the disease ("which in its natural form she had had in childhood"), but +the pearly delicacy and transparency of her skin and the brightness and +luxuriance of her soft hair were grievously dimmed. + + She bore this trial to womanly vanity well and bravely, for she had + that within which passeth show--high intellectual endowments, and, + better still, a true, loving, faithful heart. + +The external effects of her illness must, to a great degree, have +disappeared in course of time, for those who never knew her till some +twenty years later than this revert to their first impression of her in +words almost identical with those used by Christy Baxter when, at ninety +years of age, she described Mary Godwin at fifteen as "white, bright, and +clear." + +If, however, she had any womanly vanity at all, it must have been a trial +to her that, just now, her old friend Trelawny should return for a few +months to England. She did not see him till November, when Clare also +arrived, on a flying visit to her native land. But, before their meeting, +she had received some characteristic letters from Trelawny. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + SOUTHAMPTON, _8th July 1828_. + + DEAR MARY--My moving about and having had much to do must be my excuse + for not writing as often as I should do. That it is but an excuse I + allow; the truth would be better, but who nowadays ever thinks of + speaking truth? The true reason, then, is that I am getting old, and + writing has become irksome. You cannot plead either, so write on, dear + Mary. I love you sincerely, no one better. Time has not quenched the + fire of my nature; my feelings and passions burn fierce as ever, and + will till they have consumed me. I wear the burnished livery of the + sun. + + To whom am I a neighbour? and near whom? I dwell amongst tame and + civilised human beings, with somewhat the same feelings as we may + guess the lion feels when, torn from his native wilderness, he is + tortured into domestic intercourse with what Shakespeare calls "forked + animals," the most abhorrent to his nature. + + You see by this how little my real nature is altered, but now to reply + to yours. I cannot decidedly say or fix a period of our meeting. It + shall be soon, if you stay there, at Hastings; but I have business on + hand I wish to conclude, and now that I can see you when I determine + to do so, I, as you see, postpone the engagement because it is within + my grasp. Such is the perverseness of human nature! Nevertheless, I + will write, and I pray you to do so likewise. You are my dear and long + true friend, and as such I love you.--Yours, dear, + + TRELAWNY. + + I shall remain ten or twelve days here, so address Southampton; it is + enough. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + TREWITHEN, _September 1828_. + + DEAR MARY--I really do not know why I am everlastingly boring you with + letters. Perhaps it is to prevent you forgetting me; or to prove to + you that I do not forget you; or I like it, which is a woman's + reason.... + + How is Jane (Hogg)? Do remember me kindly to her. I hope you are + friends, and that I shall see her in town. I have no right to be + discontented or fastidious when she is not. I trust she is contented + with her lot; if she is, she has an advantage over most of us. Death + and Time have made sad havoc amongst my old friends here; they are + never idle, and yet we go on as if they concerned us not, and thus + dream our lives away till we wake no more, and then our bodies are + thrown into a hole in the earth, like a dead dog's, that infects the + atmosphere, and the void is filled up, and we are forgotten. + + Can such things be, and overcome us like a summer cloud, without our + special wonder?... + +Trelawny's visit to England was of short duration. Before the end of the +next February (1829) he was in Florence, overflowing with new plans, and, +as usual, imparting them eagerly, certain of sympathy, to Mrs. Shelley. +His renewed intercourse with her had led to no diminution of friendship. +He may have found her even more attractive than when she was younger; more +equable in spirits, more lenient in her judgments, her whole disposition +mellowed and ripened in the stern school of adversity. + +Their correspondence, which for two or three years was very frequent, +opened, however, with a difference of opinion. Trelawny was ambitious of +writing Shelley's biography, and wanted Mary to help him by giving him the +facts for it. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + POSTE RESTANTE, FLORENCE, _11th March 1829_. + + DEAR MARY--I arrived here some sixteen or seventeen days back. I + travelled in a very leisurely way; whilst on the road I used + expedition, but I stayed at Lyons, Turin, Genoa, and Leghorn. I have + taken up my quarters with Brown. I thought I should get a letter here + from you or Clare, but was disappointed. The letter you addressed to + Paris I received; tell Clare I was pained at her silence, yet though + she neglects to write to me, I shall not follow her example, but will + write her in a few days. + + My principal object in writing to you now is to tell you that I am + actually writing my own life. Brown and Landor are spurring me on, and + are to review it sheet by sheet, as it is written; moreover, I am + commencing as a tribute of my great love for the memory of Shelley his + life and moral character. Landor and Brown are in this to have a hand, + therefore I am collecting every information regarding him. I always + wished you to do this, Mary; if you will not, as of the living I love + him and you best, incompetent as I am, I must do my best to show him + to the world as I found him. Do you approve of this? Will you aid in + it? without which it cannot be done. Will you give documents? Will you + write anecdotes? or--be explicit on this, dear--give me your opinion; + if you in the least dislike it, say so, and there is an end of it; if + on the contrary, set about doing it without loss of time. Both this + and my life will be sent you to peruse and approve or alter before + publication, and I need not say that you will have free scope to + expunge all you disapprove of. + + I shall say no more till I get your reply to this. + + The winter here, if ten or twelve days somewhat cold can be called + winter, has been clear, dry, and sunny; ever since my arrival in Italy + I have been sitting without fire, and with open windows. Come away, + dear Mary, from the horrible climate you are in; life is not endurable + where you are. + + Florence is very gay, and a weight was taken from my mind, and body + too, in getting on this side of the Alps. Heaven and hell cannot be + very much more dissimilar.... + + You may suppose I have now writing enough without scrawling long + letters, so pardon this short one, dear Mary, from your affectionate + + E. J. TRELAWNY. + + _P.S._--Love to Clare. + + + MRS. SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + _April 1829._ + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--Your letter reminded me of my misdeeds of omission, + and of not writing to you as I ought, and it assured me of your kind + thoughts in that happy land where as angels in heaven you can afford + pity to us Arctic islanders. It is too bad, is it not, that when such + a Paradise does exist as fair Italy, one should be chained here, + without the infliction of such absolutely cold weather? I have never + suffered a more ungenial winter. Winter it is still; a cold east wind + has prevailed the last six weeks, making exercise in the open air a + positive punishment. This is truly English; half a page about the + weather, but here this subject has every importance; is it fine? you + guess I am happy and enjoying myself; is it as it always is? you know + that one is fighting against a domestic enemy which saps at the very + foundations of pleasure. + + I am glad that you are occupying yourself, and I hope that your two + friends will not cease urging you till you really put to paper the + strange wild adventures you recount so well. With regard to the other + subject, you may guess, my dear Friend, that I have often thought, + often done more than think on the subject. There is nothing I shrink + from more fearfully than publicity. I have too much of it, and, what + is worse, I am forced by my hard situation to meet it in a thousand + ways. Could you write my husband's life without naming me, it would be + something; but even then I should be terrified at the rousing the + slumbering voice of the public;--each critique, each mention of your + work might drag me forward. Nor indeed is it possible to write + Shelley's life in that way. Many men have his opinions,--none heartily + and conscientiously act on them as he did,--it is his act that marks + him. + + You know me, or you do not--in which case I will tell you what I am--a + silly goose, who, far from wishing to stand forward to assert myself + in any way, now that I am alone in the world, have but the time to + wrap night and the obscurity of insignificance around me. This is + weakness, but I cannot help it; to be in print, the subject of men's + observations, of the bitter hard world's commentaries, to be attacked + or defended, this ill becomes one who knows how little she possesses + worthy to attract attention, and whose chief merit--if it be one--is + a love of that privacy which no woman can emerge from without regret. + + Shelley's life must be written. I hope one day to do it myself, but it + must not be published now. There are too many concerned to speak + against him; it is still too sore a subject. Your tribute of praise, + in a way that cannot do harm, can be introduced into your own life. + But remember, I pray for omission, for it is not that you will not be + too kind, too eager to do me more than justice. But I only seek to be + forgotten. + + Clare has written to you she is about to return to Germany. She will, + I suppose, explain to you the circumstances that make her return to + the lady she was before with desirable. She will go to Carlsbad, and + the baths will be of great service to her. Her health is improved, + though very far from restored. For myself, I am as usual well in + health and longing for summer, when I may enjoy the peace that alone + is left me. I am another person under the genial influence of the sun; + I can live unrepining with no other enjoyment but the country made + bright and cheerful by its beams; till then I languish. Percy is quite + well; he grows very fast and looks very healthy. + + It gives me great pleasure to hear from you, dear friend, so write + often. I have now answered your letter, though I can hardly call this + one. So you may very soon expect another. How are your dogs? and where + is Roberts? Have you given up all idea of shooting? I hear Medwin is a + great man at Florence, so Pisa and economy are at an end. + Adieu.--Yours, + + M. S. + +The fiery "Pirate" was much disappointed at Mary's refusal to collaborate +with him, and quite unable to understand her unwillingness to be the +instrument of making the facts of her own and Shelley's life the subject +of public discussion. His resentment soon passed away, but his first wrath +was evidently expressed with characteristic vigour. + + MARY SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + _15th December 1829._ + + ... Your last letter was not at all kind. You are angry with me, but + what do you ask, and what do I refuse? You talk of writing Shelley's + life, and ask me for materials. Shelley's life, as far as the public + have to do with it, consisted of few events, and these are publicly + known; the private events were sad and tragical. How would you relate + them? As Hunt has, slurring over the real truth? Wherefore write + fiction? and the truth, any part of it, is hardly for the rude cold + world to handle. His merits are acknowledged, his virtues;--to bring + forward actions which, right or wrong (and that would be a matter of + dispute), were in their results tremendous, would be to awaken + calumnies and give his enemies a voice. + + * * * * * + + As to giving Moore materials for Lord Byron's life, I thought--I + think--I did right. I think I have achieved a great good by it. I wish + it to be kept secret--decidedly I am averse to its being published, + for it would destroy me to be brought forward in print. I commit + myself on this point to your generosity. I confided the fact to you as + I would anything I did, being my dearest friend, and had no idea that + I was to find in you a harsh censor and public denouncer.... + + Did I uphold Medwin? I thought that I had always disliked him. I am + sure I thought him a great annoyance, and he was always borrowing + crowns which he never meant to pay and we could ill spare. He was + Jane's friend more than any one's. + + To be sure, we did not desire a duel, nor a horsewhipping, and Lord + Byron and Mrs. B. ... worked hard to promote peace.--Affectionately + yours, + + M. W. S. + +During this year Mrs. Shelley was busily employed on her own novel, +_Perkin Warbeck_, the subject of which may have occurred to her in +connection with the historic associations of Arundel Castle. It is a work +of great ingenuity and research, though hardly so spontaneous in +conception as her earlier books. In spite of her retired life she had come +to be looked on as a celebrity, and many distinguished literary people +sought her acquaintance. Among these was Lord Dillon, conspicuous by his +good looks, his conversational powers, his many rare qualities of head and +heart, and his numerous oddities. Between him and Mrs. Shelley a strong +mutual regard existed, and the following letter is of sufficient interest +to be inserted here. The writer had desired Mary's opinion on the subject +of one of his poems. + + LORD DILLON TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + DITCHLEY, _18th March 1829_. + + MY DEAR MRS. SHELLEY--I return you many thanks for your letter and + your favourable opinion. It is singular that you should have hit upon + the two parts that I almost think the best of all my poem. I fear that + my delineations of women do not please you, or persons who think as + you do. I have a classic feeling about your sex--that is to say, I + prefer nature to what is called delicacy.... I must be excused, + however; I have never loved or much liked women of refined sentiment, + but those of strong and blunt feelings and passions.... Pray tell me + candidly, for I believe you to be sincere, though at first I doubted + it, for your manner is reserved, and that put me on my guard; but now + I admit you to my full confidence, which I seldom give. Is not + Eccelino considered as too free? Tell me then truly--I never quote + whenever I write to a person. You may trust me. You might tell me all + the secrets in the world; they would never be breathed. I shall see + you in May, and then we may converse more freely, but I own you look + more sly than I think you are, and therefore I never was so candid + with you as I think I ought to be. Have not people who did not know + you taken you for a cunning person? You have puzzled me very much. + Women always feel flattered when they are told they have puzzled + people. I will tell you what has puzzled me. Your writings and your + manner are not in accordance. I should have thought of you--if I had + only read you--that you were a sort of my Sybil, outpouringly + enthusiastic, rather indiscreet, and even extravagant; but you are + cool, quiet, and feminine to the last degree--I mean in delicacy of + manner and expression. Explain this to me. Shall I desire my brother + to call on you with respect to Mr. Peter in the Tower? He is his + friend, not mine. He is very clever, and I think you would like him. + Pray tell Miss G. to write to me.--Yours most truly, + + DILLON. + + + _Journal, October 8_ (1829).--I was at Sir Thomas Lawrence's to-day + whilst Moore was sitting, and passed a delightful morning. We then + went to the Charter House, and I saw his son, a beautiful boy. + + _January 9_ (1830).--Poor Lawrence is dead. + + Having seen him so lately, the suddenness of this event affects me + deeply. His death opens all wounds. I see all those I love die around + me, while I lament. + + _January 22._--I have begun a new kind of life somewhat, going a + little into society and forming a variety of acquaintances. People + like me, and flatter and follow me, and then I am left alone again, + poverty being a barrier I cannot pass. Still I am often amused and + sometimes interested. + + _March 23._--I gave a _soirée_, which succeeded very well. Mrs. Hare + is going, and I am very sorry. She likes me, and she is gentle and + good. Her husband is clever and her set very agreeable, rendered so by + the reunion of some of the best people about town. + +Mrs. Shelley now resided in Somerset Street, Portman Square. Her +occasional "at homes," though of necessity simple in character, were not +on that account the less frequented. Here might be met many of the most +famous and most charming men and women of their day, and here Moore would +thrill all hearts and bring tears to all eyes by his exquisitely pathetic +singing of his own melodies. + +The hostess herself, gentle and winning, was an object of more admiration +than would ever be suspected from the simple, almost deprecatory tone of +her scraps of journal. Among her MSS. are numerous anonymous poems +addressed to her, some sentimental, others high-flown in compliment, +though none, unfortunately, of sufficient literary merit to be, in +themselves, worth preserving. But, whether they afforded her amusement or +gratification, it is probable that she had to work too hard and too +continuously to give more than a passing thought to such things. From the +following letter of Clare's it may be inferred that _Perkin Warbeck_, +which appeared in 1830, was, in a pecuniary sense, something of a +disappointment, and that this was the more vexatious as Mary had lent +Clare money during her visit to England, and would have been glad, now, to +be repaid, not, however, on her own account, but that of Marshall, +Godwin's former amanuensis and her kind friend in her childhood, whom, it +is evident, she was helping to support in his old age. + + CLARE TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + DRESDEN, _28th March 1830_. + + MY DEAR MARY--At last I take up the pen to write to you. At least thus + much can I affirm, that I take it up, but whether I shall ever get to + the end of my task and complete this letter is beyond me to decide. + One of the causes of my long delay has been the hope of being able to + send you the money for Marshall. I was to have been paid in February, + but as yet have received neither money nor notice from Mrs. K. ... By + this I am led to think she does not intend to do so until her return + here in May. I am vexed, for I have been reproaching myself the whole + winter with this debt. Of this be sure, the instant I am paid I will + despatch what I owe you to London.... Here I was interrupted, and for + two days have been unable to continue. How delighted I was with the + news of Percy's health, as also with his letter, though I am afraid it + was written unwillingly and cost him a world of pains. Poor child! he + little thinks how much I am attached to him! When I first saw him I + thought him cold, but afterwards he discovered so much intellect in + all his speeches, and so much originality in his doings, that I + willingly pardoned him for not being interested in anything but + himself. In some weeks he will again be at home for Easter. But what + is this to me, since I shall not see him, nor perhaps even ever again. + It seems settled that my destination is Vienna. The negotiation with + Mrs. K. ... has been broken off on my showing great unwillingness to + go to Italy; that it may not be renewed I will not say. She now talks + of going to Nice, to which place I have no objection in the world to + accompany her. But nothing of this can be settled till she comes, for + as neither of us can speak frankly in our letters, owing to their + being subject to her husband's inspection, we have as yet done nothing + but mutually misinterpret the circumspect and circuitous phraseology + in which our real meaning was wrapped. Nothing can equal the letters + she has written to me; they were detached pieces of agony. How she + lived at all after bringing such productions into the world I cannot + guess. Instruments of torture are nothing to them. She favoured me + with one every week, which was a very clever contrivance on her part + to keep us in an agitation equal to the one she suffered at Moghileff. + Thanks to her and Natalie's perpetual indisposition, I have passed a + tolerably disagreeable winter. At home I was employed in rubbings, + stretchings, putting on trusses, dressing ulcers, applying leeches, + and bandaging swollen glands. Out-of-doors our recreations were [all] + baths, baths of bullock's blood, mud baths, steam baths, soap baths, + and electricity. If I had served in a hospital I should not have been + more constantly employed with sickness and its appendages. I could + understand this order of things pretty well, and even perhaps from + custom find some beauty in their deformity if the sky were pitch black + and the stars red; but when I see them so beautiful I cannot help + imagining that they were made to look down upon a life more consonant + with their own natures than the one I lead, and I am filled with the + most bitter dislike of it. I ought to confess, however, that it is a + great mitigation of my disagreeable life to live in Dresden; such is + the structure of existence here that a thousand alleviations to misery + are offered. Here, as in Italy, you cannot walk the streets without + meeting with some object which affords ready and agreeable occupation + to the mind. I never yet was in a place where I met so much to please + and so little to shock me. In vain I endeavour to recollect anything I + could wish otherwise; not a fault presents itself. The more I become + acquainted with the town and see its smallness, the more I am struck + with the uncommon resources in literature _e le belle arti_ it + possesses. With what regret shall I leave it for Vienna. Farewell, + then, a long farewell to Mount Olympus and its treasures of wisdom, + science, poetry, and skill; the vales may be green and many rills + trill through them, and many flocks pasture there, but the inhabitants + will be as vile and miserable to me as were the shepherds of Admetus + to Apollo when he kept their company. At any rate Vienna is better + than Russia. I trust and hope when I am there you will make some + little effort to procure the newspapers and reviews and new works; + this alone can soften the mortification I shall feel in being obliged + to live in that city. Already I have lost the little I had gained in + my English, and I can only write with an effort that is painful to me; + it precludes the possibility of my finding any pleasure in + composition. I pause a hundred times and lean upon my hand to + endeavour to find words to express the idea that is in my mind. It is + a vain endeavour; the idea is there, but no words, and I leave my task + unfinished. Another favour I have to ask you, which is, if I should + require your mediation to get a book published at Paris, you will + write to your friends there, and otherwise interest yourself as warmly + as you can about it. Promise me this, and give me an answer upon it as + quick as you can. I have had many letters from Charles. His affairs + have taken the most favourable turn at Vienna. Everything is _couleur + de rose_. More employment than he can accept seems likely to be + offered to him; this is consolatory. He talks with rapture of his + future plans, has taken a charming house, painted and furnished a + pretty room for me, and will send Antonia and the babes to the lovely + hills at some miles from the town so soon as they arrive. + + Mamma has written to me everything concerning Colburn; this is indeed + a disappointment, and the more galling because odiously unjust. Let me + hear if your plan of writing the _Memoirs of Josephine_ is likely to + be put into execution. This perhaps would pay you better. I tremble + for the anxiety of mind you suffer about Papa and your own pecuniary + resources. + + * * * * * + + What says the world to Moore's _Lord Byron_? I saw some extracts in a + review, and cannot express the pleasure I experienced in finding it + was sad stuff. It was the journal of the Noble Lord, and I should say + contained as fine a picture of indigestion as one could expect to meet + with in Dr. Paris, Graham, or Johnson. Of Trelawny I know little. He + wrote to me, describing where he was living and what kind of life he + was leading. I have not yet answered him, although I make a sacred + promise every day not to let it go over my head without so doing. But + there is a certain want of sympathy between us which makes writing to + him extremely disagreeable to me. I admire, esteem, and love him; some + excellent qualities he possesses in a degree that is unsurpassed, but + then it is exactly in another direction from my centre and my impetus. + He likes a turbid and troubled life, I a quiet one; he is full of fine + feelings and has no principles, I am full of fine principles but never + had a feeling; he receives all his impressions through his heart, I + through my head. _Que voulez vous? Le moyen de se recontrer_ when one + is bound for the North Pole and the other for the South? + + What a terrible description you give of your winter. Ours, though + severe, was an exceedingly fine one. From the time I arrived here + until now there has not been a day that was not perfectly dry and + clear. Within this last week we have had a great deal of rain. I well + understand how much your spirits must have been affected by three + months' incessant foggy raw weather. In my mind nothing can compensate + for a bad climate. How I wish I could draw you to Dresden. You would + go into society and would see a quantity of things which, treated by + your pen, would bring you in a good profit. Life is very cheap here, + and in the summer you might take a course of Josephlitz or Carlsbad, + which would set up your health and enable you to bear the winter of + London with tolerable philosophy. Forgive me if I don't write + descriptions. It is impossible, situated as I am. I have not one + moment free from annoyance from morning till night. This state of + things depresses my mind terribly. When I have a moment of leisure it + is breathed in a prayer for death. You will not wonder, therefore, + that I think the Miss Booths right in their manner of acting; what is + the use of trifling or mincing the matter with so despotic a ruler as + the Disposer of the Universe? The one who is left is much to be + pitied, for now she must die by herself, and that I think is as + disagreeable as to live by oneself. In your next pray mention + something about politics and how the London University is getting on. + The accounts here of the distress in England are awful. Foreigners + talk of that country as they would of Torre del Greco or Torre dell' + Annunciata at the announcement of an eruption of Vesuvius. I should + think my mother must be delighted to be no more plagued with us; it + was really a great bother and no pleasure for her. She writes me a + delightful account of Papa's health and spirits. Heaven grant it may + continue. I am reading _Political Justice_, and am filled with + admiration at the vastness of the plan, and the clearness and skill, + nothing less than immortal, with which it is executed. + + Farewell! write to me about your novel and particularly the opinion it + creates in society. Pray write. The letters of my acquaintances + (friends I have none) are my only pleasure. Natalie is pretty well; + the knee is better, inasmuch as the swelling is smaller, but the + weakness is as great as ever. We sit opposite to one another in + perfect wretchedness; I because I am obliged to entreat her all day to + do what she does not like, and she because she is entreated. + + C. C. + + My love to William. + +During the next five years the "Author of _Frankenstein_" wrote several +short tales (some of which were published in the _Keepsake_, an annual +periodical, the precursor of the _Book of Beauty_), but no new novel. She +was to have abundant employment in furthering the work of another. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +AUGUST 1830-OCTOBER 1831 + + +To all who know Trelawny's curious book, the following correspondence, +which tells the story of its publication and preparation for the press, +will in itself be interesting. To readers of Mary Shelley's life it has a +strong additional interest as illustrating, better than any second-hand +narrative can do, the unique kind of friendship subsisting between her and +Trelawny, and which, based on genuine mutual regard and admiration, and a +common devotion to the memory of Shelley and of a golden age which ended +at his death, proved stronger than all obstacles, and, in spite of +occasional eclipses through hasty words and misunderstandings, in spite of +wide differences in temperament, in habits, in opinions, and morals, yet +survived with a kind of dogged vitality for years. + +Shelley said of _Epipsychidion_ that it was "an idealised history of his +life and feelings." _The Adventures of a Younger Son_ is an idealised +history of Trelawny's youth and exploits, and very amusing it is, though +rather gruesome in some of its details; a romance of adventures, of +hair-breadth escapes by flood and field. As will be seen, the original MS. +had to be somewhat toned down before it was presented to the public, but +it is, as it stands, quite sufficiently forcible, as well as +blood-curdling, for most readers. + +The letters may now be left to tell their own tale. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + _16th August 1830._ + + MY DEAR MARY--That my letter may not be detained, I shall say nothing + about Continental politics. + + My principal motive in writing is to inform you that I have nearly + completed the first portion of _my History_, enough for three ordinary + volumes, which I wish published forthwith. The Johnsons, as I told you + before, are totally ruined by an Indian bankruptcy; the smallness of + my income prevents my supporting them. Mr. Johnson is gone to India to + see if he can save aught from the ruin of his large fortune. In the + meantime his wife is almost destitute; this spurs me on. Brown, who is + experienced in these matters, declares I shall have no difficulty in + getting a very considerable sum for the MS. now. I shall want some + friend to dispose of it for me. My name is not to appear or to be + disclosed to the bookseller or any other person. The publisher who may + purchase it is to be articled down to publish the work without + omitting or altering a single word, there being nothing actionable, + though a great deal objectionable, inasmuch as it is tinctured with + the prejudices and passions of the author's mind. However, there is + nothing to prevent women reading it but its general want of merit. The + opinion of the two or three who have read it is that it will be very + successful, but I know how little value can be attached to such + critics. I'll tell you what I think--that it is good, and might have + been better; it is [filled] with events that, if not marred by my + manner of narrating, must be interesting. I therefore plainly foresee + it will be generally read or not at all. Who will undertake to, in the + first place, dispose of it, and, in the second, watch its progress + through the press? I care not who publishes it: the highest bidder + shall have it. Murray would not like it, it is too violent; parsons + and _Scots_, and, in short, also others are spoken of irreverently, if + not profanely. But when I have your reply I shall send the MS. to + England, and your eyes will be the judge, so tell me precisely your + movements.--Your attached + + E. J. T. + + Poste Restante, Florence. + + When does Moore conclude his _Life of Byron_? If I knew his address I + could give him a useful hint that would be of service to the fame of + the Poet. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + FLORENCE, _28th October 1830_. + + DEAREST MARY--My friend Baring left Florence on the 25th to proceed + directly to London, so that he will be there as soon as you can get + this letter. He took charge of my MSS., and promised to leave them at + Hookham's, Bond Street, addressed to you. I therefore pray you lose no + time in inquiring about them; they are divided into chapters and + volumes, copied out in a plain hand, and all ready to go to press. + They have been corrected with the greatest care, and I do not think + you will have any trouble with them on that score. All I want you to + do is to read them attentively, and then show them to Murray and + Colburn, or any other publisher, and to hear if they will publish them + and what they will give. You may say the author cannot at present be + _named_, but that, when the work goes forth in the world, there are + many who will recognise it. Besides the second series, which treats of + Byron, Shelley, Greece, etc., will at once remove the veil, and the + publisher who has the first shall have that. Yet at present I wish the + first series to go forth strictly anonymous, and therefore you must + on no account trust the publisher with my name. Surely there is matter + enough in the book to make it interesting, if only viewed in the light + of a _romance_. You will see that I have divided it into very short + chapters, in the style of Fielding, and that I have selected mottoes + from the only three poets who were the staunch advocates of liberty, + and my contemporaries. I have left eight or nine blanks in the mottoes + for you to fill up from the work of one of those poets. Brown, who was + very anxious about the fame of Keats, has given many of his MSS. for + the purpose. Now, if you could find any from the MSS. of Shelley or + Byron, they would excite much interest, and their being strictly + applicable is not of much importance. If you cannot, why, fill them up + from the published works of Byron, Shelley, or Keats, but no others + are to be admitted. When you have read the work and heard the opinion + of the booksellers, write to me before you settle anything; only + remember I am very anxious that no alterations or omissions should be + made, and that the mottoes, whether long or short, double or treble, + should not be curtailed. Will not Hogg assist you? I might get other + people, but there is no person I have such confidence in as you, and + the affair is one of confidence and trust, and are we not bound and + united together by ties stronger than those which earth has to impose? + Dearest friend, I am obliged hastily to conclude.--Yours + affectionately, + + E. J. TRELAWNY. + + George Baring, Esq., who takes my book, is the brother of the banker; + he has read it, and is in my confidence, and will be very ready to see + and confer with you and do anything. He is an excellent person. I + shall be very anxious till I hear from you. + + + MRS. SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + 33 SOMERSET STREET, + _27th December 1830_. + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--At present I can only satisfy your impatience with + the information that I have received your MS. and read the greater + part of it. Soon I hope to say more. George Baring did not come to + England, but after considerable delay forwarded it to me from Cologne. + + I am delighted with your work; it is full of passion, energy, and + novelty; it concerns the sea, and that is a subject of the greatest + interest to me. I should imagine that it must command success. + + But, my dear friend, allow me to persuade you to permit certain + omissions. In one of your letters to me you say that "there is nothing + in it that a woman could not read." You are correct for the most part, + and yet without the omission of a few words here and there--the scene + before you go to school with the mate of your ship--and above all the + scene of the burning of the house, following your scene with your + Scotch enemy--I am sure that yours will be a book interdicted to + women. Certain words and phrases, pardoned in the days of Fielding, + are now justly interdicted, and any gross piece of ill taste will make + your booksellers draw back. + + I have named all the objectionable passages, and I beseech you to let + me deal with them as I would with Lord Byron's _Don Juan_, when I + omitted all that hurt my taste. Without this yielding on your part I + shall experience great difficulty in disposing of your work; besides + that I, your partial friend, strongly object to coarseness, now wholly + out of date, and beg you for my sake to make the omissions necessary + for your obtaining feminine readers. Amidst so much that is beautiful + and imaginative and exalting, why leave spots which, believe me, are + blemishes? I hope soon to write to you again on the subject. + + The burnings, the alarms, the absorbing politics of the day render + booksellers almost averse to publishing at all. God knows how it will + all end, but it looks as if the autocrats would have the good sense to + make the necessary sacrifices to a starving people. + + I heard from Clare to-day; she is well and still at Nice. I suppose + there is no hope of seeing you here. As for me, I of course still + continue a prisoner. Percy is quite well, and is growing more and more + like Shelley. Since it is necessary to live, it is a great good to + have this tie to life, but it is a wearisome affair. I hope you are + happy.--Yours, my dearest friend, ever, + + MARY SHELLEY. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + FIRENZE, _19th January 1831_. + + MY DEAREST MARY--For, notwithstanding what you may think of me, you + every day become dearer to me. The men I have linked myself to in my + wild career through life have almost all been prematurely cut off, and + the only friends which are left me are women, and they are strange + beings. I have lost them all by some means or other; they are dead to + me in being married, or (for you are all slaves) separated by + obstacles which are insurmountable, and as Lord Chatham observes, + "Friendship is a weed of slow growth in aged bosoms." But now to your + letter. I to-day received yours of the 27th of December; you say you + have received my MS. It has been a painful and arduous undertaking + narrating my life. I have omitted a great deal, and avoided being a + pander to the public taste for the sake of novelty or effect. Landor, + a man of superior literary acquirements; Kirkup, an artist of superior + taste; Baring, a man of the world and very religious; Mrs. Baring, + moral and squeamish; Lady Burghersh, aristocratic and proud as a + queen; and lastly, Charles Brown, a plain downright Cockney critic, + learned in the trade of authorship, and has served his time as a + literary scribe. All these male and female critics have read and + passed their opinions on my narrative, and therefore you must excuse + my apparent presumption in answering your objections to my book with + an appearance of presumptuous dictation. Your objections to the + coarseness of those scenes you have mentioned have been foreseen, and, + without further preface or apology, I shall briefly state my wishes on + the subject. Let Hogg or Horace Smith read it, and, without your + _giving any_ opinion, hear theirs; then let the booksellers, Colburn + or others, see it, and then if it is their general opinion that there + are _words_ which are better omitted, why I must submit to their + being omitted; but do not prompt them by prematurely giving your + opinion. My life, though I have sent it you, as the dearest friend I + have, is not written for the amusement of women; it is not a novel. If + you begin clipping the wings of my true story, if you begin erasing + words, you must then omit sentences, then chapters; it will be pruning + an Indian jungle down to a clipped French garden. I shall be so + appalled at my MS. in its printed form, that I shall have no heart to + go on with it. Dear Mary, I love women, and you know it, but my life + is not dedicated to them; it is to men I write, and my first three + volumes are principally adapted to sailors. England is a nautical + nation, and, if they like it, the book will amply repay the publisher, + and I predict it will be popular with sailors, for it is true to its + text. By the time you get this letter the time of publishing is come, + and we are too far apart to continue corresponding on the subject. Let + Hogg, Horace Smith, or any one you like, read the MS.; or the + booksellers; if they absolutely object to any particular words or + short passages, why let them be omitted by leaving blanks; but I + should prefer a first edition as it now stands, and then a second as + the bookseller thought best. In the same way that _Anastasius_ was + published, the suppression of the first edition of that work did not + prevent its success. All men lament that _Don Juan_ was not published + as it was written, as under any form it would have been interdicted to + women, and yet under any form they would have unavoidably read it. + + Brown, who is learned in the bookselling trade, says I should get £200 + per volume. Do not dispose of it under any circumstances for less than + £500 the three volumes. Have you seen a book written by a man named + Millingen? He has written an article on me, and I am answering it. My + reply to it I shall send you. The _Literary Gazette_, which published + the extract regarding me, I have replied to, and to them I send my + reply; the book I have not seen. If they refuse, as the article I + write is amusing, you will have no difficulty in getting it admitted + in some of the London magazines. It will be forwarded to you in a few + days, so you see I am now fairly coming forward in a new character. I + have laid down the sword for the pen. Brown has just called with the + article in question copied, and I send it together. + + I have spoken to you about filling up the mottoes; the title of my + book I wish to be simply thus--_The Life of a Man_, and not _The + Discarded Son_, which looks too much like romance or a common + novel.... + + Florence is very gay, and there are many pretty girls here, and balls + every night. Tell Mrs. Paul not to be angry at my calling her and her + sisters by their Christian names, for I am very lawless, as you know, + in that particular, and not very particular on other things. + + Brown talks of writing to you about the mottoes to my book, as he is + very anxious about those of his friend Keats. Have you any MS. of + Shelley's or Byron's to fill up the eight or ten I left blank? + Remember the short chapters are to be adhered to in its printed form. + I shall have no excitement to go on writing till I see what I have + already written in print. By the bye, my next volumes will to general + readers be far more interesting, and published with my name, or at + least called Treloen, which is our original family name. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + POSTE RESTANTE, FIRENZE, + _5th April 1831_. + + MY DEAR MARY--Since your letter, dated December 1830, I have not had a + single line from you, yet in that you promised to write in a few days. + Why is this? or have you written, and has your letter miscarried, or + have not my letters reached you? I was anxious to have published the + first part of my life this year, and if it had succeeded in + interesting general readers, it would have induced me to have + proceeded to its completion, for I cannot doubt that if the first + part, published anonymously, and treating of people, countries, and + things little known, should suit the public palate, that the latter, + treating of people that everybody knows, and of things generally + interesting, must be successful. But till I see the effect of the + first part, I cannot possibly proceed to the second, and time is + fleeting, and I am lost in idleness. I cannot write a line, and thus + six months, in which I had leisure to have finished my narrative, are + lost, and I am now deeply engaged in a wild scheme which will lead me + to the East, and it is firmly my belief that when I again leave Europe + it will be for ever. I have had too many hair-breadth escapes to hope + that fortune will bear me up. My present Quixotic expedition is to be + in the region wherein is still standing the column erected by + Sardanapalus, and on it by him inscribed words to the effect: _Il faut + jouir des plaisirs de la vie; tout le reste n'est rien_. + + At present I can only say, if nothing materially intervenes to prevent + me, that in the autumn of this year I shall bend my steps towards the + above-mentioned column, and try the effect of it. + + I am sick to death of the pleasureless life I lead here, and I should + rather the tinkling of the little bell, which I hear summoning the + dead to its last resting-place, was ringing for my body than endure + the petty vexations of what is called civilised life, and see what I + saw a few days back, the Austrian tyrants trampling on their helot + Italians; but letters are not safe.--Your affectionate friend, + + E. J. T. + + + MRS. SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + SOMERSET STREET, _22d March 1831_. + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--What can you think of me and of my silence? I can + guess by the contents of your letters and your not having yet received + answers. Believe me that if I am at all to blame in this it arises + from an error in judgment, not from want of zeal. Every post-day I + have waited for the next, expecting to be able to communicate + something definitive, and now still I am waiting; however, I trust + that this letter will contain some certain intelligence before I send + it. After all, I have done no more than send your manuscripts to + Colburn, and I am still in expectation of his answer. In the first + place, they insist on certain parts being expunged,--parts of which I + alone had the courage to speak to you, but which had before been + remarked upon as inadmissible. These, however (with trifling + exceptions), occur only in the first volume. The task of deciding upon + them may very properly be left to Horace Smith, if he will undertake + it--we shall see. Meanwhile, Colburn has not made up his mind as to + the price. He will not give £500. The terms he will offer I shall hope + to send before I close this letter, so I will say no more except to + excuse my having conceded so much time to his dilatoriness. In all I + have done I may be wrong; I commonly act from my own judgment; but + alas! I have great experience. I _believe_ that, if I sent your work + to Murray, he would return it in two months unread; simply saying that + he does not print novels. Your end part would be a temptation, did not + your intention to be severe on Moore make it improbable that he would + like to engage in it; and he would keep me as long as Colburn in + uncertainty; still this may be right to do, and I shall expect your + further instructions by return of post. However, in one way you may + help yourself. You know Lockhart. He reads and judges for Murray; + write to him; your letter shall accompany the MS. to him. Still, this + thing must not be done hastily, for if I take the MS. out of Colburn's + hands, and, failing to dispose of it elsewhere, I come back to him, he + will doubtless retreat from his original proposal. There are other + booksellers in the world, doubtless, than these two, but, occupied as + England is by political questions, and impoverished miserably, there + are few who have enterprise at this juncture to offer a price. I quote + examples. My father and myself would find it impossible to make any + tolerable arrangement with any one except Colburn. He at least may be + some guide as to what you may expect. Mr. Brown remembers the golden + days of authors. When I first returned to England I found no + difficulty in making agreements with publishers; they came to seek me; + now money is scarce, and readers fewer than ever. I leave the rest of + this page blank. I shall fill it up before it goes on Friday. + + + _Friday, 25th March._ + + At length, my dear friend, I have received the ultimatum of these + great people. They offer you £300, and another £100 on a second + edition; as this was sent me in writing, and there is no time for + further communication before post-hour, I cannot _officially_ state + the number of the edition. I should think 1000. I think that perhaps + they may be brought to say £400 at once, or £300 at once and £200 on + the second edition. There can be no time for parleying, and therefore + you must make up your mind whether after doing good battle, if + necessary, I shall accept their terms. Believe _my experience_ and + that of those about me; you will not get a better offer from others, + because money is not to be had, and Bulwer and other fashionable and + selling authors are now obliged to content themselves with half of + what they got before. If you decline this offer, I will, if you + please, try Murray; he will keep me two months at least, and the worst + is, if he won't do anything, Colburn will diminish his bargain, and we + shall be in a greater mess than ever. I know that, as a woman, I am + timid, and therefore a bad negotiator, except that I have perseverance + and zeal, and, I repeat, experience of things as they are. Mr. Brown + knows what they were, but they are sadly changed. The omissions + mentioned must be made, but I will watch over them, and the mottoes + and all that shall be most carefully attended to, depend on me. + + Do not be displeased, my dear friend, that I take advantage of this + enormous sheet of paper to save postage, and ask you to tear off one + half sheet, and to send it to Mrs. Hare. You talk of my visiting + Italy. It is impossible for me to tell you how much I repine at my + imprisonment here, but I dare not anticipate a change to take me there + for a long time. England, its ungenial clime, its difficult society, + and the annoyances to which I am subjected in it weigh on my spirits + more than ever, for every step I take only shows me how impossible + [it is], situated as I am, that I should be otherwise than wretched. + My sanguine disposition and capacity to endure have borne me up + hitherto, but I am sinking at last; but to quit so stupid a topic and + to tell you news, did you hear that Medwin contrived to get himself + gazetted for full pay in the Guards? I fancy that he employed his + connection with the Shelleys, who are connected with the King through + the Fitz Clarences. However, a week after he was gazetted as retiring. + I suppose the officers cut him at mess; his poor wife and children! + how I pity them! Jane is quite well, living in tranquillity. Hogg + continues all that she can desire.... + + She lives where she did; her children are well, and so is my Percy, + who grows more like Shelley. I hear that your old favourite, Margaret + Shelley, is prettier than ever; your Miss Burdett is married. I have + been having lithographed your letter to me about Caroline. I wish to + disperse about 100 copies among the many hapless fair who imagine + themselves to have been the sole object of your tenderness. Clare is + to have a first copy. Have you heard from poor dear Clare? She + announced a little time ago that she was to visit Italy with the + Kaisaroff to see you. I envied her, but I hear from her brother + Charles that she has now quarrelled with Madame K., and that she will + go to Vienna. God grant that her sufferings end soon. I begin to + anticipate it, for I hear that Sir Tim is in a bad way. I shall hear + more certain intelligence after Easter. Mrs. P. spends her Easter with + Caroline, who lives in the neighbourhood, and will dine at Field + Place. I have not seen Mrs. Aldridge since her marriage; she has + scarcely been in town, but I shall see her this spring, when she comes + up as she intends. You know, of course, that Elizabeth St. Aubyn is + married, so you know that your ladies desert you sadly. If Clare and I + were either to die or marry you would be left without a Dulcinea at + all, with the exception of the sixscore new objects for idolatry you + may have found among the pretty girls in Florence. Take courage, + however; I am scarcely a Dulcinea, being your friend and not the Lady + of your love, but such as I am, I do not think that I shall either + die or marry this year, whatever may happen the next; as it is only + spring you have some time before you. + + We are all here on the _qui vive_ about the Reform Bill; if it pass, + and Tories and all expect it, well,--if not, Parliament is dissolved + immediately, and they say that the new writs are in preparation. The + Whigs triumphed gloriously in the boldness of their measure. England + will be free if it is carried. I have had very bad accounts from Rome, + but you are quiet as usual in Florence. I am scarcely wicked enough to + desire that you should be driven home, nor do I expect it, and yet how + glad I should be to see you. You never mention Zella. Adieu, my dear + Trelawny.--I am always affectionately yours, + + MARY W. SHELLEY. + + Hunt has set up a little 2d. paper, the _Tatler_, which is succeeding; + this keeps him above water. I have not seen him very lately. He lives + a long way off. He is the same as ever, a person whom all must love + and regret. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + POSTE RESTANTE, FIRENZE, + _8th April 1831_. + + DEAR MARY--The day after I had despatched a scolding letter to you, I + received your Titanic letter, and sent Mrs. Hare her fathom of it.... + + Now, let's to business. I thank you for the trouble you have taken + about the MS. Let Colburn have it, and try to get £400 down, for as to + what may be promised on a second edition, I am told is mere humbug. + When my work is completed I have no doubt the first part will be + reprinted, but get what you can paid down at once; as to the rest, I + have only to say that I consent to Horace Smith being the sole + arbitrator of what is necessary to be omitted, but do not let him be + prompted, and tell him only to omit what is _absolutely + indispensable_. Say to him that it is a friend of Shelley's who asks + him this favour, but do not let him or any other individual know that + I am the author. If my name is known, and the work can be brought home + to me, the consequences will be most disastrous. I beseech you bear + this in mind. Let all the mottoes appear in their respective chapters + without any omission, regardless of their number to each chapter, for + they are all good, and fill up the eight or ten I left blank from + Byron and Shelley; if from MS. so much the better. The changes in the + opinions of all mankind on political and other topics are favourable + to such writers as I and the Poets of Liberty whom I have selected. We + shall no longer be hooted at; it is our turn to triumph now. Would + those glorious spirits, to whose genius the present age owes so much, + could witness the triumphant success of these opinions. I think I see + Shelley's fine eyes glisten, and faded cheek glow with fire unearthly. + England, France, and Belgium free, the rest of Europe must follow; the + theories of tyrants all over the world are shaken as by an earthquake; + they may be propped up for a time, but their fall is inevitable. I am + forgetting the main business of my letter. I hope, Mary, that you have + not told Colburn or any one else that I am the author of the book. + Remember that I must have the title simply _A Man's Life_, and that I + should like to have as many copies for my friends as you can get from + Colburn--ten, I hope--and that you will continue to report progress, + and tell me when it is come out. You must have a copy, Horace Smith + one, and Jane and Lady Burghersh; she is to be heard of at Apsley + House--Duke of Wellington's--and then I have some friends here; you + must send me a parcel by sea. If the time is unfavourable for + publication, from men's minds being engrossed with politics, yet it is + so far an advantage that my politics go with the times, and not as + they would have been some years back, obnoxious and premature. I + decide on Colburn as publisher, not from liberality of his terms, but + his courage, and trusting that as little as possible will be omitted; + and, by the bye, I wish you to keep copies, for I have none, of those + parts which are omitted. Enough of this. Of Clare I have seen nothing. + Do not you, dear Mary, abandon me by following the evil examples of + my other ladies. I should not wonder if fate, without our choice, + united us; and who can control his fate? I blindly follow his decrees, + dear Mary.--Your + + E. J. T. + + + MRS. SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + SOMERSET STREET, _14th June 1831_. + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--Your work is in progress at last, and is being + printed with great rapidity. Horace Smith undertook the revision, and + sent a very favourable report of it to the publishers; to me he says: + "Having written to you a few days ago, I have only to annex a copy of + my letter to Colburn and Bentley, whence you will gather my opinion of + the MS.; it is a most powerful, but rather perilous work, which will + be much praised and much abused by the liberal and bigoted. I have + read it with great pleasure and think it admirable, in everything but + the conclusion;" by this he means, as he says to Colburn and Bentley, + "The conclusion is abrupt and disappointing, especially as previous + allusions have been made to his later life which is not given. + Probably it is meant to be continued, and if so it would be better to + state it, for I have no doubt that his first part will create a + sufficient sensation to ensure the sale of a second." + + In his former letter to me H. S. says: "Any one who has proved himself + the friend of yourself and of him whom we all deplore I consider to + have strong claims on my regard, and I therefore willingly undertake + the revision of the MS. Pray assure the author that I feel flattered + by this little mark of his confidence in my judgment, and that it will + always give me pleasure to render him these or any other services." + And now, my dear Trelawny, I hope you will not be angry at the title + given to your book; the responsibility of doing anything for any one + so far away as you is painful, and I have had many qualms, but what + could I do? The publishers strongly objected to the _History of a Man_ + as being no title at all, or rather one to lead astray. The one + adopted is taken from the first words of your MS., where you declare + yourself a younger son--words pregnant of meaning in this country, + where to be the younger son of a man of property is to be virtually + discarded,--and they will speak volumes to the English reader; it is + called, therefore, _The Adventures of a Younger Son_. If you are angry + with me for this I shall be sorry, but I knew not what to do. Your MS. + will be preserved for you; and remember, also, that it is pretty well + known whom it is by. I suppose the persons who read the MS. in Italy + have talked, and, as I told you, your mother speaks openly about it. + Still it will not appear in print, in no newspaper accounts over which + I have any control as emanating from the publisher. Let me know + immediately how I am to dispose of the dozen copies I shall receive on + your account. One must go to H. Smith, another to me, and to whom + else? The rest I will send to you in Italy. + + There is another thing that annoys me especially. You will be paid in + bills dating from the day of publication, now not far distant; three + of various dates. To what man of business of yours can I consign + these? the first I should think I could get discounted at once, and + send you the cash; but tell me what I am to do. I know that all these + hitches and drawbacks will make you vituperate womankind, and had I + ever set myself up for a woman of business, or known how to manage my + own affairs, I might be hurt; but you know my irremediable + deficiencies on those subjects, and I represented them strongly to you + before I undertook my task; and all I can say in addition is, that as + far as I have seen, both have been obliged to make the same + concessions, so be as forgiving and indulgent as you can. + + We are full here of reform or revolution, whichever it is to be; I + should think something approaching the latter, though the first may be + included in the last. Will you come over and sit for the new + parliament? what are you doing? Have you seen Clare? how is she? She + never writes except on special occasions, when she wants anything. + Tell her that Percy is quite well. + + You tell me not to marry,--but I will,--any one who will take me out + of my present desolate and uncomfortable position. Any one,--and with + all this do you think that I shall marry? Never,--neither you nor + anybody else. Mary Shelley shall be written on my tomb,--and why? I + cannot tell, except that it is so pretty a name that though I were to + preach to myself for years, I never should have the heart to get rid + of it. + + Adieu, my dear friend. I shall be very anxious to hear from you; to + hear that you are not angry about all the _contretemps_ attendant on + your publication, and to receive your further directions.--Yours very + truly, + + M. W. SHELLEY. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + POSTE RESTANTE, FIRENZE, + _29th June 1831_. + + DEAR MARY--Your letter, dated 14th June, I have received, after a long + interval, and your letter before that is dated 22d March. It would + appear by your last that you must have written another letter between + March and June, by allusions in this last respecting my Mother. If so, + it has never reached me, so that if it contained anything which is + necessary for me to know, I pray you let me have a transcript, so far + as your memory will serve to give it me. I am altogether ignorant of + what arrangements you have made with Colburn; and am only in + possession of the facts contained in the second, to wit, that Horace + Smith is revising the work for publication. I trust he will not be too + liberal with the pruning-knife. When will the cant and humbug of these + costermonger times be reformed? Nevertheless tell H. Smith that the + author is fully sensible of his kindness and (for once, at least, in + his life) with all his heart joins his voice to that of the world in + paying tribute to the sterling ability of Mr. Horace Smith; and I + remember Shelley and others speaking of him as one often essayed on + the touchstone of proof, and never found wanting. Horace Smith's + criticism on the _Life_ is flattering, and as regards the perilous + part--why I never have, and never shall, crouch to those I utterly + despise, to wit, the bigoted. The Roman Pontiff might as well have + threatened me with excommunication when on board the _Grub_, if I + failed to strike my top-sails, and lower my proud flag to the lubberly + craft which bore his silly banner, bedaubed with mitres, crosses, and + St. Peter's Keys. + + I did not mean to call my book _The History of a Man_, but simply + thus, _A Man's Life_; "Adventures" and "Younger Son" are commonplace, + and I don't like it; but if it is to be so, why, I shall not waste + words in idle complaints: would it were as I had written it. By the + bye, you say justly the MS. ends abruptly; the truth is, as you know, + it is only the first part of my life, and to conclude it will fill + three more volumes: that it is to be concluded, I thought I had stated + in a paragraph annexed to the last chapter of that which is now in the + press, which should run thus-- + + "I am, or rather have, continued this history of my life, and it will + prove I have not been a passive instrument of despotism, nor shall I + be found consorting with those base, sycophantic, and mercenary + wretches who crouch and crawl and fawn on kings, and priests, and + lords, and all in authority under them. On my return to Europe, its + tyrants had gathered together all their helots and gladiators to + restore the cursed dynasty of the Bourbons, and thousands of slaves + went forth to extinguish and exterminate liberty, truth, and justice. + I went forth, too, my hand ever against them, and when tyranny had + triumphed, I wandered an exile in the world and leagued myself with + men worthy to be called so, for they, inspired by wisdom, uncoiled the + frauds contained in lying legends, which had so long fatally deluded + the majority of mankind. Alas! those apostles have not lived to see + the tree they planted fructify; would they had tarried a little while + to behold this new era of 1830-31, how they would have rejoiced to + behold the leagued conspiracy of kings broken, and their bloodhound + priests and nobles muzzled, their impious confederacy to enslave and + rob the people paralysed by a blow that has shaken their usurpation to + the base, and must inevitably be followed by their final overthrow. + Yes, the sun of freedom is dawning on the pallid slaves of Europe," + etc. + + The conclusion of this diatribe I am certain you have, and if you have + not the beginning, why put it in beginning with the words: "I have + continued the history of my life." + + If I thought there was a probability that I could get a seat in the + reformed House of Commons, I would go to England, or if there was a + probability of revolution. I was more delighted with your resolve not + to change your name than with any other portion of your letter. + Trelawny, too, is a good name, and sounds as well as Shelley; it fills + the mouth as well and will as soon raise a spirit. By the bye, when + you send my books, send me also Mary Wollstonecraft's _Rights of + Women_, and Godwin's new work on _Man_, and tell me what you are now + writing. The Hares are at Lucca Baths. Never omit to tell me what you + know of Caroline. Do you think there is any opening among the + demagogues for me? It is a bustling world at present, and likely so to + continue. I must play a part. Write, Mary mine, speedily. + + Is my book advertised? If so, the motto from Byron should accompany + it. + + Clare only remained in Florence about ten days; some sudden death of a + relative of the family she resides with recalled them to Russia. I saw + her three or four times. She was very miserable, and looked so pale, + thin, and haggard. The people she lived with were bigots, and treated + her very badly. I wished to serve her, but had no means. Poor lady, I + pity her; her life has been one of continued misery. I hope on Sir + Timothy's death it will be bettered; her spirits are broken, and she + looks fifty; I have not heard of her since her departure. Mrs. Hare + once saw her, but she was so prejudiced against her, from stories she + had heard against her from the Beauclercs, that she could hardly be + induced to notice her. You are aware that I do not wish my book to + appear as if written for publication, and therefore have avoided all + allusions which might induce people to think otherwise. I wish all the + mottoes to be inserted, as they are a selection of beautiful poetry, + and many of them not published. + + The bills, you say, Colburn and Bentley are to give you; perhaps + Horace Smith may further favour me by getting them negotiated. I am + too much indebted to him to act so scurvily as not to treat him with + entire confidence, so with the injunction of secrecy you may tell him + my name. If he dislikes the affair of the bills, as I cannot employ + any of my people of business, why give the bills, or rather place them + in the hands of a man who keeps a glover's shop (I know him well). His + name is Moon, and his shop is corner one in Orange Street, Bloomsbury + Square. When I get your reply, I will, if necessary, write to him on + the subject. I pray you write me on receipt of this. My child Zella is + growing up very pretty, and with a soul of fire. She is living with + friends of mine near Lucca. + + The only copies of the book I wish you to give away are to Horace + Smith, Mary Shelley, Lady Burghersh, No. 1 Hyde Park Terrace, Oxford + Road, and Jane Williams, to remind her that she is not forgotten. + Shelley's tomb and mine in Rome, is, I am told, in a very dilapidated + state. I will see to its repair. Send me out six copies by sea; one if + you can sooner. Address them to Henry Dunn, Leghorn. + + E. J. TRELAWNY. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + POSTE RESTANTE, FIRENZE, + _19th July 1831_. + + * * * * * + + By the bye, Mary, if it is not too late, I should wish the name of + Zella to be spelt in the correct Arabic, thus, _Zellā_, in my book. I + changed it in common with several others of the names to prevent my + own being too generally recognised; with regard to hers, if not too + late, I should now wish it to appear in its proper form, besides + which, in the chapter towards the conclusion, wherein I narrate an + account of a pestilence which was raging in the town of Batavia, I + wish the word Java fever to be erased, and cholera morbus substituted. + For we alone had the former malady on board the schooner, having + brought it into the Batavia Roads with us, but on our arrival there + we found the cholera raging with virulence, most of those attacked + expiring in the interval of the setting and rising of the sun. Luis, + our steward, I thought died from fever, as we had had it previously on + board, but the medicals pronounced it or denounced it cholera. If the + alteration can be made, it will be interesting, as in the history of + the cholera I see published, they only traced the origin to 1816, when + the fact is, it was in 1811 that I am speaking of, and no doubt it has + existed for thousands of years before, but it is only of late, like + the natives of Hindoostan, it has visited Europe. It is sent by + Nemesis, a fitting retribution for the gold and spices we have robbed + them of. The malediction of my Malayan friends has come to pass, for I + have no doubt the Russian caravans which supply that empire with tea, + silks, and spices introduced the cholera, or gave it into the bargain, + or as _bona mano_. I wish you would write, for I am principally + detained here by wishing to get a letter from you ere I go to some + other place.--Yours, and truly, + + E. T. + + + MRS. SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + SOMERSET STREET, _26th July 1831_. + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--Your third volume is now printing, so I should + imagine that it will very soon be published; everything shall be + attended to as you wish. The letter to which I alluded in my former + one was a tiny one enclosed to Clare, which perhaps you have received + by this time. It mentioned the time of the agreement; £300 in bills of + three, six, and eight months, dated from the day of publication, and + £100 more on a second edition. The mention I made of your mother was, + that she speaks openly in society of your forthcoming memoirs, so that + I should imagine very little real secrecy will attend them. However, + you will but gain reputation and admiration through them. + + I hope you are going on, for your continuation will, I am sure, be + ardently looked for. I am so sorry for the delay of all last winter, + yet I did my best to conclude the affair; but the state of the nation + has so paralysed bookselling that publishers were very backward, + though Colburn was in his heart eager to get at your book. As to the + price, I have taken pains to ascertain; and you receive as much as is + given to the best novelists at this juncture, which may console your + vanity if it does not fill your pocket. + + The Reform Bill will pass, and a considerable revolution in the + government of the country will, I imagine, be the consequence. + + You have talents of a high order. You have powers; these, with + industry and discretion, would advance you in any career. You ought + not, indeed you ought not to throw away yourself as you do. Still, I + would not advise your return on the speculation, because England is so + sad a place that the mere absence from it I consider a peculiar + blessing. + + My name will _never_ be Trelawny. I am not so young as I was when you + first knew me, but I am as proud. I must have the entire affection, + devotion, and, above all, the solicitous protection of any one who + would win me. You belong to womenkind in general, and Mary Shelley + will _never_ be yours. + + I write in haste, but I will write soon again, more at length. You + shall have your copies the moment I receive them. Believe me, with all + gratitude and affection, yours, + + M. W. SHELLEY. + + Jane thanks you for the book promised. I am infinitely chagrined at + what you tell me concerning Clare. If the B.'s spoke against her, that + means Mrs. B. and her stories were gathered from Lord Byron, who + feared Clare and did not spare her; and the stories he told were such + as to excuse the prejudice of any one. + + + THE SAME TO THE SAME. + + SOMERSET STREET, _2d October 1831_. + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--I suppose that I have now some certain intelligence + to send you, though I fear that it will both disappoint and annoy + you. I am indeed ashamed that I have not been able to keep these + people in better order, but I trusted to honesty, when I ought to have + ensured it; however, thus it stands: your book is to be published in + the course of the month, and then your bills are to be dated. As soon + as I get them I will dispose of them as you direct, and you will + receive notice on the subject without delay. I cannot procure for you + a copy until then; they pretend that it is not all printed. If I can + get an opportunity I will send you one by private hand, at any rate I + shall send them by sea without delay. I will write to Smith about + negotiating your bills, and I have no doubt that I shall be able + somehow or other to get you money on them. I will go myself to the + City to pay Barr's correspondent as soon as I get the cash. Thus your + _pretty dear_ (how fascinating is flattery) will do her best, as soon + as these tiresome people fulfil their engagements. In some degree they + have the right on their side, as the day of publication is a usual + time from which to date the bills, and that was the time which I + acceded to; but they talked of such hurry and speed that I expected + that that day was nearer at hand than it now appears to be. November + _is_ the publishing month, and no new things are coming out now. In + fact, the Reform Bill swallows up every other thought. You have heard + of the Lords' majority against it, much longer than was expected, + because it was not imagined that so many bishops would vote against + Government.... + + Do whenever you write send me news of Clare. She never writes herself, + and we are all excessively anxious about her. I hope she is better. + God knows when fate will do anything for us. I despair. Percy is well, + I fancy that he will go to Harrow in the spring; it is not yet finally + arranged, but this is what I wish, and therefore I suppose it will be, + as they have promised to increase my allowance for him, and leave me + pretty nearly free, only with Eton prohibited; but Harrow is now in + high reputation under a new head-master. I am delighted to hear that + Zella is in such good hands, it is so necessary in this world of woe + that children should learn betimes to yield to necessity; a girl + allowed to run wild makes an unhappy woman. + + Hunt has set up a penny daily paper, literary and theatrical; it is + succeeding very well, but his health is wretched, and when you + consider that his sons, now young men, do not contribute a penny + towards their own support, you may guess that the burthen on him is + very heavy. I see them very seldom, for they live a good way off, and + when I go he is out, she busy, and I am entertained by the children, + who do not edify me. Jane has just moved into a house about half a + mile further from town, on the same road; they have furnished it + themselves. Dina improves, or rather she always was, and continues to + be, a very nice child. + + * * * * * + +The _Adventures_ did not reach a second edition in their original form; +the first edition failed, indeed, to repay its expenses; but they were +afterwards republished in _Colburn's Family Library_. The second part of +Trelawny's Autobiography took the chatty and discursive form, so popular +at the present day, of "Reminiscences." It is universally known as +_Recollections[11] of Shelley, Byron, and the Author_. + +So long as Shelley and Byron survive as objects of interest in this world, +so long must this fascinating book share their existence. As originally +published, it has not a dull page. Life-like as if written at the moment +it all happened, it yet has the pictorial sense of proportion which can +rarely exist till a writer stands at such a distance (of time) from the +scenes he describes that he can estimate them, not only as they are, but +in their relation to surrounding objects. It would seem as if, for the +conversations at least, Trelawny must sometimes have drawn on his +imagination as well as his memory; if so, it can only be replied that, by +his success, he has triumphantly vindicated his artistic right to do so. +Terse, original, and characteristic, each speech paints its speaker in +colours which we know and feel to be true. Nothing seems set down for +effect; it is spontaneous, unstudied, everyday reality. And if the history +of Trelawny's own exploits in Greece somewhat recall the "tarasconnades" +of his early adventures, it at least puts a thrilling finish to a book it +was hard to conclude without falling into bathos. As a writer on Shelley, +Trelawny surely stands alone. Many authors have praised Shelley, others +have condemned and decried him, others again have tried to pity and +"excuse" him. No one has apprehended as happily as Trelawny the peculiar +_timbre_, if it may be so described, of his nature, or has brought out so +vividly, and with so few happy touches, his moral and social +characteristics. Saint or sinner, the Shelley of Trelawny is no lay +figure, no statue even, no hero of romance; it is _Shelley_, the man, the +boy, the poet. Trelawny assures us that Hogg's picture of Shelley as a +youth is absolutely faithful. But Hogg's picture only shows us Shelley in +his "salad days," and even that we are never allowed to contemplate +without the companion-portrait of the biographer, smiling with cynical +amusement while he yields his tribute of heartfelt, but patronising +praise. + +The conclusions to which Hogg had come by observation Trelawny arrived at +by intuition. Fiery and imaginative, his nature was by far the more +sympathetic of the two; though it may be that, in virtue of very +unlikeness, Hogg would have proved, in the long run, the fitter companion +for Shelley. + +Between Trelawny and Mary there existed the same kind of adjustable +difference. His descriptions of her have been largely drawn upon in +earlier chapters of the present work, and need not be reverted to here. +She had been seven years dead when the _Recollections_ were published. +Twenty years later, when Mary Shelley had been twenty-seven years in her +grave, there appeared a second edition of the book. In those twenty years, +what change had come over the spirit of its pages? An undefinable +difference, like that which comes over the face of Nature when the wind +changes from west to east,--and yet not so undefinable either, for it had +power to reverse some very definite facts. Byron's feet, for instance, +which--as the result of an investigation after death--were described, in +1858, as having, both, been "clubbed and withered to the knee," "the feet +and legs of a sylvan satyr," are, in 1878, pronounced to have been +_faultless_, but for the contraction of the back sinews (the "Tendon +Achilles"), which prevented his heels from resting on the ground. +"Unfortunately," to quote Mr. Garnett's comment on this discrepancy, in +his article on _Shelley's Last Days_, "as in the natural world the same +agencies that are elevating one portion of the earth's surface are at the +same time depressing another, so, in the microcosm of Mr. Trelawny's +memory and judgment, the embellishment of Lord Byron's feet has been +accompanied by a corresponding deterioration of Mrs. Shelley's heart and +head." + +Yes; the Mary Shelley with whom, in early days, even Trelawny could find +no fault, save perhaps for a tendency to mournfulness in solitude and an +occasional fit of literary abstraction when she might have been looking +after the commissariat--who in later years was his trusty friend, his sole +correspondent, his literary editor, his man of business--and withal his +"pretty dear" "every day dearer" to him, "Mary--my Mary"--superior surely +to the rest of her sex, with whom at one time it seems plain enough that +he would have been nothing loth to enter into an alliance, offensive and +defensive, for life, would she but have preferred the name of Trelawny to +that of Shelley,--this Mary whose voice had been silent for seven and +twenty years, and to whom he himself had raised a monument of praise, +rises from her tomb as conventional and commonplace, unsympathetic and +jealous, narrow, orthodox, and worldly. + +Yet she had borne with his exactions and scoldings and humours for +friendship's sake, and with full faith in the loyalty and generosity of +his heart. A pure and delicate-minded woman, she had not been scandalised +by his lawless morals. She had had the courage to withstand him when he +was wrong, working for him the while like a devoted slave. Never was a +more true and disinterested friendship than hers for him; and he, who knew +her better than most people did, was well aware of it. + +Where then was the change? Alas! It was in himself. In this revolving +world, where "Time that gave doth now his gift confound," and where +"nought may endure but mutability," the "flourish set on youth" is soon +transfixed. + +Greek fevers and gunshot wounds told on the "Pirate's" disposition as well +as on his constitution. The habits of mind he had cultivated and been +proud of,--combativeness, opposition to all authority as such--finally +became his masters; he could not even acquiesce in his own experience. Age +and the ravages of Time were to blame for his morbid censoriousness; +Time--that "feeds on the rarities of Nature's truth." These later +recollections are but the distorted images of a blurred mirror. But, none +the less, the tale is a sad one. We can but echo Trelawny's own words to +Mary[12]--"Can such things be, and overcome us like a summer cloud, +without our especial wonder?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +OCTOBER 1831-OCTOBER 1839 + + +Trelawny's book was only one among many things which claimed Mrs. +Shelley's attention during these three years. + +In 1830 Godwin published his _Thoughts on Man_. The relative positions of +father and daughter had come to be reversed, and Mary now negotiated with +the publishers for the sale of his work, as he had formerly done for her. +Godwin himself set a high value, even for him, on this book, and +anticipated for it a future and an influence which were not to be +realised. + + GODWIN TO MARY. + + _15th April 1830._ + + DEAR MARY--If you do me the favour to see Murray, I know not how far + you can utter the following things; or if you do, how far they will + have any weight with his highness; yet I cannot but wish you should + have them in your mind. + + The book I offer is a collection of ten new and interesting truths, + illustrated in no unpopular style. They are the fruit of thirty years' + meditation (it being so long since I wrote the _Enquirer_), in the + full maturity of my understanding. + + The book, therefore, will be very far from being merely one book more + added to the number of books already existing in English literature. + It must, as I conceive, when published make a deep impression, and + cause the thinking part of the public to perceive--There are here laid + before us ten interesting truths never before delivered. + + Whether it is published during my life or after my death it is a light + that cannot be extinguished--"the precious life-blood of a discerning + spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life." + +In the following amusing letter Clare gives Mary a few commissions. She +was to interest her literary acquaintance in Paris in the publication and +success of a French poem by a friend of Clare's at Moscow, the greatest +wish of whose heart was to appear in print. She was also to find a means +of preventing the French translatress of Moore's _Life of Byron_ from +introducing Clare's name into her elucidatory footnotes. This was indeed +all-important to Clare, as any revival of scandal about her might have +robbed her of the means of subsistence, but it was also an extremely +difficult and delicate task for Mary. But no one ever hesitated to make +her of use. Her friends estimated her power by her goodwill, and her +goodwill by their own need of her services; and they were generally right, +for the will never failed, and the way was generally found. + + CLARE TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + NICE, _11th December 1830_. + + MY DEAR MARY--Your last letter, although so melancholy, gave me much + pleasure, merely, therefore, because it came from you. + + I intended to have written to all and each of you, but until now have + not been able to put my resolution into execution. It must seem to you + that I am strangely neglectful of my friends, or perhaps you think + since I am so near Trelawny that I have been taking a lesson from him + in the art of cultivating one's friendships; but neither of these is + the case, my silence is quite on another principle than this. + + I am not desperately in love, nor just risen from my bed at four in + the afternoon in order to write my millionth love letter, nor am I + indifferent to those whom time and the malice of fortune have yet + spared to me, but simply I have been too busy. + + Since I have been at Nice I have had to change lodgings four times; + besides this, we were a long time without a maid, and received and + paid innumerable visits. My whole day was spent in shifting my + character. In the morning I arose a waiting-maid, and, having attended + to the toilette of Natalie, sank into a house-maid, a laundry-maid, + and, after noon, I fear me, a cook, having to look to the cleaning of + the rooms, the getting up of linen, and the preparation of various + pottages fit for the patient near me. At mid-day I turned into a + governess, gave my lessons, and at four or five became a fine lady for + the rest of the day, and paid visits or received them, for at Nice it + is the custom, so soon as a stranger arrives, that everybody _comme il + faut_ in the place comes to call upon you; nor can you shut your doors + against them even if you were dying, for as Nice is the resort of the + sick, and as everybody either is sick or has been sick, nursing has + become the common business. + + So we went on day after day. We had _dejeuners dansants_, _soirées + dansantes_ (_dīners dansants_ are considered as _de trop_ by order of + the physicians), _bals parés_, _théatres_, _opéras_, _grands dīners_, + _petits soupers_, _concerts_, _visites de matin_, _promenades ą āne_, + _parties de campagne_, _réunions littéraires_, _grands cercles_, + _promenades en bateau_, _coteries choisies_, _thunder-storms_ from + the sea, and _political storms_ from France; in short, if we had only + had an earthquake, or the shock of one, we should have run through the + whole series of modifications of which human existence is susceptible. + _Voilą Paris, Voilą Paris_, as the song says. + + You may perhaps expect that the novelty of society should have + suggested to me remarks and observations as multifarious as the forms + under which I observed it. Sorry I am to say that either from its + poverty, or from my own poverty of intellect, I have not gathered from + it anything beyond the following couple of conclusions, that people of + the world, disguise themselves as they may, possess but two qualities, + a great want of understanding, and a vast pretension to sentiment. + From this duplexity arises the duplicity with which they are so often + charged, and no wonder, for with hearts so heavy, and heads so light, + how is it possible to keep anything like a straightforward course? In + alleviation of this, I must confess that wherever I went I carried + about with me my own identity (that unhappy identity which has cost me + so dear, and of which, with all my pains, I have never been able to + lose a particle), and contemplated the people I judge through the + medium of its rusty atoms. + + I must speak to you of an affair that interests me deeply. M. Gambs + has informed me that he has sent to Paris a poem of his in manuscript + called _Möise_. He gave it to the Prince Nicolas Scherbatoff at + Moscow, just upon his setting out for Paris; this is many months ago. + Whether the Prince gave any promise to endeavour to get it published I + do not know; but if he did, he is such a very indolent and selfish man + that his efforts would never get the thing done. M. Gambs has written + to me to ask if you have any literary friends in Paris who would be + kind enough to interest themselves about it. The address of the Prince + is as follows: Son Excellence Le Prince Nicolas Scherbatoff, Rue St. + Lazare, No. 17, ą Paris. Can you not get some one to call upon him to + ask about the manuscript, and to propose it to some bookseller? + + This some one may enter into a direct correspondence with M. Gambs by + addressing him Chez M. Lenhold, Marchand de Musique, ą Moscow. I + should be highly delighted if you could settle things in this way, as + I know my friend has nothing more at heart than to appear in print, + and that I should be glad to be the means of communicating some + pleasure to an existence which I know is almost utterly without it, + and of showing my gratitude for the kindness and goodness he has + showered upon me; nor, as far as my poor judgment goes, is the work + unworthy of inspiring interest, and of being saved from oblivion. It + pleased me much when it was read to me; but then it is true I was in a + desert, and there a drop of water will often seem to us more precious + than the finest jewel. + + Another subject connected with Paris also presses itself on my mind. + In Moore's _Life of Lord Byron_ only the most distant allusion was + made to Lady Caroline Lamb; yet, in the French translation, its + performer, Madame Sophie Bellay (or some such name) had the indelicacy + to unveil the mystery in a note, and to expose it in distinct and + staring characters to the public. This piece of impudence was harmless + to Lady Caroline, since her independence of others was assured beyond + a doubt; but to any one whose bread depends upon the public a printed + exposure of their conduct will infallibly bring on destitution, and + reduce them to the necessity of weighing upon their relations for + support. + + I know the subject is a disagreeable one, and that you do not like + disagreeable subjects. I know nothing of business or whether there + exists any means of averting this blow; perhaps a representation to + the translator of the evils that would follow would be sufficient; but + as I have no means of trying this, I am reduced to suggest the subject + to your attention, with the firm hope that you will find some method + of warding off the threatened mischief. + + What you tell me of the state of family resources has naturally + depressed my spirits. Will the future never cease unrolling new shapes + of misery? Stair above stair of wretchedness is all we know; the + present, bad as it is, is always better than what comes after. Of all + the crowd of eager inquirers at the Delphic shrine was there ever + found one who thanked, or had any reason to thank, the Pythia for what + she disclosed to him? For me, I have long abandoned hope and the + future, and am now diligently pursuing and retracing the past, going + the back way as it were to eternity in order to avoid the + disappointments and perplexities of an unknown course. But I must beg + pardon for my cowardice and disagreeableness, and leave it, or else I + shall be recollected with as much reluctance as the Pythia. + + I wish I could give you any idea of the beauty of Nice. So long as I + can walk about beside the sounding sea, beneath its ambient heaven, + and gaze upon the far hills enshrined in purple light, I catch such + pleasure from their loveliness that I am happy without happiness; but + when I come home, then it seems to me as if all the phantasmagoria of + hell danced before my eyes. + + Mrs. K. has arrived and in no very amiable humour. The only + conversation I hear is, first, the numberless perfections of herself, + husband, and child; this, as it is true, would be well enough, but + still upon repetition it tires; second, the infinite superiority of + Russia over all other countries, since it is an established truth that + liberty and civilisation are the most dreadful of all evils. I, to + avoid ill-temper, assent to all they say; then in company, when + opposed in their doctrines, they drag me forward, and the tacit + consent I have given, as an argument in favour of their way of + thinking, and I am at once set down by everybody either as a fawning + creature or an utter fool. However, I am glad she has come, as the + responsibility of Natalie's health was too much. For heaven's sake + excuse me to dear Jane that I have not written. My first moment shall + be given to do so. + + I think of England and my friends all day long. Entreat everybody to + write to me. Do pray do so yourself. My love to my Mother and Papa, + and William and everybody. How happy was I that Percy was well.--In + haste, ever yours, + + C. CLAIRMONT. + +Mrs. Shelley's mind was much occupied during 1831 by the serious question +of sending her son to a public school. She wished to give him the best +possible education, and she wished, too, to give it him in such a form as +would place him at no disadvantage among other young men when he took his +place in English society. + +Shelley (she mentions in one of her letters) had expressed himself in +favour of a public school, but Shelley's family had also to be consulted, +and she seems to have had reason to hope they would help in the matter. + +They quite concurred in her views for Percy, only putting a veto on Eton, +where legends of his father's school-days might still be lingering about. +Nothing was better than that she should send him to a public school--_if +she could_. These last words were implied, not expressed. But a public +school education in England is not to be given on a very limited income. +Funds had to be found; and Mrs. Shelley made, through the lawyer, a direct +request to Sir Timothy for assistance. + +She received the following answer-- + + MR. WHITTON TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + STONE HALL, _6th November 1831_. + + DEAR MADAM--I have been, from the time I received your last favour to + the present, in correspondence with Sir Timothy Shelley as to your + wishes of an advance upon the £300 per annum he now makes to you, and + I recommended him to consult his friend and solicitor, Mr. Steadman, + of Horsham, thereon, and which he did. + + You have not perhaps well put together and estimated on the great + amount of the charges upon the estate by the late Mr. Shelley, and on + the legacies given by his will; but looking at all these, and the very + limited interest of the estate now vested in you, Sir Timothy has + paused in his consideration thereof, and in the result has brought his + mind, that, having regard to the other provisions he is bound to make + for his other children, he ought not to increase the allowance to you, + and upon that ground he declines so doing; and therefore feels the + necessity of your making such arrangements as you may find necessary + to make the £300 per annum answer the purposes for yourself and for + your son, and he has this morning stated to me his fixed determination + to abide thereby; and I lose not a moment, after I receive this + communication from him, to make it known to you, and I trust and hope + you will find it practicable to give him a good education out of the + £300 a year.--I remain, Madam, your very obedient servant, + + WM. WHITTON. + +The seeming brutality of the concluding sentence must in fairness be +ascribed to the writer and not to those he represented. + +To Mrs. Shelley, knowing the impossibility of carrying out the public +school plan on her own income, the wishes and hopes must have sounded a +mockery. It had to be done, however, if it was the best thing for the boy. +The money must be earned, and she worked on. + +One day she received from her father a new kind of petition, which, +showing the effect on him of advancing years, must have struck a pang to +her heart. She was accustomed to his requests for money, but now he wrote +to her for _an idea_. + + GODWIN TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + _13th April 1832._ + + MY DEAR MARY--You desire me to write to you, if I have anything + particular to say. + + I write, then, to say that I am still in the same dismaying + predicament in which I have been for weeks past--at a loss for + materials to make up my third volume. This is by no means what I + expected. + + I knew, and I know, that incidents of hair-breadth escapes and + adventures are innumerable, and that without having fixed on any one + of them, I took for granted they would come when I called for them. + Such is the mischievous effect, the anxious expectation, that is + produced by past success. + + I believe that when I came to push with all my force against the + barriers that seemed to shut me in they would give way, and place all + the treasures of invention before me. + + Meanwhile, it unfortunately happens that I cannot lay my present + disappointment to the charge of advancing age. + + I find all my faculties and all my strength in full bloom about me. My + disappointment has put that to a sharp trial. I thought that the + severe stretch of my faculties would cause them to yield, and subside + into feebleness and torpor. No such thing. Day after day, week after + week, I apply to this one question, without remission and with + discernment. But I cannot please myself. If I make the round of all my + thoughts, and come home empty-handed, it would seem that in the flower + and vigour of my youth I should have done the same. + + Meanwhile, my situation is deplorable. I am not free to choose the + thing I would do. I have written two volumes and a quarter, and have + received five-sixths of the price of my work. + + I am afraid you will think I am useless, by teasing you with + "conceptions only proper to myself." But it is not altogether so. A + bystander may see a point of game which a player overlooks. Though I + cannot furnish myself with satisfactory incidents I have disciplined + my mind into a tone that would enable me to improve them, if offered + to me. + + My mind is like a train of gunpowder, and a single spark, now happily + communicated, might set the whole in motion and activity. + + Do not tease yourself about my calamity; but give it one serious + thought. Who knows what such a thought may produce?--Your affectionate + Father, + + WILLIAM GODWIN. + +In the spring of 1832 the cholera appeared in London. Clare, at a +distance, was torn to pieces between real apprehension for the safety of +her friends, and distracting fears lest the disease should select among +them for its victim some one on whose life depended the realisation of +Shelley's will. For Percy especially she was solicitous. Mary must take +him away at once, to the seaside--anywhere: if money was an obstacle she, +Clare, was ready to help to defray the cost out of her salary. + +Mrs. Shelley did leave London, although, it may safely be asserted, at no +one's expense but her own. She stayed for a month at Southend, and +afterwards for a longer time at Sandgate. + +Besides contributing tales and occasionally verses to the _Keepsake_, she +was employed now and during the next two or three years in preparing and +writing the Italian and Spanish Lives of Literary Men for Lardner's +_Cabinet Cyclopędia_. These included, among the Italians--Petrarch, +Boccaccio, Bojardo, Macchiavelli, Metastasio, Goldoni, Alfieri, Ugo +Foscolo, etc.; among the Spanish and Portuguese--Cervantes, Lope de Vega, +Calderon, Camoens, and a host of others, besides notices of the +Troubadours, the "Romances Moriscos," and the early poets of Portugal. + +Clare, too, tried her hand at a story, to which she begged Mary to be a +kind of godmother. + + I have written a tale, which I think will do for the _Keepsake_. I + shall send it home for your perusal. Will you correct it? Do write and + let me know where I may send it, so as to be sure to find you. Will + you be angry with me if I beg you to write the last scene of it? I am + now so unwell I can't. + + My only time for writing is after 10 at night; the rest of the tale + was composed at that hour, after having been scolding and talking and + giving lessons from 7 in the morning. + + It was very near its end when I got so ill, I gave it up. If you + cannot do anything with it you can at least make curl-papers of it, + and that is always something. Do not mention it to anybody; should it + be printed one can speak of it, and if you judge it not worthy, then + it is no use mortifying my vanity. + + The truth, is I should never think of writing, knowing well my + incapacity for it, but I want to gain money. What would one not do for + that, since it is the only key of freedom? One is even impudent enough + to ask a great authoress to finish one's tale for one. I think, in + your hands, it might get into the _Keepsake_, for it is about a Pole, + and that is the topic of the day. + + If it should get any money, half will naturally belong to you. Should + you have the kindness to arrange it, Julia would perhaps also be so + kind as to copy it out for me, that the alterations in your hand may + not be seen. I wish it to be signed "Mont Obscur."... + +Mary did what was asked of her. Trelawny, now in England again, had +influence in some literary quarters, and, at her request, willingly +consented to exert it on Clare's behalf. + +Meanwhile he requested her to receive his eldest daughter on a visit of +considerable length. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + _17th July 1832._ + + MY DEAR MARY--I am awaiting an occasion of sending ---- to Italy, my + friend, Lady D., undertaking the charge of her. + + It may be a month before she leaves England. At the end of this month + Mrs. B. leaves London, and you will do me a great service if you will + permit my daughter to reside with you till I can make the necessary + arrangements for going abroad; she has been reared in a rough school, + like her father. I wish her to live and do as you do, and that you + will not put yourself to the slightest inconvenience on her account. + + As we are poor, the rich are our inheritance, and we are justified on + all and every occasion to rob and use them. + + But we must be honest and just amongst ourselves, therefore ---- must + to the last fraction pay her own expenses, and neither put you to + expense nor inconvenience. For the rest, I should like ---- to learn + to lean upon herself alone--to see the practical part of life: to + learn housekeeping on trifling means, and to benefit by her + intercourse with a woman like you; but I am ill at compliments. + + If you will permit ---- to come to you, I will send or bring her to + you about the 25th of this month. I should like you and ---- to know + each other before she leaves England, and thus I have selected you to + take charge of her in preference to any other person; but say if it + chimes in with your wishes. + + Adieu, dear Mary.--Your attached friend, + + EDWARD TRELAWNY. + + By the bye, tell me where the Sandgate coach starts from, its time of + leaving London, and its time of arrival at Sandgate, and where you + are, and if they will give you another bedroom in the house you are + lodging in; and if you have any intention of leaving Sandgate soon. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + _27th July 1832._ + + MY DEAR MARY--You told me in your letter that it would be more + convenient for you to receive ---- on the last of the month, so I made + my arrangements accordingly. I now find it will suit me better to come + to you on Wednesday, so that you may expect ---- on the evening of + that day by the coach you mention. I shall of course put up at the + inn. + + As to your style of lodging or living, ---- is not such a fool as to + let that have any weight with her; if you were in a cobbler's stall + she would be satisfied; and as to the dulness of the place, why, that + must mainly depend on ourselves. Brompton is not so very gay, and the + reason of my removing ---- to Italy is that Mrs. B. was about sending + her to reside with strangers at Lincoln; besides ---- is acting + entirely by her own free choice, and she gladly preferred Sandgate to + Lincoln. At all events, come we shall; and if you, by barricading or + otherwise, oppose our entrance, why I shall do to you, not as I would + have others do unto me, but as I do unto others,--make an onslaught on + your dwelling, carry your tenement by assault, and give the place up + to plunder. + + So on Wednesday evening (at 5, by your account) you must be prepared + to quietly yield up possession or take the consequences. So as you + shall deport yourself, you will find me your friend or foe, + + TRELAWNY. + +Mary's guest stayed with her over a month. During this time she was +saddened by the sudden death of her friendly acquaintance, Lord Dillon. +She was anxious, too, about her father, whose equable spirits had failed +him this year. No assistance seemed to avail much to ease his +circumstances; he was not far from his eightieth year, and still his hopes +were anchored in a yet-to-be-written novel. + + "I feel myself able and willing to do everything, and to do it well," + so he wrote, "and nobody disposed to give me the requisite + encouragement. If I can agree with these tyrants" (his publishers) + "for £300, £400, or £500 for a novel, and to be subsisted by them + while I write it, I probably shall not starve for a twelvemonth to + come ... but this dancing attendance wears my spirits and destroys my + tranquillity. 'Hands have I, but I handle not; I have feet, but I walk + not; neither is there any breath in my nostrils.' + + "Meanwhile my life wears away, and 'there is no work, nor device, nor + knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave whither I go.' But, indeed, I am + wrong in talking of that, for I write now, not for marble to be placed + over my remains, but for bread to put into my mouth." + +Mary tried in the summer to tempt him down to Sandgate for a change. But +the weather was very cold, and he declined. + + _28th August 1832._ + + DEAR MARY-- + + See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year, + Sullen and sad, with all his rising train-- + Vapours, and clouds, and storms. + + I am shivering over a little fire at the bottom of my grate, and have + small inclination to tempt the sea-breezes and the waves; we must + therefore defer our meeting till it comes within the walls of London. + + * * * * * + + _Au revoir!_ To what am I reserved? I know not. + + The wide (no not) the unbounded prospect lies before me, + But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. + +A new shadow was now to fall upon the poor old man, in the death from +cholera of his only son, Mary's half-brother, William. This son in his +early youth had given some trouble and caused some anxiety, but his +character, as he grew up, had become steadier and more settled. He was +happily married, and seemed likely to be a source of real comfort and +satisfaction to his parents in their old age. By profession he was a +reporter, but he had his hereditary share of literary ability and of +talent "turned for the relation of fictitious adventures," and left in MS. +a novel called _Transfusion_, published by his father after his death, +with the motto-- + + Some noble spirits, judging by themselves, + May yet conjecture what I might have been. + +Although inevitably somewhat hardened against misfortune of the heart by +his self-centred habits of mind and anxiety about money, Godwin was much +saddened by this loss, and to Mrs. Godwin it was a very great and bitter +grief indeed. + +Clare saw at once in this the beginning of fresh troubles; the realisation +of all the gloomy forebodings in which she had indulged. She wrote to Jane +Hogg-- + + That nasty year, 1832, could not go over without imitating in some + respects 1822, and bringing death and misfortune to us. From the time + it came in till it went out I trembled, expecting at every moment to + hear the most gloomy tidings. + + William's death came, and fulfilled my anticipations; misfortune as it + was, it was not such a heavy one to me as the loss of others might + have been. I, however, was fond of him, because I did not view his + faults in that desponding light which his other relations did. I have + seen more of the world, and, comparing him with other young men, his + frugality, his industry, his attachment to his wife, and his talents, + raised him, in my opinion, considerably above the common par. + + But in our family, if you cannot write an epic poem or novel that by + its originality knocks all other novels on the head, you are a + despicable creature, not worth acknowledging. What would they have + done or said had their children been fond of dress, fond of cards, + drunken, profligate, as most people's children are? + +To Mary she wrote in a somewhat different tone, assuming that she, Clare, +was the victim on whom all misfortune really fell, and wondering at Mary's +incredible temerity in allowing her boy, that all-important heir-apparent, +to face the perils of a public school. + +And then, losing sight for a moment of her own feverish anxiety, she +gives a vivid sketch of Mrs. Mason's family. + + MISS CLAIRMONT TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + PISA, _26th October 1832_. + + MY DEAR MARY--Though your last letter was on so melancholy a subject, + yet I am so destitute of all happiness that to receive it was one to + me. + + I have not yet got over the shock of William's death; from the moment + I heard of it until now I have been in a complete state of + annihilation. How long it will last I am sure I cannot tell; I hope + not much longer, or perhaps I shall go mad. + + A horrible and most inevitable future is the image that torments me, + just as it did ten years ago, in this very city. But I won't torment + you, who have a thousand enjoyments that veil it from you, and need + not feel the blow till it comes. Our fates were always different; mine + is to feel the shadow of coming misfortunes, and to sicken beneath it. + There seems to have been great imprudence on William's part: my Mother + says he went to Bartholomew Fair the day before he was taken ill; then + he did not have medical assistance so soon as ill, which they say is + of the highest importance in the cholera, so altogether I suppose his + life was thrown away--a most lucky circumstance for himself, but God + knows what it will be for the Godwins. + + His death changed my plans. I had settled to go to Vienna, but as the + cholera is still there, I no longer considered myself free to offer + another of my Mother's children to be its victim. Mrs. Mason + represented the imprudence of it, considering my weak health, the + depressed state of my spirits for the last twelve years, the fatigue + of the long journey, and the chilliness of the season of the year, + which are all things that predispose excessively to the disease, and I + yielded out of regard to my Mother. I thought she would prefer + anything to my dying, or else at Vienna, Charles tells me, I could + earn more than I am likely to earn here. For the same reason Paris + was abandoned. I beg you will tell her this, and hope she will think I + have done well. + + In the meantime I stay with Mrs. Mason, and have got an engagement as + day governess with an English family, which will supply me with money + for my own expenses, but nothing more. In the spring they wish to take + me entirely, but the pay is not brilliant. When I know more about them + I will tell you. Nothing can equal Mrs. Mason's kindness to me. Hers + is the only house, except my Mother's, in which all my life I have + always felt at home. With her, I am as her child; from the merest + trifle to the greatest object, she treats me as if her happiness + depended on mine. Then she understands me so completely. I have no + need to disguise my sentiments; to barricade myself up in silence, as + I do almost with everybody, for fear they should see what passes in my + mind, and hate me for it, because it does not resemble what passes in + theirs. This ought to be a great happiness to me, and would, did not + her unhappiness and her precarious state of health darken it with the + torture of fear. It is too bitter, after a long life passed in + unbroken misery, to find a good only that you may lose it. + + Laurette's marriage is to take place at the end of November. Mrs. + Mason having tried every means to hinder it, and seeing that she + cannot, is now impatient it should be over. Their present state is too + painful. She cannot disguise her dislike of Galloni; he having nearly + killed her with his scenes, and Laurette cannot sympathise with her; + being on the point of marrying him, and feeling grateful for his + excessive attachment, she wishes to think as well of him as she can. + It is the first time the mother and daughter have ever divided in + opinion, and galls both in a way that seems unreasonable to those who + live in the world, and are accustomed to meet rebuffs in their dearest + feelings at every moment. But our friends live in solitude, and have + nursed themselves into a height of romance about everything. They both + think their destinies annihilated, because the union of their minds + has suffered this interruption. However, no violence mingles with + this sentiment and excites displeasure; on the contrary, I wish it + did, for it would be easier to heal than the tragic immutable sorrow + with which they take it. + + While these two dissolve in quiet grief, Nerina, the Italian, agitates + herself on the question; she forgets all her own love affairs, and all + the sabre slashes and dagger stabs of her own poor heart, to fall into + fainting fits and convulsions every time she sees Laurette and her + mother fix their eyes mournfully upon each other; then she talks and + writes upon the subject incessantly, even till 3 o'clock in the + morning. She has a band of young friends of both sexes, and with them, + either by word of mouth or by letter, she _sfogares_ herself of her + hatred of Galloni, of the unparalleled cruelty of Laurette's fate, and + of the terrific grave that is yawning for her mother; her mind is + discursive, and she introduces into her lamentations observations upon + the faulty manner in which she and her sister have been educated, + strictures upon the nature of love, objurgations against the whole + race of man, and eloquent appeals to the female sex to prefer + patriotism to matrimony. + + All the life that is left in the house is now concentrated in Nerina, + and I am sure she cannot complain of a dearth of sensations, for she + takes good care to feel with everything around her, for if the chair + does but knock the table, she shudders and quakes for both, and runs + into her own study to write it down in her journal. Into this small + study she always hurries me, and pours out her soul, and I am well + pleased to listen, for she is full of genius; when the tide has flowed + so long, it has spent itself, we generally pause, and then begin to + laugh at the ridiculous figures human beings cut in struggling all + their might and main against a destiny which forces millions and + millions of enormous planets on their way, and against which all + struggling is useless. + + + _8th November._ + + My letter has been lying by all this time, I not having time to write. + I am afraid this winter I shall scarcely be able to keep up a + correspondence at all. I must be out at 9 in the morning, and am not + home before 10 at night. I inhabit at Mrs. Mason's a room without a + fire, so that when I get home there is no sitting in it without + perishing with cold. I cannot sit with the Masons, because they have a + set of young men every night to see them, and I do not wish to make + their acquaintance. I walk straight into my own room on my return. + Writing either letters or articles will be a matter of great + difficulty. The season is very cold here. My health always diminishes + in proportion to the cold. + + I am very glad to hear that Percy likes Harrow, but I shudder from + head to foot when I think of your boldness in sending him there. I + think in certain things you are the most daring woman I ever knew. + There are few mothers who, having suffered the misfortunes you have, + and having such advantages depending upon the life of an only son, + would venture to expose that life to the dangers of a public school. + + As for me, it is not for nothing that my fate has been taken out of my + own hands and put into those of people who have wantonly torn it into + miserable shreds and remnants; having once endured to have my whole + happiness sacrificed to the gratification of some of their foolish + whims, why I can endure it again, and so my mind is made up and my + resolution taken. I confess, I could wish there were another world in + which people were to answer for what they do in this! I wish this, + because without it I am afraid it will become a law that those who + inflict must always go on inflicting, and those who have once suffered + must always go on suffering. + + I hope nothing will happen to Percy; but the year, the school itself + that you have chosen, and the ashes[13] that lie near it, and the + hauntings of my own mind, all seem to announce the approach of that + consummation which I dread. + + I am very glad you are delighted with Trelawny. My affections are + entirely without jealousy; the more those I love love others, and are + loved by them, the better pleased am I. I am in a vile humour for + writing a letter; you would not wonder at it if you knew how I am + plagued. I can say from experience that the wonderful variety there is + of miseries in this world is truly astonishing; if some Linnęus would + class them as he did flowers, the number of their kinds would far + surpass the boasted infinitude of the vegetable creation. Not a day + nor hour passes but introduces me to some new pain, and each one + contains within itself swarms of smaller ones--animalculę pains which + float up and down in it, and compose its existence and their own. What + Mademoiselle de L'Espinasse was for love, I am for pain,--all my + letters are on the same subject, and yet I hope I do not repeat + myself, for truly, with such diversity of experience, I ought not. + + Our friends here send their best love to you, and are interested in + your perilous destiny. I have just received a letter from my Mother, + and in obedience to her representations draw my breath as peacefully + as I can till the month of January. Will you explain to me one phrase + of her letter? Talking of the chances of their getting money, she + says: "Then Miss Northcote is not expected to live over the winter," + and not a word beside. Who in the world is Miss Northcote? and what + influence can her death have in bettering their prospects? + + Notwithstanding my writing such a beastly letter as this to you, pray + do write. I work myself into the most dreadful state of irritation + when I am long without letters from some of you. Tell Jane I entreat + her to write, and tell my Mother that the bill of lading of the parcel + for me is come, but Mrs. Mason sent it off to Leghorn without my + seeing it, and was too ill herself to look at the date, so I know not + when it was shipped, but as Mr. Routh has the bill, I suppose I shall + hear when it has arrived and performed quarantine. + + Thank Trelawny for me for his kindness about the article. Pisa is very + dull yet. I am told there are seven or eight English families arrived, + but I have not seen them. + + Farewell, my dear Mary. Be well and happy, and excuse my + dulness.--Yours ever affectionately, + + C. CLAIRMONT. + +One term's experience was enough to convince Mrs. Shelley that she could +only afford to continue her son's school education by leaving London +herself and settling with him at Harrow for some years. + +In January 1833 she wrote an account of her affairs to her old friend, +Mrs. Gisborne-- + + Never was poor body so worried as I have been ever since I last wrote, + I think; worries which plague and press on one, and keep one fretting. + Money, of course, is the Alpha and Omega of my tale. Harrow proves so + fearfully expensive that I have been sadly put to it to pay Percy's + bill for one quarter (£60, _soltanto_), and, to achieve it, am + hampered for the whole year. My only resource is to live at Harrow, + for in every other respect I like the school, and would not take him + from it. He will become a home boarder, and school expenses will be + very light. I shall take a house, being promised many facilities for + furnishing it by a kind friend. + + To go and live at pretty Harrow, with my boy, who improves each day + and is everything I could wish, is no bad prospect, but I have much to + go through, and am so poor that I can hardly turn myself. It is hard + on my poor dear Father, and I sometimes think it hard on myself to + leave a knot of acquaintances I like; but that is a fiction, for half + the times I am asked out I cannot go because of the expense, and I am + suffering now for the times when I do go, and so incur debt. + + No, Maria mine, God never intended me to do other than struggle + through life, supported by such blessings as make existence more than + tolerable, and yet surrounded by such difficulties as make fortitude a + necessary virtue, and destroy all idea of great and good luck. I might + have been much worse off, and I repeat this to myself ten thousand + times a day to console myself for not being better. + + My Father's novel is printed, and, I suppose, will come out soon. Poor + dear fellow! It is hard work for him. + + I am in all the tremor of fearing what I shall get for my novel, which + is nearly finished. His and my comfort depend on it. I do not know + whether you will like it. I cannot guess whether it will succeed. + There is no writhing interest; nothing wonderful nor tragic--will it + be dull? _Chi lo sa?_ We shall see. I shall, of course, be very glad + if it succeeds. + + Percy went back to Harrow to-day. He likes his school much. Have I any + other news for you? Trelawny is gone to America; he is about to cross + to Charlestown directly there is a prospect of war--war in America. I + am truly sorry. Brothers should not fight for the different and + various portions of their inheritance. What is the use of republican + principles and liberty if peace is not the offspring? War is the + companion and friend of monarchy; if it be the same of freedom, the + gain is not much to mankind between a sovereign and president. + + * * * * * + +Not long after taking up her residence at Harrow, which she did in April +1833, Mrs. Shelley was attacked by influenza, then prevailing in a +virulent form. She did not wholly recover from its effects till after the +Midsummer holidays, which she spent at Putney for change of air. She found +the solitude of her new abode very trying. Her boy had, of course, his +school pursuits and interests to occupy him, and, though her literary work +served while it lasted to ward off depression, the constant mental strain +was attended with an inevitable degree of reaction for which a little +genial and sympathetic human intercourse would have been the best--indeed, +the only--cure. + +As for her father, now she had gone he missed her sadly. + + GODWIN TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + _July 1833._ + + DEAR MARY--I shall certainly not come to you on Monday. It would do + neither of us good. I am a good deal of a spoiled child. And were I + not so, and could rouse myself, like Diogenes, to be independent of + all outward comforts, you would treat me as if I could not, so that it + would come to the same thing. + + What a while it is since I saw you! The last time was the 10th of + May,--towards two months,--we who used to see each other two or three + times a week! But for the scale of miles at the bottom of the map, you + might as well be at Timbuctoo or in the deserts of Arabia. + + Oh, this vile Harrow! Your illness, for its commencement or duration, + is owing to that place. At one time I was seriously alarmed for you. + + And now that I hope you are better, with what tenaciousness does it + cling to you! If I ever see you again I wonder whether I shall know + you. I am much tormented by my place, by my book, and hardly suppose I + shall ever be tranquil again. + + I am disposed to adopt the song of Simeon, and to say, "Lord, now + lettest thou thy servant depart in peace!" At seventy years of age, + what is there worth living for? I have enjoyed existence, been active, + strenuous, proud, but my eyes are dim, and my energies forsake + me.--Your affectionate Father, + + WILLIAM GODWIN. + +The next letter is addressed to Trelawny, now in America, + + MRS. SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + HARROW, _7th May 1834_. + + DEAR TRELAWNY--I confess I have been sadly remiss in not writing to + you. I have written once, however, as you have written once (but + once) to me. I wrote in answer to your letter. I am sorry you did not + get it, as it contained a great deal of gossip. It was misdirected by + a mistake of Jane's.... It was sent at the end of last September to + New York. I told you in it of the infidelity of several of your + womankind,--how Mrs. R. S. was flirting with Bulwer, to the infinite + jealousy of Mrs. Bulwer, and making themselves the talk of the + town.... Such and much tittle-tattle was in that letter, all old news + now.... The S.'s (Captain Robert and wife, I mean) went to Paris and + were ruined, and are returned under a cloud to rusticate in the + country in England. + + Bulwer is making the amiable to his own wife, who is worth in beauty + all the Mrs. R. S.'s in the world.... + + Jane has been a good deal indisposed, and has grown very thin. Jeff + had an appointment which took him away for several months, and she + pined and grew ill on his absence; she is now reviving under the + beneficent influence of his presence. + + I called on your mother a week or two ago; she always asks after you + with _empressement_, and is very civil indeed to me. She was looking + well, but ---- tells me, in her note enclosing your letter, that she + is ill of the same illness as she had two years ago, but not so bad. I + think she lives too well. + + ---- is expecting to be confined in a very few weeks, or even days. + She is very happy with B.... He is a thoroughly good-natured and + estimable man; it is a pity he is not younger and handsomer; however, + she is a good girl, and contented with her lot; we are very good + friends.... I should like much to see your friend, Lady Dorothea, but, + though in Europe, I am very far from her. I live on my hill, + descending to town now and then. I should go oftener if I were richer. + Percy continues quite well, and enjoys my living at Harrow, which is + more than I do, I am sorry to say, but there is no help. + + My Father is in good health. Mrs. Godwin has been very ill lately, but + is now better. + + I thought Fanny Kemble was to marry and settle in America: what a + singular likeness you have discovered! I never saw her, except on the + stage. + + So much for news. They say it is a long lane that has no turning. I + have travelled the same road for nearly twelve years; adversity, + poverty, and loneliness being my companions. I suppose it will change + at last, but I have nothing to tell of myself except that Percy is + well, which is the beginning and end of my existence. + + I am glad you are beginning to respect women's feelings.... You have + heard of Sir H.'s death. Mrs. B. (who is great friends with S., now + Sir William, an M.P.) says that it is believed that he has left all he + could to the Catholic members of his family. Why not come over and + marry Letitia, who in consequence will be rich? and, I daresay, still + beautiful in your eyes, though thirty-four. + + We have had a mild, fine winter, and the weather now is as warm, + sunny, and cheering as an Italian May. We have thousands of birds and + flowers innumerable, and the trees of spring in the fields. + + Jane's children are well. The time will come, I suppose, when we may + meet again more (richly) provided by fortune, but youth will have + flown, and that in a woman is something.... + + I have always felt certain that I should never again change my name, + and that is a comfort, it is a pretty and a dear one. Adieu, write to + me often, and I will behave better, and as soon as I have accumulated + a little news, write again.--Ever yours, + + M. W. S. + + + MRS. SHELLEY TO MRS. GISBORNE. + + _17th July 1834._ + + I am satisfied with my plan as regards him (Percy). I like the school, + and the affection thus cultivated for me will, I trust, be the + blessing of my life. + + Still there are many drawbacks; this is a dull, inhospitable place. I + came counting on the kindness of a friend who lived here, but she + died of the influenza, and I live in a silence and loneliness not + possible anywhere except in England, where people are so _islanded_ + individually in habits; I often languish for sympathy, and pine for + social festivity. + + Percy is much, but I think of you and Henry, and shrink from binding + up my life in a child who may hereafter divide his fate from mine. But + I have no resource; everything earthly fails me but him; except on his + account I live but to suffer. Those I loved are false or dead; those I + love, absent and suffering; and I, absent and poor, can be of no use + to them. Of course, in this picture, I subtract the enjoyment of good + health and usually good spirits,--these are blessings; but when driven + to think, I feel so desolate, so unprotected, so oppressed and + injured, that my heart is ready to break with despair. I came here, as + I said, in April 1833, and 9th June was attacked by the influenza, so + as to be confined to my bed; nor did I recover the effects for several + months. + + In September, during Percy's holidays, I went to Putney, and recovered + youth and health; Julia Robinson was with me, and we spent days in + Richmond Park and on Putney Heath, often walking twelve or fourteen + miles, which I did without any sense of fatigue. I sorely regretted + returning here. I am too poor to furnish. I have lodgings in the + town,--disagreeable ones,--yet often, in spite of care and sorrow, I + feel wholly compensated by my boy.... God help me if anything was to + happen to him--I should not survive it a week. Besides his society I + have also a good deal of occupation. + + I have finished a novel, which, if you meet with, read, as I think + there are parts which will please you. I am engaged writing the lives + of some of the Italian _literati_ for Dr. Lardner's _Cyclopędia_. I + have written those of Petrarch, Boccaccio, etc., and am now engaged on + Macchiavelli; this takes up my time, and is a source of interest and + pleasure. + + My Father, I suppose you know, has a tiny, shabby place under + Government. The retrenchments of Parliament endanger and render us + anxious. He is quite well, but old age takes from his enjoyments. Mrs. + Godwin, after influenza, has been suffering from the tic-doloreux in + her arm most dreadfully; they are trying all sorts of poisons on her + with little effect. Their discomfort and low spirits will force me to + spend Percy's holidays in town, to be near them. Jane and Jeff are + well; he was sent last autumn and winter by Lord Brougham as one of + the Corporation Commissioners; he was away for months, and Jane took + the opportunity to fall desperately in love with him--she pined and + grew ill, and wasted away for him. The children are quite well. Dina + spent a week here lately; she is a sweet girl. Edward improves daily + under the excellent care taken of his education. I leave Jane to + inform you of their progress in Greek. Dina plays wonderfully well, + and has shown great taste for drawing, but this last is not + cultivated. + + I did not go to the Abbey, nor the Opera, nor hear Grisi; I am shut + out from all things--like you--by poverty and loneliness. Percy's + pleasures are not mine; I have no other companion. + + What effect Paganini would have had on you, I cannot tell; he threw me + into hysterics. I delight in him more than I can express. His wild, + ethereal figure, rapt look, and the sounds he draws from his violin + are all superhuman--of human expression. It is interesting to see the + astonishment and admiration of Spagnoletti and Nervi as they watch his + evolutions. + + Bulwer is a man of extraordinary and delightful talent. He went to + Italy and Sicily last winter, and, I hear, disliked the inhabitants. + Yet, notwithstanding, I am sure he will spread inexpressible and + graceful interest over the _Last Days of Pompeii_, the subject of his + new novel. Trelawny is in America, and not likely to return. Hunt + lives at Chelsea, and thrives, I hear, by his London pursuit. I have + not seen him for more than a year, for reasons I will not here + detail--they concern his family, not him. + + Clare is in a situation in Pisa, near Mrs. Mason. Laurette and Nerina + are married; the elder badly, to one who won her at the dagger's + point--a sad unintelligible story; Nerina, to the best and most + delightful Pistoiese, by name Bartolomeo Cini--both to Italians. + Laurette lives at Genoa, Nerina at Livorno; the latter is only newly a + bride, and happier than words can express. My Italian maid, Maria, + says to Clare, _Non vedrņ ora mai la mia Padrona ed il mio Bimbo?_ her + Bimbo--as tall as I am and large in proportion--has good health + withal.... + + Pray write one word of information concerning your health before I + attribute your silence to forgetfulness; but you must not trifle now + with the anxiety you have awakened. I will write again soon. With + kindest regards to your poor, good husband, the fondest hopes that + your health is improved, and anxious expectation of a letter, believe + me, ever affectionately yours, + + M. W. SHELLEY. + + + MRS. SHELLEY TO MRS. GISBORNE. + + HARROW, _30th October 1834_. + + MY DEAREST MARIA--Thank you many times for your kind dear letter. God + grant that your constitution may yet bear up a long time, and that you + may continue impressed with the idea of your happiness. To be loved is + indeed necessary. Sympathy and companionship are the only sweets to + make the nauseous draught of life go down; and I, who feel this, live + in a solitude such as, since the days of hermits in the desert, no one + was ever before condemned to! I see no one, speak to no one--except + perhaps for a chance half-hour in the course of a fortnight. I never + walk beyond my garden, because I cannot walk alone. You will say I + ought to force myself; so I thought once, and tried, but it would not + do. The sense of desolation was too oppressive. I only find relief + from the sadness of my position by living a dreamy existence from + which realities are excluded; but going out disturbed this; I wept; my + heart beat with a sense of injury and wrong; I was better shut up. + Poverty prevents me from visiting town; I am too far for visitors to + reach me; I must bear to the end. Twelve years have I spent, the + currents of life benumbed by poverty; life and hope are over for me, + but I think of Percy! + + Yet for the present something more is needed--something not so + _unnatural_ as my present life. Not that I often feel _ennui_--I am + too much employed--but it hurts me, it destroys the spring of my mind, + and makes me at once over-sensitive with my fellow-creatures, and yet + their victim and their dupe. It takes all strength from my character, + and makes me--who by nature am too much so--timid. I used to have one + resource, a belief in my _good fortune_; this is exchanged after + twelve years--one adversity, blotted and sprinkled with many + adversities; a dark ground, with sad figures painted on it--to a + belief in my ill fortune. + + Percy is spared to me, because I am to live. He is a blessing; my + heart acknowledges that perhaps he is as great an one as any human + being possesses; and indeed, my dear friend, while I suffer, I do not + repine while he remains. He is not all you say; he has no ambition, + and his talents are not so transcendent as you appear to imagine; but + he is a fine, spirited, clever boy, and I think promises good things; + if hereafter I have reason to be proud of him, these melancholy days + and weeks at Harrow will brighten in my imagination--and they are not + melancholy. I am seldom so, but they are not right, and it will be a + good thing if they terminate happily soon. + + At the same time, I cannot in the least regret having come here: it + was the only way I had of educating Percy at a public school, of which + institution, at least here at Harrow, the more I see the more I like; + besides that, it was Shelley's wish that his son should be brought up + at one. It is, indeed, peculiarly suited to Percy; and whatever he may + be, he will be twice as much as if he had been brought up in the + narrow confinement of a private school. + + The boys here have liberty to the verge of licence; yet of the latter, + save the breaking of a few windows now and then, there is none. His + life is not quite what it would be if he did not live with me, but + the greater scope given to the cultivation of the affections is surely + an advantage. + + * * * * * + + You heard of the dreadful fire at the Houses of Parliament. We saw it + here from the commencement, raging like a volcano; it was dreadful to + see, but, fortunately, I was not aware of the site. Papa lives close + to the Speaker's, so you may imagine my alarm when the news reached + me, fortunately without foundation, as the fire did not gain that part + of the Speaker's house near them, so they were not even + inconvenienced. The poor dear Speaker has lost dreadfully; what was + not burnt is broken, soaked, and drenched--all their pretty things; + and imagine the furniture and princely chambers--the house was a + palace. For the sake of convenience to the Commons, they are to take + up their abode in the ruins. With kindest wishes for you and S. G., + ever dearest friend, your affectionate + + MARY W. SHELLEY. + + + THE SAME TO THE SAME. + + _February 1835._ + + ... I must tell you that I have had the offer of £600 for an edition + of Shelley's works, with _Life and Notes_. I am afraid it cannot be + arranged, yet at least, and the _Life_ is out of the question; but in + talking over it the question of letters comes up. You know how I + shrink from all private detail for the public; but Shelley's letters + are beautifully written, and everything private might be omitted. + + Would you allow the publisher to treat with you for their being added + to my edition? If I could arrange all as I wish, they might be an + acquisition to the books, and being transacted through me, you could + not see any inconvenience in receiving the price they would be worth + to the bookseller. This is all _in aria_ as yet, but I should like to + know what you think about it. I write all this, yet am very anxious to + hear from you; never mind postage, but do write. + + Percy is reading the _Antigone_; he has begun mathematics. Mrs. + Cleveland[14] and Jane dined with me the other day. Mrs. Cleveland + thought Percy wonderfully improved. + + The volume of Lardner's _Cyclopędia_, with my _Lives_, was published + on the first of this month; it is called _Lives of Eminent Literary + Men_, vol. i. The lives of Dante and Ariosto are by Mr. Montgomery, + the rest are mine. + + Do write, my dearest Maria, and believe me ever and ever, + affectionately yours, + + M. W. SHELLEY. + +_Lodore_, Mrs. Shelley's fifth novel, came out in 1835. It differs from +the others in being a novel of society, and has been stigmatised, rather +unjustly, as weak and colourless, although at the time of its publication +it had a great success. It is written in a style which is now out of date, +and undoubtedly fails to fulfil the promise of power held out by +_Frankenstein_ and to some extent by _Valperga_, but it bears on every +page the impress of the refinement and sensibility of the author, and has, +moreover, a special interest of its own, due to the fact that some of the +incidents are taken from actual occurrences in her early life, and some of +the characters sketched from people she had known. + +Thus, in the description of Clorinda, it is impossible not to recognise +Emilia Viviani. The whole episode of Edward Villier's arrest and +imprisonment for debt, and his young wife's anxieties, is an echo of her +own experience at the time when Shelley was hiding from the bailiffs and +meeting her by stealth in St. Paul's or Holborn. Lodore himself has some +affinity to Byron, and possibly the account of his separation from his +wife and of their daughter's girlhood is a fanciful train of thought +suggested by Byron's domestic history. Most of Mary's novels present the +contrast of the Shelleyan and Byronic types. In this instance the latter +was recognised by Clare, and drew from her one of those bitter tirades +against Byron, which, natural enough in her at the outset, became in the +course of years quite morbidly venomous. Not content with laying Allegra's +death to his charge, she, in her later letters, accuses him of +treacherously plotting and conspiring, out of hatred to herself, to do +away with the child, an allegation unjust and false. In the present +instance, however, she only entered an excited protest against his +continual reappearance as the hero of a novel. + + Mrs. Hare admired _Lodore_ amazingly; so do I, or should I, if it were + not for that modification of the beastly character of Lord Byron of + which you have composed Lodore. I stick to _Frankenstein_, merely + because that vile spirit does not haunt its pages as it does in all + your other novels, now as Castruccio, now as Raymond,[15] now as + Lodore. Good God! to think a person of your genius, whose moral tact + ought to be proportionately exalted, should think it a task befitting + its powers to gild and embellish and pass off as beautiful what was + the merest compound of vanity, folly, and every miserable weakness + that ever met together in one human being! As I do not want to be + severe on the poor man, because he is dead and cannot defend himself, + I have only taken the lighter defects of his character, or else I + might say that never was a nature more profoundly corrupted than his + became, or was more radically vulgar than his was from the very + outset. Never was there an individual less adapted, except perhaps + Alcibiades, for being held up as anything but an object of + commiseration, or as an example of how contemptible is even + intellectual greatness when not joined with moral greatness. I shall + be anxious to see if the hero of your new novel will be another + beautified Byron. Thank heaven! you have not taken to drawing your + women upon the same model. Cornelia I like the least of them; she is + the most like him, because she is so heartlessly proud and selfish, + but all the others are angels of light. + + Euthanasia[16] is Shelley in female attire, and what a glorious being + she is! No author, much less the ones--French, English, or German--of + our day, can bring a woman that matches her. Shakespeare has not a + specimen so perfect of what a woman ought to be; his, for amiability, + deep feeling, wit, are as high as possible, but they want her + commanding wisdom, her profound benevolence. + + I am glad to hear you are writing again; I am always in a fright lest + you should take it into your head to do what the warriors do after + they have acquired great fame,--retire and rest upon your laurels. + That would be very comfortable for you, but very vexing to me, who am + always wanting to see women distinguishing themselves in literature, + and who believe there has not been or ever will be one so calculated + as yourself to raise our sex upon that point. If you would but know + your own value and exert your powers you could give the men a most + immense drubbing! You could write upon metaphysics, politics, + jurisprudence, astronomy, mathematics--all those highest subjects + which they taunt us with being incapable of treating, and surpass + them; and what a consolation it would be, when they begin some of + their prosy, lying, but plausible attacks upon female inferiority, to + stop their mouths in a moment with your name, and then to add, "and if + women, whilst suffering the heaviest slavery, could out-do you, what + would they not achieve were they free?" + +With this manifesto on the subject of women's genius in general and of +Mary's in particular--perhaps just redeemed by its tinge of irony from the +last degree of absurdity--it is curious to contrast Mrs. Shelley's own +conclusions, drawn from weary personal experience, and expressed, towards +the end of the following letter, in a mood which permitted her no +illusions and few hopes. + + MRS. SHELLEY TO MRS. GISBORNE. + + HARROW, _11th June 1835_. + + MY DEAREST FRIEND--It is so inexpressibly warm that were not a frank + lying before me ready for you, I do not think I should have courage to + write. Do not be surprised, therefore, at stupidity and want of + connection. I cannot collect my ideas, and this is a goodwill offering + rather than a letter. + + Still I am anxious to thank S. G. for the pleasure I have received + from his tale of Italy--a tale all Italy, breathing of the land I + love. The descriptions are beautiful, and he has shed a charm round + the concentrated and undemonstrative person of his gentle heroine. I + suppose she is the reality of the story; did you know her? + + It is difficult, however, to judge how to procure for it the + publication it deserves. I have no personal acquaintance with the + editors of any of the annuals--I had with that of the _Keepsake_, but + that is now in Mrs. Norton's hands, and she has not asked me to write, + so I know nothing about it; but there arises a stronger objection from + the length of the story. As the merit lies in the beauty of the + details, I do not see how it could be cut down to _one quarter_ of its + present length, which is as long as any tale printed in an annual. + When I write for them, I am worried to death to make my things shorter + and shorter, till I fancy people think ideas can be conveyed by + intuition, and that it is a superstition to consider words necessary + for their expression. + + I was so very delighted to get your last letter, to be sure the + "Wisest of Men" said no news was good news, but I am not apt to think + so, and was uneasy. I hope this weather does not oppress you. What an + odd climate! A week ago I had a fire, and now it is warmer than Italy; + warmer at least in a box pervious to the sun than in the stone palaces + where one can breathe freely. My Father is well. He had a cough in the + winter, but after we had persuaded him to see a doctor it was easily + got rid of. He writes to me himself, "I am now well, now nervous, now + old, now young." One sign of age is, that his horror is so great of + change of place that I cannot persuade him ever to visit me here. One + would think that the sight of the fields would refresh him, but he + likes his own nest better than all, though he greatly feels the + annoyance of so seldom seeing me. + + Indeed, my kind Maria, you made me smile when you asked me to be civil + to the brother of your kind doctor. I thought I had explained my + situation to you. You must consider me as one buried alive. I hardly + ever go to town; less often I see any one here. My kind and dear young + friends, the Misses Robinson, are at Brussels. I am cut off from my + kind. What I suffer! What I have suffered! I, to whom sympathy, + companionship, the interchange of thought is more necessary than the + air I breathe, I will not say. Tears are in my eyes when I think of + days, weeks, months, even years spent alone--eternally alone. It does + me great harm, but no more of so odious a subject. Let me speak rather + of my Percy; to see him bright and good is an unspeakable blessing; + but no child can be a companion. He is very fond of me, and would be + wretched if he saw me unhappy; but he is with his boys all day long, + and I am alone, so I can weep unseen. He gets on very well, and is a + fine boy, very stout; this hot weather, though he exposes himself to + the sun, instead of making him languid, heightens the colour in his + cheeks and brightens his eyes. He is always gay and in good humour, + which is a great blessing. + + You talk about my poetry and about the encouragement I am to find from + Jane and my Father. When they read all the fine things you said they + thought it right to attack me about it, but I answered them simply, + "She exaggerates; you read the best thing I ever wrote in the + _Keepsake_ and thought nothing of it." I do not know whether you + remember the verses I mean. I will copy it in another part; it was + written for music. Poor dear Lord Dillon spoke of it as you do of the + rest; but "one swallow does not make a summer." I can never write + verses except under the influence of strong sentiment, and seldom even + then. As to a tragedy, Shelley used to urge me, which produced his + own. When I returned first to England and saw Kean, I was in a fit of + enthusiasm, and wished much to write for the stage, but my Father very + earnestly dissuaded me. I think that he was in the wrong. I think + myself that I could have written a good tragedy, but not now. My good + friend, every feeling I have is blighted, I have no ambition, no care + for fame. Loneliness has made a wreck of me. I was always a dependent + thing, wanting fosterage and support. I am left to myself, crushed by + fortune, and I am nothing. + + You speak of woman's intellect. We can scarcely do more than judge by + ourselves. I know that, however clever I may be, there is in me a + vacillation, a weakness, a want of eagle-winged resolution that + appertains to my intellect as well as to my moral character, and + renders me what I am, one of broken purposes, failing thoughts, and a + heart all wounds. My mother had more energy of character, still she + had not sufficient fire of imagination. In short, my belief is, + whether there be sex in souls or not, that the sex of our material + mechanism makes us quite different creatures, better, though weaker, + but wanting in the higher grades of intellect. + + I am almost sorry to send you this letter, it is so querulous and sad; + yet, if I write with any effusion, the truth will creep out, and my + life since you left has been so stained by sorrow and disappointments. + I have been so barbarously handled both by fortune and my + fellow-creatures, that I am no longer the same as when you knew me. I + have no hope. In a few years, when I get over my present feelings and + live wholly in Percy, I shall be happier. I have devoted myself to him + as no mother ever did, and idolise him; and the reward will come when + I can forget a thousand memories and griefs that are as yet alive and + burning, and I have nothing to do but brood. + + Percy is gone two miles off to bathe; he can swim, and I am obliged to + leave the rest to fate. It is no use coddling, yet it costs me many + pangs; but he is singularly trustworthy and careful. Do write, and + believe me ever your truly attached friend, + + M. W. S. + + A DIRGE + + I + + This morn thy gallant bark, love, + Sailed on a stormy sea; + 'Tis noon, and tempests dark, love, + Have wrecked it on the lee. + Ah woe! ah woe! ah woe! + By spirits of the deep + He's cradled on the billow + To his unwaking sleep. + + II + + Thou liest upon the shore, love, + Beside the knelling surge, + But sea-nymphs ever more, love, + Shall sadly chant thy dirge. + Oh come! oh come! oh come! + Ye spirits of the deep; + While near his seaweed pillow + My lonely watch I keep. + + III + + From far across the sea, love, + I hear a wild lament, + By Echo's voice for thee, love, + From ocean's caverns sent. + Oh list! oh list! oh list! + Ye spirits of the deep, + Loud sounds their wail of sorrow, + While I for ever weep. + + _P.S._--Do you not guess why neither these nor those I sent you could + please those you mention? Papa loves not the memory of Shelley, + because he feels that he injured him; and Jane--do you not understand + enough of her to be convinced of the thoughts that make it distasteful + to her that I should feel, and above all be thought by others to feel, + and to have a right to feel? Oh! the human heart! It is a strange + puzzle. + +The weary, baffled tone of this letter was partly due to a low state of +health, which resulted in a severe attack of illness. During her boy's +Midsummer holidays she went to Dover in search of strength, and, while +there, received a letter from Trelawny, who had returned from America, as +vivacious and irrepressible as ever. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + BEDFORD HOTEL, BRIGHTON, + _12th September 1835_. + + MARY, DEAR--Six days I rest, and do all that I have to do on the + seventh, because it is forbidden. If they would make it felony to + obey the Commandments (without benefit of clergy), don't you think the + pleasures of breaking the law would make me keep them? + + * * * * * + + I cannot surmise _one_ of the "thousand reasons" which you say are to + prevent my seeing you. On the contrary, your being "chained to your + rock" enables me to play the vulture at discretion. It is well for + you, therefore, that I am "the most prudent of men." What a host of + virtues I am gifted with! When I am dead, lady mine, build a temple + over me and make pilgrimages. Talking of tombs, let it be agreed + between you and me that whichever _first_ has _five hundred pounds_ at + his disposal shall dedicate it to the placing a fitting monument over + the ashes of Shelley. + + We will go to Rome together. The time, too, cannot be far distant, + considering all things. Remember me to Percy. I shall direct this to + Jane's, not that I think you are there. Adieu, Mary!--Your + + E. TRELAWNY. + +During the latter part of Mary's residence in London she had seen a great +deal of Mrs. Norton, who was much attracted by her and very fond of her +society, finding in her a most sympathetic friend and confidant at the +time of those domestic troubles, culminating in the separation from her +children, which afterwards obtained a melancholy publicity. Mrs. Shelley +never became wholly intimate with her brilliant contemporary. Reserve, and +a certain pride of poverty, forbade it, but she greatly admired her, and +they constantly corresponded. + + _1835._ + + ... "I do not wonder," Mary wrote to Trelawny, "at your not being able + to deny yourself the pleasure of Mrs. Norton's society. I never saw a + woman I thought so fascinating. Had I been a man I should certainly + have fallen in love with her; as a woman, ten years ago, I should have + been spellbound, and, had she taken the trouble, she might have wound + me round her finger. Ten years ago I was so ready to give myself away, + and being afraid of men, I was apt to get _tousy-mousy_ for women; + experience and suffering have altered all that. I am more wrapt up in + myself, my own feelings, disasters, and prospects for Percy. I am now + proof, as Hamlet says, both against man and woman. + + "There is something in the pretty way in which Mrs. Norton's + witticisms glide, as it were, from her lips, that is very charming; + and then her colour, which is so variable, the eloquent blood which + ebbs and flows, mounting, as she speaks, to her neck and temples, and + then receding as fast; it reminds me of the frequent quotation of + 'eloquent blood,' and gives a peculiar attraction to her + conversation--not to speak of fine eyes and open brow. + + "Now do not in your usual silly way show her what I say. She is, + despite all her talents and sweetness, a London lady. She would quiz + me--not, perhaps, to you--well do I know the London _ton_--but to + every one else--in her prettiest manner." + +The day after this she was writing again to Mrs. Gisborne. + + _13th October 1835._ + + Of myself, my dearest Maria, I can give but a bad account. Solitude, + many cares, and many deep sorrows brought on this summer an illness, + from which I am only now recovering. I can never forget, nor cease to + be grateful to Jane for her excessive kindness to me, when I needed it + most, confined, as I was, to my sofa, unable to move. I went to Dover + during Percy's holidays, and change of air and bathing made me so much + better that I thought myself well, but on my return here I had a + relapse, from which now this last week I am, I trust, fast + recovering. Bark and port wine seem the chief means of my getting + well. But in the midst of all this I had to write to meet my expenses. + I have published a second volume of Italian Lives in Lardner's + _Encyclopędia_. All in that volume, except Galileo and Tasso, are + mine. The last is chief, I allow, and I grieve that it had been + engaged to Mr. M. before I began to write. I am now about to write a + volume of Spanish and Portuguese Lives. This is an arduous task, from + my own ignorance, and the difficulty of getting books and information. + The booksellers want me to write another novel, _Lodore_ having + succeeded so well, but I have not as yet strength for such an + undertaking. + + Then there is no Spanish circulating library. I cannot, while here, + read in the Museum if I would, and I would not if I could. I do not + like finding myself a stray bird alone among men, even if I knew + them.[17] One hears how happy people will be to lend me their books, + but when it comes to the point it is very difficult to get at them. + However, as I am rather persevering, I hope to conquer these obstacles + after all. Percy grows; he is taller than I am, and very stout. If he + does not turn out an honour to his parents, it will be through no + deficiency in virtue or in talents, but from a dislike of mingling + with his fellow-creatures, except the two or three friends he cannot + do without. He may be the happier for it; he has a good understanding, + and great integrity of character. Adieu, my dear friend.-Ever + affectionately yours, + + MARY W. SHELLEY. + +In April 1836 poor old Godwin died, and with him passed away a large part +of Mary's life. Of those in whose existence her own was summed up only her +son now remained, and even he was not more dependent on her than her +father had been. Godwin had been to his daughter one of those lifelong +cares which, when they disappear, leave a blank that nothing seems to +fill, too often because the survivor has borne the burden so long as to +exhaust the power and energy indispensable to recovery. But she had also +been attached to him all her life with an "excessive and romantic +attachment," only overcome in one instance by a stronger devotion still--a +defection she never could and never did repent of, but for which her whole +subsequent life had been passed in attempting to make up. If she confided +any of her feelings to her diary, no fragment has survived. + +She busied herself in trying to obtain from Government some assistance--an +annuity if possible--for Mrs. Godwin. It was very seldom in her life that +Mary asked anybody for anything, and the present exception was made in +favour of one whom she did not love, and who had never been a good friend +to her. But had Mrs. Godwin been her own mother instead of a disagreeable, +jealous, old stepmother, she could not have made greater exertions in her +behalf. Mrs. Norton was ready and willing to help by bringing influence to +bear in powerful quarters, and gave Mary some shrewd advice as to the +wording of her letter to Lord Melbourne. She wrote-- + + ... Press _not_ on the politics of Mr. Godwin (for God knows how much + gratitude for that ever survives), but on his _celebrity_, the widow's + _age_ and _ill health_, and (if your proud little spirit will bear it) + on your own _toils_; for, after all, the truth is that you, being + generous, will, rather than see the old creature starve, work your + brains and your pen; and you have your son and delicate health to + hinder you from having _means_ to help her. + + As to petitioning, no one dislikes begging more than I do, especially + when one begs for what seems mere justice; but I have long observed + that though people will resist _claims_ (however just), they like to + do _favours_. Therefore, when _I_ beg, I am a crawling lizard, a + humble toad, a brown snake in cold weather, or any other simile most + feebly _rampante_--the reverse of _rampant_, which would be the + natural attitude for petitioning,--but which must never be assumed + except in the poodle style, standing with one's paws bent to catch the + bits of bread on one's nose. + + Forgive my jesting; upon my honour I feel sincerely anxious for your + anxiety, and sad enough on my own affairs, but Irish blood _will_ + dance. My meaning is, that if one asks _at all_, one should rather + think of the person written to than one's own feelings. He is an + indolent man--talk of your literary labours; a kind man--speak of her + age and infirmities; a patron of all _genius_--talk of your father's + _and your own_; a prudent man--speak of the likelihood of the pension + being a short grant (as you have done); lastly, he is a _great_ + man--take it all as a personal favour. As to not apologising for the + intrusion, we ought always to kneel down and beg pardon for daring to + remind people we are not so well off as they are. + +What was asked was that Godwin's small salary, or a part of it, should be +continued to Mrs. Godwin for her life. As the nominal office Godwin had +held was abolished at his death, this could not be; but Lord Melbourne +pledged himself to do what he could to obtain assistance for the widow in +some form or other, so it is probable that Mary effected her purpose. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + HASTINGS, _25th September 1836_. + + MARY, DEAR--Your letter was exceedingly welcome; it was honoured + accordingly. You divine truly; I am leading a vegetable sort of a + life. They say the place is pretty, the air is good, the sea is fine. + I would willingly exchange a pretty place for a pretty girl. The air + is keen and shrewish, and as to the sea, I am satisfied with a bath of + less dimensions. Notwithstanding the want of sun, and the abundance of + cold winds, I lave my sides daily in the brine, and thus I am + gradually cooling down to the temperature--of the things round about + me--so that the thinnest skinned feminine may handle me without fear + of consequences. Possibly you may think that I am like the torpid + snake that the forester warmed by his hearth. No, I am not. I am + steeling myself with Plato and Platonics; so now farewell to love and + womankind. "Othello's occupation's gone." + + * * * * * + +From an allusion in one of Mrs. Norton's letters to Mary, it appears +likely that what follows refers to Fanny Kemble (Mrs. Butler). + + You say, "Had I seen those eyes you saw the other day." Yes, the darts + shot from those eyes are still rankling in my body; yet it is a + pleasing pain. The wound of the scorpion is healed by applying the + scorpion to the wound. Is she not a glorious being? Have you ever seen + such a presence? Is she not dazzling? There is enchantment in all her + ways. Talk of the divine power of music, why, she is all melody, and + poetry, and beauty, and harmony. How envious and malignant must the + English be not to do her homage universal. They never had, or will + have again, such a woman as that. I would rather be her slave than + king of such an island of Calibans. You have a soul, and sense, and a + deep feeling for your sex, and revere such "cunning patterns of + excelling nature," therefore--besides, I owe it you--I will transcribe + what she says of you: "I was nervous, it was my first visit to any + one, and there is a gentle frankness in her manner, and a vague + remembrance of the thought and feeling in her books which prevents my + being as with a 'visiting acquaintance.'" + + * * * * * + + Zella is doing wondrous well, and chance has placed her with a + womankind that even I (setting beauty aside) am satisfied with. By the + bye, I wish most earnestly you could get me some good _morality_ in + the shape of Italian and French. It is indispensable to the keeping + alive her remembrance of those languages, and not a book is to be had + here, nor do I know exactly how to get them by any other means, so + pray think of it. + + * * * * * + + I am inundated with letters from America, and am answering them by + Mrs. Jameson; she sailing immediately is a very heavy loss to me. She + is the friendliest-hearted woman in the world. I would rather lose + anything than her.... + + I don't think I shall stay here much longer; it is a bad holding + ground; my cable is chafing. I shall drift somewhere or other. It is + well for Mamma Percy has so much of her temperate blood. When us three + meet, we shall be able to ice the wine by placing it between us; that + will be nice, as the girls say. + + A glance from Mrs. Nesbitt has shaken my firm nerves a little. There + is a mystery--a deep well of feeling in those star-like eyes of hers. + It is strange that actresses are the only true and natural people; + they only act in the proper season and place, whilst all the rest seem + eternally playing a part, and like dilettanti acting, damn'd absurdly. + + J. TRELAWNY. + +From Brighton, at New Year, Mrs. Shelley sent Trelawny a cheery greeting. + + FROM MRS. SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + BRIGHTON, _3d January 1837_. + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--This day will please you; it is a thaw; what snow we + had! Hundreds of people have been employed to remove it during the + last week; at first they cut down deep several feet as if it had been + clay, and piled it up in glittering pyramids and masses; then they + began to cart it on to the beach; it was a new sort of Augean stable, + a never-ending labour. Yesterday, when I was out, it was only got rid + of in a very few and very circumscribed spots. Nature is more of a + Hercules; she puts out a little finger in the shape of gentle thaw, + and it recedes and disappears. + + * * * * * + + Percy arrived yesterday, having rather whetted than satisfied his + appetite by going seven times to the play. He plays like Apollo on the + flageolet, and like Apollo is self-taught. Jane thinks him a miracle! + it is very odd. He got a frock-coat at Mettes, and, if you had not + disappointed us with your handkerchief, he would have been complete; + he is a good deal grown, though not tall enough to satisfy me; + however, there is time yet. He is quite a child still, full of + theatres and balloons and music, yet I think there is a gentleness + about him which shows the advent of the reign of petticoats--how I + dread it! + + * * * * * + + Poor Jane writes dismally. She is so weak that she has frequent + fainting fits; she went to a physician, who ordered her to wean the + child, and now she takes three glasses of wine a day, and every other + strengthening medicament, but she is very feeble, and has a cough and + tendency to inflammation on the chest. I implored her to come down + here to change the air, and Jeff gave leave, and would have given the + money; but fear lest his dinner should be overdone while she was + away, and lest the children should get a finger scratched, makes her + resolve not to come; what bad bogie is this? If she got stronger how + much better they would be in consequence! I think her in a critical + state, but she will not allow of a remedy. + + * * * * * + + Poor dear little Zella. I hope she is well and happy.... Thank you for + your offer about money. I have plenty at present, and hope to do well + hereafter. You are very thoughtful, which is a great virtue. I have + not heard from your mother or Charlotte since you left; a day or two + afterwards I saw Betsy Freeman; she was to go to her place the next + day. I paid her for her work; she looked so radiantly happy that you + would have thought she was going to be married rather than to a place + of hardship. I never saw any one look so happy. I told her to let me + know how she got on, and to apply to me if she wanted assistance.... I + am glad you are amused at your brother's. I really imagined that Fanny + Butler had been the attraction, till, sending to the Gloucester, I + found you were gone by the Southampton coach, and then I suspected + another magnet--till I find that you are in all peace, or rather war, + at Sherfield House--much better so. + + I am better a great deal; quite well, I believe I ought to call + myself, only I feel a little odd at times. I have seen nothing of the + S.'s. I have met with scarce an acquaintance here, which is odd; but + then I do not look for them. I am too lazy. I hope this letter will + catch you before you leave your present perch.--Believe me always, + yours truly, + + M. W. SHELLEY. + + Will this be a happy New Year? Tell me; the last I can't say much for, + but I always fear worse to come. Nobody's mare is dead,--if this frost + does not kill,--my own (such as it will be) is far enough off still. + +The next letter is dated only three weeks later. What happened in that +short time to account for its complete change of tone does not appear, +except that from one allusion it may be inferred that Mrs. Shelley was +overtaken by unexpected money difficulties at a moment when she had +fancied herself tolerably at ease on that score. Nothing more likely, for +in the matter of helping others she never learnt prudence or the art of +self-defence.[18] Probably, however, there was a deeper cause for her +sombre mood. She was being pressed on all sides to write the biography of +her father. The task would have been well suited to her powers; she +looked on it, moreover, in the light of a duty which she wished and +intended to perform. Fragments and sketches of hers for this book have +been published, and are among the best specimens of her writing. But +circumstances--scruples--similar to those which had hindered her from +writing Shelley's life stood between her and the present fulfilment of the +task. There were few people to whom she could bring herself to explain her +reasons, and those few need not have required, still less insisted on any +such explanation. But Trelawny, hot and vehement, could and would not see +why Mary did not rush into the field at once, to immortalise the man whose +system of philosophy, more than any other writer's, had moulded Shelley's. +He never spared words, and he probably taxed her with cowardice or +indolence, time-serving and "worldliness." + +Shaken by her father's loss, and saddened by that of her friends, Mr. and +Mrs. Gisborne, who had died within a short time of each other shortly +before this, exhausted by work, her feelings warped by solitude, struggle, +and disappointment, this challenge to explain her conduct evoked the most +mournful of all her letters, as explicit as any one could wish; true in +its bitterness, and most bitter in its truth. + + MRS. SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + BRIGHTON, _Thursday, 27th January 1837_. + + DEAR TRELAWNY--I am very glad to hear that you are amused and happy; + fate seems to have turned her sunny side to you, and I hope you will + long enjoy yourself. I know of but one pleasure in the world--sympathy + with another, or others, rather; leaving out of the question the + affections, the society of agreeable, gifted, congenial-minded beings + is the only pleasure worth having in the world. My fate has debarred + me from this enjoyment, but you seem in the midst of it. + + With regard to my Father's life I certainly could not answer it to my + conscience to give it up. I shall therefore do it, but I must wait. + This year I have to fight my poor Percy's battle, to try and get him + sent to College without further dilapidation of his ruined prospects, + and he has now to enter life at College. That this should be + undertaken at a moment when a cry was raised against his mother, and + that not on the question of _politics_ but _religion_, would mar all. + I must see him fairly launched before I commit myself to the fury of + the waves. + + A sense of duty towards my Father, whose passion was posthumous fame, + makes me ready, as far as I am concerned, to meet the misery that must + be mine if I become an object of scurrility and attack; for the rest, + for my own private satisfaction, all I ask is obscurity. What can I + care for the parties that divide the world, or the opinions that + possess it? What has my life been? What is it? Since I lost Shelley I + have been alone, and worse. I had my Father's fate for many a year + pressing me to the earth; I had Percy's education and welfare to guard + over, and in all this I had no one friendly hand stretched out to + support me. Shut out from even the possibility of making such an + impression as my personal merits might occasion, without a human being + to aid or encourage, or even to advise me, I toiled on my weary + solitary way. The only persons who deigned to share those melancholy + hours, and to afford me the balm of affection, were those dear + girls[19] whom you chose so long to abuse. Do you think that I have + not felt, that I do not feel all this? If I have been able to stand up + against the breakers which have dashed against my stranded, wrecked + bark, it has been by a sort of passive, dogged resistance, which has + broken my heart, while it a little supported my spirit. My happiness, + my health, my fortunes, all are wrecked. Percy alone remains to me, + and to do him good is the sole aim of my life. One thing I will add; + if I have ever found kindness, it has not been from liberals; to + disengage myself from them was the first act of my freedom. The + consequence was that I gained peace and civil usage, which they denied + me; more I do not ask; of fate I only ask a grave. I know not what my + future life is, and shudder, but it must be borne, and for Percy's + sake I must battle on. + + If you wish for a copy of my novel[20] you shall have one, but I did + not order it to be sent to you, because, being a rover, all luggage + burthens. I have told them to send it to your mother, at which you + will scoff, but it was the only way I had to show my sense of her + kindness. You may pick and choose those from whom you deign to receive + kindness; you are a man at a feast, champagne and comfits your diet, + and you naturally scoff at me and my dry crust in a corner. Often have + you scoffed and sneered at all the aliment of kindness or society that + fate has afforded me. I have been silent, for the hungry cannot be + dainty, but it is useless to tell a pampered man this. Remember in all + this, except in one or two instances, my complaint is not against + _persons_, but _fate_. Fate has been my enemy throughout. I have no + wish to increase her animosity or her power by exposing [myself] more + than I possibly can to her venomous attacks. + + You have sent me no address, so I direct this to your Mother; give her + and Charlotte my love, and tell them I think I shall be in town at the + beginning of next month; my time in this house is up on the 3d, and I + ought to be in town with Percy to take him to Sir Tim's solicitors, + and so begin my attack. I should advise you, by the bye, not to read + my novel; you will not like it. I cannot _teach_; I can only + paint--such as my paintings are,--and you will not approve of much of + what I deem natural feeling, because it is not founded on the new + light. + + I had a long letter from Mrs. N[orton]. I admire her excessively, and + I _think_ I could love her infinitely, but I shall not be asked nor + tried, and shall take very good care not to press myself. I know what + her relations think. + + If you are still so rich, and can lend me £20 till my quarter, I shall + be glad. I do not know that I absolutely [need] it here now, but may + run short at last, so, if not inconvenient, will you send it next + week? + + I shall soon be in town, I suppose; _where_, I do not yet know. I + dread my return, for I shall have a thousand worries. + + Despite unfavourable weather, quiet and ease have much restored my + health, but mental annoyance will soon make me as ill as ever. Only + writing this letter makes me feel half dead. Still, to be thus at + peace is an expensive luxury, and I must forego it for other duties, + which I have been allowed to forget for a time, but my holiday is + past. + + Happy is Fanny Butler if she can shed tears and not be destroyed by + them; this luxury is denied me. I am obliged to guard against low + spirits as my worst disease, and I do guard, and usually I am not in + low spirits. Why then do you awaken me to thought and suffering by + forcing me to explain the motives of my conduct? Could you not trust + that I thought anxiously, decided carefully, and from disinterested + motives, not to save myself, but my child, from evil. Pray let the + stream flow quietly by, as glittering on the surface as it may, and do + not awaken the deep waters which are full of briny bitterness. I never + wish any one to dive into the secret depths; be content, if I can + render the surface safe sailing, that I do not annoy you with clouds + and tempests, but turn the silvery side outward, as I ought, for God + knows I would not render any living creature so miserable as I could + easily be; and I would also guard myself from the sense of woe which I + tie hard about, and sink low, low, out of sight and fathom line. + + Adieu. Excuse all this; it is your own fault; speak of yourself. Never + speak of me, and you will never again be annoyed with so much + stupidity.--Yours truly, + + M. S. + +The painful mood of this letter was not destined to find present relief. +From her father's death in 1836 till the year 1840 was to be perhaps the +hardest, dreariest, and most laborious time she had ever known. No chance +had she now to distract her mind or avoid the most painful themes. Her +very occupation was to tie her down to these. She was preparing her +edition of Shelley's works, with notes. The prohibition as to bringing his +name before the public seems to have been withdrawn or at any rate +slackened; it had probably become evident, even to those least disposed to +see, that the undesirable publicity, if not given by the right person, +would inevitably be given by the wrong one. Much may also have been due to +the fact that Mr. Whitton, Sir Timothy's solicitor, was dead, and had been +replaced by another gentleman who, unlike his predecessor, used his +influence to promote milder counsels and a better mutual understanding +than had prevailed hitherto. + +This task was accepted by Mary as the most sacred of duties, but it is +probable that if circumstances had permitted her to fulfil it in the years +which immediately followed Shelley's death she would have suffered from it +less than now. It might not have been so well done, she might have written +at too great length, or have indulged in too much expression of personal +feeling; and in the case of omissions from his writings, the decision +might have been even harder to make. Still it would have cost her less. +Her heart, occupied by one subject, would have found a kind of relief in +the necessity for dwelling on it. But seventeen years had elapsed, and she +was forty-two, and very tired. Seventeen years of struggle, labour, and +loneliness; even the mournful satisfaction of retrospect poisoned and +distorted by Jane Williams' duplicity. She could no longer dwell on the +thought of that affection which had consoled her in her supreme +misfortune. + +Mary had had many and bitter troubles and losses, but nothing entered +into her soul so deeply as the defection of this friend. Alienation is +worse than bereavement. Other sorrows had left her desolate; this one left +her different. + +Hence the fact that an undertaking which would once have been a painful +pleasure was too often a veritable martyrdom. Who does not remember Hans +Andersen's little princess, in his story of the _White Swans_, who freed +her eleven brothers from the evil enchantment which held them transformed, +by spinning shirts of stinging-nettles? Such nettle-shirts had Mary now to +weave and spin, to exorcise the evil spirits which had power of +misrepresenting and defaming Shelley's memory, and to save Percy for ever +from their sinister spells. + +Her health was weak, her heart was sore, her life was lonely, and, in +spite of her undaunted efforts, she was still so badly off that she was, +as the last letter shows, reduced to accepting Trelawny's offer of a loan +of money. Nor was it only her work that she had on her mind; she was also +very anxious about her son's future. He had, at this time, an idea of +entering the Diplomatic Service, and his mother overcame her diffidence so +far as to try and procure an opening for him--no easy thing to find. Among +the people she consulted and asked was Lytton Bulwer; his answer was not +encouraging. + + SIR E. L. BULWER TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + HERTFORD STREET, _17th March 1839_. + + MY DEAR MRS. SHELLEY--Many thanks for your kind congratulations. I am + delighted to find you like _Richelieu_. + + With regard to your son, with his high prospects, the diplomacy may do + very well; but of all professions it is the most difficult to rise in. + The first steps are long and tedious. An Attaché at a small Court is + an exile without pay, and very little opening to talent. However, for + young men of fortune and expectations it fills up some years agreeably + enough, what with flirting, dressing, dancing, and perhaps, if one has + good luck, a harmless duel or two! + + To be serious, it is better than being idle, and one certainly learns + languages, knowledge of the world, and good manners. Perhaps I may + send my son, some seventeen years hence, if my brother is then a + minister, into that career. But it will depend on his prospects. Are + you sure that you can get an attachéship? It requires a good deal of + interest, and there are plenty of candidates among young men of rank, + and, I fear, claims more pressing and urging than the memory of + genius. I could not procure that place for a most intimate friend of + mine a little time ago. I will take my chance some evening, but I fear + not Thursday; in fact, I am so occupied just at present that till + after Easter I have scarcely a moment to myself, and at Easter I must + go to Lincoln.--Yours ever, + + E. L. BULWER. + +Mrs. Norton interested herself in the matter. She could not effect much, +but she was sympathetic and kind. + + "You have your troubles," she wrote, "struggling for one who, I trust, + will hereafter repay you for every weary hour and years of + self-denial, and I shall be glad to hear from you now and then how all + goes on with you and him, so do not forget me when you have a spare + half hour, and if ever I have any good news to send, do not doubt my + then writing by the first post, for I think my happiest moments now + are when, in the strange mixture of helplessness and power which has + made the warp and woof of my destiny, I can accidentally serve some + one who has had more of the world's buffets than its good fortune." + +Some scraps of journal belonging to 1839 afford a little insight into Mrs. +Shelley's difficulties while editing her husband's MSS. + + _Journal, February 12_ (1839).--I almost think that my present + occupation will end in a fit of illness. I am editing Shelley's Poems, + and writing notes for them. I desire to do Shelley honour in the notes + to the best of my knowledge and ability; for the rest, they are or are + not well written; it little matters to me which. Would that I had more + literary vanity, or vanity of any kind; I were happier. As it is, I am + torn to pieces by memory. Would that all were mute in the grave! + + I _much_ disliked the leaving out any of _Queen Mab_. I dislike it + still more than I can express, and I even wish I had resisted to the + last; but when I was told that certain portions would injure the + copyright of all the volumes to the publisher, I yielded. I had + consulted Hunt, Hogg, and Peacock; they all said I had a right to do + as I liked, and offered no one objection. Trelawny sent back the + volume to Moxon in a rage at seeing parts left out.... + + Hogg has written me an insulting letter because I left out the + dedication to Harriet.... + + Little does Jefferson, how little does any one, know me! When Clarke's + edition of _Queen Mab_ came to us at the Baths of Pisa, Shelley + expressed great pleasure that these verses were omitted. This + recollection caused me to do the same. It was to do him honour. What + could it be to me? There are other verses I should well like to + obliterate for ever, but they will be printed; and any to her could in + no way tend to my discomfort, or gratify one ungenerous feeling. They + shall be restored, though I do not feel easy as to the good I do + Shelley. I may have been mistaken. Jefferson might mistake me and be + angry; that were nothing. He has done far more, and done his best to + give another poke to the poisonous dagger which has long rankled in my + heart. I cannot forgive any man that insults any woman. She cannot + call him out,--she disdains words of retort; she must endure, but it + is never to be forgiven; not, "indeed, cherished as matter of + enmity"--that I never feel,--but of caution to shield oneself from the + like again. + + In so arduous a task, others might ask for encouragement and kindness + from their friends,--I know mine better. I am unstable, sometimes + melancholy, and have been called on some occasions imperious; but I + never did an ungenerous act in my life. I sympathise warmly with + others, and have wasted my heart in their love and service. + + All this together is making me feel very ill, and my holiday at + Woodlay only did me good while it lasted. + + _March._ ... Illness did ensue. What an illness! driving me to the + verge of insanity. Often I felt the cord would snap, and I should no + longer be able to rule my thoughts; with fearful struggles, miserable + relapses, after long repose I became somewhat better. + + _October 5, 1839._--Twice in my life I have believed myself to be + dying, and my soul being alive, though the bodily functions were faint + and perishing, I had opportunity to look Death in the face, and I did + not fear it--far from it. My feelings, especially in the first and + most perilous instance, was, I go to no new creation. I enter under no + new laws. The God that made this beautiful world (and I was then at + Lerici, surrounded by the most beautiful manifestation of the visible + creation) made that into which I go; as there is beauty and love here, + such is there, and I feel as if my spirit would when it left my frame + be received and sustained by a beneficent and gentle Power. + + I had no fear, rather, though I had no active wish but a passive + satisfaction in death. Whether the nature of my illness--debility from + loss of blood, without pain--caused this tranquillity of soul, I + cannot tell; but so it was, and it had this blessed effect, that I + have never since anticipated death with terror, and even if a violent + death (which is the most repugnant to human nature) menaced me, I + think I could, after the first shock, turn to the memory of that hour, + and renew its emotion of perfect resignation. + +The darkest moment is that which precedes the dawn. These unhappy years +were like the series of "clearing showers" which often concludes a stormy +day. The clouds were lifting, and though Mary Shelley could never be other +than what sorrow and endurance had made her, the remaining years of her +life were to bring alleviations to her lot,--slanting rays of afternoon +sunshine, powerless, indeed, to warm into life the tender buds of morning, +but which illumined the landscape and lightened her path, and shed over +her a mild radiance which she reflected back on others, affording to them +the brightness she herself could know no more, and diffusing around her +that sensation of peace which she was to know now, perhaps, for the first +time. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +OCTOBER 1839-FEBRUARY 1851 + + +Mrs. Shelley's annotated edition of Shelley's works was completed by the +appearance, in 1840, of the collected prose writings; along with which was +republished the _Journal of a Six Weeks' Tour_ (a joint composition) and +her own two letters from Geneva, reprinted in the present work. + +Mary's correspondence with Carlyle on the subject of a motto for her book +was the occasion of the following note-- + + 5 CHEYNE ROW, CHELSEA, + _3d December 1839_. + + DEAR MRS. SHELLEY--There does some indistinct remembrance of a + sentence like the one you mention hover in my head; but I cannot + anywhere lay hand on it. Indeed, I rather think it was to this effect: + "Treat men as what they should be, and you help to make them so." + Further, is it not rather one of Wilhelm's kind speeches than of the + Uncle's or the Fair Saint's? James Fraser shall this day send you a + copy of the work; you, with your own clear eyes, shall look for + yourself. + + I have no horse now; the mud forced me to send it into the country + till dry weather came again. Layton House is so much the farther off. + _Tant pis pour moi._--Yours always truly, + + T. CARLYLE. + +The words ultimately prefixed to the collection are the following, from +Carlyle-- + + That thou, O my Brother, impart to me truly how it stands with thee in + that inner heart of thine; what lively images of things past thy + memory has painted there; what hopes, what thoughts, affections, + knowledge, do now dwell there. For this and no other object that I can + see was the gift of hearing and speech bestowed on us two. + +The proceeds of this work were such as to set her for some time at +comparative ease on the score of money; the Godwin quicksand was no longer +there to engulf them. + + _Journal, June 1, 1840_ (Brighton).--I must mark this evening, tired + as I am, for it is one among few--soothing and balmy. Long oppressed + by care, disappointment, and ill health, which all combined to depress + and irritate me, I felt almost to have lost the spring of happy + reverie. On such a night it returns--the calm sea, the soft breeze, + the silver bow new bent in the western heaven--Nature in her sweetest + mood, raised one's thoughts to God and imparted peace. + + Indeed I have many, many blessings, and ought to be grateful, as I am, + though the poison lurks among them; for it is my strange fate that all + my friends are sufferers--ill health or adversity bears heavily on + them, and I can do little good, and lately ill health and extreme + depression have even marred the little I could do. If I could restore + health, administer balm to the wounded heart, and banish care from + those I love, I were in myself happy, while I am loved, and Percy + continues the blessing that he is. Still, who on such a night must not + feel the weight of sorrow lessened? For myself, I repose in gentle and + grateful reverie, and hope for others. I am content for myself. Years + have--how much!--cooled the ardent and swift spirit that at such hours + bore me freely along. Yet, though I no longer soar, I repose. Though + I no longer deem all things attainable, I enjoy what is; and while I + feel that whatever I have lost of youth and hope, I have acquired the + enduring affection of a noble heart, and Percy shows such excellent + dispositions that I feel that I am much the gainer in life. + + Fate does indeed visit some too heavily--poor R. for instance, God + restore him! God and good angels guard us! surely this world, stored + outwardly with shapes and influences of beauty and good, is peopled in + its intellectual life by myriads of loving spirits that mould our + thoughts to good, influence beneficially the course of events, and + minister to the destiny of man. Whether the beloved dead make a + portion of this company I dare not guess, but that such exist I + feel--far off, when we are worldly, evil, selfish; drawing near and + imparting joy and sympathy when we rise to noble thoughts and + disinterested action. Such surely gather round one on such an evening, + and make part of that atmosphere of love, so hushed, so soft, on which + the soul reposes and is blest. + +These serene lines were written by Mrs. Shelley within a few days of +leaving England on the first of those tours described by her in the series +of letters published as _Rambles in Germany and Italy_. It had been +arranged that her son and two college friends, both of whom, like him, +were studying for their degree, should go abroad for the Long Vacation, +and that Mrs. Shelley should form one of the reading party. Paris was to +be the general rendezvous. Mrs. Shelley, who was staying at Brighton, +intended travelling _viā_ Dieppe, but her health was so far from strong +that she shrank from the long crossing, and started from Dover instead. +She was now accompanied by a lady's-maid, a circumstance which relieved +her from some of the fatigue incidental to a journey. They travelled by +diligence; a new experience to her, as, in her former wanderings with +Shelley, they had had their own carriage (save indeed on the first tour of +all, when they set off to walk through France with a donkey); and in more +recent years she had travelled, in England, by the newly-introduced +railroads-- + + "To which, whatever their faults may be, I feel eternally grateful," + she says; adding afterwards, "a pleasant day it will be when there is + one from Calais to Paris." + +So recent a time, and yet how remote it seems! Mary had never been a good +traveller, but she found now, to her surprise and satisfaction, that in +spite of her nervous suffering she was better able than formerly to stand +the fatigue of a journey. She had painful sensations, but + + the fatigue I endured seemed to take away weariness instead of + occasioning it. I felt light of limb and in good spirits. On the + shores of France I shook the dust of accumulated cares from off me: I + forgot disappointment and banished sorrow: weariness of body replaced + beneficially weariness of soul--so much heavier, so much harder to + bear. + +Change, in short, did her more good than travelling did her harm. + + "I feel a good deal of the gipsy coming upon me," she wrote a few days + later, "now that I am leaving Paris. I bid adieu to all + acquaintances, and set out to wander in new lands, surrounded by + companions fresh to the world, unacquainted with its sorrows, and who + enjoy with zest every passing amusement. I myself, apt to be too + serious, but easily awakened to sympathy, forget the past and the + future, and am ready to be amused by all I see as much or even more + than they." + +From Paris they journeyed to Metz and Trčves, down the Moselle and the +Rhine, by Schaffhausen and Zurich, over the Splugen Pass to Cadenabbia on +the Lake of Como. Here they established themselves for two months. Mrs. +Shelley occupied herself in the study of Italian literature, while the +young men were busy with their Cambridge work. Her son's friends were +devoted to her, and no wonder. Indeed, her amiability and sweetness, her +enjoyment of travelling, her wide culture and great store of knowledge, +her acuteness of observation, and the keen interest she took in all she +saw, must have made her a most fascinating companion. On leaving Como they +visited Milan, and, on their way home, passing through Genoa, Mary looked +again on the Villa Diodati, and the little Maison Chapuis nestling below, +where she had begun to write _Frankenstein_. All unaltered; but in her, +what a change! Shelley, Byron, the blue-eyed William, where were they? +Where was Fanny, whose long letters had kept them informed of English +affairs? Mary herself, and Clare, were they the same people as the two +girls, one fair, one dark, who had excited so much idle and impertinent +speculation in the tourists from whose curiosity Byron had fled? + + But where are the snows of yester-year? + +In autumn Mrs. Shelley and her son returned to England; but the next year +they again went abroad, and this time for a longer sojourn. + +They were now better off than they had ever been, for, after Percy had +attained his majority and taken his degree, his grandfather made him an +allowance of £400 a year; a free gift, not subject to the condition of +repayment. This welcome relief from care came not a day too soon. Mrs. +Shelley's strength was much shaken, her attacks of nervous illness were +more frequent, and, had she had to resume her life of unvaried toil, the +results might have been serious. + +It is probably to this event that Mrs. Norton refers in the following note +of congratulation-- + + MRS. NORTON TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + DEAR MRS. SHELLEY--I cannot tell you how sincerely glad I was to get a + note so cheerful, and cheerful on such good grounds as your last. I + hope it is the _dawn_, that your day of struggling is over, and + nothing to come but gradually increasing comfort. With tolerable + prudence, and abroad, I should hope Percy would find his allowance + quite sufficient, and I think it will be a relief that may lift your + mind and do your health good to see him properly provided for. + + I am too ill to leave the sofa or I should (by rights) be at Lord + Palmerston's this evening, but, when I see any one likely to support + the very modest request made to Lord P., I will speak about it to + them; I have little doubt that, since they are not asked for a paid + attachéship, you will succeed. + + ... In three weeks I am to set up the magnificence of a "one 'orse + chay" myself, and then Fulham and the various streets of London where + friends and foes live will become attainable; at present I have never + stirred over the threshold since I came up from Brighton.--Ever yours + very truly, + + CAR. NORTON. + +They began their second tour by a residence at Kissingen, where Mrs. +Shelley had been advised to take the waters for her health. The "Cur" over +(by which she benefited a good deal), they proceeded to Gotha, Weimar, +Leipzig, Berlin, and Dresden--all perfectly new ground to Mary. Dresden +and its treasures of art were a delight to her, only marred by the +overwhelming heat of the summer. + +Through Saxon Switzerland they travelled to Prague, and Mary was roused to +enthusiasm by the intense romantic interest of the Bohemian capital, as +she was afterwards by the magnificent scenery of the approach to Linz (of +which she gives in her letters a vivid description), and of Salzburg and +the Salzkammergut. + +Through the Tyrol, over the Brenner Pass, by the Lake of Garda, they came +to Verona, and finally to Venice--another place fraught to Mary with +associations unspeakable. + + Many a scene which I have since visited and admired has faded in my + mind, as a painting in a diorama melts away, and another struggles + into the changing canvass; but this road was as distinct in my mind as + if traversed yesterday. I will not here dwell on the sad circumstances + that clouded my first visit to Venice. Death hovered over the scene. + Gathered into myself, with my "mind's eye" I saw those before me long + departed, and I was agitated again by emotions, by passions--and those + the deepest a woman's heart can harbour--a dread to see her child even + at that instant expire, which then occupied me. It is a strange, but, + to any person who has suffered, a familiar circumstance, that those + who are enduring mental or corporeal agony are strangely alive to + immediate external objects, and their imagination even exercises its + wild power over them.... I have experienced it; and the particular + shape of a room, the progress of shadows on a wall, the peculiar + flickering of trees, the exact succession of objects on a journey, + have been indelibly engraved in my memory, as marked in and associated + with hours and minutes when the nerves were strung to their utmost + tension by endurance of pain, or the far severer infliction of mental + anguish. Thus the banks of the Brenta presented to me a moving scene; + not a palace, not a tree of which I did not recognise, as marked and + recorded, at a moment when life and death hung upon our speedy arrival + at Venice. + + And at Fusina, as then, I now beheld the domes and towers of the Queen + of Ocean arise from the waves with a majesty unrivalled upon earth. + +They spent the winter at Florence, and by April were in Rome. This indeed +was the Holy Land of Mary Shelley's pilgrimage. There was the spot where +William lay; there the tomb which held the heart of Shelley. Mary may well +have felt as if standing by her own graveside. Was not her heart of hearts +buried with them? And there, too, was the empty grave where now Trelawny +lies; the touching witness to that undying devotion of his to Shelley's +memory which Mary never forgot. + +None of this is touched upon--it could not be--in the published letters. +The Eternal City itself filled her with such emotions and interests as not +even she had ever felt before. It is curious to compare some of these with +her earlier letters from abroad, and to notice how, while her power of +observation was undiminished, the intellectual faculties of thought and +comparison had developed and widened, while her interest was as keen as in +her younger days, nay keener, for her attention now, poor thing, was +comparatively undivided. + +Scenery, art, historical associations, the political and social state of +the countries she visited, and the characteristics of the people, nothing +was lost on her, and on all she saw she brought to bear the ripened +faculties of a reflective and most appreciative mind. Some of her remarks +on Italian politics are almost prophetic in their clear-sighted +sagacity.[21] That after all she had suffered she should have retained +such keen powers of enjoyment as she did may well excite wonder. Perhaps +this enjoyment culminated at Sorrento, where she and her son positively +revelled in the luxuriant beauty and witchery of a perfect southern +summer. + +Her impressions of these two tours were published in the form of letters, +and entitled _Rambles in Germany and Italy_, and were dedicated to Samuel +Rogers in 1844. + +He thus acknowledged the copy of the work she sent him-- + + ST. JAMES'S PLACE, + _30th July 1844_. + + What can I say to you in return for the honour you have done me--an + honour so undeserved! If some feelings make us eloquent, it is not so + with others, and I can only thank you from the bottom of my heart, and + assure you how highly I shall value and how carefully I shall preserve + the two precious volumes on every account--for your sake and for their + own.--Ever yours most sincerely, + + S. ROGERS. + +In the spring of 1844 it became evident that Sir Timothy Shelley's life +was drawing to a close. In anticipation of what was soon to happen, Mary, +always mindful of her promise to Leigh Hunt, wrote to him as follows-- + + PUTNEY, _20th April 1844_. + + MY DEAR HUNT--The tidings from Field Place seem to say that ere long + there will be a change; if nothing untoward happens to us till then, + it will be for the better. Twenty years ago, in memory of what + Shelley's intentions were, I said that you should be considered one of + the legatees to the amount of £2000. I need scarcely mention that when + Shelley talked of leaving you this sum he contemplated reducing other + legacies, and that one among them is (by a mistake of the solicitor) + just double what he intended it to be. + + Twenty years have, of course, much changed my position. Twenty years + ago it was supposed that Sir Timothy would not live five years. + Meanwhile a large debt has accumulated, for I must pay back all on + which Percy and I have subsisted, as well as what I borrowed for + Percy's going to college. In fact, I scarcely know how our affairs + will be. Moreover, Percy shares now my right; that promise was made + without his concurrence, and he must concur to render it of avail. Nor + do I like to ask him to do so till our affairs are so settled that we + know what we shall have--whether Shelley's uncle may not go to law; in + short, till we see our way before us. + + It is both my and Percy's great wish to feel that you are no longer so + burdened by care and necessity; in that he is as desirous as I can be; + but the form and the degree in which we can do this must at first be + uncertain. From the time of Sir Timothy's death I shall give + directions to my banker to honour your quarterly cheques for £30 a + quarter; and I shall take steps to secure this to you, and to Marianne + if she should survive you. + + Percy has read this letter, and approves. I know your _real_ delicacy + about money matters, and that you will at once be ready to enter into + my views; and feel assured that if any present debt should press, if + we have any command of money, we will take care to free you from it. + + With love to Marianne, affectionately yours, + + MARY SHELLEY. + +Sir Timothy died in this year, and Mary's son succeeded to the baronetcy +and estates. The fortune he inherited was much encumbered, as, besides +paying Shelley's numerous legacies and the portions of several members of +the family, he had also to refund, with interest, all the money advanced +to his mother for their maintenance for the last twenty-one years, +amounting now to a large sum, which he met by means of a mortgage effected +on the estates. But all was done at last. Clare was freed from the +necessity for toil and servitude; she was, indeed, well off, as she +inherited altogether £12,000. Hers is the legacy to which Mrs. Shelley +alludes as being, by a mistake, double what had been intended. When +Shelley made his will, he bequeathed to her £6000. Not long before the end +of his life he added a codicil, to the effect that _these_ £6000 should be +invested for her benefit, intending in this way (it is supposed) to secure +to her the interest of this sum, and to protect her against recklessness +on her own part or needy rapacity on the part of others. Through the +omission in the lawyer's draft of the word "these" this codicil was +construed into a second bequest of £6000, which she received. The Hunts, +by Shelley's bounty and the generosity of his wife and son, were made +comparatively easy in their circumstances. Byron had declined to be +numbered among Shelley's legatees; not so Mr. Hogg, whose letter on the +occasion is too characteristic to omit. + + HOGG TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + DEAR MARY--I have just had an interview with Mr. Gregson. He spoke of + your affairs cheerfully, and thinks that, with prudence and economy, + you and your baronet-boy will do well; and such, I trust and earnestly + hope, will be the result of this long turmoil of worldly perplexity. + + Mr. Gregson paid me the noble tribute of the most generous and kind + and munificent affection of our incomparable friend. He not only paid + the legacy, but very obligingly offered me some interest; for which + offer, and for such prompt payment, I return my best thanks to + yourself and to Percy. + + I was glad to hear from Mr. Gregson, for the honour of poesy, that + Lord Byron had declined to receive his legacy. How much I wish that my + scanty fortunes would justify the like refusal on my part! + + I daresay you wish that you were a good deal richer--that this had + happened and not that--and that a great deal, which was quite + impossible, had been done, and so on! I should be sorry to believe + that you were quite contented; such a state of mind, so preposterous + and unnatural, especially in any person whose circumstances were + affluent, would surely portend some great calamity. + + I hope that I may venture to look forward to the time when the Baronet + will inhabit Field Place in a style not unworthy of his name. My + desire grows daily in the strength to keep up _families_, for it is + only from these that Shelleys and Byrons proceed. + + +[Illustration: THOMAS JEFFERSON HOGG, + +AS HE SAT PLAYING AT CHESS AT BOSCOMBE. + +FROM A SKETCH BY R. EASTON. + +_To face Page 305 (Vol. ii.)_] + + + If low people sometimes effect a little in some particular line, they + always show that they are poor, creeping creatures in the main and in + general. + + However this may be, and whatever you or yours may take of Shelley + property, "either by heirship or conquest," as they say in Scotland, I + hope that you may not be included in the unbroken entail of gout, + which takes so largely from the comforts, and adds so greatly to the + irritability natural to yours, dear Mary, very faithfully, + + T. J. HOGG. + +For many and good reasons there could be little real sympathy between Hogg +and Mary Shelley. In lieu of it she willingly accepted his genuine +enthusiasm for Shelley, and she was a better friend to him than he was to +her. The veiled impertinence of his tone to her must have severely tried +her patience, if not her endurance. Indeed, the mocking style of his +ironical eulogies of her talents, and her fidelity to the memory of her +husband are more offensive to those who know what she was than any +ill-humoured tirade of Trelawny's. + +The high esteem in which Mrs. Shelley was held by the eminent literary men +who were her contemporaries is pleasantly attested in a number of letters +and notes addressed to her by T. Moore, Samuel Rogers, Carlyle, Bulwer, +Prosper Merimée, and others; letters for the most part of no great +importance except in so far as they show the familiar and friendly terms +existing between the writers and Mrs. Shelley. One, however, from Walter +Savage Landor, deserves insertion here for its intrinsic interest-- + + DEAR MRS. SHELLEY--It would be very ungrateful in me to delay for a + single post an answer to your very kind letter. If only three or four + like yourself (supposing there are that number in one generation) are + gratified by my writings, I am quite content. Hardly do I know whether + in the whole course of fifty years I have been so fortunate. For one + of my earliest resolutions in life was never to read what was written + about me, favourable or unfavourable; and another was, to keep as + clear as possible of all literary men, well knowing their jealousies + and animosities, and so little did I seek celebrity, or even renown, + that on making a present of my Gebir and afterwards of my later poems + to the bookseller, I insisted that they should not even be advertised. + Whatever I have written since I have placed at the disposal and + discretion of some friend. Are not you a little too enthusiastic in + believing that writers can be much improved by studying my writings? I + mean in their style. The style is a part of the mind, just as feathers + are part of the bird. The style of Addison is admired--it is very lax + and incorrect. But in his manner there is the shyness of the Loves; + there is the graceful shyness of a beautiful girl not quite grown up! + People feel the cool current of delight, and never look for its + source. However, he wrote the Vision of Mirza, and no prose man in any + age of the world had written anything so delightful. Alas! so far from + being able to teach men how to write, it will be twenty years before I + teach them how to spell. They will write simil_e_, for_ei_gn, + sover_ei_gn, therefo_re_, imp_el_, comp_el_, reb_el_, etc. I wish they + would turn back to Hooker, not for theology--the thorns of theology + are good only to heat the oven for the reception of wholesome food. + But Hooker and Jonson and Milton spelt many words better than we do. + We need not wear their coats, but we may take the gold buttons off + them and put them on smoother stuff.--Believe me, dear Mrs. Shelley, + very truly yours, + + W. S. LANDOR. + + +[Illustration] + + +Of individuals as of nations, it may be true that those are happiest who +have no history. The later years of Mrs. Shelley, which offer no event of +public interest, were tranquil and comparatively happy. She brought out no +new work after 1844.[22] It had been her intention, now that the +prohibition which constituted the chief obstacle was removed, to undertake +the long-projected _Life of Shelley_. It seemed the more desirable as +there was no lack of attempts at biography. Chief among these was the +series of articles entitled "Shelley Papers," contributed by Mr. Hogg to +the _New Monthly_ magazine during 1832. They were afterwards incorporated +with that so-called _Life of Shelley_ which deals only with Shelley's +first youth, and which, though it consists of one halfpennyworth of +Shelley to an intolerable deal of Hogg, is yet a classic, and one of the +most amusing classics in the world; so amusing, indeed, that, for its +sake, we might address the author somewhat as Sterne is said to have +apostrophised Mrs. Cibber, after hearing her sing a pathetic air of +Handel, "Man, for this be all thy sins forgiven thee!" The second chapter +of the book includes some fragments of biography by Mary, a facsimile of +one of which, in her handwriting, is given here. + +Medwin's _Life of Shelley_, inaccurate and false in facts, distasteful in +style and manner, had caused Mrs. Shelley serious annoyance. The author, +who wrote for money chiefly, actually offered to suppress the book _for a +consideration_; a proposal which Mrs. Shelley treated with the silent +contempt it deserved. These were, however, strong arguments in favour of +her undertaking the book herself. She summoned up her resolution and began +to collect her materials. + +But it was not to be. Her powers and her health were unequal to the task. +The parallel between her and the Princess of the nettle-shirts was to be +carried out to the bitter end, for the last nettle-shirt lacked a sleeve, +and the youngest brother always retained one swan's wing instead of an +arm. The last service Mary could have rendered to Shelley was never to be +completed, and so the exact details of certain passages of Shelley's life +must remain for ever, to some extent, matters of speculation. No one but +Mary could have supplied the true history and, as she herself had said, in +the introductory note to her edition of his poems, it was not yet time to +do that. Too many were living who might have been wounded or injured; nay, +there still are too many to admit of a biographer's speaking with perfect +frankness. But, although she might have furnished to some circumstances a +key which is now for ever lost, it is equally true that there was much to +be said, which hardly could, and most certainly never would have been told +by her. Of his earliest youth and his life with Harriet she could, +herself, know nothing but by hearsay. But the chief difficulty lay in the +fact that too much of her own history was interwoven with his. How could +she, now, or at any time, have placed herself, as an observer, so far +outside the subject of her story as to speak of her married life with +Shelley, of its influence on the development of his character and genius, +of the effect of that development, and of her constant association with it +on herself? Yet any life of him which left this out of account would have +been most incomplete. More than that, no biography of such a man as +Shelley can be completely successful which is written under great +restrictions and difficulties. To paint a life-like picture of a nature +like his requires a genius akin to his, aglow with the fervour of +confident enthusiasm. + +It was, then, as well that Mary never wrote the book. The invaluable notes +which she did write to Shelley's poems have done for him all that it was +in her power to accomplish, and all that is necessary. They put the reader +in possession of the knowledge it concerns him to have; that of the scenes +or the circumstances which inspired or suggested the poems themselves. + +In 1847 she became acquainted with the lady to whom her son was afterwards +married, and who was to be to Mrs. Shelley a kind of daughter and sister +in one. No one, except her son, is living who knew Mary so well and loved +her so enthusiastically. A mutual friend had urged them to become +acquainted, assuring them both "they ought to know each other, they would +suit so perfectly." Some people think that this course is one which tends +oftener to postpone than to promote the desired intimacy. In the present +case it was justified by the result. Mrs. Shelley called. Her future +daughter-in-law, on entering the room, beheld something utterly unlike +what she had imagined or expected in the famous Mrs. Shelley,--a fair, +lovely, almost girlish-looking being, "as slight as a reed," with +beautiful clear eyes, who put out her hand as she rose, saying half +timidly, "I'm Mary Shelley." From that moment--we have her word for +it--the future wife of Sir Percy had lost her heart to his mother! Their +intercourse was frequent, and soon became necessary to both. The younger +lady had had much experience of sorrow, and this drew the bond all the +closer. + +Not for some time after this meeting did Sir Percy appear on the scene. +His engagement followed at no distant date, and after his marriage he, +with his wife and his mother, who never during her life was to be parted +from them, again went abroad. + +The cup of such happiness as in this world was possible to Mary Shelley +seemed now to be full, but the time was to be short during which she could +taste it. She only lived three years longer, years chequered by very great +anxiety (on account of illness), yet to those who now look back on them +they seem as if lived under a charm. To live with Mary Shelley was indeed +like entertaining an angel. Perfect unselfishness, _selflessness_ indeed, +characterised her at all times. + +One illustration of this is afforded by her repression of the terror she +felt when she saw Shelley's passion for the sea asserting itself in his +son. Her own nerves had been shaken and her life darkened by a +catastrophe, but not for this would she let it overshadow the lives of +others. Not even when her son, with a friend, went off to Norway in a +little yacht, and she was dependent for news of them on a three weeks' +post, would she ever let him know the mortal anxiety she endured, but +after his marriage she told it to her daughter-in-law, saying, "Now he +will never wish to go to sea." + +But of herself she never seemed to think at all; she lived in and for +others. Her gifts and attainments, far from being obtruded, were kept out +of sight; modest almost to excess as she was, she yet knew the secret of +putting others at their ease. She was ready with sympathy and help and +gentle counsel for all who needed them, and to the friends of her son she +was such a friend as they will never forget. + +The thought of Shelley, the idea of his presence, never seemed to leave +her mind for a moment. She would constantly refer to what he might think, +or do, or approve of, almost as if he had been in the next room. Of his +history, or her own, she never spoke, nor did she ever refer to other +people connected with their early life, unless there was something good to +be said of them. Of those who had behaved ill to her, no word--on the +subject of their behaviour--passed her lips. Her daughter-in-law had so +little idea of what her associations were with Clare, that on one occasion +when Miss Clairmont was coming to stay at Field Place, and Lady Shelley, +who did not like her, expressed a half-formed intention of being absent +during her visit and leaving Mrs. Shelley to entertain her, she was +completely taken aback by the exclamation which escaped Mary's lips, +"Don't go, dear! don't leave me alone with her! she has been the bane of +my life ever since I was three years old!" + +No more was ever said, but this was enough, even to those who did not know +all, to reveal a long history of endurance. + +Clare came, and more than once, to stay at Field Place, but her +excitability and eccentricity had so much increased as, at times, to be +little if at all under her own control, and after one unmistakable proof +of this, it was deemed (by those who cared for Mrs. Shelley) desirable +that she should go and return no more. + +She died at Florence in 1878. + +Mary Shelley's strength was ebbing, her nervous ailments increased, and +the result was a loss of power in one side. Life at Field Place had had to +be abandoned on grounds of health (not her own), and Sir Percy Shelley had +purchased Boscombe Manor for their country home, anticipating great +pleasure from his mother's enjoyment of the beautiful spot and fine +climate. But she became worse, and never could be moved from her house in +Chester Square till she was taken to her last resting-place. She died on +the 21st of February 1851. + +She died, "and her place among those who knew her intimately has never +been filled up. She walked beside them, like a spirit of good, to comfort +and benefit, to lighten the darkness of life, to cheer it with her +sympathy and love." + +These, her own words about Shelley, may with equal fitness be applied to +her. + +Her grave is in Bournemouth Churchyard, where, some time after, her +father and mother were laid by her side. + + * * * * * + +As an author Mary Shelley did not accomplish all that was expected of her. +Her letters from abroad, both during her earlier and later tours, the +descriptive fragments intended for her father's biography, and above all +her notes on Shelley's works, are indeed valuable and enduring +contributions to literature. But it was in imaginative work that she had +aspired to excel, and in which both Shelley and Godwin had urged her to +persevere, confident that she could achieve a brilliant success. None of +her novels, however, except _Frankenstein_, can be said to have survived +the generation for which they were written. Only in that work has she left +an abiding mark on literature. Yet her powers were very great, her culture +very extensive, her ambition very high. + +The friend whose description of her has been quoted in an earlier chapter +tries to account for this. She says-- + + I think a partial solution for the circumscribed fame of Mrs. Shelley + as a writer may be traced to her own shrinking and sensitive + retiringness of nature. If, as Thackeray, perhaps justly, observes, + "Persons, to succeed largely in this world, must assert themselves," + most assuredly Mary Shelley never tried that path to distinction.... + + I never knew, in my life, either man or woman whose whole character + was so entirely in harmony: no jarring discords--no incongruous, + anomalous, antagonistic opposites met to disturb the perfect unity, + and to counteract one day the impressions of the former. Gentleness + was ever and always her distinguishing characteristic. Many years' + friendship never showed me a deviation from it. But with this softness + there was neither irresolution nor feebleness.... + + Many have fancied and accused her of being cold and apathetic. She was + no such thing. She had warm, strong affections: as daughter, wife, and + mother she was exemplary and devoted. Besides this, she was a + faithful, unswerving friend. + + * * * * * + + She was not a mirthful--scarcely could be called a cheerful person; + and at times was subject to deep and profound fits of despondency, + when she would shut herself up, and be quite inaccessible to all. Her + undeviating love of truth was ever acted on--never swerved from. Her + worst enemy could never charge her with falsification--even + equivocation. Truth--truth--truth--was the governing principle in all + the words she uttered, the thoughts and judgments she expressed. Hence + she was most intolerant to deceit and falsehood, in any shape or + guise, and those who attempted to practise it on her aroused as much + bitter indignation as her nature was capable of.... + + It is too often the case that authors talk too much of their writings, + and all thereunto belonging. Mrs. Shelley was the extremest reverse of + this. In fact, she was almost morbidly averse to the least allusion to + herself as an authoress. To call on her and find her table covered + with all the accessories and unmistakable traces of _book-making_, + such as copy, proofs for correction, etc., made her nearly as nervous + and unselfpossessed as if she had been detected in the commission of + some offence against the conventionalities of society, or the code of + morality.... + + I really think she deemed it unwomanly to print and publish; and had + it not been for the hard cash which, like so many of her craft, she so + often stood in need of, I do not think she would ever have come + before the world as an authoress.... + + Like all raised in supremacy above their fellows, either mentally or + physically, Mrs. Shelley had her enemies and detractors. But none ever + dared to impugn the correctness of her conduct. From the hour of her + early widowhood to the period of her death, she might have married + advantageously several times. But she often said, "I know not what + temptation could make me change the name of Shelley." + +But the true cause lay deeper still, and may afford a clue to more puzzles +than this one. What Mary Godwin might have become had she remained Mary +Godwin for six or eight years longer it is impossible now to do more than +guess at. But the free growth of her own original nature was checked and a +new bent given to it by her early union with Shelley. Two original +geniuses can rarely develop side by side, certainly not in marriage, least +of all in a happy marriage. Two minds may, indeed, work consentaneously, +but one, however unconsciously, will take the lead; should the other +preserve its complete independence, angles must of necessity develop, and +the first fitness of things disappear. And in a marriage of enthusiastic +devotion and mutual admiration, the younger or the weaker mind, however +candid, will shirk or stop short of conclusions which, it instinctively +feels, may lead to collision. On the other hand, strong and pronounced +views or peculiarities on the part of one may tend to elicit their exact +opposite on the part of the other; both results being equally remote from +real independence of thought. However it may be, either in marriage or in +any intellectual partnership, it is a general truth that from the moment +one mind is penetrated by the influence of another, its own native power +over other minds has gone, and for ever. And Mary parted with this power +at sixteen, before she knew what it was to have it. When she left her +father's house with Shelley she was but a child, a thing of promise, +everything about her yet to be decided. Shelley himself was a half-formed +creature, but of infinite possibilities and extraordinary powers, and +Mary's development had not only to keep pace with his, but to keep in time +and tune with his. Sterne said of Lady Elizabeth Hastings that "to have +loved her was a liberal education." To love Shelley adequately and +worthily was that and more--it was a vocation, a career,--enough for a +life-time and an exceptional one. + +Every reader of the present biography must see too that in Mary Shelley's +case physical causes had much to do with the limit of her intellectual +achievements. Between seventeen and twenty-five she had drawn too largely +on the reserve funds of life. Weak health and illness, a roving unsettled +life, the birth and rearing, and then the loss, of children; great joys +and great griefs, all crowded into a few young years, and coinciding with +study and brain-work and the constant call on her nervous energy +necessitated by companionship with Shelley, these exhausted her; and when +he who was the beginning and end of her existence disappeared, "and the +light of her life as if gone out,"[23] she was left,--left what those +eight years had made her, to begin again from the beginning all alone. And +nobly she began, manfully she struggled, and wonderfully, considering all +things, did she succeed. No one, however, has more than a certain, +limited, amount of vitality to express in his or her life; the vital force +may take one form or another, but cannot be used twice over. The best of +Mary's power spent itself in active life, in ministering to another being, +during those eight years with Shelley. What she gained from him, and it +was much, was paid back to him a hundredfold. When he was gone, and those +calls for outward activity were over, there lay before her the life of +literary labour and thought for which nature and training had +pre-eminently fitted her. But she could not call back the freshness of her +powers nor the wholeness of her heart. She did not fully know, or realise, +then, the amount of life-capital she had run through. She did realise it +at a later time, and the very interesting entry in her journal, dated +October 21, 1838, is a kind of profession of faith; a summary of her +views of life; the result of her reflections and of her experience-- + + _Journal, October 21._--I have been so often abused by pretended + friends for my lukewarmness in "the good cause," that I disdain to + answer them. I shall put down here a few thoughts on this subject. I + am much of a self-examiner. Vanity is not my fault, I think; if it is, + it is uncomfortable vanity, for I have none that teaches me to be + satisfied with myself; far otherwise--and, if I use the word disdain, + it is that I think my qualities (such as they are) not appreciated + from unworthy causes. In the first place, with regard to "the good + cause"--the cause of the advancement of freedom and knowledge, of the + rights of women, etc.--I am not a person of opinions. I have said + elsewhere that human beings differ greatly in this. Some have a + passion for reforming the world, others do not cling to particular + opinions. That my parents and Shelley were of the former class makes + me respect it. I respect such when joined to real disinterestedness, + toleration, and a clear understanding. My accusers, after such as + these, appear to me mere drivellers. For myself, I earnestly desire + the good and enlightenment of my fellow-creatures, and see all, in the + present course, tending to the same, and rejoice; but I am not for + violent extremes, which only bring on an injurious reaction. I have + never written a word in disfavour of liberalism: that I have not + supported it openly in writing arises from the following causes, as + far as I know-- + + That I have not argumentative powers: I see things pretty clearly, but + cannot demonstrate them. Besides, I feel the counter-arguments too + strongly. I do not feel that I could say aught to support the cause + efficiently; besides that, on some topics (especially with regard to + my own sex) I am far from making up my mind. I believe we are sent + here to educate ourselves, and that self-denial, and disappointment, + and self-control are a part of our education; that it is not by + taking away all restraining law that our improvement is to be + achieved; and, though many things need great amendment, I can by no + means go so far as my friends would have me. When I feel that I can + say what will benefit my fellow-creatures, I will speak; not before. + Then, I recoil from the vulgar abuse of the inimical press. I do more + than recoil: proud and sensitive, I act on the defensive--an + inglorious position. To hang back, as I do, brings a penalty. I was + nursed and fed with a love of glory. To be something great and good + was the precept given me by my Father; Shelley reiterated it. Alone + and poor, I could only be something by joining a party; and there was + much in me--the woman's love of looking up, and being guided, and + being willing to do anything if any one supported and brought me + forward--which would have made me a good partisan. But Shelley died + and I was alone. My Father, from age and domestic circumstances, could + not _me faire valoir_. My total friendlessness, my horror of pushing, + and inability to put myself forward unless led, cherished and + supported--all this has sunk me in a state of loneliness no other + human being ever before, I believe, endured--except Robinson Crusoe. + How many tears and spasms of anguish this solitude has cost me, lies + buried in my memory. + + If I had raved and ranted about what I did not understand, had I + adopted a set of opinions, and propagated them with enthusiasm; had I + been careless of attack, and eager for notoriety; then the party to + which I belonged had gathered round me, and I had not been alone. + + It has been the fashion with these same friends to accuse me of + worldliness. There, indeed, in my own heart and conscience, I take a + high ground. I may distrust my own judgment too much--be too indolent + and too timid; but in conduct I am above merited blame. + + I like society; I believe all persons who have any talent (who are in + good health) do. The soil that gives forth nothing may lie ever + fallow; but that which produces--however humble its product--needs + cultivation, change of harvest, refreshing dews, and ripening sun. + Books do much; but the living intercourse is the vital heat. Debarred + from that, how have I pined and died! + + My early friends chose the position of enemies. When I first + discovered that a trusted friend had acted falsely by me, I was nearly + destroyed. My health was shaken. I remember thinking, with a burst of + agonising tears, that I should prefer a bed of torture to the + unutterable anguish a friend's falsehood engendered. There is no + resentment; but the world can never be to me what it was before. Trust + and confidence, and the heart's sincere devotion are gone. + + I sought at that time to make acquaintances--to divert my mind from + this anguish. I got entangled in various ways through my ready + sympathy and too eager heart; but I never crouched to society--never + sought it unworthily. If I have never written to vindicate the rights + of women, I have ever befriended women when oppressed. At every risk I + have befriended and supported victims to the social system; but I make + no boast, for in truth it is simple justice I perform; and so I am + still reviled for being worldly. + + God grant a happier and a better day is near! Percy--my + all-in-all--will, I trust, by his excellent understanding, his clear, + bright, sincere spirit and affectionate heart, repay me for sad long + years of desolation. His career may lead me into the thick of life or + only gild a quiet home. I am content with either, and, as I grow + older, I grow more fearless for myself--I become firmer in my + opinions. The experienced, the suffering, the thoughtful, may at last + speak unrebuked. If it be the will of God that I live, I may ally my + name yet to "the Good Cause," though I do not expect to please my + accusers. + + Thus have I put down my thoughts. I may have deceived myself; I may be + in the wrong; I try to examine myself; and such as I have written + appears to me the exact truth. + + Enough of this! The great work of life goes on. Death draws near. To + be better after death than in life is one's hope and endeavour--to be + so through self-schooling. If I write the above, it is that those who + love me may hereafter know that I am not all to blame, nor merit the + heavy accusations cast on me for not putting myself forward. I cannot + do that; it is against my nature. As well cast me from a precipice and + rail at me for not flying. + +The true success of Mary Shelley's life was not, therefore, the +intellectual triumph of which, during her youth, she had loved to dream, +and which at one time seemed to be actually within her grasp, but the +moral success of beauty of character. To those people--a daily increasing +number in this tired world--who erect the natural grace of animal spirits +to the rank of the highest virtue, this success may appear hardly worth +the name. Yet it was a very real victory. Her nature was not without +faults or tendencies which, if undisciplined, might have developed into +faults, but every year she lived seemed to mellow and ripen her finer +qualities, while blemishes or weaknesses were suppressed or overcome, and +finally disappeared altogether. + +As to her theological views, about which the most contradictory opinions +have been expressed, it can but be said that nothing in Mrs. Shelley's +writings gives other people the right to formulate for her any dogmatic +opinions at all. Brought up in a purely rationalistic creed, her education +had of course, no tinge of what is known as "personal religion," and it +must be repeated here that none of her acts and views were founded, or +should be judged as if they were founded on Biblical commands or +prohibitions. That the temper of her mind, so to speak, was eminently +religious there can be no doubt; that she believed in God and a future +state there are many allusions to show.[24] Perhaps no one, having lived +with the so-called atheist, Shelley, could have accepted the idea of the +limitation, or the extinction of intelligence and goodness. Her liberality +of mind, however, was rewarded by abuse from some of her acquaintance, +because her toleration was extended even to the orthodox. + +Her moral opinions, had they ever been formulated, which they never were, +would have approximated closely to those of Mary Wollstonecraft, limited, +however, by an inability, like her father's, _not_ to see both sides of a +question, and also by the severest and most elevated standard of moral +purity, of personal faith and loyalty. To be judged by such a standard she +would have regarded as a woman's highest privilege. To claim as a "woman's +right" any licence, any lowering of the standard of duty in these matters, +would have been to her incomprehensible and impossible. But, with all +this, she discriminated. Her standard was not that of the conventional +world. + +At every risk, as she says, she befriended those whom she considered +"victims to the social system." It was a difficult course; for, while her +acquaintance of the "advanced" type accused her of cowardice and +worldliness for not asserting herself as a champion of universal liberty, +there were more who were ready to decry her for her friendly relations +with Countess Guiccioli, Lady Mountcashel, and others not named here; to +say nothing of Clare, to whom much of her happiness had been sacrificed. +She refrained from pronouncing judgment, but reserved her liberty of +action, and in all doubtful cases gave others the benefit of the doubt, +and this without respect of persons. She would not excommunicate a humble +individual for what was passed over in a man or woman of genius; nor +condemn a woman for what, in a man, might be excused, or might even add to +his social reputation. Least of all would she secure her own position by +shunning those whose case had once been hers, and who in their after life +had been less fortunate than she. Pure herself, she could be charitable, +and she could be just. + +The influence of such a wife on Shelley's more vehement, visionary +temperament can hardly be over-estimated. Their moods did not always suit +or coincide; each, at times, made the other suffer. It could not be +otherwise with two natures so young, so strong, and so individual. But, if +forbearance may have been sometimes called for on the one hand, and on +the other a charity which is kind and thinks no evil, it was only a part +of that discipline from which the married life of geniuses is not exempt, +and which tests the temper and quality of the metal it tries; an ordeal +from which two noble natures come forth the purer and the stronger. + +The indirect, unconscious power of elevation of character is great, and +not even a Shelley but must be the better for association with it, not +even he but must be the nobler, "yea, three times less unworthy" through +the love of such a woman as Mary. He would not have been all he was +without her sustaining and refining influence; without the constant sense +that in loving him she loved his ideals also. We owe him, in part, to her. + +Love--the love of Love--was Shelley's life and creed. This, in Mary's +creed, was interpreted as love of Shelley. By all the rest she strove to +do her duty, but, when the end came, that survived as the one great fact +of her life--a fact she might have uttered in words like his-- + + And where is Truth? On tombs; for such to thee + Has been my heart; and thy dead memory + Has lain from (girlhood), many a changeful year, + Unchangingly preserved, and buried there. + + +_F. D. & Co._ + +_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_. + + + + +POSTSCRIPT + + +Since this book was printed, a series of letters from Harriet Shelley to +an Irish friend, Mrs. Nugent, containing references to the separation from +Shelley, has been published in the New York _Nation_. These letters, +however, add nothing to what was previously known of Harriet's history and +life with Shelley. After November 1813 the correspondence ceases. It is +resumed in August 1814, after the separation and Shelley's departure from +England. Harriet's account of these events--gathered by her at second-hand +from those who can, themselves, have had no knowledge of the facts they +professed to relate--embodies all the slanderous reports adverted to in +the seventh chapter of the present work, and all the gratuitous falsehoods +circulated by Mrs. Godwin;--falsehoods which Professor Dowden, in the +Appendix to his _Life of Shelley_, has been at the trouble directly to +disprove, statement by statement;--falsehoods of which the Author cannot +but hope that an amply sufficient, if an indirect, refutation may be found +in the present Life of Mary Shelley. + + + + +ERRATA + + +Vol. i. p. 55, footnote, _for_ "Schlabrendorf," _read_ "Schlaberndorf." + +Vol. i. p. 84, line 7, _for_ "(including his own mother, in Skinner +Street)," _read_ "(including his own mother) in Skinner Street." + +Vol. i. p. 170, line 20, _for_ "Heeding not the misery then spoken," +_read_ "Heeding not the words then spoken." + +Vol. ii. p. 200, line 7, _for_ "Moghiteff," _read_ "Moghileff." + +Vol. ii. p. 216, line 12, _for_ "Zela," _read_ "Zella." + + + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] Leigh Hunt used often to say that he was the dearest friend Shelley +had; I believe he was the most costly.--_Trelawny's Recollections._ + +[2] Mrs. Shelley's letter says twelve days, but this is an error, due, no +doubt, to her distress of mind. She gives the date of Trelawny's return to +Leghorn as the 25th of July; it should have been the 18th. + +[3] Mrs. Mason. + +[4] The Hunts. + +[5] See Godwin's letter, page 96. + +[6] So it happened, however. + +[7] Mrs. Hunt, an amateur sculptress of talent, was also skilful in +cutting out profiles in cardboard. From some of these, notably from one of +Lord Byron, successful likenesses were made. + +[8] Lord Byron. + +[9] Fanny Wright subsequently married a Frenchman, M. Phiquepal Darusmont. +Under the head of "Darusmont" a sketch of her life, by Mr. R. Garnett, +containing many highly interesting details of her career, is to be found +in the _Dictionary of National Biography_. + +[10] Miss Robinson. + +[11] "Recollections" in the original; "Records" in the later and, now, +better known edition. + +[12] Page 191. + +[13] Allegra was buried at Harrow. + +[14] Jane's mother. + +[15] In _The Last Man_. + +[16] The heroine of _Valperga_. + +[17] Things have changed at the British Museum, not a little, since these +words were written. + +[18] In a letter of Clare's, before this time, referring to the marriage +of one of the Miss Robinsons, she remarks, "I am quite glad to think that +for the future you may only have Percy and yourself to maintain." + +[19] The Miss Robinsons. + +[20] _Lodore._ + +[21] Such as the following, taken from the Preface: We have lately been +accustomed to look on Italy as a discontented province of Austria, +forgetful that her supremacy dates only from the downfall of Napoleon. +From the invasion of Charles VIII till 1815 Italy has been a battlefield, +where the Spaniard, the French, and the German have fought for mastery; +and we are blind indeed if we do not see that such will occur again, at +least among the two last. Supposing a war to arise between them, one of +the first acts of aggression on the part of France would be to try to +drive the Germans from Italy. Even if peace continue, it is felt that the +papal power is tottering to its fall,--it is only supported because the +French will not allow Austria to extend her dominions, and the Austrian is +eager to prevent any change that may afford pretence for the French to +interfere. Did the present Pope act with any degree of prudence, his +power, thus propped, might last some time longer; but as it is, who can +say how soon, for the sake of peace in the rest of Italy, it may not be +necessary to curtail his territories. + +The French feel this, and begin to dream of dominion across the Alps; the +occupation of Ancona was a feeler put out; it gained no positive object +except to check Austria; for the rest its best effect was to reiterate the +lesson they have often taught, that no faith should be given to their +promises of liberation. + +[22] She had published her last novel, _Falkner_, in 1837. + +[23] Carlyle's epitaph on his wife. + +[24] "My belief is," she says in the preface to her edition of Shelley's +prose works, "that spiritual improvement in this life prepares the way to +a higher existence." + + + + +_In 2 vols. Crown 8vo, with 2 Portraits, 24s._ + +JOHN FRANCIS AND THE 'ATHENĘUM.' + +_A LITERARY CHRONICLE OF HALF A CENTURY._ + +BY JOHN C. FRANCIS. + + +OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. + +'The career of John Francis, publisher of the _Athenęum_, was worth +telling for the zeal with which, for more than thirty years, he pursued +the definite purpose of obtaining the abolition of the paper duty.... With +equal ardour did Mr. Francis labour for half a century in publishing the +weekly issue of the _Athenęum_; and these two volumes, which describe its +progress from its birth in January, 1828, to the full perfection of its +powers in 1882, are a fitting record of the literary history of that +period.'--_Academy._ + +'Anybody who wants a complete summary of what the world has been thinking +and doing since Silk Buckingham, with Dr. Stebbing and Charles Knight and +Sterling and Maurice as his staff, started the _Athenęum_ in 1828, will +find plenty to satisfy him in _John Francis, a Literary Chronicle of Half +a Century_.... Mr. Francis's autobiography is not the least valuable part +of this valuable record.'--_Graphic._ + +'As a record of the literature of fifty years, and in a less complete +degree of the progress of science and art, and as a memento of many +notable characters in various fields of intellectual culture, these +volumes are of considerable value.'--_Morning Post._ + +'The volumes abound with curious and interesting statements, and in +bringing before the public the most notable features of a distinguished +journal from its infancy almost to the present hour, Mr. Francis deserves +the thanks of all readers interested in literature.'--_Spectator._ + +'No memoir of Mr. Francis would be complete without a corresponding +history of the journal with which his name will for ever be identified.... +The extraordinary variety of subjects and persons referred to, embracing +as they do every event in literature, and referring to every person of +distinction in science or letters, is a record of such magnitude that we +can only indicate its outlines. To the literary historian the volumes will +be of incalculable service.'--_Bookseller._ + +'This literary chronicle of half a century must at once, or in course of a +short time, take a place as a permanent work of reference.'--_Publishers' +Circular._ + +'Some valuable and interesting matter has been collected chronologically +regarding the literary history of the last fifty years.'--_Murray's +Magazine._ + +'We have put before us a valuable collection of materials for the future +history of the Victorian era of English literature.'--_Standard._ + +'John Francis was a faithful servant, and also an earnest worker for the +good of his fellow-creatures. Sunday schools, charitable societies, and +mechanics' institutes found in him a patient and steady helper, and no one +laboured more persistently and unselfishly to procure the abolition of the +pernicious taxes on knowledge.'--_Daily Chronicle._ + +'Such a life interests us, and carries with it a fruitful moral.... The +history of the _Athenęum_ also well deserved to be told.'--_Daily News._ + +'A worthy monument of the development of literature during the last fifty +years.... The volumes contain not a little specially interesting to +Scotsmen.'--_Scotsman._ + +'Rich in literary and social interest, and afford a comprehensive survey +of the intellectual progress of the nation.'--_Leeds Mercury._ + +'It is in characters so sterling and admirable as this that the real +strength of a nation lies.... The public will find in the book reading +which, if light and easy, is also full of interest and suggestion.... We +suspect that writers for the daily and weekly papers will find out that it +is convenient to keep these volumes of handy size, and each having its own +index, extending the one to 20, the other to 30 pages, at their elbow for +reference.'--_Liverpool Mercury._ + +'The book is, in fact, as it is described, a literary chronicle of the +period with which it deals, and a chronicle put together with as much +skill as taste and discrimination. The information given about notable +people of the past is always interesting and often piquant, while it +rarely fails to throw some new light on the individuality of the person to +whom it refers.'--_Liverpool Daily Post._ + +'Our survey has been unavoidably confined almost exclusively to the first +volume; indeed, anything like an adequate account of the book is +impossible, for it may be described as a history in notes of the +literature of the period with which it deals. We confess that we have been +able to find very few pages altogether barren of interest, and by far the +larger portion of the book will be found irresistibly attractive by all +who care anything for the history of literature in our own +time.'--_Manchester Examiner._ + +'It was a happy thought in this age of jubilees to associate with a +literary chronicle of the last fifty years a biographical sketch of the +life of John Francis.... As we glance through the contents there is +scarcely a page which does not induce us to stop and read about the men +and events that are summoned again before us.'--_Western Daily Mercury._ + +'A mine of information on subjects connected with literature for the last +fifty years.'--_Echo._ + +'The volumes are full of interest.... The indexes of these two volumes +show at a glance that a feast of memorabilia, of gossip, of reminiscence, +is in store for the reader.'--_Nonconformist._ + +'The thought of compiling these volumes was a happy one, and it has been +ably carried out by Mr. John C. Francis, the son of the veteran +publisher.'--_Literary World._ + +'The entire work affords a comprehensive view of the intellectual life of +the period it covers, which will be found extremely helpful by students of +English literature.'--_Christian World._ + +'No other fifty years of English literature contain so much to interest an +English reader.'--_Freeman._ + +'To literary men the two volumes will have much interest; they contain the +raw material of history, and many of the gems which make it +sparkle.'--_Sword and Trowel._ + + + RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, + Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF MARY +WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY, VOLUME II (OF 2)*** + + +******* This file should be named 37956-8.txt or 37956-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/7/9/5/37956 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thomas Marshall</title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + + body {margin-left: 12%; margin-right: 12%;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right; font-style: normal;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + + hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + .huge {font-size: 150%} + .large {font-size: 125%} + + .blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .poem {margin-left: 15%;} + + .signa {margin-left: 4em;} + .title {text-align: center; font-size: 125%} + + .right {text-align: right;} + .center {text-align: center;} + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .smcaplc {text-transform: lowercase; font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + a:link {color:#0000ff; text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:#6633cc; text-decoration:none} + + .spacer {padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 1em;} + + .verts {margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Life and Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft +Shelley, Volume II (of 2), by Florence A. Thomas Marshall</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Life and Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Volume II (of 2)</p> +<p>Author: Florence A. Thomas Marshall</p> +<p>Release Date: November 8, 2011 [eBook #37956]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY, VOLUME II (OF 2)***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by<br /> + the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> + from page images generously made available by<br /> + Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries + (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/toronto">http://www.archive.org/details/toronto</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Project Gutenberg also has Volume I of this work. + See <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37955">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37955</a><br /> + <br /> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries. See + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/lifelettersofmar02marsrich"> + http://www.archive.org/details/lifelettersofmar02marsrich</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>THE LIFE AND LETTERS<br /> +OF<br /> +MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY<br /><br /> +II</h1> + +<p> </p><p> </p><p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="center"><small>Photogravure by Annan & Swan</small><br /> +<i>E. J. TRELAWNY.</i><br /> +<i>From a portrait after Severn.</i><br /> +<i>in the possession of Sir Percy F. Shelley, Bart.</i><br /> +London. Richard Bentley & Son: 1889.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p><p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE LIFE & LETTERS</span><br /> +<small>OF</small><br /> +<span class="huge">Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><small>BY</small><br /> +<span class="large"><span class="smcap">Mrs.</span> JULIAN MARSHALL</span></p> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/title.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">WITH PORTRAITS AND FACSIMILE</p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">IN TWO VOLUMES</p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Vol. II</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">LONDON<br /> +RICHARD BENTLEY & SON<br /> +Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen<br /> +1889</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table width="65%" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td colspan="2"> </td><td align="right"><small>PAGES</small></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="center"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="center"><span class="smcap">July-September 1822</span></td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1822<br />(July).</td> + <td>Mary and Mrs. Williams go to Pisa—They can learn nothing—Trelawny accompanies them back to Casa Magni—The + bodies of Shelley and Williams are washed ashore—Trelawny brings Mary, Jane, and Clare back to Pisa—Mary’s + endurance—Letters from Godwin—Mary’s letter to Mrs. Gisborne—The bodies are cremated—Dispute + about Shelley’s heart—It remains with Mary—Mary’s decision to remain for a time with the Hunts, and to assist + them and Byron with the <i>Liberal</i>—Goes to Genoa—Mrs. Williams goes to England—Letter from Mary to Mrs. Gisborne + and Clare—Letters from Clare and Jane Williams—The Hunts and Byron are established at Albaro</td> + <td valign="bottom" align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1-35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="center"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="center"><span class="smcap">September 1822-July 1823</span></td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1822<br />(October).</td> + <td>Mary’s desolate condition—Her diary—Extracts—Discomfort with the Hunts—Byron’s antipathy to them + all—Note from him to Mary—Trelawny’s presence a refreshment—Letters to and from him—Letter from Godwin—Journal—Letter + to Clare—Mary’s poem “The Choice.”</td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1823.</td> + <td>Trelawny’s zealous care for Shelley’s tomb—Mary’s gratitude—She decides on returning to England—Sir Timothy + Shelley’s refusal to assist her—Letter from Godwin—Correspondence between Mary and Trelawny—Letter from + Godwin criticising <i>Valperga</i>—Byron is induced to go to Greece—Summons Trelawny to accompany him—Mrs. + Hunt’s confinement—Letters from Mary to Jane Williams—She starts on her journey to England—Diary</td> + <td valign="bottom" align="right"><a href="#Page_36">36-88</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="center"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="center"><span class="smcap">July 1823-December 1824</span></td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1823.</td> + <td>Mary’s journey—Letters to the Leigh Hunts—Arrival in London—Jane Williams—Her attractiveness—<i>Frankenstein</i> + on the stage—Publication of Shelley’s Posthumous Poems.</td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1824.</td> + <td>Journal—Mary’s wish to write for the stage—Godwin discourages the idea—Affairs of the <i>Examiner</i> newspaper—The + Novellos—Mrs. Cowden Clarke’s reminiscences of Mary—Death of Byron—Profound sensation—Journal—Letters + from Trelawny—Description of the “Cavern Fortress of Mount Parnassus”—Letter from Mary to Trelawny—Letter + to Leigh Hunt—Negotiation with Sir T. Shelley—Allowance—Suppression of the Posthumous Poems—Journal—Medwin’s + Memoirs of Byron—Asks Mary to assist him—Her feelings on the subject—Letter to Mrs. Hunt—Journal</td> + <td valign="bottom" align="right"><a href="#Page_89">89-129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="center"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="center"><span class="smcap">January 1825-July 1827</span></td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1825.</td> + <td>Improvement in Mary’s prospects—Letter to Miss Curran—Letter to Leigh Hunt about his article on Shelley—Shelley’s + portrait arrives—Journal—Trelawny’s adventures and escape from Greece—Mary’s letter to him (February 1826).</td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1826.</td> + <td>Reminiscences of Lord Byron’s projected performance of <i>Othello</i> at Pisa—Clare Clairmont’s life as a governess in + Russia—Description of her—Letter from her to Jane Williams—Publication of <i>The Last Man</i>—Hogg’s appreciation—Stoppage + of Mary’s allowance—Peacock’s intervention in her behalf—Death of Charles Shelley—Mary’s letter + to Leigh Hunt on the subject of Shelley’s intended legacy—Increase of allowance—Melancholy letter from Trelawny.</td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1827.</td> + <td>Mary’s reply—Letter from Clare to Jane Williams—Jane Williams’ duplicity—Mary becomes aware of it—Her misery—Journal</td> + <td valign="bottom" align="right"><a href="#Page_130">130-167</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="center"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="center"><span class="smcap">July 1827-August 1830</span></td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1827.</td> + <td>Letter to Mary from Frances Wright presented by Robert Dale Owen—Friendly Correspondence—Acquaintance—Fanny + Wright’s history—Her personal appearance—Contrast between her and Mrs. Shelley—She returns to + America—Letter from her—Letter from Godwin to Mary—Mary’s stay at Arundel—The Miss Robinsons—Letter from + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span>Trelawny—Explanation with Jane Williams—Letter from + Mary—Visit to Paris—Mary catches the small-pox—Trelawny arrives in England—Letters from him.</td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1829.</td> + <td>He returns to Italy—Letter to Mary to say he is writing his own life—Asks Mary to help him with reminiscences of + Shelley—She declines—He is angry—Letter from Lord Dillon—<i>Perkin Warbeck</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1830.</td> + <td>Journal (January)—Mrs. Shelley’s “at homes” in Somerset Street—T. Moore—<i>Perkin Warbeck</i> a disappointment—Need + of money—Letter from Clare—Mary writes for the <i>Keepsake</i></td> + <td valign="bottom" align="right"><a href="#Page_168">168-203</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="center"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="center"><span class="smcap">August 1830-October 1831</span></td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1830.</td> + <td>Trelawny’s autobiographical adventures to be entitled <i>A Man’s Life</i>—Correspondence with Mary respecting the + preparation and publication of the book.</td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1831.</td> + <td>She negotiates the matter—Entreats for certain modifications—The title is altered to <i>Adventures of a Younger Son</i>—The + author’s vexation—Mary’s patience—Horace Smith’s assistance—Trelawny surmises that “fate” may unite him + and Mary Shelley some day—“My name will never be Trelawny”—Publication of the <i>Adventures</i>—Trelawny’s + later <i>Recollections of Shelley, Byron, and the Author</i>—His rare appreciation of Shelley—Singular discrepancies between + the first and second editions of the book—Complete change of tone in later life with regard to Mrs. Shelley—Conclusions</td> + <td valign="bottom" align="right"><a href="#Page_204">204-232</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="center"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="center"><span class="smcap">October 1831-October 1839</span></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td> + <td>Godwin’s <i>Thoughts on Man</i> (1830)—Letter to Mary—Letter from Clare—Question of Percy’s going to a public school.</td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1831.</td> + <td>Mary Shelley applies to Sir Timothy for an increase of allowance—She is refused.</td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1832.</td> + <td>Letter from Godwin asking for an idea or suggestion—Mary writes “Lives of Italian and Spanish Literary Men” for + Lardner’s <i>Cyclopædia</i>—Clare’s tale—Cholera in London—Mary goes to Sandgate—Trelawny returns—His daughter + stays with Mary at Sandgate—Death of Lord Dillon—Letter from Godwin—His son William dies of cholera—Posthumous novel, + <i>Transfusion</i>—Clare’s letters to Jane and Mary.</td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1833.<br />1834</td> + <td>Mrs. Shelley goes to live at Harrow—Letter to Mrs. Gisborne—Influenza—Solitude—Hardwork—Letter from + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span> Godwin—Letters from Mary to Trelawny and to Mrs. + Gisborne—Offer of £600 for annotated edition of Shelley’s works—Difficulties.</td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1835.<br />1836</td> + <td><i>Lodore</i>—Its success—Reminiscences of her own experiences—Letter from Clare—Melancholy letter from Mary to Mrs. + Gisborne—“A Dirge”—Trelawny returns from America—Mary’s friendship with Mrs. Norton—Letter to Mrs. + Gisborne—Godwin’s death—Efforts to get an annuity for his widow—Letters from Mrs. Norton and Trelawny.</td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1837.</td> + <td>Letters from Mary to Trelawny—Death of the Gisbornes—Impediments to Mary’s undertaking the biography of her + father—Her edition of Shelley’s works—Painful task.</td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1839.</td> + <td>Letter from Sir E. L. Bulwer—Fragment from Mrs. Norton—The Diplomatic Service—Journal—Bitter Vexations—Illness—Recovery</td> + <td valign="bottom" align="right"><a href="#Page_233">233-291</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="center"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="center"><span class="smcap">October 1839-February 1851</span></td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1839.</td> + <td>Publication of Shelley’s prose works—Motto—Letter from Carlyle.</td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1840.<br /><br />1841</td> + <td>Journal—Brighton—Continental tour with Percy and his reading-party—Stay at Como—Mary’s enjoyment—Her son + takes his degree, and receives allowance from his grandfather—Letter of congratulation from Mrs. Norton—Mary and Percy go abroad + again—Kissingen; Gotha; Weimar; Leipzig; Berlin; Dresden; Prague; Linz; Salzburg; Venice—Associations—Winter at + Florence—Rome—Sorrento—Home again.</td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1844.<br /><br />1847</td> + <td><i>Rambles in Germany and Italy</i>—Dedication to Rogers: note from him—Death of Sir T. Shelley—Mary’s letter to + Leigh Hunt—Shelley’s various legacies—Letter from Hogg—Portrait—Mrs. Shelley’s literary friendships—Letter from + Walter Savage Landor—Hogg’s <i>Shelley Papers</i>—Subsequent <i>Life of Shelley</i>—Facsimile of fragment in Mary’s + handwriting—Medwin’s book inaccurate and objectionable—Mary fails to write Shelley’s Life—Marriage of Sir Percy + Shelley—Mary lives with her son and daughter-in-law—Her sweetness and unselfishness—Her kindness to her son’s + friends—Clare’s visits to Field Place—Her excitability and eccentricity—Her death at Florence; 1878.</td></tr> +<tr><td valign="top">1851.</td> + <td>Mary Shelley’s health declines—Her death—Her grave in Bournemouth Churchyard—Retrospect of her history and + mental development—Extract from Journal of October 1838, giving her own views—The success of her life a moral + rather than an intellectual one—Her nobility of character—Her influence on Shelley—Her lifelong devotion to him</td> + <td valign="bottom" align="right"><a href="#Page_292">292-325</a></td></tr></table> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">THE LIFE AND LETTERS<br /> +OF<br /> +MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY</span></p> +<p> </p><p> </p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<p class="title"><span class="smcap">July-September 1822</span></p> + +<p>They set off at once, death in their hearts, yet clinging outwardly to any +semblance of a hope. They crossed to Lerici, they posted to Pisa; they +went first to Casa Lanfranchi. Byron was there; he could tell them +nothing. It was midnight, but to rest or wait was impossible; they posted +on to Leghorn. They went about inquiring for Trelawny or Roberts. Not +finding the right inn they were forced to wait till next morning before +prosecuting their search. They found Roberts; he only knew the <i>Ariel</i> had +sailed on Monday; there had been a storm, and no more had been heard of +her. Still they did not utterly despair. Contrary winds might have driven +the boat to Corsica or elsewhere, and information was perhaps withheld.</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>“So remorselessly,” says Trelawny, “are the quarantine laws enforced +in Italy that, when at sea, if you render assistance to a vessel in +distress, or rescue a drowning stranger, on returning to port you are +condemned to a long and rigorous quarantine of fourteen or more days. +The consequence is, should one vessel see another in peril, or even +run it down by accident, she hastens on her course, and by general +accord not a word is said or reported on the subject.”</p> + +<p>Trelawny accompanied the forlorn women back to Casa Magni, whence, for the +next seven or eight days, he patrolled the coast with the coastguards, +stimulating them to keep a good look-out by the promise of a reward. On +Thursday, the 18th, he left for Leghorn, and on the next day a letter came +to him from Captain Roberts with the intelligence that the bodies of +Shelley and Williams had been washed ashore. The letter was received and +opened by Clare Clairmont. To communicate its contents to Mary or Jane was +more than she could do: in her distress she wrote to Leigh Hunt for help +or counsel.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="right"><i>Friday Evening, 19th July 1822.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Sir</span>—Mr. Trelawny went for Livorno last night. There came this +afternoon a letter to him from Captain Roberts—he had left orders +with Mary that she might open it; I did not allow her to see it. He +writes there is no hope, but they are lost, and their bodies found +three miles from Via Reggio. This letter is dated 15th July, and says +he had heard this news 14th July. Outside the letter he has added, “I +am now on my way to Via Reggio, to ascertain the facts or <i>no facts</i> +contained in my letter.” This then implies that he doubts, and as I +also doubt the report, because we had a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> letter from the captain of +the port at Via Reggio, 15th July, later than when Mr. Roberts writes, +to say nothing had been found, for this reason I have not shown his +letter either to Mary or Mrs. Williams. How can I, even if it were +true?</p> + +<p>I pray you to answer this by return of my messenger. I assure you I +cannot break it to them, nor is my spirit, weakened as it is from +constant suffering, capable of giving them consolation, or protecting +them from the first burst of their despair. I entreat you to give me +some counsel, or to arrange some method by which they may know it. I +know not what further to add, except that their case is desperate in +every respect, and death would be the greatest kindness to us +all.—Ever your sincere friend,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Clare</span>.</p></div> + +<p>This letter can hardly have been despatched before Trelawny arrived. He +had seen the mangled, half-devoured corpses, and had identified them at +once. It remained for him now to pronounce sentence of doom, as it were, +on the survivors. This is his story, as he tells it—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I mounted my horse and rode to the Gulf of Spezzia, put up my horse, +and walked until I caught sight of the lone house on the sea-shore in +which Shelley and Williams had dwelt, and where their widows still +lived. Hitherto in my frequent visits—in the absence of direct +evidence to the contrary—I had buoyed up their spirits by maintaining +that it was not impossible but that the friends still lived; now I had +to extinguish the last hope of these forlorn women. I had ridden fast +to prevent any ruder messenger from bursting in upon them. As I stood +on the threshold of their house, the bearer or rather confirmer of +news which would rack every fibre of their quivering frames to the +uttermost, I paused, and, looking at the sea, my memory reverted to +our joyous parting only a few days before. The two families then had +all been in the verandah, overhanging a sea so clear and calm that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +every star was reflected on the water as if it had been a mirror; the +young mothers singing some merry tune with the accompaniment of a +guitar. Shelley’s shrill laugh—I heard it still—rang in my ears, +with Williams’ friendly hail, the general <i>buona notte</i> of all the +joyous party, and the earnest entreaty to me to return as soon as +possible, and not to forget the commissions they had severally given +me. I was in a small boat beneath them, slowly rowing myself on board +the <i>Bolivar</i>, at anchor in the bay, loath to part from what I verily +believed to have been at that time the most united and happiest set of +human beings in the whole world. And now by the blow of an idle puff +of wind the scene was changed. Such is human happiness.</p> + +<p>My reverie was broken by a shriek from the nurse Caterina as, crossing +the hall, she saw me in the doorway. After asking her a few questions +I went up the stairs, and unannounced entered the room. I neither +spoke nor did they question me. Mrs. Shelley’s large gray eyes were +fixed on my face. I turned away. Unable to bear this horrid silence, +with a convulsive effort she exclaimed—</p> + +<p>“Is there no hope?”</p> + +<p>I did not answer, but left the room, and sent the servant with the +children to them. The next day I prevailed on them to return with me +to Pisa. The misery of that night and the journey of the next day, and +of many days and nights that followed, I can neither describe nor +forget.</p></div> + +<p>There is no journal or contemporary record of the next three or four +weeks; only from a few scattered hints in letters can any idea be gleaned +of this dark time, when the first realisation of incredible misfortune was +being lived out in detail. Leigh Hunt was almost broken-hearted.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“Dearest Mary,” he wrote from Casa Lanfranchi on the 20th July, “I +trust you will have set out on your return from that dismal place +before you receive this. You will also have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> seen Trelawny. God bless +you, and enable us all to be a support for one another. Let us do our +best if it is only for that purpose. It is easier for me to say that I +will do it than for you: but whatever happens, this I can safely say, +that I belong to those whom Shelley loves, and that all which it is +possible to me to do for them now and for ever is theirs. I will +grieve with them, endure with them, and, if it be necessary, work for +them, while I have life.—Your most affectionate friend,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Leigh Hunt</span>.</p> + +<p>Marianne sends you a thousand loves, and longs with myself to try +whether we can say or do one thing that can enable you and Mrs. +Williams to bear up a little better. But we rely on your great +strength of mind.”</p></div> + +<p>Mary bore up in a way that surprised those who knew how ill she had been, +how weak she still was, and how much she had previously been suffering in +her spirits. It was a strange, tense, unnatural endurance. Except to Miss +Curran at Rome, she wrote to no one for some time, not even to her father. +This, which would naturally have been her first communication, may well +have appeared harder to make than any other. Godwin’s relations with +Shelley had of late been strained, to say the least,—and then, Mary could +not but remember his letters to her after Williams’ death, and the +privilege he had claimed “as a father and a philosopher” of rebuking, nay, +of contemptuously deprecating her then excess of grief. How was she to +write now in such a tone as to avert an answer of that sort? how write at +all? She did accomplish it at last, but before her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> letter arrived Godwin +had heard of the catastrophe through Miss Kent, sister of Mrs. Leigh Hunt. +His fatherly feeling of anxiety for his daughter was aroused, and after +waiting two days for direct news, he wrote to her as follows—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Godwin to Mary.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">No. 195 Strand</span>, <i>6th August 1822</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>—I heard only two days ago the most afflicting intelligence +to you, and in some measure to all of us, that can be imagined—the +death of Shelley on the 8th ultimo. I have had no direct information; +the news only comes in a letter from Leigh Hunt to Miss Kent, and, +therefore, were it not for the consideration of the writer, I should +be authorised to disbelieve it. That you should be so overcome as not +to be able to write is perhaps but too natural; but that Jane could +not write one line I could never have believed; and the behaviour of +the lady at Pisa towards us on the occasion is peculiarly cruel.</p> + +<p>Leigh Hunt says you bear up under the shock better than could have +been imagined; but appearances are not to be relied on. It would have +been a great relief to me to have had a few lines from yourself. In a +case like this, one lets one’s imagination loose among the +possibilities of things, and one is apt to rest upon what is most +distressing and intolerable. I learned the news on Sunday. I was in +hope to have had my doubts and fears removed by a letter from yourself +on Monday. I again entertained the same hope to-day, and am again +disappointed. I shall hang in hope and fear on every post, knowing +that you cannot neglect me for ever.</p> + +<p>All that I expressed to you about silence and not writing to you again +is now put an end to in the most melancholy way. I looked on you as +one of the daughters of prosperity, elevated in rank and fortune, and +I thought it was criminal to intrude on you for ever the sorrows of an +unfortunate old man and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> beggar. You are now fallen to my own level; +you are surrounded with adversity and with difficulty; and I no longer +hold it sacrilege to trouble you with my adversities. We shall now +truly sympathise with each other; and whatever misfortune or ruin +falls upon me, I shall not now scruple to lay it fully before you.</p> + +<p>This sorrowful event is, perhaps, calculated to draw us nearer to each +other. I am the father of a family, but without children; I and my +wife are falling fast into infirmity and helplessness; and in addition +to all our other calamities, we seem destined to be left without +connections and without aid. Perhaps now we and you shall mutually +derive consolation from each other.</p> + +<p>Poor Jane is, I am afraid, left still more helpless than you are. +Common misfortune, I hope, will incite between you the most friendly +feelings.</p> + +<p>Shelley lived, I know, in constant anticipation of the uncertainty of +his life, though not in this way, and was anxious in that event to +make the most effectual provision for you. I am impatient to hear in +what way that has been done; and perhaps you will make me your lawyer +in England if any steps are necessary. I am desirous to call on +Longdill, but I should call with more effect if I had authority and +instructions from you. Mamma desires me to say how truly and deeply +she sympathises in your affliction, and I trust you know enough of her +to feel that this is the language of her heart.</p> + +<p>I suppose you will hardly stay in Italy. In that case we shall be near +to, and support each other.—Ever and ever affectionately yours,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">William Godwin</span>.</p> + +<p>I have received your letter dated (it has no date) since writing the +above; it was detained for some hours by being directed to the care of +Monro, for which I cannot account. William wrote to you on the 14th of +June, and I on the 23d of July. I will call on Peacock and Hogg as you +desire. Perhaps Williams’ letter, and perhaps others, have been kept +from you. Let us now be open and unreserved in all things.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>This letter was doubtless intended to be kind and sympathetic, even in the +persistent prominence given to the business aspect of recent events. Yet +it was comical in its solemnity. For when had Godwin held it sacrilege to +trouble his daughter with his adversities, or shown the slightest scruple +in laying before her any misfortune or ruin that may have fallen on him? +and what new prospect was afforded her in the future by his promise of +doing so now? No; this privilege of a father and a philosopher had never +been neglected by him.</p> + +<p>Well indeed might he feel anxious as to what provision had been made for +his daughter by her husband. In these matters he had long ceased to have a +conscience, yet it was impossible he should be unaware that the utmost his +son-in-law had been able to effect, and that at the expense of enormous +sacrifices on the part of himself and his heirs, and of all the credit he +possessed with publishers and the one or two friends who were not also +dependents, had been to pay his, Godwin’s, perpetual debts, and to keep +him, as long as he could be kept, afloat.</p> + +<p>Small opportunity had Shelley’s “dear”<a name='fna_1' id='fna_1' href='#f_1'><small>[1]</small></a> friends allowed him as yet to +make provision for his family in case of sudden misfortune!</p> + +<p>Godwin, however, was really anxious about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> Mary, and his anxiety was +perhaps increased by his letter; for in three days he wrote again, with +out alluding to money.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Godwin to Mary.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>9th August 1822.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mary</span>—I am inexpressibly anxious to hear from you, and your +present situation renders the reciprocation of letters and +answers—implying an interval of a month between each letter I receive +from you to the next—intolerable.</p> + +<p>My poor girl, what do you mean to do with yourself? You surely do not +mean to stay in Italy? How glad I should be to be near you, and to +endeavour by new expedients each day to endeavour to make up your +loss. But you are the best judge. If Italy is a country to which in +these few years you are naturalised, and if England is become dull and +odious to you, then stay!</p> + +<p>I should think, however, that now that you have lost your closest +friend, your mind would naturally turn homeward, and to your earliest +friend. Is it not so? Surely we might be a great support to each other +under the trials to which we are reserved. What signify a few outward +adversities if we find a friend at home?</p> + +<p>One thing I would earnestly recommend in our future intercourse, is +perfect frankness. I think you are of a frank nature, I am sure I am +so. We have now no battle to fight,—no contention to maintain,—that +is over now.</p> + +<p>Above all, let me entreat you to keep up your courage. You have many +duties to perform; you must now be the father as well as the mother; +and I trust you have energy of character enough to enable you to +perform your duties honourably and well.—Ever and ever most +affectionately yours,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">W. Godwin</span>.</p></div> + +<p>The stunning nature of the blow she had endured, the uncertainty and +complication of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> affairs, and the absence of any one preponderating +motive, made it impossible for Mary to settle at once on any scheme for +the future. Her first idea was to return to England without delay, so as +to avoid any possible risk to her boy from the Italian climate. Her one +wish was to possess herself, before leaving, of the portrait of Shelley +begun at Rome by Miss Curran, and laid aside in an unfinished state as a +failure. In the absence of any other likeness it would be precious, and it +might perhaps be improved. It was on this subject that she had written to +Miss Curran in the quite early days of her misfortune; no answer had come, +and she wrote again, now to request “that favour now nearer my heart than +any other thing—the picture of my Shelley.”</p> + +<p class="blockquot">“We leave Italy soon,” she continued, “so I am particularly anxious to +obtain this treasure, which I am sure you will give me as soon as +possible. I have no other likeness of him, and in so utter desolation, +how invaluable to me is your picture. Will you not send it? Will you +not answer me without delay? Your former kindness bids me hope everything.”</p> + +<p>She was awakening to life again; in other words, to pain: with keen +anguish, like that of returning circulation to a limb which has been +frozen and numb, her feelings, her forces, her intellect, began to respond +to outward calls upon them, with a sensation, at times, of even morbid +activity. It was a kind of relief, now, to write<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> to Mrs. Gisborne that +letter which contains the most graphic and connected of all accounts of +the past tragedy.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley to Mrs. Gisborne.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>15th August 1822.</i></p> + +<p>I said in a letter to Peacock, my dear Mrs. Gisborne, that I would +send you some account of the last miserable months of my disastrous +life. From day to day I have put this off, but I will now endeavour to +fulfil my design. The scene of my existence is closed, and though +there be no pleasure in retracing the scenes that have preceded the +event which has crushed my hopes, yet there seems to be a necessity in +doing so, and I obey the impulse that urges me. I wrote to you either +at the end of May or the beginning of June. I described to you the +place we were living in—our desolate house, the beauty yet +strangeness of the scenery, and the delight Shelley took in all this. +He never was in better health or spirits than during this time. I was +not well in body or mind. My nerves were wound up to the utmost +irritation, and the sense of misfortune hung over my spirits. No words +can tell you how I hated our house and the country about it. Shelley +reproached me for this—his health was good, and the place was quite +after his own heart. What could I answer? That the people were wild +and hateful, that though the country was beautiful yet I liked a more +<i>countrified</i> place, that there was great difficulty in living, that +all our Tuscans would leave us, and that the very jargon of these +<i>Genovesi</i> was disgusting. This was all I had to say, but no words +could describe my feelings; the beauty of the woods made me weep and +shudder; so vehement was my feeling of dislike that I used to rejoice +when the winds and waves permitted me to go out in the boat, so that I +was not obliged to take my usual walk among the shaded paths, alleys +of vine festooned trees—all that before I doated on, and that now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +weighed on me. My only moments of peace were on board that unhappy +boat when, lying down with my head on his knee, I shut my eyes and +felt the wind and our swift motion alone. My ill health might account +for much of this. Bathing in the sea somewhat relieved me, but on the +8th of June (I think it was) I was threatened with a miscarriage, and +after a week of great ill health, on Sunday, the 16th, this took place +at 8 in the morning. I was so ill that for seven hours I lay nearly +lifeless—kept from fainting by brandy, vinegar, and eau-de-Cologne, +etc. At length ice was brought to our solitude; it came before the +doctor, so Clare and Jane were afraid of using it, but Shelley +overruled them, and by an unsparing application of it I was restored. +They all thought, and so did I at one time, that I was about to die, I +hardly wished that I had,—my own Shelley could never have lived +without me; the sense of eternal misfortune would have pressed too +heavily upon him, and what would have become of my poor babe? My +convalescence was slow, and during it a strange occurrence happened to +retard it. But first I must describe our house to you. The floor on +which we lived was thus—</p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/page_12.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p> </p> + +<p>1 is a terrace that went the whole length of our house and was +precipitous to the sea; 2, the large dining-hall; 3, a private +staircase; 4, my bedroom; 5, Mrs. Williams’ bedroom; 6, Shelley’s; and +7, the entrance from the great staircase. Now to return. As I said, +Shelley was at first in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> perfect health, but having over-fatigued +himself one day, and then the fright my illness gave him, caused a +return of nervous sensations and visions as bad as in his worst times. +I think it was the Saturday after my illness, while yet unable to +walk, I was confined to my bed—in the middle of the night I was awoke +by hearing him scream and come rushing into my room; I was sure that +he was asleep, and tried to waken him by calling on him, but he +continued to scream, which inspired me with such a panic that I jumped +out of bed and ran across the hall to Mrs. Williams’ room, where I +fell through weakness, though I was so frightened that I got up again +immediately. She let me in, and Williams went to Shelley, who had been +wakened by my getting out of bed—he said that he had not been asleep, +and that it was a vision that he saw that had frightened him. But as +he declared that he had not screamed, it was certainly a dream, and no +waking vision. What had frightened him was this. He dreamt that, lying +as he did in bed, Edward and Jane came in to him; they were in the +most horrible condition; their bodies lacerated, their bones starting +through their skin, their faces pale yet stained with blood; they +could hardly walk, but Edward was the weakest, and Jane was supporting +him. Edward said, “Get up, Shelley, the sea is flooding the house, and +it is all coming down.” Shelley got up, he thought, and went to his +window that looked on the terrace and the sea, and thought he saw the +sea rushing in. Suddenly his vision changed, and he saw the figure of +himself strangling me; that had made him rush into my room, yet, +fearful of frightening me, he dared not approach the bed, when my +jumping out awoke him, or, as he phrased it, caused his vision to +vanish. All this was frightful enough, and talking it over the next +morning, he told me that he had had many visions lately; he had seen +the figure of himself, which met him as he walked on the terrace and +said to him, “How long do you mean to be content?” no very terrific +words, and certainly not prophetic of what has occurred. But Shelley +had often seen these figures when ill; but the strangest thing is that +Mrs. Williams saw him. Now Jane, though a woman of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> sensibility, has +not much imagination, and is not in the slightest degree nervous, +neither in dreams nor otherwise. She was standing one day, the day +before I was taken ill, at a window that looked on the terrace, with +Trelawny. It was day. She saw, as she thought, Shelley pass by the +window, as he often was then, without a coat or jacket; he passed +again. Now, as he passed both times the same way, and as from the side +towards which he went each time there was no way to get back except +past the window again (except over a wall 20 feet from the ground), +she was struck at her seeing him pass twice thus, and looked out and +seeing him no more, she cried, “Good God, can Shelley have leapt from +the wall? Where can he be gone?” “Shelley,” said Trelawny, “no Shelley +has passed. What do you mean?” Trelawny says that she trembled +exceedingly when she heard this, and it proved, indeed, that Shelley +had never been on the terrace, and was far off at the time she saw +him. Well, we thought no more of these things, and I slowly got +better. Having heard from Hunt that he had sailed from Genoa, on +Monday, 1st July, Shelley, Edward, and Captain Roberts (the gentleman +who built our boat) departed in our boat for Leghorn to receive him. I +was then just better, had begun to crawl from my bedroom to the +terrace, but bad spirits succeeded to ill health, and this departure +of Shelley’s seemed to add insufferably to my misery. I could not +endure that he should go. I called him back two or three times, and +told him that if I did not see him soon I would go to Pisa with the +child. I cried bitterly when he went away. They went, and Jane, Clare, +and I remained alone with the children. I could not walk out, and +though I gradually gathered strength, it was slowly, and my ill +spirits increased. In my letters to him I entreated him to return; +“the feeling that some misfortune would happen,” I said, “haunted me.” +I feared for the child, for the idea of danger connected with him +never struck me. When Jane and Clare took their evening walk, I used +to patrol the terrace, oppressed with wretchedness, yet gazing on the +most beautiful scene in the world. This Gulf of Spezzia is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> subdivided +into many small bays, of which ours was far the most beautiful. The +two horns of the bay (so to express myself) were wood-covered +promontories, crowned with castles; at the foot of these, on the +farthest, was Lerici, on the nearest San Terenzo; Lerici being above a +mile by land from us, and San Terenzo about a hundred or two yards. +Trees covered the hills that enclosed this bay, and their beautiful +groups were picturesquely contrasted with the rocks, the castle, and +the town. The sea lay far extended in front, while to the west we saw +the promontory and islands, which formed one of the extreme boundaries +of the Gulf. To see the sun set upon this scene, the stars shine, and +the moon rise, was a sight of wondrous beauty, but to me it added only +to my wretchedness. I repeated to myself all that another would have +said to console me, and told myself the tale of love, peace, and +competence which I enjoyed; but I answered myself by tears—Did not my +William die, and did I hold my Percy by a firmer tenure? Yet I thought +when he, when my Shelley, returns, I shall be happy; he will comfort +me, if my boy be ill he will restore him, and encourage me. I had a +letter or two from Shelley, mentioning the difficulties he had in +establishing the Hunts, and that he was unable to fix the time of his +return. Thus a week passed. On Monday, 8th, Jane had a letter from +Edward, dated Saturday; he said that he waited at Leghorn for Shelley, +who was at Pisa; that Shelley’s return was certain; “but,” he +continued, “if he should not come by Monday, I will come in a felucca, +and you may expect me Tuesday evening at farthest.” This was Monday, +the fatal Monday, but with us it was stormy all day, and we did not at +all suppose that they could put to sea. At 12 at night we had a +thunderstorm; Tuesday it rained all day, and was calm—wept on their +graves. On Wednesday the wind was fair from Leghorn, and in the +evening several feluccas arrived thence; one brought word that they +had sailed on Monday, but we did not believe them. Thursday was +another day of fair wind, and when 12 at night came, and we did not +see the tall sails of the little boat double the promontory<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> before +us, we began to fear, not the truth, but some illness—some +disagreeable news for their detention. Jane got so uneasy that she +determined to proceed the next day to Leghorn in a boat, to see what +was the matter. Friday came, and with it a heavy sea and bad wind. +Jane, however, resolved to be rowed to Leghorn (since no boat could +sail), and busied herself in preparations. I wished her to wait for +letters, since Friday was letter day. She would not; but the sea +detained her; the swell rose so that no boat could venture out. At 12 +at noon our letters came; there was one from Hunt to Shelley; it said, +“Pray write to tell us how you got home, for they say that you had bad +weather after you sailed Monday, and we are anxious.” The paper fell +from me. I trembled all over. Jane read it. “Then it is all over,” she +said. “No, my dear Jane,” I cried, “it is not all over, but this +suspense is dreadful. Come with me, we will go to Leghorn; we will +post to be swift, and learn our fate.” We crossed to Lerici, despair +in our hearts; they raised our spirits there by telling us that no +accident had been heard of, and that it must have been known, etc., +but still our fear was great, and without resting we posted to Pisa. +It must have been fearful to see us—two poor, wild, aghast creatures +driving (like Matilda) towards the sea, to learn if we were to be for +ever doomed to misery. I knew that Hunt was at Pisa, at Lord Byron’s +house, but I thought that Lord Byron was at Leghorn. I settled that we +should drive to Casa Lanfranchi, that I should get out, and ask the +fearful question of Hunt, “Do you know anything of Shelley?” On +entering Pisa, the idea of seeing Hunt for the first time for four +years, under such circumstances, and asking him such a question, was +so terrific to me, that it was with difficulty that I prevented myself +from going into convulsions. My struggles were dreadful. They knocked +at the door, and some one called out, <i>chi è?</i> It was the Guiccioli’s +maid. Lord Byron was in Pisa. Hunt was in bed; so I was to see Lord +Byron instead of him. This was a great relief to me. I staggered +upstairs; the Guiccioli came to meet me, smiling,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> while I could +hardly say, “Where is he—Sapete alcuna cosa di Shelley?” They knew +nothing; he had left Pisa on Sunday; on Monday he had sailed; there +had been bad weather Monday afternoon. More they knew not. Both Lord +Byron and the lady have told me since, that on that terrific evening I +looked more like a ghost than a woman—light seemed to emanate from my +features; my face was very white; I looked like marble. Alas! I had +risen almost from a bed of sickness for this journey; I had travelled +all day; it was now 12 at night, and we, refusing to rest, proceeded +to Leghorn—not in despair—no, for then we must have died; but with +sufficient hope to keep up the agitation of the spirits, which was all +my life. It was past 2 in the morning when we arrived. They took us to +the wrong inn; neither Trelawny nor Captain Roberts were there, nor +did we exactly know where they were, so we were obliged to wait until +daylight: we threw ourselves drest on our beds, and slept a little, +but at 6 o’clock we went to one or two inns, to ask for one or the +other of these gentlemen. We found Roberts at the “Globe.” He came +down to us with a face that seemed to tell us that the worst was true, +and here we learned all that occurred during the week they had been +absent from us, and under what circumstances they had departed on +their return.</p> + +<p>Shelley had passed most of the time at Pisa, arranging the affairs of +the Hunts, and screwing Lord Byron’s mind to the sticking place about +the journal. He had found this a difficult task at first, but at +length he had succeeded to his heart’s content with both points. Mrs. +Mason said that she saw him in better health and spirits than she had +ever known him, when he took leave of her, Sunday, July 7, his face +burnt by the sun, and his heart light, that he had succeeded in +rendering the Hunts tolerably comfortable. Edward had remained at +Leghorn. On Monday, July 8, during the morning, they were employed in +buying many things, eatables, etc., for our solitude. There had been a +thunderstorm early, but about noon the weather was fine, and the wind +right fair for Lerici. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> were impatient to be gone. Roberts said, +“Stay until to-morrow, to see if the weather is settled;” and Shelley +might have stayed, but Edward was in so great an anxiety to reach +home, saying they would get there in seven hours with that wind, that +they sailed; Shelley being in one of those extravagant fits of good +spirits, in which you have sometimes seen him. Roberts went out to the +end of the mole, and watched them out of sight; they sailed at 1, and +went off at the rate of about seven knots. About 3, Roberts, who was +still on the mole, saw wind coming from the Gulf, or rather what the +Italians call <i>a temporale</i>. Anxious to know how the boat would +weather the storm, he got leave to go up the tower, and, with the +glass, discovered them about ten miles out at sea, off Via Reggio; +they were taking in their topsails. “The haze of the storm,” he said, +“hid them from me, and I saw them no more. When the storm cleared, I +looked again, fancying that I should see them on their return to us, +but there was no boat on the sea.”</p> + +<p>This, then, was all we knew, yet we did not despair; they might have +been driven over to Corsica, and not knowing the coast, have gone God +knows where. Reports favoured this belief; it was even said that they +had been seen in the Gulf. We resolved to return with all possible +speed; we sent a courier to go from tower to tower, along the coast, +to know if anything had been seen or found, and at 9 <span class="smcaplc">A.M.</span> we quitted +Leghorn, stopped but one moment at Pisa, and proceeded towards Lerici. +When at two miles from Via Reggio, we rode down to that town to know +if they knew anything. Here our calamity first began to break on us; a +little boat and a water cask had been found five miles off—they had +manufactured a <i>piccolissima lancia</i> of thin planks stitched by a +shoemaker, just to let them run on shore without wetting themselves, +as our boat drew four feet of water. The description of that found +tallied with this, but then this boat was very cumbersome, and in bad +weather they might have been easily led to throw it overboard,—the +cask frightened me most,—but the same reason might in some sort be +given for that. I must tell you that Jane and I were not alone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +Trelawny accompanied us back to our home. We journeyed on and reached +the Magra about half-past 10 <span class="smcaplc">P.M.</span> I cannot describe to you what I felt +in the first moment when, fording this river, I felt the water splash +about our wheels. I was suffocated—I gasped for breath—I thought I +should have gone into convulsions, and I struggled violently that Jane +might not perceive it. Looking down the river I saw the two great +lights burning at the <i>foce</i>; a voice from within me seemed to cry +aloud, “That is his grave.” After passing the river I gradually +recovered. Arriving at Lerici we were obliged to cross our little bay +in a boat. San Terenzo was illuminated for a festa. What a scene! The +waving sea, the sirocco wind, the lights of the town towards which we +rowed, and our own desolate hearts, that coloured all with a shroud. +We landed. Nothing had been heard of them. This was Saturday, July 13, +and thus we waited until Thursday July 18, thrown about by hope and +fear. We sent messengers along the coast towards Genoa and to Via +Reggio; nothing had been found more than the <i>Lancetta</i>; reports were +brought us; we hoped; and yet to tell you all the agony we endured +during those twelve days, would be to make you conceive a universe of +pain—each moment intolerable, and giving place to one still worse. +The people of the country, too, added to one’s discomfort; they are +like wild savages; on festas, the men and women and children in +different bands—the sexes always separate—pass the whole night in +dancing on the sands close to our door; running into the sea, then +back again, and screaming all the time one perpetual air, the most +detestable in the world; then the sirocco perpetually blew, and the +sea for ever moaned their dirge. On Thursday, 18th, Trelawny left us +to go to Leghorn, to see what was doing or what could be done. On +Friday I was very ill; but as evening came on, I said to Jane, “If +anything had been found on the coast, Trelawny would have returned to +let us know. He has not returned, so I hope.” About 7 o’clock <span class="smcaplc">P.M.</span> he +did return; all was over, all was quiet now; they had been found +washed on shore. Well, all this was to be endured.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>Well, what more have I to say? The next day we returned to Pisa, and +here we are still. Days pass away, one after another, and we live +thus; we are all together; we shall quit Italy together. Jane must +proceed to London. If letters do not alter my views, I shall remain in +Paris. Thus we live, seeing the Hunts now and then. Poor Hunt has +suffered terribly, as you may guess. Lord Byron is very kind to me, +and comes with the Guiccioli to see me often. To-day, this day, the +sun shining in the sky, they are gone to the desolate sea-coast to +perform the last offices to their earthly remains, Hunt, Lord Byron, +and Trelawny. The quarantine laws would not permit us to remove them +sooner, and now only on condition that we burn them to ashes. That I +do not dislike. His rest shall be at Rome beside my child, where one +day I also shall join them. <i>Adonais</i> is not Keats’, it is his own +elegy; he bids you there go to Rome. I have seen the spot where he now +lies,—the sticks that mark the spot where the sands cover him; he +shall not be there, it is too near Via Reggio. They are now about this +fearful office, and I live!</p> + +<p>One more circumstance I will mention. As I said, he took leave of Mrs. +Mason in high spirits on Sunday. “Never,” said she, “did I see him +look happier than the last glance I had of his countenance.” On Monday +he was lost. On Monday night she dreamt that she was somewhere, she +knew not where, and he came, looking very pale and fearfully +melancholy. She said to him, “You look ill; you are tired; sit down +and eat.” “No,” he replied, “I shall never eat more; I have not a +soldo left in the world.” “Nonsense,” said she, “this is no inn, you +need not pay.” “Perhaps,” he answered, “it is the worse for that.” +Then she awoke; and, going to sleep again, she dreamt that my Percy +was dead; and she awoke crying bitterly—so bitterly, and felt so +miserable—that she said to herself, “Why, if the little boy should +die, I should not feel it in this manner.” She was so struck with +these dreams, that she mentioned them to her servant the next day, +saying she hoped all was well with us.</p> + +<p>Well, here is my story—the last story I shall have to tell.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> All that +might have been bright in my life is now despoiled. I shall live to +improve myself, to take care of my child, and render myself worthy to +join him. Soon my weary pilgrimage will begin. I rest now, but soon I +must leave Italy, and then there is an end of all but despair. Adieu! +I hope you are well and happy. I have an idea that while he was at +Pisa, he received a letter from you that I have never seen; so not +knowing where to direct, I shall send this letter to Peacock. I shall +send it open; he may be glad to read it.—Yours ever truly,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary W. S.</span></p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Pisa</span>, <i>15th August 1822</i>.</p> + +<p>I shall probably write soon again. I have left out a material +circumstance. A fishing-boat saw them go down. It was about 4 in the +afternoon. They saw the boy at mast-head, when baffling winds struck +the sails. They had looked away a moment, and, looking again, the boat +was gone. This is their story, but there is little doubt that these +men might have saved them, at least Edward, who could swim. They could +not, they said, get near her; but three-quarters of an hour after +passed over the spot where they had seen her. They protested no wreck +of her was visible; but Roberts, going on board their boat, found +several spars belonging to her: perhaps they let them perish to obtain +these. Trelawny thinks he can get her up, since another fisherman +thinks that he has found the spot where she lies, having drifted near +shore. Trelawny does this to know, perhaps, the cause of her wreck; +but I care little about it.</p></div> + +<p>All readers know Trelawny’s graphic account of the burning of the bodies +of Shelley and Williams. Subsequent to this ceremony a painful episode +took place between Mary and Leigh Hunt. Hunt had witnessed the obsequies +(from Lord Byron’s carriage), and to him was given by Trelawny the heart +of Shelley, which in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> flames had remained unconsumed. This precious +relic he refused to give up to her who was its rightful owner, saying +that, to induce him to part with it, her claim must be maintained by +“strong and conclusive arguments.” It was difficult to advance arguments +strong enough if the nature of the case was not in itself convincing. He +showed no disposition to yield, and Mary was desperate. Where logic, +justice, and good feeling failed, a woman’s tact, however, succeeded. Mrs. +Williams “wrote to Hunt, and represented to him how grievous it was that +Shelley’s remains should become a source of dissension between his dearest +friends. She obtained her purpose. Hunt said she had brought forward the +only argument that could have induced him to yield.”</p> + +<p>Under the influence of a like feeling Mary seems to have borne Hunt no +grudge for what must, at least, have appeared to her as an act of most +gratuitous selfishness.</p> + +<p>But Mary Shelley and Jane Williams had, both of them, to face facts and +think of the future. Hardest of all, it became evident that, for the +present, they must part. Their affection for each other, warm in happier +times, had developed by force of circumstances into a mutual need; so much +nearer, in their sorrow, were they to each other than either could be to +any one else. But Jane had friends in England, and she required to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> enlist +the interest of Edward’s relations in behalf of his orphan children.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, if Mary had for the moment any outward tie or responsibility, +it was towards the Leigh Hunts, thus expatriated at the request and desire +of others, with a very uncertain prospect of permanent result or benefit. +Byron, having helped to start the <i>Liberal</i> with contributions of his own, +and thus fulfilled a portion of his bond, might give them the slip at any +moment. Shelley, although little disposed toward the “coalition,” had +promised assistance, and any such promise from him would have been sure to +mean, in practice, more, and not less, than it said. Mary had his MSS.; +she knew his intentions; she was, as far as any mortal could be, his +fitting literary representative. She had little to call her elsewhere. The +Hunts were friendly and affectionate and full of pity for her; they were +also poor and dependent. All tended to one result; she and they must for +the present join forces, so saving expense; and she was to give all the +help she could to the <i>Liberal</i>. Lord Byron was going to Genoa. Mary and +the Hunts agreed to take a house together there for several months or a +year.</p> + +<p>Once more she wrote from Pisa to her friend.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley to Mrs. Gisborne.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Pisa</span>, <i>10th September 1822</i>.</p> + +<p>And so here I am! I continue to exist—to see one day succeed the +other; to dread night, but more to dread morning,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> and hail another +cheerless day. My Boy, too, is alas! no consolation. When I think how +he loved him, the plans he had for his education, his sweet and +childish voice strikes me to the heart. Why should he live in this +world of pain and anguish? At times I feel an energy within me to +combat with my destiny; but again I sink. I have but one hope for +which I live, to render myself worthy to join him,—and such a feeling +sustains one during moments of enthusiasm, but darkness and misery +soon overwhelm the mind when all near objects bring agony alone with +them. People used to call me lucky in my star; you see now how true +such a prophecy is! I was fortunate in having fearlessly placed my +destiny in the hands of one who, a superior being among men, a bright +“planetary” spirit enshrined in an earthly temple, raised me to the +height of happiness. So far am I now happy, that I would not change my +situation as his widow with that of the most prosperous woman in the +world; and surely the time will at length come when I shall be at +peace, and my brain and heart no longer be alive with unutterable +anguish. I can conceive of but one circumstance that could afford me +the semblance of content, that is the being permitted to live where I +am now, in the same house, in the same state, occupied alone with my +child, in collecting his manuscripts, writing his life, and thus to go +easily to my grave. But this must not be! Even if circumstances did +not compel me to return to England, I would not stay another summer in +Italy with my child. I will at least do my best to render him well and +happy, and the idea that my circumstances may at all injure him is the +fiercest pang my mind endures.</p> + +<p>I wrote you a long letter containing a slight sketch of my sufferings. +I sent it directed to Peacock, at the India House, because accident +led me to fancy that you were no longer in London. I said in that, +that on that day (15th August) they had gone to perform the last +offices for him; however, I erred in this, for on that day those of +Edward were alone fulfilled, and they returned on the 16th to +celebrate Shelley’s. I will say nothing of the ceremony, since +Trelawny has written an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> account of it, to be printed in the +forthcoming journal. I will only say that all, except his heart (which +was inconsumable), was burnt, and that two days ago I went to Leghorn +and beheld the small box that contained his earthly dross; those +smiles, that form—Great God! no, he is not there, he is with me, +about me—life of my life, and soul of my soul; if his divine spirit +did not penetrate mine I could not survive to weep thus.</p> + +<p>I will mention the friends I have here, that you may form an idea of +our situation. Mrs. Williams, Clare, and I live all together; we have +one purse, and, joined in misery, we are for the present joined in +life. She, poor girl, withers like a lily; she lives for her children, +but it is a living death. Lord Byron has been very kind; the Guiccioli +restrains him. She, being an Italian, is capable of being jealous of a +living corpse, such as I. Of Hunt I will speak when I see you. But the +friend to whom we are eternally indebted is Trelawny. I have, of +course, mentioned him to you as one who wishes to be considered +eccentric, but who was noble and generous at bottom. I always thought +so, even when no fact proved it, and Shelley agreed with me, as he +always did, or rather I with him. We heard people speak against him on +account of his vagaries; we said to one another, “Still we like +him—we believe him to be good.” Once, even, when a whim of his led +him to treat me with something like impertinence, I forgave him, and I +have now been well rewarded. In my outline of events you will see how, +unasked, he returned with Jane and me from Leghorn to Lerici; how he +stayed with us poor miserable creatures<a name='fna_2' id='fna_2' href='#f_2'><small>[2]</small></a> five days there, +endeavouring to keep up our spirits; how he left us on Thursday, and, +finding our misfortune confirmed, then without rest returned on Friday +to us, and again without rest returned to Pisa on Saturday. These were +no common services. Since that he has gone through, by himself, all +the annoyances of dancing attendance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> on Consuls and Governors for +permission to fulfil the last duties to those gone, and attending the +ceremony himself; all the disagreeable part, and all the fatigue, fell +on him. As Hunt said, “He worked with the meanest and felt with the +best.” He is generous to a distressing degree. But after all these +benefits to us, what I most thank him for is this. When on that night +of agony, that Friday night, he returned to announce that hope was +dead for us; when he had told me that his earthly frame being found, +his spirit was no longer to be my guide, protector, and companion in +this dark world, he did not attempt to console me—that would have +been too cruelly useless,—but he launched forth into, as it were, an +overflowing and eloquent praise of my divine Shelley, till I was +almost happy that thus I was unhappy, to be fed by the praise of him, +and to dwell on the eulogy that his loss thus drew from his friend. Of +my friends I have only Mrs. Mason to mention; her coldness has stung +me; yet she felt his loss keenly, and would be very glad to serve me; +but it is not cold offers of service one wants; one’s wounded spirit +demands a number of nameless slight but dear attentions that are a +balm, and wanting these, one feels a bitterness which is a painful +addition to one’s other sufferings.</p> + +<p>God knows what will become of me! My life is now very monotonous as to +outward events, yet how diversified by internal feeling! How often in +the intensity of grief does one instant seem to fill and embrace the +universe! As to the rest, the mechanical spending of my time: of +course I have a great deal to do preparing for my journey. I make no +visits, except one once in about ten days to Mrs. Mason. I have not +seen Hunt these nine days. Trelawny resides chiefly at Leghorn, since +he is captain of Lord Byron’s vessel, the <i>Bolivar</i>; he comes to see +us about once a week, and Lord Byron visits me about twice a week, +accompanied by the Guiccioli; but seeing people is an annoyance which +I am happy to be spared. Solitude is my only help and resource; +accustomed, even when he was with me, to spend much of my time alone, +I can at those moments forget myself, until some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> idea, which I think +I would communicate to him, occurs, and then the yawning and dark +gulph again displays itself, unshaded by the rainbow which the +imagination had formed. Despair, energy, love, desponding and +excessive affliction are like clouds driven across my mind, one by +one, until tears blot the scene, and weariness of spirit consigns me +to temporary repose.</p> + +<p>I shudder with horror when I look back on what I have suffered, and +when I think of the wild and miserable thoughts that have possessed me +I say to myself, “Is it true that I ever felt thus?” and then I weep +in pity of myself; yet each day adds to the stock of sorrow, and death +is the only end. I would study, and I hope I shall. I would write, and +when I am settled I may. But were it not for the steady hope I +entertain of joining him, what a mockery would be this world! without +that hope I could not study or write, for fame and usefulness (except +as regards my child) are nullities to me. Yet I shall be happy if +anything I ever produce may exalt and soften sorrow, as the writings +of the divinities of our race have mine. But how can I aspire to that?</p> + +<p>The world will surely one day feel what it has lost when this bright +child of song deserted her. Is not <i>Adonais</i> his own elegy? and there +does he truly depict the universal woe which should overspread all +good minds since he has ceased to be their fellow-labourer in this +worldly scene. How lovely does he paint death to be, and with what +heartfelt sorrow does one repeat that line—</p> + +<p class="poem">But I am chained to Time, and cannot thence depart.</p> + +<p>How long do you think I shall live? as long as my mother? Then eleven +long years must intervene. I am now on the eve of completing my five +and twentieth year; how drearily young for one so lost as I. How young +in years for one who lives ages each day in sorrow. Think you that +these moments are counted in my life as in other people’s? Oh no! The +day before the sea closed over mine own Shelley he said to Marianne, +“If I die to-morrow I have lived to be older than my father; I am +ninety years of age.” Thus, also, may I say.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> The eight years I passed +with him was spun out beyond the usual length of a man’s life, and +what I have suffered since will write years on my brow and intrench +them in my heart. Surely I am not long for this world; most sure +should I be were it not for my boy, but God grant that I may live to +make his early years happy.</p> + +<p>Well, adieu! I have no events to write about, and can, therefore, only +scrawl about my feelings; this letter, indeed, is only the sequel of +my last. In that I closed the history of all events that can interest +me; that letter I wish you to send my Father, the present one it is +best not.</p> + +<p>I suppose I shall see you in England some of these days, but I shall +write to you again before I quit this place. Be as happy as you can, +and hope for better things in the next world; by firm hope you may +attain your wishes. Again, adieu!—Affectionately yours,</p> + +<p class="signa">M. S.</p> + +<p>Do not write to me again here, or at all, until I write to you.</p></div> + +<p>Within a day or two after this letter was written, Mary, with Jane +Williams and their children, quitted Pisa; Clare only remaining behind.</p> + +<p>From a letter—a very indignant one—of Mrs. Mason’s, it may be inferred +that appeals for a little assistance had been made on Clare’s behalf to +Byron, who did not respond. He had been, unwittingly, contributing to her +support during the last few weeks of Shelley’s life; Shelley having +undertaken to get some translations (from Goethe) made for Byron, and +giving the work secretly to Clare. The truth now came out, and she found +more difficulty than heretofore in getting paid. Dependent for the future +on her own exertions, she was going, according to her former resolution,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +to Vienna, where Charles Clairmont was now established. Mary’s departure +left her dreadfully solitary, and within a few hours she despatched one of +her characteristic epistles, touched with that motley of bitter cynicism +and grotesque, racy, humour which developed in her later letters.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="right"><i>Half-past 2, Wednesday Morning.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mary</span>—You have only been gone a few hours. I have been +inexpressibly low-spirited. I hope dear Jane will be with you when +this arrives. Nothing new has happened—what should? To me there seems +nothing under the sun, except the old tale of misery, misery!</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Thursday.</i></p> + +<p>I am to begin my journey to Vienna on Monday. Mrs. Mason will make me +go, and the consequence is that it will be double as much, as I am to +go alone. Imagine all the lonely inns, the weary long miles, if I do. +Observe, whatever befalls in life, the heaviest part, the very dregs +of the misfortune fall on me.</p> + +<p class="poem">Alone, alone, all, all alone,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon a wide, wide sea,</span><br /> +And Christ would take no mercy<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon my soul in agony.</span></p> + +<p>But I believe my Minerva<a name='fna_3' id='fna_3' href='#f_3'><small>[3]</small></a> is right, for I might wait to all eternity +for a party. You may remember what Lord Byron said about paying for +the translation; now he has mumbled and grumbled and demurred, and +does not know whether it is worth it, and will only give forty crowns, +so that I shall not be overstocked when I arrive at Vienna, unless, +indeed, God shall spread a table for me in the wilderness. I mean to +chew rhubarb the whole way, as the only diversion I can think of at +all suited to my present state of feeling, and if I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> should write you +scolding letters, you will excuse them, knowing that, with the +Psalmist, “Out of the bitterness of my mouth have I spoken.”</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>Kiss the dear little Percy for me, and if Jane is with you, tell her +how much I have thought of her, and that her image will always float +across my mind, shining in my dark history like a ray of light across +a cave. Kiss her children also with all a grandmother’s love. Accept +my best wishes for your happiness. Dio ti da, Maria, ventura.—Your +affectionate</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Clare</span>.</p></div> + +<p>Mary answered this letter from Genoa.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">From Mary to Clare.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Genoa</span>, <i>15th September 1822</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Clare</span>—I do not wonder that you were and are melancholy, or +that the excess of that feeling should oppress you. Great God! what +have we gone through, what variety of care and misery, all close now +in blackest night. And I, am I not melancholy? here in this busy +hateful Genoa, where nothing speaks to me of him, except the sea, +which is his murderer. Well, I shall have his books and manuscripts, +and in those I shall live, and from the study of these I do expect +some instants of content. In solitude my imagination and ever-moving +thoughts may afford me some seconds of exaltation that may render me +both happier here and more worthy of him hereafter.</p> + +<p>Such as I felt walking up a mountain by myself at sunrise during my +journey, when the rocks looked black about me, and a white mist +concealed all but them. I thought then, that, thinking of him and +exciting my mind, my days might pass in a kind of peace; but these +thoughts are so fleeting; and then I expect unhappiness alone from all +the worldly part of my life—from my intercourse with human beings. I +know that will bring nothing but unhappiness to me, if, indeed, I +except Trelawny, who appears so truly generous and kind.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>But I will not talk of myself, you have enough to annoy and make you +miserable, and in nothing can I assist you. But I do hope that you +will find Germany better suited to you in every way than Italy, and +that you will make friends, and, more than all, become really attached +to some one there.</p> + +<p>I wish, when I was in Pisa, that you had said that you thought you +should be short of money, and I would have left you more; but you +seemed to think 150 francesconi plenty. I would not go on with Goethe +except with a fixed price per sheet, to be paid regularly, and that +price not less than five guineas. Make this understood fully through +Hunt before you go, and then I will take care that you get the money; +but if you do not <i>fix</i> it, then I cannot manage so well. You are +going to Vienna—how anxiously do I hope to find peace; I do not hope +to find it here. Genoa has a bad atmosphere for me, I fear, and +nothing but the horror of being a burthen to my family prevents my +accompanying Jane. If I had any fixed income I would go at least to +Paris, and I shall go the moment I have one. Adieu, my dear Clare; +write to me often, as I shall to you.—Affectionately yours,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary W. S.</span></p> + +<p>I cannot get your German dictionary now, since I must have packed it +in my great case of books, but I will send it by the first +opportunity.</p></div> + +<p>Jane and her children were the next to depart, and for a short time Mary +Shelley and her boy were alone. Besides taking a house for the Hunts and +herself, she had the responsibility of finding one for Lord Byron. People +never scrupled to make her of use; but any object, any duty to fulfil, was +good for her in her solitary misery, and she devoted some of her vacant +time to sending an account of her plans to Mrs. Gisborne.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley to Mrs. Gisborne.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Genoa</span>, <i>17th September 1822</i>.</p> + +<p>... I am here alone in Genoa; quite, quite alone! J. has left me to +proceed to England, and, except my sleeping child, I am alone. Since +you do not communicate with my Father, you will perhaps be surprised, +after my last letter, that I do not come to England. I have written to +him a long account of the arguments of all my friends to dissuade me +from that miserable journey; Jane will detail them to you; and, +therefore, I merely say now that, having no business there, I am +determined not to spend that money which will support me nearly a year +here, in a journey, the sole end of which appears to me the necessity +I should be under, when arrived in London, of being a burthen to my +Father. When my crowns are gone, if Sir Timothy refuses, I hope to be +able to support myself by my writings and mine own Shelley’s MSS. At +least during many long months I shall have peace as to money affairs, +and one evil the less is much to one whose existence is suffering +alone. Lord Byron has a house here, and will arrive soon. I have taken +a house for the Hunts and myself outside one of the gates. It is large +and neat, with a <i>podere</i> attached; we shall pay about eighty crowns +between us, so I hope that I shall find tranquillity from care this +winter, though that may be the last of my life so free, yet I do not +hope it, though I say so; hope is a word that belongs not to my +situation. He—my own beloved, the exalted and divine Shelley—has +left me alone in this miserable world; this earth, canopied by the +eternal starry heaven—where he is—where, oh, my God! yes, where I +shall one day be.</p> + +<p>Clare is no longer with me. Jane quitted me this morning at 4. After +she left me I again went to rest, and thought of Pugnano, its halls, +its cypresses, the perfume of its mountains, and the gaiety of our +life beneath their shadow. Then I dozed awhile, and in my dream saw +dear Edward most visibly; he came, he said, to pass a few hours with +us, but could not stay long. Then I woke, and the day began. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> went +out, took Hunt’s house; but as I walked I felt that which is with me +the sign of unutterable grief. I am not given to tears, and though my +most miserable fate has often turned my eyes to fountains, yet oftener +I suffer agonies unassuaged by tears. But during these last sufferings +I have felt an oppression at my heart I never felt before. It is not a +palpitation, but a <i>stringimento</i> which is quite convulsive, and, did +I not struggle greatly, would cause violent hysterics. Looking on the +sea, or hearing its roar, his dirge, it comes upon me; but these are +corporeal sufferings I can get over, but that which is insurmountable +is the constant feeling of despair that shadows me: I seem to walk on +a narrow path with fathomless precipices all around me. Yet where can +I fall? I have already fallen, and all that comes of bad or good is a +mere mockery.</p> + +<p>Those about me have no idea of what I suffer; none are sufficiently +interested in me to observe that, though my lips smile, my eyes are +blank, or to notice the desolate look that I cast up towards the sky. +Pardon, dear friend, this selfishness in writing thus. There are +moments when the heart must <i>sfogare</i> or be suffocated, and such a +moment is this—when quite alone, my babe sleeping, and dear Jane +having just left me, it is with difficulty I prevent myself from +flying from mental misery by bodily exertion, when to run into that +vast grave (the sea) until I sink to rest, would be a pleasure to me, +and instead of this I write, and as I write I say, Oh God, have pity +on me. At least I will have pity on you. Good-night, I will finish +this when people are about me, and I am in a more cheerful mood. +Good-night. I will go look at the stars. They are eternal, so is he, +so am I.</p> + +<p>You have not written to me since my misfortune. I understand this; you +first waited for a letter from me, and that letter told you not to +write. But answer this as soon as you receive it; talk to me of +yourselves, and also of my English affairs. I am afraid that they will +not go on very well in my absence, but it would cost more to set them +right than they are worth. I will, however, let you know what I think +my friends<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> ought to do, that when you talk to Peacock he may learn +what I wish. A claim should be made on the part of Shelley’s executors +for a maintenance for my child and myself from Sir Timothy. Lord Byron +is ready to do this or any other service for me that his office of +executor demands from him; but I do not wish it to be done separately +by him, and I want to hear from England before I ask him to write to +Whitton on the subject. Secondly, Ollier must be asked for all MSS., +and some plan be reflected on for the best manner of republishing +Shelley’s works, as well as the writings he has left. Who will allow +money to Ianthe and Charles?</p> + +<p>As for you, my dear friends, I do not see what you can do for me, +except to send me the originals or copies of Shelley’s most +interesting letters to you. I hope soon to get into my house, where +writing, copying Shelley’s MSS., walking, and being of some use in the +education of Marianne’s children will be my occupations. Where is that +letter in verse Shelley once wrote to you? Let me have a copy of it. +Is not Peacock very lukewarm and insensible in this affair? Tell me +what Hogg says and does, and my Father also, if you have an +opportunity of knowing. Here is a long letter all about myself, but +though I cannot write, I like to hear of others. Adieu, dear +friends.—Your sincerely attached,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary W. Shelley</span>.</p></div> + +<p>The fragment that follows is from Mrs. Williams’ first letter, written +from Geneva, where she and Edward had lived in such felicity, and where +they had made friends with Medwin, Roberts, and Trelawny: a happy, +light-hearted time on which it was torture to look back.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Jane Williams to Mary Shelley</span>.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Geneva</span>, <i>September 1822</i>.</p> + +<p>I only arrived this day, my dearest Mary, and find your letter, the +only friend who welcomes me. I will not detail all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> the misery I have +suffered, let it be added to the heap that must be piled up; and when +the measure is brimful, it needs must overflow; and then, peace! What +have been my feelings to-day? I have gazed on that lake, still and +ever the same, rolling on in its course, as if this gap in creation +had never been made. I have passed that place where our little boat +used to land, but where is the hand stretched out to meet mine, where +the glad voice, the sweet smile, the beloved form? Oh! Mary, is my +heart human that I endure scenes like this, and live? My arrival at +the inn here has been one of the most painful trials I have yet +undergone. The landlady, who came to the door, did not recognise me +immediately, and when she did, our mutual tears prevented both +interrogation and answer for some minutes. I then bore my sorrowful +burden up these stairs he had formerly passed in all the pride of +youth, hope, and love. When will these heartrending scenes be +finished? Never! for, when they cease, memory will furnish others.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>God bless you, dearest girl; take care of yourself. Remember me to the +Hunts.—Ever yours,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Jane</span>.</p></div> + +<p>Not long after this Byron arrived at Genoa with his train, and the Hunts +with their tribe.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">“All that were now left of our Pisan circle,” writes Trelawny, +“established themselves at Albaro,—Byron, Leigh Hunt, and Mrs. +Shelley. The fine spirit that had animated and held us together was +gone. Left to our own devices, we degenerated apace.”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<p class="title"><span class="smcap">September 1822-July 1823</span></p> + +<p>An eminent contemporary writer, speaking of Trelawny’s writings, has +remarked: “So long as he dwells on Shelley, he is, like the visitants to +the <i>Witch of Atlas</i>, ‘imparadised.’” This was true, in fact not as to the +writings, but the natures, of all who had friendly or intimate relations +with Shelley. His personality was like a clear, deep lake, wherein the sky +and the surrounding objects were reflected. Now and again a breeze, or +even a storm, might sweep across the “watery glass,” playing strange, +grotesque pranks with the distorted reflections. But in general those who +surrounded it saw themselves, and saw each other, not as they were, but as +they appeared,—transfigured, idealised, glorified, by the impalpable, +fluid, medium. And like a tree that overhangs the water’s edge, whose +branches dip and play in the clear ripples, nodding and beckoning to their +own living likeness there, so Mary had grown up by the side of this, her +own image in him,—herself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> indeed, but “imparadised” in the immortal +unreality of the magic mirror.</p> + +<p>Now the eternal frost had fallen: black ice and dreary snow had +extinguished that reflection for ever, and the solitary tree was left to +weather all storms in a wintry world, where no magic mirror was to be hers +any more.</p> + +<p>Mary Shelley’s diary, now she was alone, altered its character. In her +husband’s lifetime it had been a record of the passing facts of every day; +almost as concise in statement as that of her father. Now and then, in +travelling, she would stereotype an impression of beautiful scenery by an +elaborate description; sometimes, but very rarely, she had indulged (as at +Pisa) on reflections on people or things in general.</p> + +<p>The case was now exactly reversed. Alone with her child, with no one else +to live for; having no companion-mind with which to exchange ideas, and +having never known what it was to be without one before, her diary became +her familiar,—or rather her shadow, for it took its sombre colouring from +her and could give nothing back. The thoughts too monotonously sad, too +harrowing in their eloquent self-pity to be communicated to other people, +but which filled her heart, the more that heart was thrown back on itself, +found here an outlet, inadequate enough, but still the only one they had. +In thus recording her emotions for her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> own benefit, she had little idea +that these melancholy self-communings would ever be gathered up and +published for the satisfaction of the “reading world”; a world that loves +nothing so well as personal details, and would rather have the object of +its interest misrepresented than not represented at all. Outwardly +uneventful as Mrs. Shelley’s subsequent life was, its few occurrences are, +as a rule, not even alluded to in her journal. Such things for the most +part lost their intrinsic importance to her when Shelley disappeared; it +was only in the world of abstractions that she felt or could imagine his +companionship. Her journal, in reality, records her first essay in living +alone. It was, to an almost incredible degree, a beginning.</p> + +<p>Her existence, from its outset, had been offered up at the shrine of one +man. To animate his solitude, to foster his genius, to help—as far as +possible—his labours, to companion him in a world that did not understand +him,—this had been her life-work, which lay now as a dream behind her, +while she awakened to find herself alone with the solitude, the work, the +cold unfriendly world, and without Shelley.</p> + +<p>Could any woman be as lonely? All who share an abnormal lot must needs be +isolated when cut adrift from the other life which has been their <i>raison +d’être</i>; and Mary had begun so early, that she had grown, as it were, to +this state of double<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> solitude. She had not been unconscious of the slight +hold they had on actualities.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“Mary,” observed Shelley one day at Pisa, when Trelawny was present, +“Trelawny has found out Byron already. How stupid we were; how long it +took us!”</p> + +<p>“That,” she observed, “is because he lives with the living and we with +the dead.”</p></div> + +<p>And as a fact, Shelley lived with the immortals; finite things were +outside his world; in his contemporaries it was what he would have +considered their immortal side that he cared for. There are conjurors who +can be tied by no knot from which they cannot escape, and so the +limitations of practical convention, those “ideas and feelings which are +but for a day,” had no power to hold Shelley.</p> + +<p>And Mary knew no world but his. Now, young,—only twenty-five,—yet with +the past experience of eight years of chequered married life, and of a +simultaneous intellectual development almost perilously rapid, she stood, +an utter novice, on the threshold of ordinary existence.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Journal, October 2.</i>—On the 8th of July I finished my journal. This +is a curious coincidence. The date still remains—the fatal 8th—a +monument to show that all ended then. And I begin again? Oh, never! +But several motives induce me, when the day has gone down, and all is +silent around me, steeped in sleep, to pen, as occasion wills, my +reflections and feelings. First, I have no friend. For eight years I +communicated, with unlimited freedom, with one whose genius, far +transcending mine, awakened and guided my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> thoughts. I conversed with +him, rectified my errors of judgment; obtained new lights from him; +and my mind was satisfied. Now I am alone—oh, how alone! The stars +may behold my tears, and the wind drink my sighs, but my thoughts are +a sealed treasure which I can confide to none. But can I express all I +feel? Can I give words to thoughts and feelings that, as a tempest, +hurry me along? Is this the sand that the ever-flowing sea of thought +would impress indelibly? Alas! I am alone. No eye answers mine; my +voice can with none assume its natural modulation. What a change! O my +beloved Shelley! how often during those happy days—happy, though +chequered—I thought how superiorly gifted I had been in being united +to one to whom I could unveil myself, and who could understand me! +Well, then, now I am reduced to these white pages, which I am to blot +with dark imagery. As I write, let me think what he would have said +if, speaking thus to him, he could have answered me. Yes, my own +heart, I would fain know what to think of my desolate state; what you +think I ought to do, what to think. I guess you would answer thus: +“Seek to know your own heart, and, learning what it best loves, try to +enjoy that.” Well, I cast my eyes around, and, looking forward to the +bounded prospect in view, I ask myself what pleases me there. My +child;—so many feelings arise when I think of him, that I turn aside +to think no more. Those I most loved are gone for ever; those who held +the second rank are absent; and among those near me as yet, I trust to +the disinterested kindness of one alone. Beneath all this, my +imagination never flags. Literary labours, the improvement of my mind, +and the enlargement of my ideas, are the only occupations that elevate +me from my lethargy: all events seem to lead me to that one point, and +the courses of destiny having dragged me to that single resting-place, +have left me. Father, mother, friend, husband, children—all made, as +it were, the team which conducted me here, and now all, except you, my +poor boy (and you are necessary to the continuance of my life), all +are gone, and I am left to fulfil my task. So be it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span><i>October 5.</i>—Well, they are come;<a name='fna_4' id='fna_4' href='#f_4'><small>[4]</small></a> and it is all as I said. I awoke +as from sleep, and thought how I had vegetated these last days; for +feeling leaves little trace on the memory if it be, like mine, +unvaried. I have felt for, and with myself alone, and I awake now to +take a part in life. As far as others are concerned, my sensations +have been most painful. I must work hard amidst the vexations that I +perceive are preparing for me, to preserve my peace and tranquillity +of mind. I must preserve some, if I am to live; for, since I bear at +the bottom of my heart a fathomless well of bitter waters, the +workings of which my philosophy is ever at work to repress, what will +be my fate if the petty vexations of life are added to this sense of +eternal and infinite misery?</p> + +<p>Oh, my child! what is your fate to be? You alone reach me; you are the +only chain that links me to time; but for you, I should be free. And +yet I cannot be destined to live long. Well, I shall commence my task, +commemorate the virtues of the only creature worth loving or living +for, and then, may be, I may join him. Moonshine may be united to her +planet, and wander no more, a sad reflection of all she loved on +earth.</p> + +<p><i>October 7.</i>—I have received my desk to-day, and have been reading my +letters to mine own Shelley during his absences at Marlow. What a +scene to recur to! My William, Clara, Allegra, are all talked of. They +lived then, they breathed this air, and their voices struck on my +sense; their feet trod the earth beside me, and their hands were warm +with blood and life when clasped in mine, where are they all? This is +too great an agony to be written about. I may express my despair, but +my thoughts can find no words.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>I would endeavour to consider myself a faint continuation of his +being, and, as far as possible, the revelation to the earth of what he +was, yet, to become this, I must change much, and, above all, I must +acquire that knowledge and drink at those fountains of wisdom and +virtue from which he quenched his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> thirst. Hitherto I have done +nothing; yet I have not been discontented with myself. I speak of the +period of my residence here. For, although unoccupied by those studies +which I have marked out for myself, my mind has been so active that +its activity, and not its indolence, has made me neglectful. But now +the society of others causes this perpetual working of my ideas +somewhat to pause; and I must take advantage of this to turn my mind +towards its immediate duties, and to determine with firmness to +commence the life I have planned. You will be with me in all my +studies, dearest love! your voice will no longer applaud me, but in +spirit you will visit and encourage me: I know you will. What were I, +if I did not believe that you still exist? It is not with you as with +another, I believe that we all live hereafter; but you, my only one, +were a spirit caged, an elemental being, enshrined in a frail image, +now shattered. Do they not all with one voice assert the same? +Trelawny, Hunt, and many others. And so at last you quitted this +painful prison, and you are free, my Shelley; while I, your poor +chosen one, am left to live as I may.</p> + +<p>What a strange life mine has been! Love, youth, fear, and fearlessness +led me early from the regular routine of life, and I united myself to +this being, who, not one of <i>us</i>, though like to us, was pursued by +numberless miseries and annoyances, in all of which I shared. And then +I was the mother of beautiful children, but these stayed not by me. +Still he was there; and though, in truth, after my William’s death +this world seemed only a quicksand, sinking beneath my feet, yet +beside me was this bank of refuge—so tempest-worn and frail, that +methought its very weakness was strength, and, since Nature had +written destruction on its brow, so the Power that rules human affairs +had determined, in spite of Nature, that it should endure. But that is +gone. His voice can no longer be heard; the earth no longer receives +the shadow of his form; annihilation has come over the earthly +appearance of the most gentle creature that ever yet breathed this +air; and I am still here—still thinking, existing, all but hoping. +Well, I close my book. To-morrow I must begin this new life of mine.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span><i>October 19.</i>—How painful all change becomes to one, who, entirely +and despotically engrossed by [his] own feelings leads, as it were, an +<i>internal</i> life, quite different from the outward and apparent one! +Whilst my life continues its monotonous course within sterile banks, +an under-current disturbs the smooth face of the waters, distorts all +objects reflected in it, and the mind is no longer a mirror in which +outward events may reflect themselves, but becomes itself the painter +and creator. If this perpetual activity has power to vary with endless +change the everyday occurrences of a most monotonous life, it appears +to be animated with the spirit of tempest and hurricane when any real +occurrence diversifies the scene. Thus, to-night, a few bars of a +known air seemed to be as a wind to rouse from its depths every +deep-seated emotion of my mind. I would have given worlds to have sat, +my eyes closed, and listened to them for years. The restraint I was +under caused these feelings to vary with rapidity; but the words of +the conversation, uninteresting as they might be, seemed all to convey +two senses to me, and, touching a chord within me, to form a music of +which the speaker was little aware. I do not think that any person’s +voice has the same power of awakening melancholy in me as Albé’s. I +have been accustomed, when hearing it, to listen and to speak little; +another voice, not mine, ever replied—a voice whose strings are +broken. When Albé ceases to speak, I expect to hear <i>that other</i> +voice, and when I hear another instead, it jars strangely with every +association. I have seen so little of Albé since our residence in +Switzerland, and, having seen him there every day, his voice—a +peculiar one—is engraved on my memory with other sounds and objects +from which it can never disunite itself. I have heard Hunt in company +and in conversation with many, when my own one was not there. +Trelawny, perhaps, is associated in my mind with Edward more than with +Shelley. Even our older friends, Peacock and Hogg, might talk +together, or with others, and their voices suggest no change to me. +But, since incapacity and timidity always prevented my mingling in the +nightly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>conversations of Diodati, they were, as it were, entirely +<i>tête-à-tête</i> between my Shelley and Albé; and thus, as I have said, +when Albé speaks and Shelley does not answer, it is as thunder without +rain,—the form of the sun without light or heat,—as any familiar +object might be shorn of its best attributes; and I listen with an +unspeakable melancholy that yet is not all pain.</p> + +<p>The above explains that which would otherwise be an enigma—why Albé, +by his mere presence and voice, has the power of exciting such deep +and shifting emotions within me. For my feelings have no analogy +either with my opinion of him, or the subject of his conversation. +With another I might talk, and not for the moment think of Shelley—at +least not think of him with the same vividness as if I were alone; +but, when in company with Albé, I can never cease for a second to have +Shelley in my heart and brain with a clearness that mocks +reality—interfering even by its force with the functions of +life—until, if tears do not relieve me, the hysterical feeling, +analogous to that which the murmur of the sea gives me, presses +painfully upon me.</p> + +<p>Well, for the first time for about a month, I have been in company +with Albé for two hours, and, coming home, I write this, so necessary +is it for me to express in words the force of my feelings. Shelley, +beloved! I look at the stars and at all nature, and it speaks to me of +you in the clearest accents. Why cannot you answer me, my own one? Is +the instrument so utterly destroyed? I would endure ages of pain to +hear one tone of your voice strike on my ear!</p></div> + +<p>For nearly a year—not a happy one—Mary lived with the Hunts. A bruised +and bleeding heart exposed to the cuffs and blows of everyday life, a +nervous temperament—too recently strained to its utmost pitch of +endurance—liable to constant, unavoidable irritation, a nature sensitive +and reserved, accustomed to much seclusion and much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> independence, thrown +into the midst of a large, noisy, and disorderly family,—these conditions +could hardly result in happiness. Leigh Hunt was nervous, delicate, +overworked, and variable in mood: his wife an invalid, condemned by the +doctors on her arrival in Italy, now expecting her confinement in the +ensuing summer, an event which she was told would be, for good or evil, +the crisis of her fate. Six children they had already had, who were +allowed—on principle—to do exactly as they chose, “until such time as +they were of an age to be reasoned with.”</p> + +<p>The opening for activity and usefulness would, at another time, have been +beneficial to Mary, and, to some extent, was so now; but it was too early, +the change from her former state was too violent; she was not fit yet for +such severe bracing. She met her trials bravely; but it was another case +where buoyancy of spirits was indispensable to real success, and buoyancy +of spirits she had not, nor was likely to acquire in her present +surroundings.</p> + +<p>There was another person to whom these surroundings were even more +supremely distasteful than to her, and this was Byron. Small sympathy had +he for domestic life or sentiment even in their best aspects, and this +virtuous, slipshod, cockney Bohemianism had no attraction for him +whatever. The poor man must have suffered many things while the Hunts were +in possession of his <i>pian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> terreno</i> at Pisa; he was rid of them now, but +the very sight of them was too much for him.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Lord Byron to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>6th October 1822.</i></p> + +<p>The sofa—which I regret is <i>not</i> of your furniture—it was purchased +by me at Pisa since you left it.</p> + +<p>It is convenient for my room, though of little value (about 12 pauls), +and I offered to send another (now sent) in its stead. I preferred +retaining the purchased furniture, but always intended that you should +have as good or better in its place. I have a particular dislike to +anything of Shelley’s being within the same walls with Mrs. Hunt’s +children. They are dirtier and more mischievous than Yahoos. What they +can’t destroy with their filth they will with their fingers. I presume +you received ninety and odd crowns from the wreck of the <i>Don Juan</i>, +and also the price of the boat purchased by Captain R., if not, you +will have <i>both</i>. Hunt has these in hand.</p> + +<p>With regard to any difficulties about money, I can only repeat that I +will be your banker till this state of things is cleared up, and you +can see what is to be done; so there is little to hinder you on that +score. I was confined for four days to my bed at Lerici. Poor Hunt, +with his six little blackguards, are coming slowly up; as usual he +turned back once—was there ever such a <i>kraal</i> out of the Hottentot +country before?</p> + +<p class="signa">N. B.</p></div> + +<p>Among those of their former acquaintance who now surrounded Mary, the one +who by his presence ministered most to the needs of her fainting moral +nature was Trelawny. Leigh Hunt, when not disagreeing from her, was +affectionate, nay, gushing, and he had truly loved Shelley, but he was a +feeble, facetious, feckless creature,—a hypochondriac,—unable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> to do +much to help himself, still less another. Byron was by no means +ill-disposed, especially just now, but he was egotistic and indolent, and +too capricious,—as the event proved,—to be depended on.</p> + +<p>Trelawny’s fresh vigorous personality, his bright originality and rugged +independence, and his unbounded admiration for Shelley, made him +wonderfully reviving to Mary; he had the effect on her of a gust of fresh +air in a close crowded room. He was unconventional and outspoken, and by +no means always complimentary, but he had a just appreciation of Mary’s +real mental and moral superiority to the people around her, and a frank +liking for herself. Their friendship was to extend over many years, during +which Mary had ample opportunity of repaying the debt of obligation she +always felt she owed him for his kindness to her and Mrs. Williams at the +time of their great misery.</p> + +<p>The letters which follow were among the earliest of a long and varied +correspondence.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley to Trelawny</span>.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>November 1822.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Trelawny</span>—I called on you yesterday, but was too late for you. +I was much pained to see you out of spirits the other night. I can in +no way make you better, I fear, but I should be glad to see you. Will +you dine with me Monday after your ride? If Hunt rides, as he +threatens, with Lord<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> Byron, he will also dine late and make one of +our party. Remember, you will also do Hunt good by this, who pines in +this solitude. You say that I know so little of the world that I am +afraid I may be mistaken in imagining that you have a friendship for +me, especially after what you said of Jane the other night; but +besides the many other causes I have to esteem you, I can never +remember without the liveliest gratitude all you said that night of +agony when you returned to Lerici. Your praises of my lost Shelley +were the only balm I could endure, and he always joined with me in +liking you from the first moment we saw you. Adieu.—Your attached +friend,</p> + +<p class="signa">M. W. S.</p> + +<p>Have you got my books on shore from the <i>Bolivar</i>? If you have, pray +let me have them, for many are odd volumes, and I wish to see if they +are too much destroyed to rank with those I have.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley</span>.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>November 1822.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>—I will gladly dine on Monday with you. As to melancholy, I +refer you to the good Antonio in Shylock. “Alas! I know now why I am +so sad. It is time, I think.” You are not so learned in human dealings +as Iago, but you cannot so sadly err as to doubt the extent or truth +of my friendship. As to gain esteem, I do not think it a word +applicable to such a lawless character. Ruled by impulse, not by +reason, I am satisfied you should like me upon my own terms—impulse. +As to gratitude for uttering my thoughts of him I so loved and +admired, it was a tribute that all who knew him have paid to his +memory. “But weeping never could restore the dead,” and if it could, +hope would prevent our tears. You may remember I always in preference +selected as my companion Edward, not Jane, and that I always dissented +from your general voice of her being perfection. I am still of the +same opinion; nothing more. But I have and ever shall feel deeply +interested, and would do much to serve her, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> if thinking on those +trifles which diminish her lustre in my eyes makes me flag, Edward’s +memory and my perfect friendship for him is sufficient excitement to +spur me on to anything. It is impossible to dislike Jane; but to have +an unqualified liking, such as I had for Edward, no—no—no! Talking +of gratitude, I really am and ought to be so to you, for bearing on, +untired, with my spleen, humours, and violence; it is a proof of real +liking, particularly as you are not of the sect who profess or +practise meekness, humility, and patience in common.</p> + +<p class="signa">T.</p></div> + +<p>Mary had not as yet been successful in getting possession of the +half-finished portrait of Shelley. Her letters had followed Miss Curran to +Paris, whence, in October, a reply at last arrived.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">“I am sorry,” Miss Curran wrote, “I am not at Rome to execute your +melancholy commission. I mean to return in spring, but it may be then +too late. I am sure Mr. Brunelli would be happy to oblige you or me, +but you may have left Pisa before this, so I know not what to propose. +Your picture and Clare’s I left with him to give you when you should +be at Rome, as I expected, before you returned to England. The one you +now write for I thought was not to be inquired for; it was so ill +done, and I was on the point of burning it with others before I left +Italy. I luckily saved it just as the fire was scorching, and it is +packed up with my other pictures at Rome; and I have not yet decided +where they can be sent to, as there are serious difficulties in the +way I had not adverted to. I am very sorry indeed, dear Mary, but you +shall have it as soon as I possibly can.”...</p> + +<p>This was the early history of that portrait, which was recovered a year or +two later, and which has passed, and passes still, for Shelley’s likeness, +and which, bad or good, is the only authentic one in existence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>Mary now began to feel it a matter of duty as well as of expediency to +resume literary work, but she found it hard at first.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">“I am quite well, but very nervous,” she wrote to Mrs. Gisborne; “my +excessive nervousness (how new a disorder for me—my illness in the +summer is the foundation of it) is the cause I do not write.”</p> + +<p>She made a beginning with an article for the <i>Liberal</i>. Shelley’s <i>Defence +of Poetry</i> was, also, to be published in the forthcoming number, and the +MS. of this had to be got from England. She had reason to believe, too, +that Ollier, the publisher, had in his keeping other MSS. of Shelley’s, +and she was restlessly desirous to get possession of all these, feeling +convinced that among them there was nothing perfect, nothing ready for +publication exactly as it stood. In her over-anxiety she wrote to several +people on this subject, thereby incurring the censure of her father, whom +she had also consulted about her literary plans. His criticisms on his +daughter’s style were not unsound; she had not been trained in a school of +terseness, and, like many young authors, she was apt to err on the side of +length, and not to see that she did so.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Godwin to Mary.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">No. 195 Strand</span>, <i>15th November 1822</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mary</span>—I have devoted the last two days to the seeing everybody +an interview with whom would best enable me to write you a +satisfactory letter. Yesterday I saw Hogg<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> and Mrs. Williams, and +to-day Peacock and Hanson junior. From Hogg I had, among other things, +to learn Mrs. Williams’ address, for, owing to your neglect, she had +been a fortnight in London before I knew of her arrival. She appeared +to be in better health and better spirits than I expected; she did not +drop one tear; occasionally she smiled. She is a picturesque little +woman, and, as far as I could judge from one interview, I like her.</p> + +<p>Peacock has got Ollier’s promise to deliver all Shelley’s manuscripts, +and as earnest, he has received <i>Peter Bell</i> and <i>A Curse on L.E.</i>, +which he holds at your disposal. By the way, you should never give one +commission but to one person; you commissioned me to recover these +manuscripts from Ollier, you commissioned Peacock, and, I believe, +Mrs. Gisborne. This puts us all in an awkward situation. I heard of +Peacock’s applying just in time to prevent me from looking like a +fool. Peacock says he cannot make up a parcel for you till he has been +a second time to Marlow on the question, which cannot be till about +Christmas. He appears to me, not lukewarm, but assiduous. Mrs. +Williams told me she should write to you by this day’s post. She had +been inquiring in vain for Miss Curran’s address—you should have +referred her to me for it, but you referred her to me for nothing. +This, by the way, is another instance of your giving one commission to +more than one person. You gave the commission about Miss Curran to +Mrs. Williams and to me. I received your letter, inclosing one to Miss +Curran, 21st October, which I immediately forwarded to her by a safe +hand, through her brother. You have probably heard from her by this +time; she is in Paris.... I have a plan upon the house of Longman +respecting <i>Castruccio</i>, but that depends upon coincidences, and I +must have patience.</p> + +<p>You ask my opinion of your literary plans. If you expect any price, +you must think of something new: <i>Manfred</i> is a subject that nobody +interests himself about; the interest, therefore, must be made, and no +bookseller understands anything about that contingency. A book about +Italy as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> it is, written with any talent, would be sure to sell; but +I am afraid you know very little about the present race of Italians.</p> + +<p>As to my own affairs, nothing is determined. I expected something +material to have happened this week, but as yet I have heard nothing. +If the subscription fills, I shall perhaps be safe; if not, I shall be +driven to sea on a plank.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it may be of some use to you if I give you my opinion of +<i>Castruccio</i>. I think there are parts of high genius, and that your +two females are exceedingly interesting; but I am not satisfied. +<i>Frankenstein</i> was a fine thing; it was compressed, muscular, and +firm; nothing relaxed and weak; no proud flesh. <i>Castruccio</i> is a work +of more genius; but it appears, in reading, that the first rule you +prescribed to yourself was, I will let it be long. It contains the +quantity of four volumes of <i>Waverley</i>. No hard blow was ever hit with +a woolsack! Mamma desires me to remember her to you in the kindest +manner, and to say that she feels a deep interest in everything that +concerns you. She means to take the earliest opportunity to see Mrs. +Williams, both as she feels an earnest sympathy in her calamity, and +as she will be likely to learn a hundred particulars respecting the +dispositions and prospects of yourself and Jane, which she might in +vain desire to learn in any other quarter. You asked Mamma for some +present, a remembrance of your mother. She has reserved for you a ring +of hers, with Fanny Blood’s hair set round with pearls.</p> + +<p>You will, of course, rely on it that I will send you the letters you +ask for by Peacock’s parcel. Miss Curran’s address is Hotel de +Dusseldorf Rue Petits St. Augustin, à Paris.—Believe me, ever your +most affectionate Father,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">William Godwin</span>.</p> + +<p>My last letter was dated 11th October.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p><i>Journal, November 10.</i>—I have made my first probation in writing, +and it has done me much good, and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> get more calm; the stream begins +to take to its new channel, insomuch as to make me fear change. But +people must know little of me who think that, abstractedly, I am +content with my present mode of life. Activity of spirit is my sphere. +But we cannot be active of mind without an object; and I have none. I +am allowed to have some talent—that is sufficient, methinks, to cause +my irreparable misery; for, if one has genius, what a delight it is to +be associated with a superior! Mine own Shelley! the sun knows of none +to be likened to you—brave, wise, noble-hearted, full of learning, +tolerance, and love. Love! what a word for me to write! yet, my +miserable heart, permit me yet to love,—to see him in beauty, to feel +him in beauty, to be interpenetrated by the sense of his excellence; +and thus to love singly, eternally, ardently, and not fruitlessly; for +I am still his—still the chosen one of that blessed spirit—still +vowed to him for ever and ever!</p> + +<p><i>November 11.</i>—It is better to grieve than not to grieve. Grief at +least tells me that I was not always what I am now. I was once +selected for happiness; let the memory of that abide by me. You pass +by an old ruined house in a desolate lane, and heed it not. But if you +hear that that house is haunted by a wild and beautiful spirit, it +acquires an interest and beauty of its own.</p> + +<p>I shall be glad to be more alone again; one ought to see no one, or +many; and, confined to one society, I shall lose all energy except +that which I possess from my own resources; and I must be alone for +those to be put in activity.</p> + +<p>A cold heart! Have I a cold heart? God knows! But none need envy the +icy region this heart encircles; and at least the tears are hot which +the emotions of this cold heart forces me to shed. A cold heart! yes, +it would be cold enough if all were as I wished it—cold, or burning +in the flame for whose sake I forgive this, and would forgive every +other imputation—that flame in which your heart, beloved, lay +unconsumed. My heart is very full to-night.</p> + +<p>I shall write his life, and thus occupy myself in the only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> manner +from which I can derive consolation. That will be a task that may +convey some balm. What though I weep? All is better than inaction +and—not forgetfulness—that never is—but an inactivity of +remembrance.</p> + +<p>And you, my own boy! I am about to begin a task which, if you live, +will be an invaluable treasure to you in after times. I must collect +my materials, and then, in the commemoration of the divine virtues of +your Father, I shall fulfil the only act of pleasure there remains for +me, and be ready to follow you, if you leave me, my task being +fulfilled. I have lived; rapture, exultation, content—all the varied +changes of enjoyment—have been mine. It is all gone; but still, the +airy paintings of what it has gone through float by, and distance +shall not dim them. If I were alone, I had already begun what I had +determined to do; but I must have patience, and for those events my +memory is brass, my thoughts a never-tired engraver. +France—Poverty—A few days of solitude, and some uneasiness—A +tranquil residence in a beautiful +spot—Switzerland—Bath—Marlow—Milan—the Baths of +Lucca—Este—Venice—Rome—Naples—Rome and +misery—Leghorn—Florence—Pisa—Solitude—The Williams’—The +Baths—Pisa: these are the heads of chapters, and each containing a +tale romantic beyond romance.</p> + +<p>I no longer enjoy, but I love. Death cannot deprive me of that living +spark which feeds on all given it, and which is now triumphant in +sorrow. I love, and shall enjoy happiness again. I do not doubt that; +but when?</p></div> + +<p>These fragments of journal give the course of her inward reflections; her +letters sometimes supply the clue to her outward life, <i>au jour le jour</i>.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley to Clare Clairmont.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>20th December 1822.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Clare</span>—I have delayed writing to you so long for two reasons. +First, I have every day expected to hear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> from you; and secondly, I +wished to hear something decisive from England to communicate to you. +But I have waited in vain for both things. You do not write, and I +begin to despair of ever hearing from you again. A few words will tell +you all that has been done in England. When I wrote to you last, I +think that I told you that Lord Byron had written to Hanson, bidding +him call upon Whitton. Hanson wrote to Whitton desiring an interview, +which Whitton declined, requesting Hanson to make his application by +letter, which Hanson has done, and I know no more. This does not look +like an absolute refusal, but Sir Timothy is so capricious that we +cannot trust to appearances.</p> + +<p>And now the chapter about myself is finished, for what can I say of my +present life? The weather is bitterly cold with a sharp wind, very +unlike dear, <i>carissima</i> Pisa; but soft airs and balmy gales are not +the attributes of Genoa, which place I daily and duly join Marianne in +detesting. There is but one fireplace in the house, and although +people have been for a month putting up a stove in my room, it smokes +too much to permit of its being lighted. So I am obliged to pass the +greater part of my time in Hunt’s sitting-room, which is, as you may +guess, the annihilation of study, and even of pleasure to a great +degree. For, after all, Hunt does not like me: it is both our faults, +and I do not blame him, but so it is. I rise at 9, breakfast, work, +read, and if I can at all endure the cold, copy my Shelley’s MSS. in +my own room, and if possible walk before dinner. After that I work, +read Greek, etc., till 10, when Hunt and Marianne go to bed. Then I am +alone. Then the stream of thought, which has struggled against its +<i>argine</i> all through the busy day, makes a <i>piena</i>, and sorrow and +memory and imagination, despair, and hope in despair, are the winds +and currents that impel it. I am alone, and myself; and then I begin +to say, as I ever feel, “How I hate life! What a mockery it is to +rise, to walk, to feed, and then go to rest, and in all this a statue +might do my part. One thing alone may or can awake me, and that is +study; the rest is all nothing.” And so it is! I am silent and +serious.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> Absorbed in my own thoughts, what am I then in this world if +my spirit live not to learn and become better? That is the whole of my +destiny; I look to nothing else. For I dare not look to my little +darling other than as—not the sword of Damocles, that is a wrong +simile, or to a wrecked seaman’s plank—true, he stands, and only he, +between me and the sea of eternity; but I long for that plunge! No, I +fear for him pain, disappointment,—all, all fear.</p> + +<p>You see how it is, it is near 11, and my good friends repose. This is +the hour when I can think, unobtruded upon, and these thoughts, +<i>malgré moi</i>, will stain this paper. But then, my dear Clare, I have +nothing else except my nothingless self to talk about. You have +doubtless heard from Jane, and I have heard from no one else. I see no +one. The Guiccioli and Lord Byron once a month. Trelawny seldom, and +he is on the eve of his departure for Leghorn....</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>Marianne suffers during this dreadfully cold weather, but less than I +should have supposed. The children are all well. So also is my Percy, +poor little darling: they all scold him because he speaks loud <i>à +l’Italien</i>. People love to, nay, they seem to exist on, finding fault +with others, but I have no right to complain, and this unlucky stove +is the sole source of all my <i>dispiacere</i>; if I had that, I should not +tease any one, or any one me, or my only one; but after all, these are +trifles. I have sent for another <i>ingeniere</i>, and I hope, before many +days are elapsed, to retire as before to my hole.</p> + +<p>I have again delayed finishing this letter, waiting for letters from +England, that I might not send you one so barren of all intelligence. +But I have had none. And nothing new has happened except Trelawny’s +departure for Leghorn, so that our days are more monotonous than ever. +The weather is drearily cold, and an eternal north-east whistles +through every crevice. Percy, however, is far better in this cold than +in summer; he is warmly clothed, and gets on.</p> + +<p>Adieu. Pray write. My love to Charles; I am ashamed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> that I do not +write to him, but I have only an old story to repeat, and this letter +tells that.—Affectionately yours,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley</span>.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p><i>Journal, December 31.</i>—So this year comes to an end. Shelley, +beloved! the year has a new name from any thou knewest. When spring +arrives leaves you never saw will shadow the ground, and flowers you +never beheld will star it; the grass will be of another growth, and +the birds sing a new song—the aged earth dates with a new number.</p> + +<p>Sometimes I thought that fortune had relented towards us; that your +health would have improved, and that fame and joy would have been +yours, for, when well, you extracted from Nature alone an endless +delight. The various threads of our existence seemed to be drawing to +one point, and there to assume a cheerful hue.</p> + +<p>Again, I think that your gentle spirit was too much wounded by the +sharpness of this world; that your disease was incurable, and that in +a happy time you became the partaker of cloudless days, ceaseless +hours, and infinite love. Thy name is added to the list which makes +the earth bold in her age and proud of what has been. Time, with +unwearied but slow feet, guides her to the goal that thou hast +reached, and I, her unhappy child, am advanced still nearer the hour +when my earthly dress shall repose near thine, beneath the tomb of +Cestius.</p></div> + +<p>It must have been at about this time that Mary wrote the sad, +retrospective poem entitled “The Choice.”</p> + +<p class="poem"><span style="margin-left: 6em;">THE CHOICE.</span><br /> +My Choice!—My Choice, alas! was had and gone<br /> +With the red gleam of last autumnal sun;<br /> +Lost in that deep wherein he bathed his head,<br /> +My choice, my life, my hope together fled:—<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>A wanderer here, no more I seek a home,<br /> +The sky a vault, and Italy a tomb.<br /> +Yet as some days a pilgrim I remain,<br /> +Linked to my orphan child by love’s strong chain;<br /> +And, since I have a faith that I must earn,<br /> +By suffering and by patience, a return<br /> +Of that companionship and love, which first<br /> +Upon my young life’s cloud like sunlight burst,<br /> +And now has left me, dark, as when its beams,<br /> +Quenched in the might of dreadful ocean streams,<br /> +Leave that one cloud, a gloomy speck on high,<br /> +Beside one star in the else darkened sky;—<br /> +Since I must live, how would I pass the day,<br /> +How meet with fewest tears the morning’s ray,<br /> +How sleep with calmest dreams, how find delights,<br /> +As fireflies gleam through interlunar nights?<br /> +<br /> +First let me call on thee! Lost as thou art,<br /> +Thy name aye fills my sense, thy love my heart.<br /> +Oh, gentle Spirit! thou hast often sung,<br /> +How fallen on evil days thy heart was wrung;<br /> +Now fierce remorse and unreplying death<br /> +Waken a chord within my heart, whose breath,<br /> +Thrilling and keen, in accents audible<br /> +A tale of unrequited love doth tell.<br /> +It was not anger,—while thy earthly dress<br /> +Encompassed still thy soul’s rare loveliness,<br /> +All anger was atoned by many a kind<br /> +Caress or tear, that spoke the softened mind.—<br /> +It speaks of cold neglect, averted eyes,<br /> +That blindly crushed thy soul’s fond sacrifice:—<br /> +My heart was all thine own,—but yet a shell<br /> +Closed in its core, which seemed impenetrable,<br /> +Till sharp-toothed misery tore the husk in twain,<br /> +Which gaping lies, nor may unite again.<br /> +Forgive me! let thy love descend in dew<br /> +Of soft repentance and regret most true;—<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>In a strange guise thou dost descend, or how<br /> +Could love soothe fell remorse,—as it does now?—<br /> +By this remorse and love, and by the years<br /> +Through which we shared our common hopes and fears,<br /> +By all our best companionship, I dare<br /> +Call on thy sacred name without a fear;—<br /> +And thus I pray to thee, my friend, my Heart!<br /> +That in thy new abode, thou’lt bear a part<br /> +In soothing thy poor Mary’s lonely pain,<br /> +As link by link she weaves her heavy chain!—<br /> +And thou, strange star! ascendant at my birth,<br /> +Which rained, they said, kind influence on the earth,<br /> +So from great parents sprung, I dared to boast<br /> +Fortune my friend, till set, thy beams were lost!<br /> +And thou, Inscrutable, by whose decree<br /> +Has burst this hideous storm of misery!<br /> +Here let me cling, here to the solitudes,<br /> +These myrtle-shaded streams and chestnut woods;<br /> +Tear me not hence—here let me live and die,<br /> +In my adopted land—my country—Italy.<br /> +<br /> +A happy Mother first I saw this sun,<br /> +Beneath this sky my race of joy was run.<br /> +First my sweet girl, whose face resembled <i>his</i>,<br /> +Slept on bleak Lido, near Venetian seas.<br /> +Yet still my eldest-born, my loveliest, dearest,<br /> +Clung to my side, most joyful then when nearest.<br /> +An English home had given this angel birth,<br /> +Near those royal towers, where the grass-clad earth<br /> +Is shadowed o’er by England’s loftiest trees:<br /> +Then our companion o’er the swift-passed seas,<br /> +He dwelt beside the Alps, or gently slept,<br /> +Rocked by the waves, o’er which our vessel swept,<br /> +Beside his father, nurst upon my breast,<br /> +While Leman’s waters shook with fierce unrest.<br /> +His fairest limbs had bathed in Serchio’s stream;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>His eyes had watched Italian lightnings gleam;<br /> +His childish voice had, with its loudest call,<br /> +The echoes waked of Este’s castle wall;<br /> +Had paced Pompeii’s Roman market-place;<br /> +Had gazed with infant wonder on the grace<br /> +Of stone-wrought deities, and pictured saints,<br /> +In Rome’s high palaces—there were no taints<br /> +Of ruin on his cheek—all shadowless<br /> +Grim death approached—the boy met his caress,<br /> +And while his glowing limbs with life’s warmth shone,<br /> +Around those limbs his icy arms were thrown.<br /> +His spoils were strewed beneath the soil of Rome,<br /> +Whose flowers now star the dark earth near his tomb:<br /> +Its airs and plants received the mortal part,<br /> +His spirit beats within his mother’s heart.<br /> +Infant immortal! chosen for the sky!<br /> +No grief upon thy brow’s young purity<br /> +Entrenched sad lines, or blotted with its might<br /> +The sunshine of thy smile’s celestial light;—<br /> +The image shattered, the bright spirit fled,<br /> +Thou shin’st the evening star among the dead.<br /> +And thou, his playmate, whose deep lucid eyes,<br /> +Were a reflection of these bluest skies;<br /> +Child of our hearts, divided in ill hour,<br /> +We could not watch the bud’s expanding flower,<br /> +Now thou art gone, one guileless victim more,<br /> +To the black death that rules this sunny shore.<br /> +<br /> +Companion of my griefs! thy sinking frame<br /> +Had often drooped, and then erect again<br /> +With shows of health had mocked forebodings dark;—<br /> +Watching the changes of that quivering spark,<br /> +I feared and hoped, and dared to trust at length,<br /> +Thy very weakness was my tower of strength.<br /> +Methought thou wert a spirit from the sky,<br /> +Which struggled with its chains, but could not die,<br /> +And that destruction had no power to win<br /> +From out those limbs the soul that burnt within.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span><br /> +Tell me, ye ancient walls, and weed-grown towers,<br /> +Ye Roman airs and brightly painted flowers,<br /> +Does not his spirit visit that recess<br /> +Which built of love enshrines his earthly dress?—<br /> +No more! no more!—what though that form be fled,<br /> +My trembling hand shall never write thee—dead—<br /> +Thou liv’st in Nature, Love, my Memory,<br /> +With deathless faith for aye adoring thee,<br /> +The wife of Time no more, I wed Eternity.<br /> +<br /> +’Tis thus the Past—on which my spirit leans,<br /> +Makes dearest to my soul Italian scenes.<br /> +In Tuscan fields the winds in odours steeped<br /> +From flowers and cypresses, when skies have wept,<br /> +Shall, like the notes of music once most dear,<br /> +Which brings the unstrung voice upon my ear<br /> +Of one beloved, to memory display<br /> +Past scenes, past hopes, past joys, in long array.<br /> +Pugnano’s trees, beneath whose shade he stood,<br /> +The pools reflecting Pisa’s old pine wood,<br /> +The fireflies beams, the aziola’s cry<br /> +All breathe his spirit which can never die.<br /> +Such memories have linked these hills and caves,<br /> +These woodland paths, and streams, and knelling waves<br /> +Past to each sad pulsation of my breast,<br /> +And made their melancholy arms the haven of my rest.<br /> +<br /> +Here will I live, within a little dell,<br /> +Which but a month ago I saw full well:—<br /> +A dream then pictured forth the solitude<br /> +Deep in the shelter of a lovely wood;<br /> +A voice then whispered a strange prophecy,<br /> +My dearest, widowed friend, that thou and I<br /> +Should there together pass the weary day,<br /> +As we before have done in Spezia’s bay,<br /> +As though long hours we watched the sails that neared<br /> +O’er the far sea, their vessel ne’er appeared;<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>One pang of agony, one dying gleam<br /> +Of hope led us along, beside the ocean stream,<br /> +But keen-eyed fear, the while all hope departs,<br /> +Stabbed with a million stings our heart of hearts.<br /> +The sad revolving year has not allayed<br /> +The poison of these bleeding wounds, or made<br /> +The anguish less of that corroding thought<br /> +Which has with grief each single moment fraught.<br /> +Edward, thy voice was hushed—thy noble heart<br /> +With aspiration heaves no more—a part<br /> +Of heaven-resumèd past thou art become,<br /> +Thy spirit waits with his in our far home.</p> + +<p>Trelawny had departed for Leghorn and his favourite Maremma, <i>en route</i> +for Rome, where, by his untiring zeal for the fit interment of Shelley’s +ashes, he once more earned Mary’s undying gratitude. The ashes, which had +been temporarily consigned to the care of Mr. Freeborn, British Consul at +Rome, had, before Trelawny arrived, been buried in the Protestant +cemetery: the grave was amidst a cluster of others. In a niche—formed by +two buttresses—in the old Roman wall, immediately under an ancient +pyramid, said to be the tomb of Caius Cestius, Trelawny (having purchased +the recess) built two tombs. In one of these the box containing Shelley’s +ashes was deposited, and all was covered over with solid stone. The +details of the transaction, which extended over several months, are +supplied in his letters.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mary Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Piombino</span>, <i>7th</i> and <i>11th January 1823</i>.</p> + +<p class="poem">Thus far into the bowels of the land<br /> +Have we marched on without impediment.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary Shelley</span>—Pardon my tardiness in writing, which from day to +day I have postponed, having no other cause to plead than idleness. On +my arrival at Leghorn I called on Grant, and was much grieved to find +our fears well founded, to wit, that nothing definitely had been done. +Grant had not heard from his correspondent at Rome after his first +statement of the difficulties; the same letter that was enclosed me +and read by you he (Grant) had written, but not received a reply. I +then requested Grant to write and say that I would be at Rome in a +month or five weeks, and if I found the impediments insurmountable, I +would resume possession of the ashes, if on the contrary, to +personally fulfil your wishes, and in the meantime to deposit them +secure from molestation, so that, without Grant writes to me, I shall +say nothing more till I am at Rome, which will be early in February. +In the meantime Roberts and myself are sailing along the coast, +shooting, and visiting the numerous islands in our track. We have been +here some days, living at the miserable hut of a cattle dealer on the +marshes, near this wretched town, well situated for sporting. +To-morrow we cross over to Elba, thence to Corsica, and so return +along the Maremma, up the Tiber in the boat, to Rome....</p> + +<p>... I like this Maremma, it is lonely and desolate, thinly populated, +particularly after Genoa, where human brutes are so abundant that the +air is dense with their garlic breath, and it is impossible to fly the +nuisance. Here there is solitude enough: there are less of the human +form here in midday than at Genoa midnight; besides, this vagabond +life has restored my health. Next year I will get a tent, and spend my +winter in these marshes....</p> + +<p>... Dear Mary, of all those that I know of, or you have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> told me of, +as connected with you, there is not one now living has so tender a +friendship for you as I have. I have the far greater claims on you, +and I shall consider it as a breach of friendship should you employ +any one else in services that I can execute.</p> + +<p class="poem">My purse, my person, my extremest means<br /> +Lye all unlocked to your occasion.</p> + +<p>I hope you know my heart so well as to make all professions needless. +To serve you will ever be the greatest pleasure I can experience, and +nothing could interrupt the almost unmingled pleasure I have received +from our first meeting but you concealing your difficulties or wishes +from me. With kindest remembrances to my good friends the Hunts, to +whom I am sincerely attached, and love and salaam to Lord Byron, I am +your very sincere</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Edward Trelawny</span>.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p>“Indeed, I do believe, my dear Trelawny,” wrote Mary in reply, on the +30th of January 1823, “that you are the best friend I have, and most +truly would I rather apply to you in any difficulty than to any one +else, for I know your heart, and rely on it. At present I am very well +off, having still a considerable residue of the money I brought with +me from Pisa, and besides, I have received £33 from the <i>Liberal</i>. +Part of this I have been obliged to send to Clare. You will be sorry +to hear that the last account she has sent of herself is that she has +been seriously ill. The cold of Vienna has doubtless contributed to +this,—as it is even a dangerous aggravation of her old complaint. I +wait anxiously to hear from her. I sent her fifteen napoleons, and +shall send more if necessary and if I can. Lord B. continues kind: he +has made frequent offers of money. I do not want it, as you see.”</p> + +<p> </p> +<p><i>Journal, February 2nd.</i>—On the 21st of January those rites were +fulfilled. Shelley! my own beloved! you rest beneath the blue sky of +Rome; in that, at least, I am satisfied.</p> + +<p>What matters it that they cannot find the grave of my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> William? That +spot is sanctified by the presence of his pure earthly vesture, and +that is sufficient—at least, it must be. I am too truly miserable to +dwell on what at another time might have made me unhappy. He is +beneath the tomb of Cestius. I see the spot.</p> + +<p><i>February 3.</i>—A storm has come across me; a slight circumstance has +disturbed the deceitful calm of which I boasted. I thought I heard my +Shelley call me—not my Shelley in heaven, but my Shelley, my +companion in my daily tasks. I was reading; I heard a voice say, +“Mary!” “It is Shelley,” I thought; the revulsion was of agony. Never +more....</p></div> + +<p>Mrs. Shelley’s affairs now assumed an aspect which made her foresee the +ultimate advisability, if not necessity, of returning to England. Sir +Timothy Shelley had declined giving any answer to the application made to +him for an allowance for his son’s widow and child; and Lord Byron, as +Shelley’s executor, had written to him directly for a decisive answer, +which he obtained.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Sir Timothy Shelley to Lord Byron.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Field Place</span>, <i>6th February 1823</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Lord</span>—I have received your Lordship’s letter, and my solicitor, Mr. +Whitton, has this day shown me copies of certificates of the marriage +of Mrs. Shelley and of the baptism of her little boy, and also, a +short abstract of my son’s will, as the same have been handed to him +by Mr. Hanson.</p> + +<p>The mind of my son was withdrawn from me and my immediate family by +unworthy and interested individuals, when he was about nineteen, and +after a while he was led into a new society and forsook his first +associates.</p> + +<p>In this new society he forgot every feeling of duty and respect to me +and to Lady Shelley.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>Mrs. Shelley was, I have been told, the intimate friend of my son in +the lifetime of his first wife, and to the time of her death, and in +no small degree, as I suspect, estranged my son’s mind from his +family, and all his first duties in life; with that impression on my +mind, I cannot agree with your Lordship that, though my son was +unfortunate, Mrs. Shelley is innocent; on the contrary, I think that +her conduct was the very reverse of what it ought to have been, and I +must, therefore, decline all interference in matters in which Mrs. +Shelley is interested. As to the child, I am inclined to afford the +means of a suitable protection and care of him in this country, if he +shall be placed with a person I shall approve; but your Lordship will +allow me to say that the means I can furnish will be limited, as I +have important duties to perform towards others, which I cannot +forget.</p> + +<p>I have thus plainly told your Lordship my determination, in the hope +that I may be spared from all further correspondence on a subject so +distressing to me and my family.</p> + +<p>With respect to the will and certificates, I have no observation to +make. I have left them with Mr. Whitton, and if anything is necessary +to be done with them on my part, he will, I am sure, do it.—I have +the honour, my Lord, to be your Lordship’s most obedient humble +servant,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">T. Shelley</span>.</p></div> + +<p>Granting the point of view from which it was written, this letter, though +hard, was not unnatural. The author of <i>Adonais</i> was, to Sir Timothy, a +common reprobate, a prodigal who, having gone into a far country, would +have devoured his father’s living—could he have got it—with harlots; but +who had come there to well-deserved grief, and for whose widow even husks +were too good. To any possible colouring or modification of this view he +had resolutely shut his eyes and ears. No<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> modification of his conclusions +was, therefore, to be looked for.</p> + +<p>But neither could it be expected that his point of view should be +intelligible to Mary. Nor did it commend itself to Godwin. It would have +been as little for his daughter’s interest as for her happiness to +surrender the custody of her child.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley to Lord Byron.</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Lord Byron</span>— ... It appears to me that the mode in which Sir +Timothy Shelley expresses himself about my child plainly shows by what +mean principles he would be actuated. He does not offer him an asylum +in his own house, but a beggarly provision under the care of a +stranger.</p> + +<p>Setting aside that, I would not part with him. Something is due to me. +I should not live ten days separated from him. If it were necessary +for me to die for his benefit the sacrifice would be easy; but his +delicate frame requires all a mother’s solicitude; nor shall he be +deprived of my anxious love and assiduous attention to his happiness +while I have it in my power to bestow it on him; not to mention that +his future respect for his excellent Father and his moral wellbeing +greatly depend upon his being away from the immediate influence of his +relations.</p> + +<p>This, perhaps, you will think nonsense, and it is inconceivably +painful to me to discuss a point which appears to me as clear as +noonday; besides I lose all—all honourable station and name—when I +admit that I am not a fitting person to take charge of my infant. The +insult is keen; the pretence of heaping it upon me too gross; the +advantage to them, if the will came to be contested, would be too +immense.</p> + +<p>As a matter of feeling, I would never consent to it. I am said to have +a cold heart; there are feelings, however, so strongly implanted in my +nature that, to root them out, life will go with it.—Most truly +yours,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley</span>.</p> + + +<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Godwin to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Strand</span>, <i>14th February 1823</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mary</span>—I have this moment received a copy of Sir Timothy +Shelley’s letter to Lord Byron, dated 6th February, and which, +therefore, you will have seen long before this reaches you. You will +easily imagine how anxious I am to hear from you, and to know the +state of your feelings under this, which seems like the last, blow of +fate.</p> + +<p>I need not, of course, attempt to assist your judgment upon the +proposition of taking the child from you. I am sure your feelings +would never allow you to entertain such a proposition.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>I requested you to let Lord Byron’s letter to Sir Timothy Shelley pass +through my hands, and you did so; but to my great mortification, it +reached me sealed with his Lordship’s arms, so that I remained wholly +ignorant of its contents. If you could send me a copy, I should be +then much better acquainted with your present situation.</p> + +<p>Your novel is now fully printed and ready for publication. I have +taken great liberties with it, and I fear your <i>amour propre</i> will be +proportionately shocked. I need not tell you that all the merit of the +book is exclusively your own. Beatrice is the jewel of the book; not +but that I greatly admire Euthanasia, and I think the characters of +Pepi, Binda, and the witch decisive efforts of original genius. I am +promised a character of the work in the <i>Morning Chronicle</i> and the +<i>Herald</i>, and was in hopes to have sent you the one or the other by +this time. I also sent a copy of the book to the <i>Examiner</i> for the +same purpose.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Tuesday, 18th February.</i></p> + +<p>Do not, I entreat you, be cast down about your worldly circumstances. +You certainly contain within yourself the means of your subsistence. +Your talents are truly extraordinary. <i>Frankenstein</i> is universally +known, and though it can never be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> a book for vulgar reading, is +everywhere respected. It is the most wonderful work to have been +written at twenty years of age that I ever heard of. You are now five +and twenty, and, most fortunately, you have pursued a course of +reading, and cultivated your mind, in a manner the most admirably +adapted to make you a great and successful author. If you cannot be +independent, who should be?</p> + +<p>Your talents, as far as I can at present discern, are turned for the +writing of fictitious adventures.</p> + +<p>If it shall ever happen to you to be placed in sudden and urgent want +of a small sum, I entreat you to let me know immediately; we must see +what I can do. We must help one another.—Your affectionate Father,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">William Godwin</span>.</p></div> + +<p>Mary felt the truth of what her father said, but, wounded and embittered +as she was, she had little heart for framing plans.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Journal, February 24.</i>—Evils throng around me, my beloved, and I +have indeed lost all in losing thee. Were it not for my child, this +would be rather a soothing reflection, and, if starvation were my +fate, I should fulfil that fate without a sigh. But our child demands +all my care now that you have left us. I must be all to him: the +Father, death has deprived him of; the relations, the bad world +permits him not to have. What is yet in store for me? Am I to close +the eyes of our boy, and then join you?</p> + +<p>The last weeks have been spent in quiet. Study could not give repose +to, but somewhat regulated, my thoughts. I said: “I lead an innocent +life, and it may become a useful one. I have talent, I will improve +that talent; and if, while meditating on the wisdom of ages, and +storing my mind with all that has been recorded of it, any new light +bursts upon me, or any discovery occurs that may be useful to my +fellows, then the balm of utility may be added to innocence.</p> + +<p>What is it that moves up and down in my soul, and makes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> me feel as if +my intellect could master all but my fate? I fear it is only youthful +ardour—the yet untamed spirit which, wholly withdrawn from the hopes, +and almost from the affections of life, indulges itself in the only +walk free to it, and, mental exertion being all my thought except +regret, would make me place my hopes in that. I am indeed become a +recluse in thought and act; and my mind, turned heavenward, would, but +for my only tie, lose all commune with what is around me. If I be +proud, yet it is with humility that I am so. I am not vain. My heart +shakes with its suppressed emotions, and I flag beneath the thoughts +that oppress me.</p> + +<p>Each day, as I have taken my solitary walk, I have felt myself exalted +with the idea of occupation, improvement, knowledge, and peace. +Looking back to my life as a delicious dream, I steeled myself as well +as I could against such severe regrets as should overthrow my +calmness. Once or twice, pausing in my walk, I have exclaimed in +despair, “Is it even so?” yet, for the most part resigned, I was +occupied by reflection—on those ideas you, my beloved, planted in my +mind—and meditated on our nature, our source, and our destination. +To-day, melancholy would invade me, and I thought the peace I enjoyed +was transient. Then that letter came to place its seal on my +prognostications. Yet it was not the refusal, or the insult heaped +upon me, that stung me to tears. It was their bitter words about our +Boy. Why, I live only to keep him from their hands. How dared they +dream that I held him not far more precious than all, save the hope of +again seeing you, my lost one. But for his smiles, where should I now be?</p> + +<p>Stars that shine unclouded, ye cannot tell me what will be—yet I can +tell you a part. I may have misgivings, weaknesses, and momentary +lapses into unworthy despondency, but—save in devotion towards my +Boy—fortune has emptied her quiver, and to all her future shafts I +oppose courage, hopelessness of aught on this side, with a firm trust +in what is beyond the grave.</p> + +<p>Visit me in my dreams to-night, my beloved Shelley! kind,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> loving, +excellent as thou wert! and the event of this day shall be forgotten.</p> + +<p><i>March 19.</i>—As I have until now recurred to this book to discharge +into it the overflowings of a mind too full of the bitterest waters of +life, so will I to-night, now that I am calm, put down some of my +milder reveries; that, when I turn it over, I may not only find a +record of the most painful thoughts that ever filled a human heart +even to distraction.</p> + +<p>I am beginning seriously to educate myself; and in another place I +have marked the scope of this somewhat tardy education, intellectually +considered. In a moral point of view, this education is of some years’ +standing, and it only now takes the form of seeking its food in books. +I have long accustomed myself to the study of my own heart, and have +sought and found in its recesses that which cannot embody itself in +words—hardly in feelings. I have found strength in the conception of +its faculties; much native force in the understanding of them; and +what appears to me not a contemptible penetration in the subtle +divisions of good and evil. But I have found less strength of +self-support, of resistance to what is vulgarly called temptation; yet +I think also that I have found true humility (for surely no one can be +less presumptuous than I), an ardent love for the immutable laws of +right, much native goodness of emotion, and purity of thought.</p> + +<p>Enough, if every day I gain a profounder knowledge of my defects, and +a more certain method of turning them to a good direction.</p> + +<p>Study has become to me more necessary than the air I breathe. In the +questioning and searching turn it gives to my thoughts, I find some +relief to wild reverie; in the self-satisfaction I feel in commanding +myself, I find present solace; in the hope that thence arises, that I +may become more worthy of my Shelley, I find a consolation that even +makes me less wretched than in my most wretched moments.</p> + +<p><i>March 30.</i>—I have now finished part of the <i>Odyssey</i>. I mark this. I +cannot write. Day after day I suffer the most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> tremendous agitation. I +cannot write, or read, or think. Whether it be the anxiety for letters +that shakes a frame not so strong as hitherto—whether it be my +annoyances here—whether it be my regrets, my sorrow, and despair, or +all these—I know not; but I am a wreck.</p></div> + +<p>A letter from Trelawny gladdened her heart. It said—</p> + +<p class="blockquot">I must confess I am to blame in not having sooner written, +particularly as I have received two letters from you here. Nothing +particular has happened to me since our parting but a desperate +assault of Maremma fever, which had nearly reunited me to my friends, +or, as Iago says, removed me. On my arrival here, my first object was +to see the grave of the noble Shelley, and I was most indignant at +finding him confusedly mingled in a heap with five or six common +vagabonds. I instantly set about removing this gross neglect, and +selecting the only interesting spot. I enclosed it apart from all +possibility of sacrilegious intrusion, and removed his ashes to it, +placed a stone over it, am now planting it, and have ordered a granite +to be prepared for myself, which I shall place in this beautiful +recess (of which the enclosed is a drawing I took), for when I am +dead, I have none to do me this service, so shall at least give one +instance in my life of proficiency.</p> + +<p>In reply Mary wrote informing him of her change of plan, and begging for +all minute details about the tomb, which she was not likely, now, to see. +Trelawny was expecting soon to rejoin Byron at Genoa, but he wrote at +once.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Rome</span>, <i>27th April 1823</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>—I should have sooner replied to your last, but that I +concluded you must have seen Roberts, who is or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> ought to be at Genoa. +He will tell you that the ashes are buried in the new enclosed +Protestant burying-ground, which is protected by a wall and gates from +every possible molestation, and that the ashes are so placed apart, +and yet in the centre and most conspicuous spot of the burying-ground. +I have just planted six young cypresses and four laurels, in front of +the recess you see by the drawing is formed by two projecting parts of +the old ruin. My own stone, a plain slab till I can decide on some +fitting inscription, is placed on the left hand. I have likewise dug +my grave, so that, when I die, there is only to lift up my coverlet +and roll me into it. You may lie on the other side, if you like. It is +a lovely spot. The only inscription on Shelley’s stone, besides the +<i>Cor cordium</i> of Hunt, are the lines I have added from Shakespeare—</p> + +<p class="poem">Nothing of him that doth fade,<br /> +But doth suffer a sea-change<br /> +Into something rich and strange.</p> + +<p>This quotation, by its double meaning, alludes both to the manner of +his death and his genius, and I think the element on which his soul +took wing, and the subtle essence of his being mingled, may still +retain him in some other shape. The waters may keep the dead, as the +earth may, and fire and air. His passionate fondness might have been +from some secret sympathy in their natures. Thence the fascination +which so forcibly attracted him, without fear or caution, to trust an +element almost all others hold in superstitious dread, and venture as +cautiously on as they would in a lair of lions. I have just compiled +an epitaph for Keats and sent it to Severn, who likes it much better +than the one he had designed. He had already designed a lyre with only +two of the strings strung, as indicating the unaccomplished maturity +and ripening of his genius. He had intended a long inscription about +his death having been caused by the <i>neglect</i> of his countrymen, and +that, as a mark of his displeasure, he said—thus and then. What I +wished to substitute is simply thus—</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +Here lies the spoils<br /> +of a<br /> +Young English Poet,<br /> +“Whose master-hand is cold, whose silver lyre unstrung,”<br /> +And by whose desire is inscribed,<br /> +That his name was writ in water.</p> + +<p>The line quoted, you remember, is in Shelley, <i>Adonais</i>, and the last +Keats desired might be engraved on his tomb. Ask Hunt if he thinks it +will do, and to think of something to put on my ante-dated grave. I am +very anxious to hear how Marianne is getting on, and Hunt. You never +mention a word of them or the <i>Liberal</i>.</p> + +<p>I have been delayed here longer than I had intended, from want of +money, having lent and given it away thoughtlessly. However, old Dunn +has sent me a supply, so I shall go on to Florence on Monday. I will +assuredly see you before you go, and, if my exchequer is not +exhausted, go part of the way with you. However, I will write further +on this topic at Florence. Do not go to England, to encounter poverty +and bitter retrospections. Stay in Italy. I will most gladly share my +income with you, and if, under the same circumstances, you would do +the same by me, why then you will not hesitate to accept it. I know of +nothing would give me half so much pleasure. As you say, in a few +years we shall both be better off. Commend me to Marianne and Hunt, +and believe me, yours affectionately,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">E. Trelawny</span>.</p> + +<p>Poste Restante a Gènes.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>You need not tell me that all your thoughts are concentrated on the +memory of your loss, for I have observed it, with great regret and +some astonishment. You tell me nothing in your letters of how the +<i>Liberal</i> is getting on. Why do you not send me a number? How many +have come out? Does Hunt stay at Genoa the summer, and what does Lord +Byron determine on? I am told the <i>Bolivar</i> is lent to some one, and +at sea. Where is Jane? and is Mrs. Hunt likely to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> recover? I shall +certainly go on to Switzerland if I can raise the wind.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley to Trelawny.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>10th May 1823.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Trelawny</span>—You appear to have fulfilled my entire wish in all +you have done at Rome. Do you remember the day you made that quotation +from Shakespeare in our living room at Pisa? Mine own Shelley was +delighted with it, and thus it has for me a pleasing association. Some +time hence I may visit the spot which, of all others, I desire most to +see.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>It is not on my own account, my excellent friend, that I go to +England. I believe that my child’s interests will be best consulted by +my return to that country....</p> + +<p>Desiring solitude and my books only, together with the consciousness +that I have one or two friends who, although absent, still think of me +with affection, England of course holds out no inviting prospect to +me. But I am sure to be rewarded in doing or suffering for my little +darling, so I am resigned to this last act, which seems to snap the +sole link which bound the present to the past, and to tear aside the +veil which I have endeavoured to draw over the desolations of my +situation. Your kindness I shall treasure up to comfort me in future +ill. I shall repeat to myself, I have such a friend, and endeavour to +deserve it.</p> + +<p>Do you go to Greece? Lord Byron continues in the same mind. The G—— +is an obstacle, and certainly her situation is rather a difficult one. +But he does not seem disposed to make a mountain of her resistance, +and he is far more able to take a decided than a petty step in +contradiction to the wishes of those about him. If you do go, it may +hasten your return hither. I remain until Mrs. Hunt’s confinement is +over; had it not been for that, the fear of a hot journey would have +caused me to go in this month,—but my desire to be useful to her, and +my anxiety concerning the event of so momentous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> a crisis has induced +me to stay. You may think with what awe and terror I look forward to +the decisive moment, but I hope for the best. She is as well, perhaps +better, than we could in any way expect.</p> + +<p>I had no opportunity to send you a second No. of the <i>Liberal</i>; we +only received it a short time ago, and then you were on the wing: the +third number has come out, and we had a copy by post. It has little in +it we expected, but it is an amusing number, and L. B. is better +pleased with it than any other....</p> + +<p>I trust that I shall see you soon, and then I shall hear all your +news. I shall see you—but it will be for so short a time—I fear even +that you will not go to Switzerland; but these things I must not dwell +upon,—partings and separations, when there is no circumstance to +lessen any pang. I must brace my mind, not enervate it, for I know I +shall have much to endure.</p> + +<p>I asked Hunt’s opinion about your epitaph for Keats; he said that the +line from <i>Adonais</i>, though beautiful in itself, might be applied to +any poet, in whatever circumstances or whatever age, that died; and +that to be in accord with the two-stringed lyre, you ought to select +one that alluded to his youth and immature genius. A line to this +effect you might find in <i>Adonais</i>.</p> + +<p>Among the fragments of my lost Shelley, I found the following poetical +commentary on the words of Keats,—not that I recommend it for the +epitaph, but it may please you to see it.</p> + +<p class="poem">Here lieth one, whose name was writ in water,<br /> +But, ere the breath that could erase it blew,<br /> +Death, in remorse for that fell slaughter,<br /> +Death, the immortalising winter, flew<br /> +Athwart the stream, and time’s mouthless torrent grew<br /> +A scroll of crystal, emblazoning the name<br /> +Of Adonais.</p> + +<p>I have not heard from Jane lately; she was well when she last wrote, +but annoyed by various circumstances, and impatient of her lengthened +stay in England. How earnestly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> do I hope that Edward’s brother will +soon arrive, and show himself worthy of his affinity to the noble and +unequalled creature she has lost, by protecting one to whom protection +is so necessary, and shielding her from some of the ills to which she +is exposed.</p> + +<p>Adieu, my dear Trelawny. Continue to think kindly of me, and trust in +my unalterable friendship.</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley.</span></p> + +<p>Albaro, 10th May.</p></div> + +<p>On his journey to Genoa, Trelawny stayed a night at Lerici, and paid a +last visit to the Villa Magni. There, “sleeping still on the mud floor,” +its mast and oars broken, was Shelley’s little skiff, the “Boat on the +Serchio.”</p> + +<p>He mounted the “stairs, or rather ladder,” into the dining-room.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">As I surveyed its splotchy walls, broken floor, cracked ceiling, and +poverty-struck appearance, while I noted the loneliness of the +situation, and remembered the fury of the waves that in blowing +weather lashed its walls, I did not marvel at Mrs. Shelley’s and Mrs. +Williams’ groans on first entering it; nor that it had required all +Ned Williams’ persuasive powers to induce them to stop there.</p> + +<p>But these things were all far away in the past.</p> + +<p class="poem"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">As music and splendour</span><br /> +Survive not the lamp and the lute,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The heart’s echoes render</span><br /> +No song when the spirit is mute.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No song but sad dirges,</span><br /> +Like the wind through a ruined cell,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or the mournful surges</span><br /> +That ring the dead seaman’s knell.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>At Genoa he found the “Pilgrim” in a state of supreme indecision. He had +left him discontented when he departed in December. The new magazine was +not a success. Byron had expected that other literary and journalistic +advantages, leading to fame and power, would accrue to him from the +coalition with Leigh Hunt and Shelley, but in this he was disappointed, +and he was left to bear the responsibility of the partnership alone.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“The death of Shelley and the failure of the <i>Liberal</i> irritated +Byron,” writes Trelawny; “the cuckoo-note, ‘I told you so,’ sung by +his friends, and the loud crowing of enemies, by no means allayed his +ill humour. In this frame of mind he was continually planning how to +extricate himself. His plea for hoarding was that he might have a good +round tangible sum of current coin to aid him in any emergency....</p> + +<p>“He exhausted himself in planning, projecting, beginning, wishing, +intending, postponing, regretting, and doing nothing: the unready are +fertile in excuses, and his were inexhaustible.”</p></div> + +<p>Since that time he had been flattered and persuaded into joining the Greek +Committee, formed in London to aid the Greeks in their war of +independence. Byron’s name and great popularity would be a tower of +strength to them. Their proposals came to him at a right moment, when he +was dissatisfied with himself and his position. He hesitated for months +before committing himself, and finally summoned Trelawny, in peremptory +terms, to come to him and go with him.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="right"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span><i>15th June 1823.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear T.</span>—You must have heard that I am going to Greece. Why do you +not come to me? I want your aid and am extremely anxious to see +you.... They all say I can be of use in Greece. I do not know how, nor +do they; but, at all events, let us go.—Yours, etc., truly,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">N. Byron</span>.</p></div> + +<p>And, always ready for adventure, the “Pirate” came. Before his arrival +Mary’s journey had been decided on. Mrs. Hunt’s confinement was over: she +and the infant had both done well, and she was now in a fair way to live, +in tolerable health, for many years longer. Want of funds was now the +chief obstacle in Mary’s way, but Byron was no longer ready, as he had +been, with offers of help. Changeable as the wind, and utterly unable to +put himself in another person’s place, he, without absolutely declining to +fulfil his promises, made so many words about it, and treated the matter +as so great a favour on his own part, that Mary at last declined his +assistance, although it obliged her to take advantage of Trelawny’s +often-repeated offers of help, which she would not rather have accepted, +as he was poor, while Byron was rich. The whole story unfolds itself in +the three ensuing letters.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley to Jane Williams</span>.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Albaro, near Genoa</span>, <i>July 1823</i>.</p> + +<p>I write to you in preference to my Father, because you, to a great +degree, understand the person I have to deal with, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> in +communicating what I say concerning him, you can, <i>viva voce</i>, add +such comments as will render my relation more intelligible.</p> + +<p>The day after Marianne’s confinement, the 9th June, seeing all went on +so prosperously, I told Lord Byron that I was ready to go, and he +promised to provide means. When I talked of going post, it was because +he said that I should go so, at the same time declaring that he would +regulate all himself. I waited in vain for these arrangements. But, +not to make a long story, since I hope soon to be able to relate the +details—he chose to transact our negotiation through Hunt, and gave +such an air of unwillingness and sense of the obligation he conferred, +as at last provoked Hunt to say that there was no obligation, since he +owed me £1000.</p> + +<p class="poem">Glad of a quarrel, straight I clap the door!</p> + +<p>Still keeping up an appearance of amity with Hunt, he has written +notes and letters so full of contempt against me and my lost Shelley +that I could stand it no longer, and have refused to receive his still +proffered aid for my journey. This, of course, delays me. I can muster +about £30 of my own. I do not know whether this is barely +sufficient, but as the delicate constitution of my child may oblige me +to rest several times on the journey, I cannot persuade myself to +commence my journey with what is barely necessary. I have written, +therefore, to Trelawny for the sum requisite, and must wait till I +hear from him. I see you, my poor girl, sigh over these mischances, +but never mind, I do not feel them. My life is a shifting scene, and +my business is to play the part allotted for each day well, and, not +liking to think of to-morrow, I never think of it at all, except in an +intellectual way; and as to money difficulties, why, having nothing, I +can lose nothing. Thus, as far as regards what are called worldly +concerns, I am perfectly tranquil, and as free or freer from care as +if my signature should be able to draw £1000 from some banker. The +extravagance and anger of Lord Byron’s letters also relieve me from +all pain that his dereliction might occasion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> me, and that his +conscience twinges him is too visible from his impatient kicks and +unmannerly curvets. You would laugh at his last letter to Hunt, when +he says concerning his connection with Shelley “that he let himself +down to the level of the democrats.”</p> + +<p>In the meantime Hunt is all kindness, consideration, and +friendship—all feeling of alienation towards me has disappeared even +to its last dregs. He perfectly approves of what I have done. So I am +still in Italy, and I doubt not but that its sun and vivifying +geniality relieve me from those biting cares which would be mine in +England, I fear, if I were destitute there. But I feel above the mark +of Fortune, and my heart too much wounded to feel these pricks, on all +occasions that do not regard its affections, <i>s’arma di se, e d’intero +diamante</i>. Thus am I changed; too late, alas! for what ought to have +been, but not too late, I trust, to enable me, more than before, to be +some stay and consolation to my own dear Jane.</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary.</span></p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley</span>.</p> + +<p class="right"><i>Saturday.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>—Will you tell me what sum you want, as I am settling my +affairs? You must from time to time let me know your wants, that I may +do my best to relieve them. You are sure of me, so let us use no more +words about it. I have been racking my memory to remember some person +in England that would be of service to you for my sake, but my rich +friends and relations are without hearts, and it is useless to +introduce you to the unfortunate; it would but augment your repinings +at the injustice of Fortune. My knight-errant heart has led me many a +weary journey foolishly seeking the unfortunate, the miserable, and +the outcast; and when found, I have only made myself as one of them +without redressing their grievances, so I pray you avoid, as you value +your peace of mind, the wretched. I shall see you, I hope, +to-day.—Yours very faithfully,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">E. Trelawny</span>.</p> + + +<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley to Jane Williams</span>.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Albaro</span>, <i>23d July 1823</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dearest Jane</span>—I have at length fixed with the <i>vetturino</i>. I depart on +the 25th, my best girl. I leave Italy; I return to the dreariest +reality after having dreamt away a year in this blessed and beloved +country.</p> + +<p>Lord Byron, Trelawny, and Pierino Gamba sailed for Greece on the 17th +inst. I did not see the former. His unconquerable avarice prevented +his supplying me with money, and a remnant of shame caused him to +avoid me. But I have a world of things to tell you on that score when +I see you. If he were mean, Trelawny more than balanced the moral +account. His whole conduct during his last stay here has impressed us +all with an affectionate regard, and a perfect faith in the +unalterable goodness of his heart. They sailed together; Lord Byron +with £10,000, Trelawny with £50, and Lord Byron cowering before +his eye for reasons you shall hear soon. The Guiccioli is gone to +Bologna—<i>e poi cosa farà? Chi lo sa? Cosa vuoi che lo dico?</i>...</p> + +<p>I travel without a servant. I rest first at Lyons; but do you write to +me at Paris, Hotel Nelson. It will be a friend to await me. Alas! I +have need of consolation. Hunt’s kindness is now as active and warm as +it was dormant before; but just as I find a companion in him I leave +him. I leave him in all his difficulties, with his head throbbing with +overwrought thoughts, and his frame sometimes sinking under his +anxieties. Poor Marianne has found good medicine, <i>facendo un bimbo</i>, +and then nursing it, but she, with her female providence, is more bent +by care than Hunt. How much I wished, and wish, to settle near them at +Florence; but I must submit with courage, and patience may at last +come and give opiate to my irritable feelings.</p> + +<p>Both Hunt and Trelawny say that Percy is much improved since Maria +left me. He is affectionately attached to Sylvan, and very fond of +<i>Bimbo nuovo</i>. He kisses him by the hour,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> and tells me, <i>Come il +Signore Enrico ha comprato un Baby nuovo—forse ti darà il Baby +vecchio</i>, as he gives away an old toy on the appearance of a new one.</p> + +<p>I will not write longer. In conversation, nay, almost in thought, I +can, at this most painful moment, force my excited feelings to laugh +at themselves, and my spirits, raised by emotion, to seem as if they +were light, but the natural current and real hue overflows me and +penetrates me when I write, and it would be painful to you, and +overthrow all my hopes of retaining my fortitude, if I were to write +one word that truly translated the agitation I suffer into language.</p> + +<p>I will write again from Lyons, where I suppose I shall be on the 3d of +August. Dear Jane, can I render you happier than you are? The idea of +that might console me, at least you will see one that truly loves you, +and who is for ever your affectionately attached</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley</span>.</p> + +<p>If there is any talk of my accommodations, pray tell Mrs. Gisborne +that I cannot sleep on any but a <i>hard</i> bed. I care not how hard, so +that it be a mattress.</p></div> + +<p>And now Mary’s life in Italy was at an end. Her resolution of returning to +England had been welcomed by her father in the letter which follows, and +it was to his house, and not to Mrs. Gisborne’s that she finally decided +to go on first arriving.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Godwin to Mary</span>.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">No. 195 Strand</span>, <i>6th May 1823</i>.</p> + +<p>It certainly is, my dear Mary, with great pleasure that I anticipate +that we shall once again meet. It is a long, long time now since you +have spent one night under my roof. You are grown a woman, have been a +wife, a mother, a widow. You have realised talents which I but faintly +and doubtfully anticipated. I am grown an old man, and want a child of +my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> own to smile on and console me. I shall then feel less alone than +I do at present.</p> + +<p>What William will be, I know not; he has sufficient understanding and +quickness for the ordinary concerns of life, and something more; and, +at any rate, he is no smiler, no consoler.</p> + +<p>When you first set your foot in London, of course I and Mamma expect +that it will be in this house. But the house is smaller, one floor +less, than the house in Skinner Street. It will do well enough for you +to make shift with for a few days, but it would not do for a permanent +residence. But I hope we shall at least have you near us, within a +call. How different from your being on the shores of the +Mediterranean!</p> + +<p>Your novel has sold five hundred copies—half the impression.</p> + +<p>Peacock sent your box by the <i>Berbice</i>, Captain Wayth. I saw him a +fortnight ago, and he said that he had not yet received the bill of +lading himself, but he should be sure to have it in time, and would +send it. I ought to have written to you sooner. Your letter reached me +on the 18th ult., but I have been unusually surrounded with +perplexities.—Your affectionate Father,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">William Godwin</span>.</p></div> + +<p>On the 25th of July she left Genoa, Hunt accompanying her for the first +twenty miles. If one thought more than any other sustained her in her +unprotected loneliness, it was that of being reunited in England to her +sister in misfortune, Jane Williams, to whom her heart turned with a +singular tenderness, and to whom on her journey she addressed one more +letter, full of grateful affection and of a touching humility, new in her +character.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley to Jane Williams.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">St. Jean de la Maurienne</span>,<br /> +<span style="padding-right: 2em;"><i>30th July 1823</i>.</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My best Jane</span>—I wrote to you from Genoa the day before I quitted it, +but I afterwards lost the letter. I asked the Hunts to look for it, +and send it if found, but ten to one you will never receive it. It +contained nothing, however, but what I can tell you in five minutes if +I see you. It told you of the departure of Lord Byron and Trelawny for +Greece, the former escaping with all his crowns, and the other +disbursing until he had hardly £10 left. It went to my heart to +borrow the sum from him necessary to make up my journey, but he +behaved with so much quiet generosity that one was almost glad to put +him to that proof, and witness the excellence of his heart. In this +and in another trial he acquitted himself so well that he gained all +our hearts, while the other—but more when we meet.</p> + +<p>I left Genoa Thursday, 25th. Hunt and Thornton accompanied me the +first twenty miles. This was much, you will say, for Hunt. But, thank +heaven, we are now the best friends in the world. He set his heart on +my quitting Italy with as comfortable feelings as possible, and he did +so much that notwithstanding all the [bitterness] that such an event, +joined to parting with a dear friend, occasioned me, yet I have borne +up with better spirits than I could in any way have hoped. It is a +delightful thing, my dear Jane, to be able to express one’s affection +upon an old and tried friend like Hunt, and one so passionately +attached to my Shelley as he was, and is. It is pleasant also to feel +myself loved by one who loves me. You know somewhat of what I suffered +during the winter, during his alienation from me. He was displeased +with me for many just reasons, but he found me willing to expiate, as +far as I could, the evil I had done, so his heart was again warmed; +and if, my dear friend, when I return, you find me more amiable and +more willing to suffer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> with patience than I was, it is to him that I +owe this benefit, and you may judge if I ought not to be grateful to +him. I am even so to Lord Byron, who was the cause that I stayed at +Genoa, and thus secured one who, I am sure, can never change.</p> + +<p>The illness of one of our horses detains me here an afternoon, so I +write, and shall put the letter in the post at Chambéry. I have come +without a servant or companion; but Percy is perfectly good, and no +trouble to me at all. We are both well; a little tired or so. Will you +tell my Father that you have heard from me, and that I am so far on my +journey. I expect to be at Lyons in three days, and will write to him +from that place. If there be any talk of my accommodations, pray put +in a word for a <i>hard</i> bed, for else I am sure I cannot sleep.</p> + +<p>So I have left Italy, and alone with my child I am travelling to +England. What a dream I have had! and is it over? Oh no! for I do +nothing but dream; realities seem to have lost all power over me,—I +mean, as it were, mere tangible realities,—for, where the affections +are concerned, calamity has only awakened greater sensitiveness.</p> + +<p>I fear things do not go on well with you, my dearest girl! you are not +in your mother’s house, and you cannot have settled your affairs in +India,—mine too! Why, I arrive poor to nothingness, and my hopes are +small, except from my own exertions; and living in England is dear. My +thoughts will all bend towards Italy; but even if Sir Timothy Shelley +should do anything, he will not, I am sure, permit me to go abroad. At +any rate we shall be together a while. We will talk of our lost ones, +and think of realising my dreams; who knows? Adieu, I shall soon see +you, and you will find how truly I am your affectionate</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley</span>.</p></div> + +<p>With the following fragment, the last of her Italian journal, this chapter +may fitly close.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span><i>Journal, May 31.</i>—The +lanes are filled with fire-flies; they dart between the trunks of the trees, and people the land with earth-stars. +I walked among them to-night, and descended towards the sea. I passed +by the ruined church, and stood on the platform that overlooks the +beach. The black rocks were stretched out among the blue waters, which +dashed with no impetuous motion against them. The dark boats, with +their white sails, glided gently over its surface, and the +star-enlightened promontories closed in the bay: below, amid the +crags, I heard the monotonous but harmonious voices of the fishermen.</p> + +<p>How beautiful these shores, and this sea! Such is the scene—such the +waves within which my beloved vanished from mortality.</p> + +<p>The time is drawing near when I must quit this country. It is true +that, in the situation I now am, Italy is but the corpse of the +enchantress that she was. Besides, if I had stayed here, the state of +things would have been different. The idea of our child’s advantage +alone enables me to keep fixed in my resolution to return to England. +It is best for him—and I go.</p> + +<p>Four years ago we lost our darling William; four years ago, in +excessive agony, I called for death to free me from all I felt that I +should suffer here. I continue to live, and <i>thou</i> art gone. I leave +Italy and the few that still remain to me. That I regret less; for our +intercourse is so much chequered with all of dross that this earth so +delights to blend with kindness and sympathy, that I long for +solitude, with the exercise of such affections as still remain to me. +Away, I shall be conscious that these friends love me, and none can +then gainsay the pure attachment which chiefly clings to them because +they knew and loved you—because I knew them when with you, and I +cannot think of them without feeling your spirit beside me.</p> + +<p>I cannot grieve for you, beloved Shelley; I grieve for thy +friends—for the world—for thy child—most for myself, enthroned in +thy love, growing wiser and better beneath thy gentle influence, +taught by you the highest philosophy—your <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>pupil, friend, lover, +wife, mother of your children! The glory of the dream is gone. I am a +cloud from which the light of sunset has passed. Give me patience in +the present struggle. <i>Meum cordium cor!</i> Good-night!</p> + +<p class="poem">I would give all that I am to be as now thou art,<br /> +But I am chained to time, and cannot thence depart.</p></div> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<p class="title"><span class="smcap">July 1823-December 1824</span></p> + +<p>Mary’s journey extended over a month, one week of which was passed in +Paris and Versailles, for the sake of seeing the Horace Smiths and other +old acquaintances now living there. Her letters to the Hunts, describing +the incidents and impressions of her journey, were as lively and cheerful +as she could make them. A few extracts follow here.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">To Leigh Hunt.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Asti</span>, <i>26th July</i>.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>Percy is very good and does not in the least <i>annoy</i> me. In the state +of mind I am now in, the motion and change is delightful to me: my +thoughts run with the coach and wind, and double, and jerk, and are up +and down, and forward, and most often backward, till the labyrinth of +Crete is a joke in comparison to my intricate wanderings. They now +lead me to you, Hunt. You rose early, wrote, walked, dined, whistled, +sang and punned most outrageously, the worst puns in the world. My +best Polly, you, full of your chicks and of your new darling, yet +sometimes called “Henry” to see a beautiful new effect of light on the +mountains.... Dear girl, I have a great affection for you, believe +that, and don’t talk or think<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> sorrowfully, unless you have the +toothache, and then don’t think, but talk infinite nonsense mixed with +infinite sense, and Hunt will listen, as I used. Thorny, you have not +been cross yet. Oh, my dear Johnny (don’t be angry, Polly, with this +nonsense), do not let your impatient nature ever overcome you, or you +may suffer as I have done—which God forbid! Be true to yourself, and +talk much to your Father, who will teach you as he has taught me. It +is the idea of his lessons of wisdom that makes me feel the affection +I do for him. I profit by them, so do you: may you never feel the +remorse of having neglected them when his voice and look are gone, and +he can no longer talk to you; that remorse is a terrible feeling, and +it requires a faith and a philosophy immense not to be destroyed by +the stinging monster.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>28th July.</i></p> + +<p>... I was too late for the post yesterday at Turin, and too early this +morning, so as I determined to put this letter in the post myself, I +bring it with me to Susa, and now open it to tell you how delighted I +am with my morning’s ride—the scenery is so divine. The high, dark +Alps, just on this southern side tipt with snow, close in a plain; the +meadows are full of clover and flowers, and the woods of ash, elm, and +beech descend and spread, and lose themselves in the fields; stately +trees, in clumps or singly, arise on each side, and wherever you look +you see some spot where you dream of building a home and living for +ever. The exquisite beauty of nature, and the cloudless sky of this +summer day soothe me, and make this 28th so full of recollections that +it is almost pleasurable. Wherever the spirit of beauty dwells, <i>he</i> +must be; the rustling of the trees is full of him; the waving of the +tall grass, the moving shadows of the vast hills, the blue air that +penetrates their ravines and rests upon their heights. I feel him near +me when I see that which he best loved. Alas! nine years ago he took +to a home in his heart this weak being, whom he has now left for more +congenial spirits and happier regions. She lives only in the hope that +she may become one day as one of them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>Absolutely, my dear Hunt, I will pass some three summer months in this +divine spot, you shall all be with me. There are no gentlemen’s seats +at Palazzi, so we will take a cottage, which we will paint and refit, +just as this country here is, in which I now write, clean and plain. +We will have no servants, only we will give out all the needlework. +Marianne shall make puddings and pies, to make up for the vegetables +and meat which I shall boil and spoil. Thorny shall sweep the rooms, +Mary make the beds, Johnny clean the kettles and pans, and then we +will pop him into the many streams hereabouts, and so clean him. +Swinny, being so quick, shall be our Mercury, Percy our gardener, +Sylvan and Percy Florence our weeders, and Vincent our plaything; and +then, to raise us above the vulgar, we will do all our work, keeping +time to Hunt’s symphonies; we will perform our sweepings and dustings +to the March in <i>Alceste</i>, we will prepare our meats to the tune of +the <i>Laughing Trio</i>, and when we are tired we will lie on our turf +sofas, while all our voices shall join in chorus in <i>Notte e giorno +faticar</i>. You see my paper is quite out, so I must say, for the last +time, Adieu! God bless you.</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary W. S.</span></p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Tuesday, 5th August.</i></p> + +<p>I have your letter, and your excuses, and all. I thank you most +sincerely for it: at the same time I do entreat you to take care of +yourself with regard to writing; although your letters are worth +infinite pleasure to me, yet that pleasure cannot be worth pain to +you; and remember, if you must write, the good, hackneyed maxim of +<i>multum in parvo</i>, and, when your temples throb, distil the essence of +three pages into three lines, and my “fictitious adventure”<a name='fna_5' id='fna_5' href='#f_5'><small>[5]</small></a> will +enable me to open them out and fill up intervals. Not but what three +pages are best, but “you can understand me.” And now let me tell you +that I fear you do not rise early, since you doubt my <i>ore mattutine</i>. +Be it known to you, then, that on the journey I always rise <i>before</i> 3 +o’clock, that I <i>never</i> once made the <i>vetturino</i> wait, and, moreover, +that there was no discontent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> in our jogging on on either side, so +that I half expect to be a <i>Santa</i> with him. He indeed got a little +out of his element when he got into France,—his good humour did not +leave him, but his self-possession. He could not speak French, and he +walked about as if treading on eggs.</p> + +<p>When at Paris I will tell you more what I think of the French. They +still seem miracles of quietness in comparison with Marianne’s noisy +friends. And the women’s dresses afford the drollest contrast with +those in fashion when I first set foot in Paris in 1814. Then their +waists were between their shoulders, and, as Hogg observed, they were +rather curtains than gowns; their hair, too, dragged to the top of the +head, and then lifted to its height, appeared as if each female wished +to be a Tower of Babel in herself. Now their waists are long (not so +long, however, as the Genoese), and their hair flat at the top, with +quantities of curls on the temples. I remember, in 1814, a Frenchman’s +pathetic horror at Clare’s and my appearance in the streets of Paris +in “Oldenburgh” (as they were called) hats; now they all wear machines +of that shape, and a high bonnet would of course be as far out of the +right road as if the earth were to take a flying leap to another +system.</p> + +<p>After you receive this letter, you must direct to me at my Father’s +(pray put William Godwin, Esq., since the want of that etiquette +annoys him. I remember Shelley’s unspeakable astonishment when the +author of <i>Political Justice</i> asked him, half reproachfully, why he +addressed him <i>Mr.</i> Godwin), 195 Strand.</p></div> + +<p>On the 25th of August Mary met her father once more. At his house in the +Strand she spent her first ten days in England. Consideration for others, +and the old habit of repressing all show of feeling before Godwin helped +to steel her nerves and heart to bear the stings and aches of this +strange, mournful reunion.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>And now again, too, she saw her friend Jane. But fondly as Mary ever clung +to her, she must have been sensible of the difference between them. Mrs. +Williams’ situation was forlorn indeed; in some respects even more so than +Mrs. Shelley’s. But, though she had grieved bitterly, as well she might, +for Edward’s loss, her nature was not <i>impressible</i>, and the catastrophe +which had fallen upon her had left her unaltered. Jane was unhappy, but +she was not inconsolable; her grief was becoming to her, and lent her a +certain interest which enhanced her attractions. And to men in general she +was very attractive. Godwin himself was somewhat fascinated by the +“picturesque little woman” who had called on him on her first arrival; who +“did not drop one tear” and occasionally smiled. As for Hogg, he lost his +heart to her at once.</p> + +<p>All this Mary must have seen. But Jane was an attaching creature, and Mary +loved her as the greater nature loves the lesser; she lavished on her a +wealth of pent-up tenderness, content to get what crumbs she could in +return. For herself a curious surprise was in store, which entertained, if +it did not cheer her.</p> + +<p>Just at the time of its author’s return to England, <i>Frankenstein</i>, in a +dramatised form, was having a considerable “run” at the English Opera +House.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span><span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley to Leigh Hunt.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>9th September 1823.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Hunt</span>—Bessy promised me to relieve you from any inquietude you +might suffer from not hearing from me, so I indulged myself with not +writing to you until I was quietly settled in lodgings of my own. Want +of time is not my excuse; I had plenty, but, until I saw all quiet +around me, I had not the spirit to write a line. I thought of you +all—how much? and often longed to write, yet would not till I called +myself free to turn southward; to imagine you all, to put myself in +the midst of you, would have destroyed all my philosophy. But now I do +so. I am in little neat lodgings, my boy in bed, I quiet, and I will +now talk to you, tell you what I have seen and heard, and with as +little repining as I can, try (by making the best of what I have, the +certainty of your friendship and kindness) to rest half content that I +am not in the “Paradise of Exiles.” Well, first I will tell you, +journalwise, the history of my sixteen days in London.</p> + +<p>I arrived Monday, the 25th of August. My Father and William came for +me to the wharf. I had an excellent passage of eleven hours and a +half, a glassy sea, and a contrary wind. The smoke of our fire was +wafted right aft, and streamed out behind us; but wind was of little +consequence; the tide was with us, and though the engine gave a “short +uneasy motion” to the vessel, the water was so smooth that no one on +board was sick, and Persino played about the deck in high glee. I had +a very kind reception in the Strand, and all was done that could be +done to make me comfortable. I exerted myself to keep up my spirits. +The house, though rather dismal, is infinitely better than the Skinner +Street one. I resolved not to think of certain things, to take all as +a matter of course, and thus contrive to keep myself out of the gulf +of melancholy, on the edge of which I was and am continually peeping.</p> + +<p>But lo and behold! I found myself famous. <i>Frankenstein</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> had +prodigious success as a drama, and was about to be repeated, for the +twenty-third night, at the English Opera House. The play-bill amused +me extremely, for, in the list of <i>dramatis personæ</i>, came “——, by +Mr. T. Cooke.” This nameless mode of naming the unnameable is rather +good.</p> + +<p>On Friday, 29th August, Jane, my Father, William, and I went to the +theatre to see it. Wallack looked very well as Frankenstein. He is at +the beginning full of hope and expectation. At the end of the first +act the stage represents a room with a staircase leading to +Frankenstein’s workshop; he goes to it, and you see his light at a +small window, through which a frightened servant peeps, who runs off +in terror when Frankenstein exclaims “It lives!” Presently +Frankenstein himself rushes in horror and trepidation from the room, +and, while still expressing his agony and terror, “——” throws down +the door of the laboratory, leaps the staircase, and presents his +unearthly and monstrous person on the stage. The story is not well +managed, but Cooke played ——’s part extremely well; his seeking, as +it were, for support; his trying to grasp at the sounds he heard; all, +indeed, he does was well imagined and executed. I was much amused, and +it appeared to excite a breathless eagerness in the audience. It was a +third piece, a scanty pit filled at half-price, and all stayed till it +was over. They continue to play it even now.</p> + +<p>On Saturday, 30th August, I went with Jane to the Gisbornes. I know +not why, but seeing them seemed more than anything else to remind me +of Italy. Evening came on drearily, the rain splashed on the pavement, +nor star nor moon deigned to appear. I looked upward to seek an image +of Italy, but a blotted sky told me only of my change. I tried to +collect my thoughts, and then, again, dared not think, for I am a ruin +where owls and bats live only, and I lost my last <i>singing bird</i> when +I left Albaro. It was my birthday, and it pleased me to tell the +people so; to recollect and feel that time flies, and what is to +arrive is nearer, and my home not so far off as it was a year ago. +This same evening, on my return<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> to the Strand, I saw Lamb, who was +very entertaining and amiable, though a little deaf. One of the first + +questions he asked me was, whether they made puns in Italy: I said, +“Yes, now Hunt is there.” He said that Burney made a pun in Otaheite, +the first that was ever made in that country. At first the natives +could not make out what he meant, but all at once they discovered the +<i>pun</i>, and danced round him in transports of joy....</p> + +<p>... On the strength of the drama, my Father had published for my +benefit a new edition of <i>Frankenstein</i>, for he despaired utterly of +my doing anything with Sir Timothy Shelley. I wrote to him, however, +to tell him of my arrival, and on the following Wednesday had a note +from Whitton, where he invited me, if I wished for an explanation of +Sir T. Shelley’s intentions concerning my boy, to call on him. I went +with my Father. Whitton was very polite, though long-winded: his great +wish seemed to be to prevent my applying again to Sir T. Shelley, whom +he represented as old, infirm, and irritable. However, he advanced me +£100 for my immediate expenses, told me that he could not speak +positively until he had seen Sir T. Shelley, but that he doubted not +but that I should receive the same annually for my child, and, with a +little time and patience, I should get an allowance for myself. This, +you see, relieved me from a load of anxieties.</p> + +<p>Having secured neat cheap lodgings, we removed hither last night. +Such, dear Hunt, is the outline of your poor exile’s history. After +two days of rain, the weather has been <i>uncommonly</i> fine, <i>cioè</i>, +without rain, and cloudless, I believe, though I trusted to other eyes +for that fact, since the white-washed sky is anything but blue to any +but the perceptions of the natives themselves. It is so cold, however, +that the fire I am now sitting by is not the first that has been +lighted, for my Father had one two days ago. The wind is east and +piercing, but I comfort myself with the hope that softer gales are now +fanning your <i>not</i> throbbing temples, that the climate of Florence +will prove kindly to you, and that your health and spirits will return +to you. Why am I not there? This is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> quite a foreign country to me, +the names of the places sound strangely, the voices of the people are +new and grating, the vulgar English they speak particularly +displeasing. But for my Father, I should be with you next spring, but +his heart and soul are set on my stay, and in this world it always +seems one’s duty to sacrifice one’s own desires, and that claim ever +appears the strongest which claims such a sacrifice.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> +</div> + +<p>It is difficult to imagine <i>Frankenstein</i> on the stage; it must, at least, +lose very much in dramatic representation. Like its modern successor, <i>Dr. +Jekyll and Mr. Hyde</i>,—that remarkable story which bears a certain +affinity to <i>Frankenstein</i>,—its subtle allegorical significance would be +overweighted, if not lost, by the effect of the grosser and more material +incidents which are all that could be <i>played</i>, and which, as described, +must have bordered on the ludicrous. Still the charm of life imparted by a +human impersonation to any portion, even, of one’s own idea, is singularly +powerful; and so Mary felt it. She would have liked to repeat the +experience. Her situation, looked at in the face, was unenviable. She was +unprovided for, young, delicate, and with a child dependent on her. Her +rich connections would have nothing to do with her, and her boy did not +possess in their eyes the importance which would have attached to him had +he been heir to the baronetcy. She had talent, and it had been cultivated, +but with her sorely-tried<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> health and spirits, the prospect of +self-support by the compulsory production of imaginative work must, at the +time, have seemed unpromising enough.</p> + +<p>Two sheet-anchors of hope she had, and by these she lived. They were, her +child—so friendless but for her—and the thought of Shelley’s fame. The +collecting and editing of his MSS., this was her work; no one else should +do it. It seemed as though her brief life with him had had for its purpose +to educate her for this one object.</p> + +<p>Those who now, in naming Shelley, feel they name a part of everything +beautiful, ethereal, and spiritual—that his words are so inextricably +interwoven with certain phases of love and beauty as to be +indistinguishable from the very thing itself—may well find it hard to +realise how little he was known at the time when he died.</p> + +<p>With other poets their work is the blossom and fruit of their lives, but +Shelley’s poetry resembles rather the perfume of the flower, that subtle +quality pertaining to the bloom which can be neither described, nor +pourtrayed, nor transmitted; an essence of immortality.</p> + +<p>Not many months after this the news of Byron’s early death struck a kind +of remorseful grief into the hearts of his countrymen. A letter of Miss +Welsh’s (Mrs. Carlyle) gives an idea of the general feeling—</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>“I was +told it,” she says, “in a room full of people. Had I heard that +the sun and moon had fallen out of their spheres it could not have +conveyed to me the feeling of a more awful blank than did the simple words, ‘Byron is dead.’”</p> + +<p>How many, it may be asked, were conscious of any blank when the news +reached them that Shelley had been “accidentally drowned”? Their numbers +might be counted by tens.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">The sale, in every instance, of Mr. Shelley’s works has been very confined,</p> + +<p>was his publishers’ report to his widow. One newspaper dismissed his +memory by the passing remark, “He will now find out whether there is a +Hell or not.”</p> + +<p>The small number of those who recognised his genius did not even include +all his personal friends.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“Mine is a life of failures;” so he summed it up to Trelawny and +Edward Williams. “Peacock says my poetry is composed of day-dreams and +nightmares, and Leigh Hunt does not think it good enough for the +<i>Examiner</i>. Jefferson Hogg says all poetry is inverted sense, and +consequently nonsense....</p> + +<p>“I wrote, and the critics denounced me as a mischievous visionary, and +my friends said that I had mistaken my vocation, that my poetry was +mere rhapsody of words....”</p></div> + +<p>Leigh Hunt, indeed, thought his own poetry more than equal to Shelley’s or +Byron’s. Byron knew Shelley’s power well enough, but cared little for the +subjects of his sympathy. Trelawny was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> more appreciative, but his +admiration for the poetry was quite secondary to his enthusiasm for the +man. In Hogg’s case, affection for the man may be said to have <i>excused</i> +the poetry. All this Mary knew, but she knew too—what she was soon to +find out by experience—that among his immediate associates he had created +too warm an interest for him to escape posthumous discussion and +criticism. And he had been familiar with some of those regarding whom the +world’s curiosity was insatiable, concerning whom any shred of +information, true or false, was eagerly snapped up. His name would +inevitably figure in anecdotes and gossip. His fame was Mary’s to guard. +During the years she lived at Albaro she had been employed in collecting +and transcribing his scattered MSS., and at the end of this year, 1823, +the volume of Posthumous Poems came out.</p> + +<p>One would imagine that publishers would have bid against each other for +the possession of such a treasure. Far from it. Among the little band of +“true believers” three came forward to guarantee the expenses of +publication. They were, the poet Thomas Lovell Beddoes, Procter, and T. F. +Kelsall.</p> + +<p>The appearance of this book was a melancholy satisfaction to Mary, though, +as will soon be seen, she was not long allowed to enjoy it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span><span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley to Mrs. Hunt</span>.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">London</span>, <i>27th November 1823</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dearest Polly</span>—Are you not a naughty girl? How could you copy a +letter to that “agreeable, unaffected woman, Mrs. Shelley,” without +saying a word from yourself to your loving...? My dear Polly, a line +from you forms a better picture for me of what you are about +than—alas! I was going to say three pages, but I check myself—the +rare one page of Hunt. Do not think that I forget you—even Percy does +not, and he often tells me to bid the Signor Enrico and you to get in +a carriage and then into a boat, and to come to <i>questo paese</i> with +<i>Baby nuovo</i>, Henry, Swinburne, <i>e tutti</i>. But that will not be, nor +shall I see you at Mariano; this is a dreary exile for me. During a +long month of cloud and fog, how often have I sighed for my beloved +Italy, and more than ever this day when I have come to a conclusion +with Sir Timothy Shelley as to my affairs, and I find the miserable +pittance I am to have. Nearly sufficient in Italy, here it will not go +half-way. It is £100 per annum. Nor is this all, for I foresee a +thousand troubles; yet, in truth, as far as regards mere money matters +and worldly prospects, I keep up my philosophy with excellent success. +Others wonder at this, but I do not, nor is there any philosophy in +it. After having witnessed the mortal agonies of my two darling +children, after that journey from and to Lerici, I feel all these as +pictures and trifles as long as I am kept out of contact with the +unholy. I was upset to-day by being obliged to see Whitton, and the +prospect of seeing others of his tribe. I can earn a sufficiency, I +doubt not. In Italy I should be content: here I will not bemoan. +Indeed I never do, and Mrs. Godwin makes <i>large eyes</i> at the quiet way +in which I take it all. It is England alone that annoys me, yet +sometimes I get among friends and almost forget its fogs. I go to +Shacklewell rarely, and sometimes see the Novellos elsewhere. He is my +especial favourite, and his music always transports me to the seventh +heaven.... I see the Lambs rather often, she ever amiable, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> Lamb +witty and delightful. I must tell you one thing and make Hunt laugh. +Lamb’s new house at Islington is close to the New River, and George +Dyer, after having paid them a visit, on going away at 12 at noonday, +walked deliberately into the water, taking it for the high road. +“But,” as he said afterwards to Procter, “I soon found that I was in +the water, sir.” So Miss Lamb and the servant had to fish him out.... +I must tell Hunt also a good saying of Lamb’s,—talking of some one, +he said, “Now some men who are very veracious are called +matter-of-fact men, but such a one I should call a matter-of-lie man.”</p> + +<p>I have seen also Procter, with his “beautifully formed head” (it is +beautifully formed), several times, and I like him. He is an +enthusiastic admirer of Shelley, and most zealous in bringing out the +volume of his poems; this alone would please me; and he is, moreover, +gentle and gentlemanly, and apparently endued with a true poetic +feeling. Besides, he is an invalid, and some time ago I told you, in a +letter, that I have always a sneaking (for sneaking read open) +kindness for men of literary and particularly poetic habits, who have +delicate health. I cannot help revering the mind delicately attuned +that shatters the material frame, and whose thoughts are strong enough +to throw down and dilapidate the walls of sense and dikes of flesh +that the unimaginative contrive to keep in such good repair....</p> + +<p>After all, I spend a great deal of my time in solitude. I have been +hitherto too fully occupied in preparing Shelley’s MSS. It is now +complete, and the poetry alone will make a large volume. Will you tell +Hunt that he need not send any of the MSS. that he has (except the +Essay on Devils, and some lines addressed to himself on his arrival in +Italy, if he should choose them to be inserted), as I have recopied +all the rest? We should be very glad, however, of his notice as +quickly as possible, as we wish the book to be out in a month at +furthest, and that will not be possible unless he sends it +immediately. It would break my heart if the book should appear without +it.<a name='fna_6' id='fna_6' href='#f_6'><small>[6]</small></a> When he does send a packet over (let it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> be directed to his +brother), will he also be so good as to send me a copy of my “Choice,” +beginning after the line</p> + +<p class="poem">Entrenched sad lines, or blotted with its might?</p> + +<p>Perhaps, dear Marianne, you would have the kindness to copy them for +me, and send them soon. I have another favour to ask of you. Miss +Curran has a portrait of Shelley, in many things very like, and she +has so much talent that I entertain great hopes that she will be able +to make a good one; for this purpose I wish her to have all the aids +possible, and among the rest a profile from you.<a name='fna_7' id='fna_7' href='#f_7'><small>[7]</small></a> If you could not +cut another, perhaps you would send her one already cut, and if you +sent it with a note requesting her to return it when she had done with +it, I will engage that it will be most faithfully returned. At present +I am not quite sure where she is, but if she should be there, and you +can find her and send her this, I need not tell you how you would +oblige me.</p> + +<p>I heard from Bessy that Hunt is writing something for the <i>Examiner</i> +for me. I <i>conjecture</i> that this may be concerning <i>Valperga</i>. I shall +be glad, indeed, when that comes, or in lieu of it, anything else. +John Hunt begins to despair.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>And now, dear Polly, I think I have done with gossip and business: +with words of affection and kindness I should never have done. I am +inexpressibly anxious about you all. Percy has had a similar though +shorter attack to that at Albaro, but he is now recovered. I have a +cold in my head, occasioned, I suppose, by the weather. Ah, Polly! if +all the beauties of England were to have only the mirror that Richard +III desires, a very short time would be spent at the looking-glass!</p> + +<p>What of Florence and the gallery? I saw the Elgin marbles to-day; +to-morrow I am to go to the Museum to look over the prints: that will +be a great treat. The Theseus is a divinity, but how very few statues +they have! Kiss the children. Ask Thornton for his forgotten and +promised P.S., give my love to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> Hunt, and believe me, my dear +Marianne, the exiled, but ever, most affectionately yours,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary W. Shelley</span>.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p><i>Journal, January 18</i> (1824).—I have now been nearly four months in +England, and if I am to judge of the future by the past and the +present, I have small delight in looking forward. I even regret those +days and weeks of intense melancholy that composed my life at Genoa. +Yes, solitary and unbeloved as I was there, I enjoyed a more +pleasurable state of being than I do here. I was still in Italy, and +my heart and imagination were both gratified by that circumstance. I +awoke with the light and beheld the theatre of nature from my window; +the trees spread their green beauty before me, the resplendent sky was +above me, the mountains were invested with enchanting colours. I had +even begun to contemplate painlessly the blue expanse of the tranquil +sea, speckled by the snow-white sails, gazed upon by the unclouded +stars. There was morning and its balmy air, noon and its exhilarating +heat, evening and its wondrous sunset, night and its starry pageant. +Then, my studies; my drawing, which soothed me; my Greek, which I +studied with greater complacency as I stole every now and then a look +on the scene near me; my metaphysics, that strengthened and elevated +my mind. Then my solitary walks and my reveries; they were +magnificent, deep, pathetic, wild, and exalted. I sounded the depths +of my own nature; I appealed to the nature around me to corroborate +the testimony that my own heart bore to its purity. I thought of <i>him</i> +with hope; my grief was active, striving, expectant. I was worth +something then in the catalogue of beings. I could have written +something, been something. Now I am exiled from these beloved scenes; +its language is becoming a stranger to mine ears; my child is +forgetting it. I am imprisoned in a dreary town; I see neither fields, +nor hills, nor trees, nor sky; the exhilaration of enwrapt +contemplation is no more felt by me; aspirations agonising, yet grand, +from which the soul reposed in peace, have ceased to ascend from the +quenched altar of my mind. Writing has become a task; my studies<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +irksome; my life dreary. In this prison it is only in human +intercourse that I can pretend to find consolation; and woe, woe, and +triple woe to whoever seeks pleasure in human intercourse when that +pleasure is not founded on deep and intense affection; as for the +rest—</p> + +<p class="poem">The bubble floats before,<br /> +The shadow stalks behind.</p> + +<p>My Father’s situation, his cares and debts, prevent my enjoying his +society.</p> + +<p>I love Jane better than any other human being, but I am pressed upon +by the knowledge that she but slightly returns this affection. I love +her, and my purest pleasure is derived from that source—a capacious +basin, and but a rill flows into it. I love some one or two more, +“with a degree of love,” but I see them seldom. I am excited while +with them, but the reaction of this feeling is dreadfully painful, but +while in London I cannot forego this excitement. I know some clever +men, in whose conversation I delight, but this is rare, like angels’ +visits. Alas! having lived day by day with one of the wisest, best, +and most affectionate of spirits, how void, bare, and drear is the +scene of life!</p> + +<p>Oh, Shelley, dear, lamented, beloved! help me, raise me, support me; +let me not feel ever thus fallen and degraded! my imagination is dead, +my genius lost, my energies sleep. Why am I not beneath that +weed-grown tower? Seeing Coleridge last night reminded me forcibly of +past times; his beautiful descriptions reminded me of Shelley’s +conversations. Such was the intercourse I once daily enjoyed, added to +supreme and active goodness, sympathy, and affection, and a wild, +picturesque mode of living that suited my active spirit and satisfied +its craving for novelty of impression.</p> + +<p>I will go into the country and philosophise; some gleams of past +entrancement may visit me there.</p></div> + +<p>Lonely, poor, and dull as she was, these first months were a dreadful +trial. She was writing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> or trying to write, another novel, <i>The Last +Man</i>, but it hung heavy; it did not satisfy her. Shrinking from company, +yet recoiling still more from the monotony of her own thoughts, she was +possessed by the restless wish to write a drama, perhaps with the idea +that out of dramatic creations she might (Frankenstein-like) manufacture +for herself companions more living than the characters of a novel. It may +have been fortunate for her that she did not persevere in the attempt. Her +special gifts were hardly of a dramatic order, and she had not the +necessary experience for a successful playwright. She consulted her +father, however, sending him at the same time some specimens of her work, +and got some sound advice from him in return.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Godwin to Mary.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">No. 195 Strand</span>, <i>27th February 1824</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mary</span>—Your appeal to me is a painful one, and the account you +give of your spirits and tone of mind is more painful. Your appeal to +me is painful, because I by no means regard myself as an infallible +judge, and have been myself an unsuccessful adventurer in the same +field toward which, in this instance, you have turned your regards. As +to what you say of your spirits and tone of mind, your plans, and your +views, would not that much more profitably and agreeably be made the +subject of a conversation between us? You are aware that such a +conversation must be begun by you. So begun, it would be quite a +different thing than begun by me. In the former case I should be +called in as a friend and adviser, from whom some advantage was hoped +for; in the latter I should be an intruder, forcing in free speeches +and unwelcome truths, and should appear as if I wanted to dictate to +you and direct<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> you, who are well capable of directing yourself. You +have able critics within your command—Mr. Procter and Mr. Lamb. You +have, however, one advantage in me; I feel a deeper interest in you +than they do, and would not mislead you for the world.</p> + +<p>As to the specimens you have sent me, it is easy for me to give my +opinion. There is one good scene—Manfred and the Two Strangers in the +Cottage; and one that has some slight hints in it—the scene where +Manfred attempts to stab the Duke. The rest are neither good nor bad; +they might be endured, in the character of cement, to fasten good +things together, but no more. Am I right? Perhaps not. I state things +as they appear to my organs. Thus far, therefore, you afford an +example, to be added to Barry Cornwall, how much easier it is to write +a detached dramatic scene than to write a tragedy.</p> + +<p>Is it not strange that so many people admire and relish Shakespeare, +and that nobody writes or even attempts to write like him? To read +your specimens, I should suppose that you had read no tragedies but +such as have been written since the date of your birth. Your +personages are mere abstractions—the lines and points of a +mathematical diagram—and not men and women. If A crosses B, and C +falls upon D, who can weep for that? Your talent is something like +mine—it cannot unfold itself without elbow-room. As Gray sings, “Give +ample room and verge enough the characters of hell to trace.” I can do +tolerably well if you will allow me to explain as much as I like—if, +in the margin of what my personage says, I am permitted to set down +and anatomise all that he feels. Dramatic dialogue, in reference to +any talent I possess, is the devil. To write nothing more than the +very words spoken by the character is a course that withers all the +powers of my soul. Even Shakespeare, the greatest dramatist that ever +existed, often gives us riddles to guess and enigmas to puzzle over. +Many of his best characters and situations require a volume of +commentary to make them perspicuous. And why is this? Because the law +of his composition confines him to set down barely words that are to +be delivered.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>For myself, I am almost glad that you have not (if you have not) a +dramatic talent. How many mortifications and heart-aches would that +entail on you. Managers are to be consulted; players to be humoured; +the best pieces that were ever written negatived, and returned on the +author’s hands. If these are all got over, then you have to encounter +the caprice of a noisy, insolent, and vulgar-minded audience, whose +senseless <i>non fiat</i> shall turn the labour of a year in a moment into +nothing.</p> + +<p class="poem">Full little knowest thou, that hast not tried,<br /> +What hell it is——<br /> +To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares,<br /> +To eat thy heart through comfortless despairs;<br /> +To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to run,<br /> +To spend, to give, to want, to be undone.</p> + +<p>It is laziness, my dear Mary, that makes you wish to be a dramatist. +It seems in prospect a short labour to write a play, and a long one to +write a work consisting of volumes; and as much may be gained by the +one as by the other. But as there is no royal road to geometry, so +there is no idle and self-indulgent activity that leads to literary +eminence.</p> + +<p>As to the idea that you have no literary talent, for God’s sake, do +not give way to such diseased imaginations. You have, fortunately, +ascertained that at a very early period. What would you have done if +you had passed through my ordeal? I did not venture to face the public +till I was seven and twenty, and for ten years after that period could +not contrive to write anything that anybody would read; yet even I +have not wholly miscarried.</p></div> + +<p>Much of this was shrewd, and undeniable, but the <i>wish</i> to write for the +stage continued to haunt Mary, and recurred two years later when she saw +Kean play <i>Othello</i>. To the end of her life she expressed regret that she +had not tried her hand at a tragedy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>Meanwhile, besides her own novel, she was at no loss for literary jobs and +literary occupation; her friends took care of that. Her pen and her powers +were for ever at their service, and they never showed any scruple in +working the willing horse. Her disinterested integrity made her an +invaluable representative in business transactions. The affairs of the +<i>Examiner</i> newspaper, edited in England by Leigh Hunt’s brother John, were +in an unsatisfactory condition; and there was much disagreement between +the two brothers as to both pecuniary and literary arrangements. Mary had +to act as arbiter between the two, softening the harsh and ungracious +expressions which, in his annoyance, were used by John; looking after +Leigh Hunt’s interests, and doing all she could to make clear to him the +complicated details of the concern. In this she was aided by Vincent +Novello, the eminent musician, and intimate friend of the Hunts, to whom +she had had a letter of introduction on arriving in Italy. The Novellos +had a large, old-fashioned house on Shacklewell Green; they were the very +soul of hospitality and kindness, and the centre of a large circle of +literary and artistic friends, they had made Shelley’s acquaintance in the +days when the Leigh Hunts lived at the Vale of Health in Hampstead, and +they now welcomed his widow, as well as Mrs. Williams, doing all in their +power to shed a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> little cheerfulness over these two broken and melancholy +lives.</p> + +<p>“Very, very fair both ladies were,” writes Mrs. Cowden Clarke, then Mary +Victoria Novello, who in her charming <i>Recollections of Writers</i> has given +us a pretty sketch of Mary Shelley as she then appeared to a “damsel +approaching towards the age of ‘sweet sixteen,’ privileged to consider +herself one of the grown-up people.”</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“Always observant as a child,” she writes, “I had now become a greater +observer than ever; and large and varied was the pleasure I derived +from my observation of the interesting men and women around me at this +time of my life. Certainly Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin Shelley was the +central figure of attraction then to my young-girl sight; and I looked +upon her with ceaseless admiration,—for her personal graces, as well +as for her literary distinction.</p> + +<p>“The daughter of William Godwin and Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, the +wife of Shelley, the authoress of <i>Frankenstein</i>, had for me a +concentration of charm and interest that perpetually excited and +engrossed me while she continued a visitor at my parents’ house.”</p></div> + +<p>Elsewhere she describes</p> + +<p class="blockquot">... “Her well-shaped, golden-haired head, almost always a little bent +and drooping; her marble-white shoulders and arms statuesquely visible +in the perfectly plain black velvet dress, which the customs of that +time allowed to be cut low, and which her own taste adopted (for +neither she nor her sister-in-sorrow ever wore the conventional +‘widow’s weeds’ and ‘widow’s cap’); her thoughtful, earnest eyes; her +short upper lip and intellectually curved mouth, with a certain +close-compressed and decisive expression while she listened, and a +relaxation into fuller redness and mobility when speaking; her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +exquisitely formed, white, dimpled, small hands, with rosy palms, and +plumply commencing fingers, that tapered into tips as slender and +delicate as those in a Vandyke portrait.”</p> + +<p>And though it was not in the power of these kind genial people to change +Mary’s destiny, or even to modify very sensibly the tenour of her inner +life and thought, still their friendship was a solace to her; she was +grateful for it, and did her utmost to respond with cheerfulness to their +kindly efforts on her behalf. To Leigh Hunt (from whom depression, when it +passed into querulousness, met with almost as little quarter as it did +from Godwin) she wrote—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I am not always in spirits, but if my friends say that I am good, +contrive to fancy that I am so, and so continue to love yours most truly,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley</span>.</p></div> + +<p>The news of Lord Byron’s death in Greece, which in May of this year +created so profound a sensation in England, fell on Mary’s heart as a +fresh calamity. She had small reason, personally, to esteem or regret him. +Circumstances had made her only too painfully familiar with his worst +side, and she might well have borne him more than one serious grudge. But +he was associated in her mind with Shelley, and with early, happy days, +and now he, like Shelley, was dead and gone, and his faults faded into +distance, while all that was great and might have been noble in him—the +hero that should have been rather than the man that was—survived, and +stood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> out in greater clearness and beauty, surrounded by the tearful halo +of memory. The tidings reached her at a time of unusual—it afterwards +seemed of prophetic—dejection.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Journal, May 14.</i>—This, then, is my English life; and thus I am to +drag on existence; confined in my small room, friendless. Each day I +string me to the task. I endeavour to read and write, my ideas +stagnate and my understanding refuses to follow the words I read; day +after day passes while torrents fall from the dark clouds, and my mind +is as gloomy as this odious sky. Without human friends I must attach +myself to natural objects; but though I talk of the country, what +difference shall I find in this miserable climate. Italy, dear Italy, +murderess of those I love and of all my happiness, one word of your +soft language coming unawares upon me, has made me shed bitter tears. +When shall I hear it again spoken, when see your skies, your trees, +your streams? The imprisonment attendant on a succession of rainy days +has quite overcome me. God knows I strive to be content, but in vain. +Amidst all the depressing circumstances that weigh on me, none sinks +deeper than the failure of my intellectual powers; nothing I write +pleases me. Whether I am just in this, or whether the want of +Shelley’s (oh, my loved Shelley, it is some alleviation only to write +your name!) encouragement I can hardly tell, but it seems to me as if +the lovely and sublime objects of nature had been my best inspirers, +and, wanting them, I am lost. Although so utterly miserable at Genoa, +yet what reveries were mine as I looked on the aspect of the ravine, +the sunny deep and its boats, the promontories clothed in purple +light, the starry heavens, the fireflies, the uprising of spring. Then +I could think, and my imagination could invent and combine, and self +became absorbed in the grandeur of the universe I created. Now my mind +is a blank, a gulf filled with formless mist.</p> + +<p>The Last Man! Yes, I may well describe that solitary being’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +feelings: I feel myself as the last relic of a beloved race, my +companions extinct before me.</p> + +<p>And thus has the accumulating sorrow of days and weeks been forced to +find a voice, because the word <i>lucena</i> met my eyes, and the idea of +lost Italy sprang in my mind. What graceful lamps those are, though of +base construction and vulgar use; I thought of bringing one with me; I +am glad I did not. I will go back only to have a <i>lucena</i>.</p> + +<p>If I told people so they would think me mad, and yet not madder than +they seem to be now, when I say that the blue skies and verdure-clad +earth of that dear land are necessary to my existence.</p> + +<p>If there be a kind spirit attendant on me in compensation for these +miserable days, let me only dream to-night that I am in Italy! Mine +own Shelley, what a horror you had (fully sympathised in by me) of +returning to this miserable country! To be here without you is to be +doubly exiled, to be away from Italy is to lose you twice. Dearest, +why is my spirit thus losing all energy? Indeed, indeed, I must go +back, or your poor utterly lost Mary will never dare think herself +worthy to visit you beyond the grave.</p> + +<p><i>May 15.</i>—This then was the coming event that cast its shadow on my +last night’s miserable thoughts. Byron had become one of the people of +the grave—that miserable conclave to which the beings I best loved +belong. I knew him in the bright days of youth, when neither care nor +fear had visited me—before death had made me feel my mortality, and +the earth was the scene of my hopes. Can I forget our evening visits +to Diodati? our excursions on the lake, when he sang the Tyrolese +Hymn, and his voice was harmonised with winds and waves. Can I forget +his attentions and consolations to me during my deepest +misery?—Never.</p> + +<p>Beauty sat on his countenance and power beamed from his eye. His +faults being, for the most part, weaknesses, induced one readily to +pardon them.</p> + +<p>Albé—the dear, capricious, fascinating Albé—has left this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> desert +world! God grant I may die young! A new race is springing about me. At +the age of twenty-six I am in the condition of an aged person. All my +old friends are gone, I have no wish to form new. I cling to the few +remaining; but they slide away, and my heart fails when I think by how +few ties I hold to the world. “Life is the desert and the +solitude—how populous the grave”—and that region—to the dearer and +best beloved beings which it has torn from me, now adds that +resplendent spirit whose departure leaves the dull earth dark as +midnight.</p> + +<p><i>June 18.</i>—What a divine night it is! I have just returned from +Kentish Town; a calm twilight pervades the clear sky; the lamp-like +moon is hung out in heaven, and the bright west retains the dye of +sunset. If such weather would continue, I should write again; the lamp +of thought is again illumined in my heart, and the fire descends from +heaven that kindles it. Such, my loved Shelley, now ten years ago, at +this season, did we first meet, and these were the very scenes—that +churchyard, with its sacred tomb, was the spot where first love shone +in your dear eyes. The stars of heaven are now your country, and your +spirit drinks beauty and wisdom in those spheres, and I, beloved, +shall one day join you. Nature speaks to me of you. In towns and +society I do not feel your presence; but there you are with me, my +own, my unalienable!</p> + +<p>I feel my powers again, and this is, of itself, happiness; the eclipse +of winter is passing from my mind. I shall again feel the enthusiastic +glow of composition, again, as I pour forth my soul upon paper, feel +the winged ideas arise, and enjoy the delight of expressing them. +Study and occupation will be a pleasure, and not a task, and this I +shall owe to sight and companionship of trees and meadows, flowers and +sunshine.</p> + +<p>England, I charge thee, dress thyself in smiles for my sake! I will +celebrate thee, O England! and cast a glory on thy name, if thou wilt +for me remove thy veil of clouds, and let me contemplate the country +of my Shelley and feel in communion with him!</p> + +<p>I have been gay in company before, but the inspiriting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> sentiment of +the heart’s peace I have not felt before to-night; and yet, my own, +never was I so entirely yours. In sorrow and grief I wish sometimes +(how vainly!) for earthly consolation. At a period of pleasing +excitement I cling to your memory alone, and you alone receive the +overflowing of my heart.</p> + +<p>Beloved Shelley, good-night. One pang will seize me when I think, but +I will only think, that thou art where I shall be, and conclude with +my usual prayer,—from the depth of my soul I make it,—May I die +young!</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley</span>.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Missolonghi</span>, <i>30th April 1824</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mary</span>—My brain is already dizzy with business and writing. I +am transformed from the listless being you knew me to one of all +energy and fire. Not content with the Camp, I must needs be a great +diplomatist, I am again, dear Mary, in my <i>element</i>, and playing no +<i>second</i> part in Greece. If I live, the outcast Reginald will cut his +name out on the Grecian hills, or set on its plains. I have had the +merit of discovering and bringing out a noble fellow, a gallant +<i>soldier</i>, and a man of most wonderful mind, with as little bigotry as +Shelley, and nearly as much imagination; he is a glorious being. I +have lived with him—he calls me brother—wants to connect me with his +family. We have been inseparable now for eight months—fought side by +side. But I am sick at heart with losing my friend,<a name='fna_8' id='fna_8' href='#f_8'><small>[8]</small></a>—for still I +call him so, you know, with all his weakness, you know I loved him. I +cannot live with men for years without feeling—it is weak, it is want +of judgment, of philosophy,—but this is my weakness. Dear Mary, if +you love me,—<i>write</i>—write—write, for my heart yearns after you. I +certainly must have you and Jane out. I am serious.</p> + +<p>This is the place after my own heart, and I am certain of our good +cause triumphing. Believe nothing you hear; Gamba will tell you +everything about me—about Lord Byron, but he knows nothing of +Greece—nothing; nor does<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> it appear any one else does by what I see +published. Colonel Stanhope is here; he is a good fellow, and does +much good. The loan is achieved, and that sets the business at rest, +but it is badly done—the Commissioners are bad. A word as to your +wooden god, Mavrocordato. He is a miserable Jew, and I hope, ere long, +to see his head removed from his worthless and heartless body. He is a +mere shuffling soldier, an aristocratic brute—wants Kings and +Congresses; a poor, weak, shuffling, intriguing, cowardly fellow; so +no more about him. Dear Mary, dear Jane, I am serious, turn you +thoughts this way. No more a nameless being, I am now a Greek +Chieftain, willing and able to shelter and protect you; and thus I +will continue, or follow our friends to wander over some other planet, +for I have nearly exhausted this.—Your attached</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Trelawny</span>.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Care of John Hunt, Esq., <i>Examiner</i> Office,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Catherine Street, London.</span></p> + +<p>Tell me of Clare, do write me of her! This is written with the other +in desperate haste. I have received a letter from you, one from Jane, +and none from Hunt.</p></div> + +<p>This letter reached Mary at about the same time as the fatal news. +Trelawny also sent her his narrative of the facts (now so well known to +every one) of Byron’s death. It had been intended for Hobhouse, but the +writer changed his mind and entrusted it to Mrs. Shelley instead, adding, +“Hunt may pick something at it if he please.”</p> + +<p>Trelawny had been Byron’s friend, and clearly as he saw the Pilgrim’s +faults and deficiencies, there would seem no doubt that he genuinely +admired him, in spite of all. But his mercurial, impulsive temperament, +ever in extremes, was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> liable to the most sudden revulsions of feeling, +and retrospect hardened his feeling as much as it softened Mary Shelley’s +towards the great man who was gone. Only four months later he was writing +again, from Livadia—</p> + +<p class="blockquot">I have much to say to you, Mary, both as regards myself and the part I +am enacting here. I would give much that I could, as in times dead, +look in on you in the evening of every day and consult with you on its +occurrences, as I used to do in Italy. It is curious, but, considering +our characters, natural enough, that Byron and I took the +diametrically opposite roads in Greece—I in Eastern, he in Western. +He took part with, and became the paltry tool of the weak, imbecile, +cowardly being calling himself Prince Mavrocordato. Five months he +dozed away. By the gods! the lies that are said in his praise urge one +to speak the truth. It is well for his name, and better for Greece, +that he is dead. With the aid of his name, his fame, his talents, and +his fortune, he might have been a tower of strength to Greece, instead +of which the little he did was in favour of the aristocrats, to +destroy the republic, and smooth the road for a foreign King. But he +is dead, and I now feel my face burn with shame that so weak and +ignoble a soul could so long have influenced me. It is a degrading +reflection, and ever will be. I wish he had lived a little longer, +that he might have witnessed how I would have soared above him here, +how I would have triumphed over his mean spirit. I would do much to +see and talk to you, but as I am now too much irritated to disclose +the real state of things, I will not mislead you by false statements.</p> + +<p>With this fine flourish was enclosed a “Description of the Cavern Fortress +of Mount Parnassus,” which he was commanding (and of which a full account +is given in his <i>Recollections</i>), and then followed a P.S. to this +effect—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>—Will +you make an article of this, as Leigh Hunt calls it, and request his brother to publish it in the <i>Examiner</i>, which will very much oblige me.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">From Mary Shelley to Trelawny.</span></p> + +<p class="right">28th July 1824.</p> + +<p>So, dear Trelawny, you remember still poor Mary Shelley; thank you for +your remembrance, and a thousand times for your kind letter. It is +delightful to feel that absence does not diminish your affection, +excellent, warm-hearted friend, remnant of our happy days, of my +vagabond life in beloved Italy, our companion in prosperity, our +comforter in sorrow. You will not wonder that the late loss of Lord +Byron makes me cling with greater zeal to those dear friends who +remain to me. He could hardly be called a friend, but, connected with +him in a thousand ways, admiring his talents, and (with all his +faults) feeling affection for him, it went to my heart when, the other +day, the hearse that contained his lifeless form—a form of beauty +which in life I often delighted to behold—passed my windows going up +Highgate Hill on his last journey to the last seat of his ancestors. +Your account of his last moments was infinitely interesting to me. +Going about a fortnight ago to the house where his remains lay, I +found there Fletcher and Lega—Lega looking a most preposterous +rogue,—Fletcher I expect to call on me when he returns from +Nottingham. From a few words he imprudently let fall, it would seem +that his Lord spoke of Clare in his last moments, and of his wish to +do something for her, at a time when his mind, vacillating between +consciousness and delirium, would not permit him to do anything. Did +Fletcher mention this to you? It seems that this doughty Leporello +speaks of his Lord to strangers with the highest respect; more than he +did a year ago,—the best, the most generous, the most wronged of +peers,—the notion of his leading an irregular life,—quite a false +one. Lady B. sent for Fletcher; he found her in a fit of passionate +grief, but perfectly implacable, and as much resolved never to have +united herself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> again to him as she was when she first signed their +separation. Mrs. Claremont (the governess) was with her.</p> + +<p>His death, as you may guess, made a great sensation here, which was +not diminished by the destruction of his Memoirs, which he wrote and +gave to Moore, and which were burned by Mrs. Leigh and Hobhouse. There +was not much in them, I know, for I read them some years ago at +Venice, but the world fancied it was to have a confession of the +hidden feelings of one concerning whom they were always passionately +curious. Moore was by no means pleased: he is now writing a life of +him himself, but it is conjectured that, notwithstanding he had the +MS. so long in his possession, he never found time to read it. I +breakfasted with him about a week ago, and he is anxious to get +materials for his work. I showed him your letter on the subject of +Lord Byron’s death, and he wishes very much to obtain from you any +anecdote or account you would like to send. If you know anything that +ought to be known, or feel inclined to detail anything that you may +remember worthy of record concerning him, perhaps you will communicate +with Moore. You have often said that you wished to keep up our +friend’s name in the world, and if you still entertain the same +feeling, no way is more obvious than to assist Moore, who asked me to +make this request. You can write to him through me or addressed to +Longmans....</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>Here then we are, Jane and I, in Kentish Town.... We live near each +other now, and, seeing each other almost daily, for ever dwell on one +subject.... The country about here is really pretty; lawny uplands, +wooded parks, green lanes, and gentle hills form agreeable and varying +combinations. If we had orange sunsets, cloudless noons, fireflies, +large halls, etc. etc., I should not find the scenery amiss, and yet I +can attach myself to nothing here; neither among the people, though +some are good and clever, nor to the places, though they be pretty. +Jane is my chosen companion and only friend. I am under a cloud, and +cannot form near acquaintances among that class whose manners and +modes of life are agreeable to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> me, and I think myself fortunate in +having one or two pleasing acquaintances among literary people, whose +society I enjoy without dreaming of friendship. My child is in +excellent health; a fine, tall, handsome boy.</p> + +<p>And then for money and the rest of those necessary annoyances, the +means of getting at the necessaries of life; Jane’s affairs are yet +unsettled....</p> + +<p>My prospects are somewhat brighter than they were. I have little doubt +but that in the course of a few months I shall have an independent +income of £300 or £400 per annum during Sir Timothy’s life, and that +with small sacrifice on my part. After his death Shelley’s will +secures me an income more than sufficient for my simple habits.</p> + +<p>One of my first wishes in obtaining the independence I mention, will +be to assist in freeing Clare from her present painful mode of life. +She is now at Moscow; sufficiently uncomfortable, poor girl, unless +some change has taken place: I think it probable that she will soon +return to England. Her spirits will have been improved by the +information I sent her that his family consider Shelley’s will valid, +and that she may rely upon receiving the legacy....</p></div> + +<p>But Mary’s hopes of better fortune were again and again deferred, and she +now found that any concession on the part of her husband’s family must be +purchased by the suppression of his later poems. She was too poor to do +other than submit.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley to Leigh Hunt.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Kentish Town</span>, <i>22d August 1824</i>.</p> + +<p>... A negotiation has begun between Sir Timothy Shelley and myself, by +which, on sacrificing a small part of my future expectations on the +will, I shall ensure myself a sufficiency for the present, and not +only that, but be able, I hope, to relieve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> Clare from her +disagreeable situation at Moscow. I have been obliged, however, as an +indispensable preliminary, to suppress the posthumous poems. More than +300 copies had been sold, so this is the less provoking, and I have +been obliged to promise not to bring dear Shelley’s name before the +public again during Sir Timothy’s life. There is no great harm in +this, since he is above seventy; and, from choice, I should not think +of writing memoirs now, and the materials for a volume of more works +are so scant that I doubted before whether I could publish it. Such is +the folly of the world, and so do things seem different from what they +are; since, from Whitton’s account, Sir Timothy writhes under the fame +of his incomparable son, as if it were the most grievous injury done +to him; and so, perhaps, after all it will prove.</p> + +<p>All this was pending when I wrote last, but until I was certain I did +not think it worth while to mention it. The affair is arranged by +Peacock, who, though I seldom see him, seems anxious to do me all +these kind of services in the best manner that he can.</p> + +<p>It is long since I saw your brother, nor had he any news for me. I +lead a most quiet life, and see hardly any one. The Gliddons are gone +to Hastings for a few weeks. Hogg is on Circuit. Now that he is rich +he is so very queer, so unamiable, and so strange, that I look forward +to his return without any desire of shortening the term of absence.</p> + +<p>Poor Pierino is now in London, <i>Non fosse male questo paese</i>, he says, +<i>se vi vedesse mai il sole</i>. He is full of Greece, to which he is +going, and gave us an account of our good friend, Trelawny, which was +that he was not at all changed. Trelawny has made a hero of the Greek +chief, Ulysses, and declares that there is a great cavern in Attica +which he and Ulysses have provisioned for seven years, and to which, +if the cause fails, he and this chieftain are to retire; but if the +cause is triumphant, he is to build a city in the Negropont, colonise +it, and Jane and I are to go out to be queens and chieftainesses of +the island. When he first came to Athens he took to a Turkish life, +bought twelve or fifteen women, <i>brutti mostri</i>, Pierino says, one a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +Moor, of all things, and there he lay on his sofa, smoking, these +gentle creatures about him, till he got heartily sick of idleness, +shut them up in his harem, and joined and combated with Ulysses....</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>One of my principal reasons for writing just now is that I have just +heard Miss Curran’s address (64 Via Sistina, Roma), and I am anxious +that Marianne should (if she will be so very good) send one of the +profiles already cut to her, of Shelley, since I think that, by the +help of that, Miss Curran will be able to correct her portrait of +Shelley, and make for us what we so much desire—a good likeness. I am +convinced that Miss Curran will return the profile immediately that +she has done with it, so that you will not sacrifice it, though you +may be the means of our obtaining a good likeness.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p><i>Journal, September 3.</i>—With what hopes did I come to England? I +pictured little of what was pleasurable, the feeling I had could not +be called hope; it was expectation. Yet at that time, now a year ago, +what should I have said if a prophet had told me that, after the whole +revolution of the year, I should be as poor in all estimable treasures +as when I arrived.</p> + +<p>I have only seen two persons from whom I have hoped or wished for +friendly feeling. One, a poet, who sought me first, whose voice, laden +with sentiment, passed as Shelley’s, and who read with the same deep +feeling as he; whose gentle manners were pleasing, and who seemed to a +degree pleased; who once or twice listened to my sad plaints, and bent +his dark blue eyes upon me. Association, gratitude, esteem, made me +take interest in his long, though rare, visits.</p> + +<p>The other was kind; sought me, was pleased with me. I could talk to +him; that was much. He was attached to another, so that I felt at my +ease with him. They have disappeared from my horizon. Jane alone +remains; if she loved me as well as I do her it would be much; she is +all gentleness, and she is my only consolation, yet she does not console me.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>I have just completed my twenty-seventh year; at such a time hope and +youth are still in their prime, and the pains I feel, therefore, are +ever alive and vivid within me. What shall I do? Nothing. I study, +that passes the time. I write; at times that pleases me, though double +sorrow comes when I feel that Shelley no longer reads and approves of +what I write; besides, I have no great faith in my success. +Composition is delightful; but if you do not expect the sympathy of +your fellow-creatures in what you write, the pleasure of writing is of +short duration.</p> + +<p>I have my lovely Boy, without him I could not live. I have Jane; in +her society I forget time; but the idea of it does not cheer me in my +griefful moods. It is strange that the religious feeling that exalted +my emotions in happiness, deserts me in my misery. I have little +enjoyment, no hope. I have given myself ten years more of life. God +grant that they may not be augmented. I should be glad that they were +curtailed. Loveless beings surround me; they talk of my personal +attractions, of my talents, my manners.</p> + +<p>The wisest and best have loved me. The beautiful, and glorious, and +noble, have looked on me with the divine expression of love, till +death, the reaper, carried to his overstocked barns my lamented +harvest.</p> + +<p>But now I am not loved! Never, oh, never more shall I love. Synonymous +to such words are, never more shall I be happy, never more feel life +sit triumphant in my frame. I am a wreck. By what do the fragments +cling together? Why do they not part, to be borne away by the tide to +the boundless ocean, where those are whom day and night I pray that I +may rejoin.</p> + +<p>I shall be happier, perhaps, in Italy; yet, when I sometimes think +that she is the murderess, I tremble for my boy. We shall see; if no +change comes, I shall be unable to support the burthen of time, and no +change, if it hurt not his dear head, can be for the worse.</p></div> + +<p>In the month of July Mary had received <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>another request for literary help; +this time from Medwin, who wanted her aid in eking out and correcting his +notes of conversations with Lord Byron, shortly to be published.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“You must have been, as I was, very much affected with poor Lord +Byron’s death,” he wrote to Mary. “All parties seem now writing in his +favour, and the papers are full of his praise....</p> + +<p>“How do you think I have been employing myself? With writing; and the +subject I have chosen has been Memoirs of Lord Byron. Every one here +has been disappointed in the extreme by the destruction of his private +biography, and have urged me to give the world the little I know of +him. I wish I was better qualified for the task. When I was at Pisa I +made very copious notes of his conversations, for private reference +only, and was surprised to find on reading them (which I have never +done till his death, and hearing that his life had been burnt) that +they contained so many anecdotes of his life. During many nights that +we sat up together he was very confidential, and entered into his +history and opinions on most subjects, and from them I have compiled a +volume which is, I am told, highly entertaining. Shelley I have made a +very prominent feature in the work, and I think you will be pleased +with that part, at least, of the Memoir, and all the favourable +sentiments of Lord Byron concerning him. But I shall certainly not +publish the work till you have seen it, and would give the world to +consult you in person about the whole; you might be of the greatest +possible use to me, and prevent many errors from creeping in. I have +been told it cannot fail of having the greatest success, and have been +offered £500 for it—a large and tempting sum—in consequence of what +has been said in its praise by Grattan....</p> + +<p>“Before deciding finally on the publication there are many things to +be thought of. Lady Byron will not be pleased with my account of the +marriage and separation; in fact, I shall be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> assailed on all sides. +Now, my dear friend, what do you advise? Let me have your full +opinion, for I mean to be guided by it. I hear to-day that Moore is +manufacturing five or six volumes out of the <i>burnt materials</i>, for +which Longman advanced £2000, and is to pay £2000 more; <i>they</i> will be +in a great rage. If I publish, promptitude is everything, so that I +know you will answer this soon.”</p></div> + +<p>The idea of entertaining the world, however highly, at whatever price, +with “tit-bits” from the private life and after-dinner talk of her late +intimate friends, almost before those friends were cold in their graves, +did not find favour with Mrs. Shelley. As an excuse for declining to have +any hand in this work, she gave her own desire to avoid publicity or +notice. In a later letter Medwin assured her that her name was not even +mentioned in the book. He frankly owned that most of his knowledge of +Byron had been derived from her and Shelley, but added, by way of excuse—</p> + +<p class="blockquot">They tell me it is highly interesting, and there is at this moment a +longing after and impatience to know something about the most +extraordinary man of the age that must give my book a considerable success.</p> + +<p>What Mary felt about this publication can be gathered from her allusion to +it in the following letter—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley to Mrs. Hunt</span>.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Kentish Town</span>, <i>10th October 1824</i>.</p> + +<p>... I write to you on the most dismal of all days, a rainy Sunday, +when dreary church-going faces look still more drearily<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> from under +dripping umbrellas, and the poor plebeian dame looks reproachfully at +her splashed white stockings,—not her gown,—that has been warily +held high up, and the to-be-concealed petticoat has borne all the +ill-usage of the mud. Dismal though it is, dismal though I am, I do +not wish to write a discontented letter, but in a few words to +describe things as they are with me. A weekly visit to the Strand, a +monthly visit to Shacklewell (when we are sure to be caught in the +rain) forms my catalogue of visits. I have no visitors; if it were not +for Jane I should be quite alone. The eternal rain imprisons one in +one’s little room, and one’s spirits flag without one exhilarating +circumstance. In some things, however, I am better off than last year, +for I do not doubt but that in the course of a few months I shall have +an independence; and I no longer balance, as I did last winter, +between Italy and England. My Father wished me to stay, and, old as he +is, and wishing as one does to be of some use somewhere, I thought +that I would make the trial, and stay if I could. But the joke has +become too serious. I look forward to the coming winter with horror, +but it <i>shall be</i> the last. I have not yet made up my mind to the +where in Italy. I shall, if possible, immediately on arriving, push on +to Rome. Then we shall see. I read, study, and write; sometimes that +takes me out of myself; but to live for no one, to be necessary to +none, to know that “Where is now my hope? for my hope, who shall see +it? They shall go down to the base of the pit, when our rest together +is in the dust.” But change of scene and the sun of Italy will restore +my energy; the very thought of it smooths my brow. Perhaps I shall +seek the heats of Naples, if they do not hurt my darling Percy. And +now, what news?...</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>Hazlitt is abroad; he will be in Italy in the winter; he wrote an +article in the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> on the volume of poems I published. +I do not know whether he meant it to be favourable or not; I do not +like it at all; but when I saw him I could not be angry. I never was +so shocked in my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> life, he has become so thin, his hair scattered, his +cheek-bones projecting; but for his voice and smile I should not have +known him; his smile brought tears into my eyes, it was like a sunbeam +illuminating the most melancholy of ruins, lightning that assured you +in a dark night of the identity of a friend’s ruined and deserted +abode....</p> + +<p>Have you, my Polly, sent a profile to Miss Curran in Rome? Now pray +do, and pray write; do, my dear girl. Next year by this time I shall, +perhaps, be on my way to you; it will go hard but that I contrive to +spend a week (that is, if you wish) at Florence, on my way to the +Eternal City. God send that this prove not an airy castle; but I own +that I put faith in my having money before that; and I know that I +could not, if I would, endure the torture of my English life longer +than is absolutely necessary. By the bye, I heard that you are keeping +your promise to Trelawny, and that in due time he will be blessed with +a namesake. How is <i>Occhi Turchini</i>, Thornton the reformed, Johnny +the—what Johnny? the good boy? Mary the merry, Irving the sober, +Percy the martyr, and dear Sylvan the good?</p> + +<p>Percy is quite well; tell his friend he goes to school and learns to +read and write, being very handy with his hands, perhaps having a pure +anticipated cognition of the art of painting in his tiny fingers. Mrs. +Williams’ little girl, who calls herself Dina, is his wife. Poor +Clare, at Moscow! at least she will be independent one day, and if I +am so soon, her situation will be quickly ameliorated.</p> + +<p>Have you heard of Medwin’s book? Notes of conversations which he had +with Lord Byron (when tipsy); every one is to be in it; every one will +be angry. He wanted me to have a hand in it, but I declined. Years +ago, when a man died, the worms ate him; now a new set of worms feed +on the carcase of the scandal he leaves behind him, and grow fat upon +the world’s love of tittle-tattle. I will not be numbered among them. +Have you received the volume of poems? Give my love to “Very,” and so, +dear, very patient, Adieu.—Yours affectionately,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley</span>.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span><i>Journal, October 26.</i>—Time rolls on, and what does it bring? What +can I do? How change my destiny? Months change their names, years +their cyphers. My brow is sadly trenched, the blossom of youth faded. +My mind gathers wrinkles. What will become of me?</p> + +<p>How long it is since an emotion of joy filled my once exulting heart, +or beamed from my once bright eyes. I am young still, though age +creeps on apace; but I may not love any but the dead. I think that an +emotion of joy would destroy me, so strange would it be to my withered +heart. Shelley had said—</p> + +<p class="poem">Lift not the painted veil which men call life.</p> + +<p>Mine is not painted; dark and enshadowed, it curtains out all +happiness, all hope. Tears fill my eyes; well may I weep, solitary +girl! The dead know you not; the living heed you not. You sit in your +lone room, and the howling wind, gloomy prognostic of winter, gives +not forth so despairing a tone as the unheard sighs your ill-fated +heart breathes.</p> + +<p>I was loved once! still let me cling to the memory; but to live for +oneself alone, to read, and communicate your reflections to none; to +write, and be cheered by none; to weep, and in no bosom; no more on +thy bosom, my Shelley, to spend my tears—this is misery!</p> + +<p>Such is the Alpha and Omega of my tale. I can speak to none. Writing +this is useless; it does not even soothe me; on the contrary, it +irritates me by showing the pitiful expedient to which I am reduced.</p> + +<p>I have been a year in England, and, ungentle England, for what have I +to thank you? For disappointment, melancholy, and tears; for +unkindness, a bleeding heart, and despairing thoughts. I wish, +England, to associate but one idea with thee—immeasurable distance +and insurmountable barriers, so that I never, never might breathe +thine air more.</p> + +<p>Beloved Italy! you are my country, my hope, my heaven!</p> + +<p><i>December 3.</i>—I endeavour to rouse my fortitude and calm my mind by +high and philosophic thoughts, and my studies aid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> this endeavour. I +have pondered for hours on Cicero’s description of that power of +virtue in the human mind which render’s man’s frail being superior to +fortune.</p> + +<p>“Eadem ratio habet in re quiddam amplum at que magnificum ad +imperandum magis quam ad parendum accommodatum; omnia humana non +tolerabilia solum sed etiam levia ducens; altum quiddam et excelsum, +nihil temens, nemini cedens, semper invictum.”</p> + +<p>What should I fear? To whom cede? By whom be conquered?</p> + +<p>Little truly have I to fear. One only misfortune can touch me. That +must be the last, for I should sink under it. At the age of seven and +twenty, in the busy metropolis of native England, I find myself alone. +The struggle is hard that can give rise to misanthropy in one, like +me, attached to my fellow-creatures. Yet now, did not the memory of +those matchless lost ones redeem their race, I should learn to hate +men, who are strong only to oppress, moral only to insult. Oh ye +winged hours that fly fast, that, having first destroyed my happiness, +now bear my swift-departing youth with you, bring patience, wisdom, +and content! I will not stoop to the world, or become like those who +compose it, and be actuated by mean pursuits and petty ends. I will +endeavour to remain unconquered by hard and bitter fortune; yet the +tears that start in my eyes show pangs she inflicts upon me.</p> + +<p>So much for philosophising. Shall I ever be a philosopher?</p></div> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<p class="title"><span class="smcap">January 1825-July 1827</span></p> + +<p>At the beginning of 1825 Mrs. Shelley’s worldly affairs were looking +somewhat more hopeful. The following extract is from a letter to Miss +Curran, dated 2d January—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>... I have now better prospects than I had, or rather, a better +reality, for my prospects are sufficiently misty. I receive now £200 a +year from my Father-in-law, but this in so strange and embarrassed a +manner that, as yet, I hardly know what to make of it. I do not +believe, however, that he would object to my going abroad, as I +daresay he considers that the first step towards kingdom come, +whither, doubtless, he prays that an interloper like me may speedily +be removed. I talk, therefore, of going next autumn, and shall be +grateful to any power, divine or human, that assists me to leave this +desert country. Mine I cannot call it; it is too unkind to me.</p> + +<p>What you say of my Shelley’s picture is beyond words interesting to +me. How good you are! Send it, I pray you, for perhaps I cannot come, +and, at least, it would be a blessing to receive it a few months +earlier. I am afraid you can do nothing about the cameo. As you say, +it were worth nothing, unless like; but I fancied that it might be +accomplished under your directions. Would it be asking too much to +lend me the copy you took of my darling William’s portrait, since<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +mine is somewhat injured? But from both together I could get a nice +copy made.</p> + +<p>You may imagine that I see few people, so far from the centre of +bustling London; but, in truth, I found that even in town, poor, +undinner-giving as I was, I could not dream of society. It was a great +confinement for Percy, and I could not write in the midst of smoke, +noise, and streets. I live here very quietly, going once a week to the +Strand. My chief dependence for society is on Mrs. Williams, who lives +at no great distance. As to theatres, etc., how can a “lone woman” +think of such things? No; the pleasures and luxuries of life await me +in divine Italy; but here, privation, solitude, and desertion are my +portion. What a change for me! But I must not think of that. I +contrive to live on as I am; but to recur to the past and compare it +with the present is to deluge me in grief and tears.</p> + +<p>My Boy is well; a fine tall fellow, and as good as I can possibly +expect; he is improved in looks since he came here. Clare is in Moscow +still, not very pleasantly situated; but she is in a situation, and +being now well in health, waits with more patience for better times. +The Godwins go on as usual. My Father, though harassed, is in good +health, and is employed in the second volume of the <i>Commonwealth</i>.</p> + +<p>The weather here is astonishingly mild, but the rain continual; half +England is under water, and the damage done at seaports from storms +incalculable. In Rome, doubtless, it has been different. Rome, dear +name! I cannot tell why, but to me there is something enchanting in +that spot. I have another friend there, the Countess Guiccioli, now +unhappy and mournful from the death of Lord Byron. Poor girl! I +sincerely pity her, for she truly loved him, and I cannot think that +she can endure an Italian after him. You have there also a Mr. Taaffe, +a countryman of yours, who translates Dante, and rides fine horses +that perpetually throw him. He knew us all very well.</p> + +<p>The English have had many a dose of scandal. First poor dear Lord +Byron, from whom, now gone, many a poor devil<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> of an author is now +fearless of punishment, then Mr. Fauntleroy, then Miss Foote; these +are now dying away. The fame of Mr. Fauntleroy, indeed, has not +survived him; that of Lord Byron bursts forth every now and then +afresh; whilst Miss Foote smokes most dismally still. Then we have had +our quantum of fires and misery, and the poor exiled Italians and +Spaniards have added famine to the list of evils. A subscription, +highly honourable to the poor and middle classes who subscribed their +mite, has relieved them.</p> + +<p>Will you write soon? How much delight I anticipate this spring on the +arrival of the picture! In all thankfulness, faithfully yours,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary W. Shelley</span>.</p></div> + +<p>The increase of allowance, from £100 to £200, had not been actually +granted at the beginning of the year, but it appeared so probable an event +that, thanks partly to the good offices of Mr. Peacock, Sir Timothy’s +lawyers agreed, while the matter was pending, to advance Mrs. Shelley the +extra £100 on their own responsibility. The concession was not so great as +it looks, for all money allowed to her was only advanced subject to an +agreement that every penny was to be repaid, with interest, to Sir +Timothy’s executors at the time when, according to Percy Bysshe Shelley’s +will, she should come into the property; and every cheque was endorsed by +her to this effect. But her immediate anxieties were in some measure +relieved by this addition to her income. Not, indeed, that it set her free +from pressing money cares, for the ensuing letter to Leigh Hunt +incidentally shows that her father was a perpetual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> drain on her +resources, that there was every probability of her having to support him +partly—at times entirely—in the future, and that she was endeavouring, +with Peacock’s help, to raise a large sum, on loan, to meet these possible +emergencies.</p> + +<p>The main subject of the letter is an article of Hunt’s about Shelley, the +proof of which had been sent to Mary to read. It contained, in an extended +form, the substance of that biographical notice, originally intended for a +preface to the volume of Posthumous Poems.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley to Leigh Hunt.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>8th April 1825.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Hunt</span>—I have just finished reading your article upon Shelley. +It is with great diffidence that I write to thank you for it, because +perceiving plainly that you think that I have forfeited all claim on +your affection, you may deem my thanks an impertinent intrusion. But +from my heart I thank you. You may imagine that it has moved me +deeply. Of course this very article shows how entirely you have cast +me out from any corner in your affections. And from various +causes—none dishonourable to me—I cannot help wishing that I could +have received your goodwill and kindness, which I prize, and have ever +prized; but you have a feeling, I had almost said a prejudice, against +me, which makes you construe foreign matter into detractation against +me (I allude to the, to me, deeply afflicting idea you got upon some +vague expression communicated to you by your brother), and insensible +to any circumstances that might be pleaded for me. But I will not +dwell on this. The sun shines, and I am striving so hard for a +continuation of the gleams of pleasure that visit my intolerable state +of regret for the loss of beloved companionship<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> during cloudless +days, that I will dash away the springing tears and make one or two +necessary observations on your article.</p> + +<p>I have often heard our Shelley relate the story of stabbing an upper +boy with a fork, but never as you relate it. He always described it, +in my hearing, as being an almost involuntary act, done on the spur of +anguish, and that he made the stab as the boy was going out of the +room. Shelley did not allow Harriet half his income. She received £200 +a year. Mr. Westbrook had always made his daughter an allowance, even +while she lived with Shelley, which of course was continued to her +after their separation. I think if I were near you, I could readily +persuade you to omit all allusion to Clare. After the death of Lord +Byron, in the thick of memoirs, scandal, and turning up of old +stories, she has never been alluded to, at least in any work I have +seen. You mention (having been obliged to return your MS. to Bowring, +I quote from memory) an article in <i>Blackwood</i>, but I hardly think +that this is of date subsequent to our miserable loss. In fact, poor +Clare has been buried in entire oblivion, and to bring her from this, +even for the sake of defending her, would, I am sure, pain her +greatly, and do her mischief. Would you permit this part to be erased? +I have, without waiting to ask your leave, requested Messrs. Bowring +to leave out your mention that the remains of dearest Edward were +brought to England. Jane still possesses this treasure, and has once +or twice been asked by his mother-in-law about it,—once an urn was +sent. Consequently she is very anxious that her secret should be kept, +and has allowed it to be believed that the ashes were deposited with +Shelley’s at Rome. Such, my dear Hunt, are all the alterations I have +to suggest, and I lose no time in communicating them to you. They are +too trivial for me to apologise for the liberty, and I hope that you +will agree with me in what I say about Clare—Allegra no more—she at +present absent and forgotten. On Sir Timothy’s death she will come in +for a legacy which may enable her to enter into society,—perhaps to +marry, if she wishes it, if the past be forgotten.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>I forget whether such things are recorded by “Galignani,” or, if +recorded, whether you would have noticed it. My Father’s complicated +annoyances, brought to their height by the failure of a very promising +speculation and the loss of an impossible-to-be-lost law-suit, have +ended in a bankruptcy, the various acts of which drama are now in +progress; that over, nothing will be left to him but his pen and me. +He is so full of his <i>Commonwealth</i> that in the midst of every anxiety +he writes every day now, and in a month or two will have completed the +second volume, and I am employed in raising money necessary for my +maintenance, and in which he must participate. This will drain me +pretty dry for the present, but (as the old women say) if I live, I +shall have more than enough for him and me, and recur, at least to +some part of my ancient style of life, and feel of some value to +others. Do not, however, mistake my phraseology; I shall not live with +my Father, but return to Italy and economise, the moment God and Mr. +Whitton will permit. My Percy is quite well, and has exchanged his +constant winter occupation of drawing for playing in the fields (which +are now useful as well as ornamental), flying kites, gardening, etc. I +bask in the sun on the grass reading Virgil, that is, my beloved +<i>Georgics</i> and Lord Shaftesbury’s <i>Characteristics</i>. I begin to live +again, and as the maids of Greece sang joyous hymns on the revival of +Adonis, does my spirit lift itself in delightful thanksgiving on the +awakening of nature.</p> + +<p>Lamb is superannuated—do you understand? as Madame says. He has left +the India House on two-thirds of his income, and become a gentleman at +large—a delightful consummation. What a strange taste it is that +confines him to a view of the New River, with houses opposite, in +Islington! I saw the Novellos the other day. Mary and her new babe are +well; he, Vincent all over, fat and flourishing moreover, and she +dolorous that it should be her fate to add more than her share to the +population of the world. How are all yours—Henry and the rest? Percy +still remembers him, though occupied by new friendships and the +feelings incident to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> state of matrimony, having taken for better +and worse to wife Mrs. Williams’ little girl.</p> + +<p>I suppose you will receive with these letters Bessy’s new book, which +she has done very well indeed, and forms with the other a delightful +prize for plant and flower worshippers, those favourites of God, which +enjoy beauty unequalled and the tranquil pleasures of growth and life, +bestowing incalculable pleasure, and never giving or receiving pain. +Have you seen Hazlitt’s notes of his travels? He is going over the +same road that I have travelled twice. He surprised me by calling the +road from Susa to Turin dull; there, where the Alps sink into low +mountains and romantic hills, topped by ruined castles, watered by +brawling streams, clothed by magnificent walnut trees; there, where I +wrote to you in a fit of enchantment, exalted by the splendid scene; +but I remembered, first, that he travelled in winter, when snow covers +all; and, besides, he went from what I approached, and looked at the +plain of Lombardy with the back of the diligence between him and the +loveliest scene in nature; so much can <i>relation</i> alter circumstances.</p> + +<p>Clare is still, I believe, at Moscow. When I return to Italy I shall +endeavour to enable her to go thither also. I shall not come without +my Jane, who is now necessary to my existence almost. She has recourse +to the cultivation of her mind, and amiable and dear as she ever was, +she is in every way improved and become more valuable.</p> + +<p>Trelawny is in the cave with Ulysses, not in Polypheme’s cave, but in +a vast cavern of Parnassus; inaccessible and healthy and safe, but cut +off from the rest of the world. Trelawny has attached himself to the +part of Ulysses, a savage chieftain, without any plan but personal +independence and opposition to the Government. Trelawny calls him a +hero. Ulysses speaks a word or two of French; Trelawny, no Greek! +Pierino has returned to Greece.</p> + +<p>Horace Smith has returned with his diminished family (little Horace is +dead). He already finds London too expensive, and they are about to +migrate to Tunbridge Wells. He is very kind to me.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>I long to hear from you, and I am more tenderly attached to you and +yours than you imagine; love me a little, and make Marianne love me, +as truly I think she does. Am I mistaken, Polly?—Your affectionate +and obliged,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary W. Shelley</span>.</p></div> + +<p>Outwardly, this year was uneventful. Mary was busily working at her novel, +<i>The Last Man</i>. The occupation was good for her, and perhaps it was no bad +thing that Necessity should stand at her elbow to stimulate her to +exertion when her interest and energy flagged. For, in spite of her utmost +efforts to the contrary, her heart and spirit were often faint at the +prospect of an arduous and lonely life. And when, in early autumn, +Shelley’s portrait was at last sent to her by Miss Curran, the sight of it +brought back the sense of what she had lost, and revived in all its +irrecoverable bitterness that past happy time, than to remember which in +misery there is no greater sorrow.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Journal, September 17</i> (1825).—Thy picture is come, my only one! +Thine those speaking eyes, that animated look; unlike aught earthly +wert thou ever, and art now!</p> + +<p>If thou hadst still lived, how different had been my life and +feelings!</p> + +<p>Thou art near to guard and save me, angelic one! Thy divine glance +will be my protection and defence. I was not worthy of thee, and thou +hast left me; yet that dear look assures me that thou wert mine, and +recalls and narrates to my backward-looking mind a long tale of love +and happiness.</p> + +<p>My head aches. My heart—my hapless heart—is deluged in bitterness. +Great God! if there be any pity for human suffering, tell me what I am +to do. I strive to study, I strive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> to write, but I cannot live +without loving and being loved, without sympathy; if this is denied to +me I must die. Would that the hour were come!</p></div> + +<p>On the same day when Mary penned these melancholy lines, Trelawny was +writing to her from Cephalonia.</p> + +<p>He had been treacherously shot by an inmate of his mountain fortress, an +Englishman newly arrived, whom he had welcomed as a guest. The true +instigator of the crime was one Fenton, a Scotchman, who in the guise of a +volunteer had ostensibly served under Trelawny for a twelvemonth past, and +who by his capability and apparent zeal had so won his confidence as to be +entrusted with secret missions. He was, in fact, an emissary of the Greek +Government, foisted on Trelawny at Missolonghi to act as a spy on +Odysseus, the insurgent Greek chieftain.</p> + +<p>Through his machinations Odysseus was betrayed and murdered, and Trelawny +narrowly escaped death.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Cephalonia</span>, <i>17th September 1825</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>—I have just escaped from Greece and landed here, in the +hopes of patching up my broken frame and shattered constitution. Two +musket balls, fired at the distance of two paces, struck me and passed +through my framework, which damn’d near finished me; but ’tis a long +story, and my writing arm is rendered unfit for service, and I am yet +unpractised with the left. But a friend of mine here, a Major<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> Bacon, +is on his way to England, and will enlighten you as to me. I shall be +confined here some time. Write to me then at this place. I need rest +and quiet, for I am shook to the foundation. Love to Jane and Clare, +and believe me still your devoted friend,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Edward Trelawny</span>.</p></div> + +<p>It would seem that this letter was many months in reaching Mary, for in +February 1826 she was writing to him in these terms—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I hear at last that Mr. Hodges has letters for me, and that prevents a +thousand things I was about to say concerning the pain your very long +silence had occasioned me. Consider, dear friend, that your last was +in April, so that nearly a year has gone by, and not only did I not +hear <i>from</i> you, but until the arrival of Mr. Hodges, many months had +elapsed since I had heard of you.</p> + +<p>Sometimes I flattered myself that the foundations of my little +habitation would have been shaken by a “ship Shelley ahoy” that even +Jane, distant a mile, would have heard. That dear hope lost, I feared +a thousand things.</p> + +<p>Hamilton Browne’s illness, the death of many English, the return of +every other from Greece, filled me with gloomy apprehensions.</p> + +<p>But you live,—what kind of life your letters will, I trust, inform +me,—what possible kind of life in a cavern surrounded by +precipices,—inaccessible! All this will satisfy your craving +imagination. The friendship you have for Odysseus, does that satisfy +your warm heart?... I gather from your last letter and other +intelligence that you think of marrying the daughter of your favourite +chief, and thus will renounce England and even the English for ever. +And yet,—no! you love some of us, I am sure, too much to forget us, +even if you neglect us for a while; but truly, I long for your +letters, which will tell all. And remember, dear friend, it is about +yourself I am anxious. Of Greece I read in the papers. I see many +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>informants, but I can learn your actions, hopes, and, above all +valuable to me, the continuation of your affection for me, from your +letters only.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>27th February.</i></p> + +<p>I now close my letter—I have not yet received yours.</p> + +<p>Last night Jane and I went with Gamba and my Father to see Kean in +<i>Othello</i>. This play, as you may guess, reminded us of you. Do you +remember, when delivering the killing news, you awoke Jane, as Othello +awakens Desdemona from her sleep on the sofa? Kean, abominably +supported, acted divinely; put as he is on his mettle by recent events +and a full house and applause, which he deserved, his farewell is the +most pathetic piece of acting to be imagined. Yet, my dear friend, I +wish we had seen it represented as was talked of at Pisa. Iago would +never have found a better representative than that strange and +wondrous creature whom one regrets daily more,—for who here can equal +him? Adieu, dear Trelawny, take care of yourself, and come and visit +us as soon as you can escape from the sorceries of Ulysses.—In all +truth, yours affectionately,</p> + +<p class="signa">M. W. S.</p> + +<p>At Pisa, 1822, Lord Byron talked vehemently of our getting up a play +in his great hall at the Lanfranchi; it was to be <i>Othello</i>. He cast +the characters thus: Byron, Iago; Trelawny, Othello; Williams, Cassio; +Medwin, Roderigo; Mrs. Shelley, Desdemona; Mrs. Williams, Emilia. “Who +is to be our audience?” I asked. “All Pisa,” he rejoined. He recited a +great portion of his part with great gusto; it exactly suited him,—he +looked it, too.</p></div> + +<p>All this time Miss Clairmont was pursuing her vocation as a governess in +Russia, and many interesting glimpses into Russian family and social life +are afforded by her letters to Mrs. Shelley and Mrs. Williams. She was a +voluminous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> letter-writer, and in these characteristic epistles she +unconsciously paints, as no other hand could have done, a vivid portrait +of herself. We can see her, with all her vivacity, versatility, and +resource, her great cleverness,—never at a loss for a word, an excuse, or +a good story,—her indefatigable energy, her shifting moods and wild +caprices, the bewildering activity of her restless brain, and the +astonishing facility with which she transferred to paper all her passing +impressions. In narration, in description, in panegyric, and in complaint +she is equally fluent. Unimpeachably correct as her conduct always was +after her one miserable adventure, she had, from first to last, an innate +affinity for anything in the shape of social gossip and scandal; her +really generous impulses were combined with the worldliest of worldly +wisdom, and the whole tinctured with the highest of high-flown sentiment.</p> + +<p>Fill in the few details wanting, the flat, sleek, black hair,—eyes so +black that the pupil was hardly to be distinguished from the iris (eyes +which seemed unmistakably to indicate an admixture of Portuguese, if not +of African, blood in her descent),—a complexion which may in girlhood +have been olive, but in later life was sallow,—features not beautiful, +and depending on expression for any charm they might have,—and she stands +before the reader, the unmanageable,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> amusing, runaway schoolgirl; a +stumbling-block first, then a bugbear, to Byron; a curse, which he +persistently treated as a blessing, to Shelley; a thorn in the side of +Mary and of every one who ever was responsible for her; yet liked by her +acquaintance, admired in society, commiserated by her early friends, and +regarded with well-deserved affection and gratitude by many of her pupils +and <i>protégés</i>.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Clare to Jane.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Moscow</span>, <i>27th October 1825</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dearest Jane</span>—It is now so long since I heard from you that I begin +to think you have quite forgotten me. I wrote twice to you during the +summer; both letters went by private hand, and to neither of which +have I received your answer. I enclosed also a letter or letters for +Trelawny, and I hope very much you have received them. Whenever some +time elapses without hearing from England, then I begin to grow +miserable with fear. In a letter I received from Mary in the autumn, +she mentions the approaching return of the Hunts from Italy, and I +console myself with believing that you are both so much taken up with +them that you have delayed from day to day to write to me. Be that as +it may, I have never been in greater need of your letters than for +these last two months, for I have been truly wretched. To convince you +that I am not given to fret for trifles, I will tell you how they have +been passed. I spent a very quiet time, if not a very agreeable one, +until the 12th of August; then a French newspaper fell into my hands, +in which it mentioned that Trelawny had been dangerously wounded in a +duel on the 13th of June. You who have known the misery of anxiety for +the safety and wellbeing of those dear to us may imagine what I +suffered. At last a letter from Mary came, under date of 26th of July, +not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> mentioning a word of this, and I allowed myself to hope that it +was not true, because certainly she would have heard of it by the time +she wrote. Then, a week after, another newspaper mentioned his being +recovered. This was scarcely passed when our two children fell ill; +one got better, but the other, my pupil, a little girl of six years +and a half old, died. I was truly wretched at her loss, and our whole +house was a scene of sorrow and confusion, that can only happen in a +savage country, where a disciplined temper is utterly unknown. We came +to town, and directly the little boy fell sick again of a putrid +fever, from which he was in imminent danger for some time. At last +after nights and days of breathless anxiety he did recover. By the +death of the little girl, I became of little or no use in the house, +and the thought of again entering a new house, and having to learn new +dispositions, was quite abhorrent to me. Nothing is so cruel as to +change from house to house and be perpetually surrounded by strangers; +one feels so forlorn, so utterly alone, that I could not have the +courage to begin the career over again; so I settled to remain in the +same house, to continue the boy’s English, and to give lessons +out-of-doors. I do not know whether my plan will succeed yet, but, at +any rate, I am bent upon trying it. It is not very agreeable to walk +about in the snow and in a cold of twenty, sometimes thirty degrees; +but anything is better than being a governess in the common run of +Moscow houses. But you have not yet heard my greatest sorrow, and +which I think might well have been spared. I had one Englishwoman +here, to whom I was attached—a woman of the most generous heart, and +whom misfortune, perhaps imprudence, had driven to Russia. She thought +with me that nothing can equal the misery of our situation, and +accordingly she went last spring to Odessa, hoping to find some means +of establishing a boarding-house in order to have a home. If it +succeeded, she was to have sent for me; but, however, she wrote to me +that, after well considering everything, she found such a plan would +not succeed, and that I might expect her shortly in Moscow, to resume +her old manner of life. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> expected her arrival daily, and began to +grow uneasy, and at length some one wrote to another acquaintance of +hers here that she had destroyed herself. I, who knew her thoughts, +have no doubt the horror of entering again as governess made her +resolve upon this as the only means to escape it. You see, dearest +Jane, whether these last two months have been fruitful in woes. I +cannot tell you what a consolation it would have been to have received +a letter from you whilst I have been suffering under such extreme +melancholy. The only amelioration in my present situation is that I +can withdraw to my room and be much more alone than I could formerly, +and this solitude is so friendly to my nature that it has been my only +comfort. I have heard all about the change in my mother’s situation, +and am truly glad of it. I am sure she will be much better off than +she was before. As for Mary, her affairs seem inexplicable. Nothing +can ever persuade me that a will can dispose of estates which the +maker of it never possessed. Do clear up this mystery to me. What a +strange way of thinking must that be which can rely on such a hope! +Yet my brother, my mother, and Mary never cease telling me that one +day I shall be free, and the state of doubt, the contradiction between +their assertions and my intimate persuasion of the contrary, that +awakens in my mind, is very painful. You are almost quite silent upon +the subject, but I wish, my dear Jane, that you would answer me the +following questions. Has any professional man ever been consulted on +the subject? What is Hogg’s opinion? Why in this particular case +should the law be set aside, which says that no man can dispose of +what he has never possessed? Do have the goodness to ask these +questions very clearly and to give me the answers, which no one has +ever done yet. They simply tell me, “Whitton has come forward,” +“Whitton thinks the will valid,” etc. etc., all of which cannot prove +to me that it is so. I know you will excuse my giving you so much +trouble, but really when you consider the painful uncertainty which +hangs on my mind, you will think it very natural that I should wish to +know the reasons of what is asserted to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> me. To say the truth, I daily +grow more indifferent about the issue of the affair. The time is past +when independence would have been an object of my desires, and I am +now old enough to know that misery is the universal malady of the +human race, and that there is no escaping from it, except by a +philosophic indifference to all external circumstances, and by a +disciplined mind completely absorbed in intellectual subjects. I +fashion my life accordingly to this, and I often enjoy moments of +serenest calm, which I owe to this way of thinking. Do not mistake and +think that I am indifferent to seeing you again; so far from this, I +dream of this as one dreams of Paradise after death, as a thing of +another world, and not to be obtained here. It would be too much +happiness for me to venture to hope it. I endeavour often to imagine +the circle in which you live, but it is impossible, and I think it +would be equally difficult for you to picture to yourself my mode of +life. I often think what in the world Mary or Jane would do in the +dull routine I tread; no talk of public affairs, no talk of books, no +subject do I ever hear of except cards, eating, and the different +manner of managing slaves. Now and then some heroic young man devotes +himself like a second Marcus Curtius to the public good, and, in order +to give the good ladies of Moscow something new to talk of, rouses +them from their lethargic gossipings by getting himself shot in a +duel; or some governess disputes with the mother of her pupils, and +what they both said goes over the town. Mary mentioned in her last +that she thought it very likely you might both go to Paris. I hope you +may be there, for I am sure you would find the mode of life more +cheerful than London. As I have told you so many of my sorrows, I must +tell you the only good piece of news I have to communicate. I have +lately made acquaintance with a German gentleman, who is a great +resource to me. In such a country as Russia, where nothing but +ignorant people are to be met, a cultivated mind is the greatest +treasure. His society recalls our former circle, for he is well versed +in ancient and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> modern literature, and has the same noble, enlarged +way of thinking. You may imagine how delighted he was to find me so +different from everything around him, and capable of understanding +what has been so long sealed up in his mind as treasures too precious +to be wasted on the coarse Russian soil. I talk to you thus freely +about him, because I know you will not believe that I am in love, or +that I have any other feeling than a most sincere and steady +friendship for him. What you felt for Shelley I feel for him. I feel +it also my duty to tell you I have a real friend, because, in case of +sickness or death happening to me, you would at least feel the +consolation of knowing that I had not died in the hands of strangers. +I talk to him very often of you and Mary, until his desire to see you +becomes quite a passion. He is, like all Germans, very sentimental, a +very sweet temper, and uncommonly generous. His attachment to me is +extreme, but I have taken the very greatest care to explain to him +that I cannot return it in the same degree. This does not make him +unhappy, and therefore our friendship is of the utmost importance to +both. I hope, my dear Jane, that you will one day see him, and that +both you and Mary may find such an agreeable friend in him as I have +had. I must now turn from this subject to speak of Trelawny, which +comes naturally into my mind with the idea of friendship; you cannot +think how uneasy I am at not hearing from him. I am not afraid of his +friendship growing cold for me, for I am sure he is unchangeable on +that point, but I am afraid for his happiness and safety. Is it true +that his friend Ulysses is dead? and if so, do pray write to him and +prevail upon him to return. I should be at ease if I were to know him +near you and Mary. Do think if you can do anything to draw him to you, +my dearest Jane. It would render me the happiest of human beings to +know him in the hands of two such friends. If this could be, how hard +I should work to gain a little independence here, and return perhaps +in ten years and live with you. As yet I have done nothing, +notwithstanding my utmost exertions, towards such a plan, but I am +turning over every possible means in my brain for devising some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +scheme to get money, and perhaps I may. That is my reason for staying +in Russia, because there is no country so favourable to foreigners. +Pray, my dear Jane, do write to me the moment you receive this, and +answer very particularly the questions I have asked you. I have filled +this whole letter, do you the same in your answer, and tell me every +particular about Percy, Neddy, and Dina; they little guess how warm a +friend they have in this distant land, who thinks perpetually of them, +and wishes for nothing so much as to see them and to play with them. +Give my love to Mary. I will write soon again to her. In the meantime +do some of you pray write. These horrid long winters, and the sky, +which is from month to month of the darkest dun colour, need some news +from you to render life supportable. Kiss all the dear children for +me, and tell me everything about them.—Ever your affectionate friend,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Clare</span>.</p> + +<p>Pray beg Mary to tell my mother that I wrote to her on or about the +22d of August; has she had this letter? and do tell me in yours what +you know of her. I have just received your letter of the 3d of +September, for which I thank you most cordially. Thank heaven, you are +all well! What you say of Trelawny distresses me, as it seems to me +that you are unwilling to say what you have heard, as it is of a +disagreeable nature. You could do me a great benefit if you could make +yourself mistress of the Logier’s system of teaching music, and +communicate it to me in its smallest details. I am sure it would take +here. Do, pray, make serious inquiries of some one who has been taught +by him. If any one would undertake to write me a very circumstantial +account of his method, I would cheerfully pay them. It might be the +means of my making a small independence here, and then I could join +you soon in Italy without fear for the future. Do think seriously of +this, my dear Jane, and do not take it into your head that it is an +idle project, for it would be of the greatest use to me. As to your +admirer, I think he is mad, and his society, which would otherwise be +a relief, must now be a burthen. You are very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> right in saying you +only find solace in mental occupation; it is the only thing that saves +me from such a depression of spirits taking hold of me when I have an +instant to reflect upon the past that I am ready for any rash act; but +I am occupied from 6 in the morning until 10 at night, and then am so +worn out I have no time for thinking. Once more farewell. My address +is—Chez Monsieur Lenhold, Marchand de Musique, a Moscow.</p></div> + +<p><i>The Last Man</i>, Mrs. Shelley’s third novel, was published early in 1826. +It differed widely from its predecessors. <i>Frankenstein</i> was an +allegorical romance; <i>Valperga</i> a historical novel, Italian, of the +fifteenth century; the plot of the one depends for its interest chiefly on +incident, that of the other on the development of character, but both have +a definite purpose in the inculcation of certain moral or philosophical +truths. The story of <i>The Last Man</i> is purely romantic and imaginary, +probabilities and possibilities being entirely discarded. Its supposed +events take place in the twenty-first century of our era, when a devouring +plague depopulates by degrees the whole world, until the narrator remains, +to his own belief, the only surviving soul. At the book’s conclusion he is +left, in a little boat, coasting around the shores of the sea-washed +countries of the Mediterranean, with the forlorn hope of finding a +companion solitary. He writes the history of his fate and that of his race +on the leaves of trees,—supposed to be discovered and deciphered long +afterwards in the Sibyl’s Cave at Baiae,—the world having been (as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> we +must infer) repeopled by that time. It is not difficult to understand the +kind of fascination this curious, mournful fancy had for Mary in her +solitude. Much other matter is, of course, interwoven with the leading +idea. The characteristics of the hero, Adrian, his benevolence of heart, +his winning aspect, his passion of justice and self-devotion, and his +fervent faith in the possibilities of human nature and the future of the +human race, are unmistakably sketched from Shelley, and the portrait was +at once recognised by Shelley’s earliest friend, the value of whose +appreciation was, if anything, enhanced by the fact of the great +unlikeness between his temperament and Shelley’s.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">T. J. Hogg to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">York</span>, <i>22d March 1826</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mary</span>—As I am about to send a frank to dearest Jane, I enclose +a note to you to thank you for the pleasure you have given me. I read +your <i>Last Man</i> with an intense interest and not without tears. I +began it at Stamford yesterday morning as soon as it was light; I read +on all day, even during the short time that was allowed us for dinner, +and, if I had not finished it before it was dark, I verily believe +that I should have bought a candle and held it in my hand in the mail. +I think that it is a decided improvement, and that the character of +Adrian is most happy and most just.—I am, dear Mary, yours ever +faithfully,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">T. J. Hogg</span>.</p></div> + +<p>The appearance of Mary’s novel had for its practical consequence the +stoppage of her supplies. The book was published anonymously, as “by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +author of <i>Frankenstein</i>,” but Mrs. Shelley’s name found its way into some +newspaper notices, and this misdemeanour (for which she was not +responsible) was promptly punished by the suspension of her allowance. +Peacock’s good offices were again in request, to try and avert this +misfortune, but it was not at once that he prevailed. He impressed on +Whitton (the solicitor) that the name did not appear in the title-page, +and that its being brought forward at all was the fault of the publisher +and quite contrary to the wishes of the writer, who, solitary and +despondent, could not be reasonably condemned for employing her time +according to her tastes and talents, with a view to bettering her +condition. This Whitton acknowledged, but said, “the name was the matter; +it annoyed Sir Timothy.” He would promise nothing, and Peacock could only +assure Mary that he felt little doubt of her getting the money at last, +though she might be punished by a short delay.</p> + +<p>It may be assumed that this turned out so. Late in the year, however, +another turn was given to Mary’s affairs by the death of Shelley’s eldest +boy.</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><i>Journal, September 1826.</i>—Charles Shelley died during this month. Percy is now Shelley’s only son.</p> + +<p>Mary’s son being now direct heir to the estates, and her own prospects +being materially improved by this fact, she at once thought of others +whom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> Shelley had meant to benefit by his will, and who, she was resolved, +should not be losers by his early death, if she lived to carry out for him +his unwritten intentions. She did not think, when she wrote to Leigh Hunt +the letter which follows, that nearly twenty years more would elapse +before the will could take effect.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley to Leigh Hunt.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">5 Bartholomew Place, Kentish Town</span>,<br /> +<span style="padding-right: 3em;"><i>30th October 1826</i>.</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Hunt</span>—Is it, or is it not, right that these few lines should +be addressed to you now? Yet if the subject be one that you may judge +better to have been deferred, set my <i>delay</i> down to the account of +over-zeal in writing to relieve you from a part of the care which I +know is just now oppressing you; too happy I shall be if you permit +any act of mine to have that effect.</p> + +<p>I told you long ago that our dear Shelley intended on rewriting his +will to have left you a legacy. I think the sum mentioned was £2000. I +trust that hereafter you will not refuse to consider me your debtor +for this sum merely because I shall be bound to pay it you by the laws +of honour instead of a legal obligation. You would, of course, have +been better pleased to have received it immediately from dear +Shelley’s bequest; but as it is well known that he intended to make +such an one, it is in fact the same thing, and so I hope by you to be +considered; besides, your kind heart will receive pleasure from the +knowledge that you are bestowing on me the greatest pleasure I am +capable of receiving. This is no resolution of to-day, but formed from +the moment I knew my situation to be such as it is. I did not mention +it, because it seemed almost like an empty vaunt to talk and resolve +on things so far off. But futurity approaches, and a feeling haunts me +as if this futurity were not far distant. I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> spoken vaguely to +you on this subject before, but now, you having had a recent +disappointment, I have thought it as well to inform you in express +terms of the meaning I attached to my expressions. I have as yet made +no will, but in the meantime, if I should chance to die, this present +writing may serve as a legal document to prove that I give and +bequeath to you the sum of £2000 sterling. But I hope we shall both +live, I to acknowledge dear Shelley’s intentions, you to honour me so +far as to permit me to be their executor.</p> + +<p>I have mentioned this subject to no one, and do not intend; an act is +not aided by words, especially an act unfulfilled, nor does this +letter, methinks, require any answer, at least not till after the +death of Sir Timothy Shelley, when perhaps this explanation would have +come with better grace; but I trust to your kindness to put my writing +now to a good motive.—I am, my dear Hunt, yours affectionately and +obliged,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley</span>.</p></div> + +<p>It was admitted by the Shelley family that, Percy being now the heir, some +sort of settlement should be made for his mother, yet for some months +longer nothing was done or arranged. Apparently Mary wrote to Trelawny in +low spirits, and to judge from his reply, her letter found him in little +better plight than herself.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Zante</span>, <i>16th December 1826</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>—I received your letter the other day, and nothing gives me +greater pleasure than to hear from you, for however assured we are of +a friend’s durability of affection, it is soothing to be occasionally +reassured of it. I sympathise in your distresses. I have mine, too, on +the same score—a bountiful will and confined means are a curse, and +often have I execrated my fortunes so ill corresponding with my +wishes. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> who can control his fate? Old age and poverty is a +frightful prospect; it makes the heart sick to contemplate, even in +the mind’s eye the reality would wring a generous nature till the +heart burst. Poverty is the vampyre which lives on human blood, and +haunts its victims to destruction. Hell can fable no torment exceeding +it, and all the other calamities of human life—wars, pestilence, +fire—cannot compete with it. It is the climax of human ill. You may +be certain that I could not write thus on what I did not feel. I am +glad you say you have better hopes; when things are at the worst, they +say, there is hope. So do I hope. Lord Cochrane and his naval +expedition having so long and unaccountably been kept back, delayed me +here from month to month till the winter has definitively set in, and +I am in no state for a winter’s voyage; my body is no longer +weatherproof. But I must as soon as possible get to England, though my +residence there will be transitory. I shall then most probably hurry +on to Italy.</p> + +<p>The frigate from America is at last arrived in Greece, but whether +Cochrane is on board of her I know not. With the loss of my friend +Odysseus, my enthusiasm has somewhat abated; besides that I could no +longer act with the prospect of doing service, and toiling in vain is +heartless work. But have I not done so all my life? The affairs of +Greece are so bad that little can be done to make them worse. If +Cochrane comes, and is supported with means sufficient, there is still +room for hope. I am in too melancholy a mood to say more than that, +whatever becomes of me.—I am always your true and affectionate</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">E. Trelawny</span>.</p></div> + +<p>Mary answered him at once, doing and saying, to console him, all that +friendship could.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Kentish Town</span>, <i>4th March 1827</i>.</p> + +<p class="center">[Direct me at W. Godwin, Esq., 44 Gower Place, Gower Street, London.]</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Trelawny</span>—Your long silence had instilled into me the delusive +hope that I should hear you sooner than from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> you. I have been silly +enough sometimes to start at a knock,—at length your letter is come. +[By] that indeed I entertain more reasonable hopes of seeing you. You +will come—Ah, indeed you must; if you are ever the kind-hearted being +you were—you must come to be consoled by my sympathy, exhilarated by +my encouragements, and made happy by my friendship. You are not happy! +Alas! who is that has a noble and generous nature? It is not only, my +noble-hearted friend, that your will is bountiful and your means +small,—were you richer you would still be tormented by ingratitude, +caprice, and change. Yet I say Amen to all your anathema against +poverty, it is beyond measure a torment and despair. I am poor, having +once been richer; I live among the needy, and see only poverty around. +I happen, as has always been my fate, to have formed intimate +friendships with those who are great of soul, generous, and incapable +of valuing money except for the good it may do—and these very people +are all even poorer than myself, is it not hard? But turning to you +who are dearest to me, who of all beings are most liberal, it makes me +truly unhappy to find that you are hard pressed: do not talk of old +age and poverty, both the one and the other are in truth far from +you,—for the one it will be a miracle if you live to grow old,—this +would appear a strange compliment if addressed to another, but you and +I have too much of the pure spirit of fire in our souls to wish to +live till the flickering beam waxes dim;—think then of the few +present years only. I have no doubt you will do your fortunes great +good by coming to this country. A too long absence destroys the +interest that friends take, if they are only friends in the common +acceptation of the word; and your relations ought to be reminded of +you. The great fault to us in this country is its expensiveness, and +the dreadful ills attendant here on poverty; elsewhere, though poor, +you may live—here you are actually driven from life, and though a few +might pity, none would help you were you absolutely starving. You say +you shall stay here but a short time and then go to Italy—alas! alas!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>It is impossible in a letter to communicate the exact state of one’s +feelings and affairs here—but there is a change at hand—I cannot +guess whether for good or bad as far as regards me. This winter, whose +extreme severity has carried off many old people, confined Sir Tim. +for ten weeks by the gout—but he is recovered. All that time a +settlement for me was delayed, although it was acknowledged that Percy +now being the heir, one ought to be made; at length after much +parading, they have notified to me that I shall receive a magnificent +£250 a year, to be increased next year to £300. But then I am not +permitted to leave this cloudy nook. My desire to get away is +unchanged, and I used to look forward to your return as a period when +I might contrive—but I fear there is no hope for me during Sir T.’s +life. He and his family are now at Brighton. John Shelley, dear S.’s +brother, is about to marry, and talks of calling upon me. I am often +led to reflect in life how people situated in a certain manner with +regard to me might make my life less drear than it is—but it is +always the case that the people that might—won’t, and it is a very +great mistake to fancy that they will. Such thoughts make me anxious +to draw tighter the cords of sympathy and friendship which are so much +more real than those of the world’s forming in the way of relationship +or connection.</p> + +<p>From the ends of the world we were brought together to be friends till +death; separated as we are, this tie still subsists. I do not wonder +that you are out of heart concerning Greece; the mismanagement here is +not less than the misgovernment there, the discord the same, save that +here ink is spilt instead of blood. Lord Cochrane alone can assist +them—but without vessels or money how can he acquire sufficient +power? at any rate except as the Captain of a vessel I do not see what +good you can do them. But the mischief is this,—that while some cold, +unimpressive natures can go to a new country, reside among a few +friends, enter into the interests of an intimate and live as a brother +among them for a time, and then depart, leaving small trace, retaining +none,—as if they had ascended from a bath, they change their garments +and pass <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>on;—while others of subtler nature receive into their very +essences a part of those with whom they associate, and after a while +they become enchained, either for better or worse, and during a series +of years they bear the marks of change and attachment. These natures +indeed are the purest and best, and of such are you, dear friend; +having you once, I ever have you; losing you once, I have lost you for +ever; a riddle this, but true. And so life passes, year is added to +year, the word youth is becoming obsolete, while years bring me no +change for the better. Yet I said, change is at hand—I know it, +though as yet I do not feel it—you will come, in the spring you will +come and add fresh delight for me to the happy change from winter to +summer. I cannot tell what else material is to change, but I feel sure +the year will end differently from its beginning. Jane is quite well, +we talk continually of you, and expect you anxiously. Her fortunes +have been more shifting than mine, and they are about to +conclude,—differently from mine,—but I leave her to say what she +thinks best concerning herself, though probably she will defer the +explanation until your arrival. She is my joy and consolation. I could +never have survived my exile here but for her. Her amiable temper, +cheerfulness, and never ceasing sympathy are all so much necessary +value for one wounded and lost as I.</p> + +<p>Come, dear friend, again I read your melancholy sentences and I say, +come! let us try if we can work out good from ill; if I may not be +able to throw a ray of sunshine on your path, at least I will lead you +as best I may through the gloom. Believe me that all that belongs to +you must be dear to me, and that I shall never forget all I owe to +you.</p> + +<p>Do you remember those pretty lines of Burns?—</p> + +<p class="poem">A monarch may forget his crown<br /> +That on his head an hour hath been,<br /> +A bridegroom may forget his bride<br /> +Who was his wedded wife yest’reen,<br /> +A mother may forget her child<br /> +That smiles so sweetly on her knee,<br /> +But I’ll remember thee, dear friend,<br /> +And all that thou hast done for me.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>Such feelings are not the growth of the moment. They must have lived +for years—have flourished in smiles, and retained their freshness +watered by tears; to feel them one must have sailed much of life’s +voyage together—have undergone the same perils, and sympathised in +the same fears and griefs; such is our situation; and the heartfelt +and deep-rooted sentiments fill my eyes with tears as I think of you, +dear friend, we shall meet soon. Adieu,</p> + +<p class="signa">M. S.</p> + +<p>... I cannot close this letter without saying a word about dear +Hunt—yet that must be melancholy. To feed nine children is no small +thing. His health has borne up pretty well hitherto, though his +spirits sink. What is it in the soil of this green earth that is so +ill adapted to the best of its sons? He speaks often of you with +affection.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 1em;">To Edward Trelawny, Esq.,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To the care of Samuel Barff, Esq.,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Zante, The Ionian Isles.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seal—Judgment of Paris.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Endorsed—Received 10th April 1827.</span></p></div> + +<p>Change was indeed at hand, though not of a kind that Mary could have +anticipated. The only event in prospect likely to affect her much was a +step shortly to be taken by Mrs. Williams. That intended step, vaguely +foreshadowed in Jane’s correspondence, aroused the liveliest curiosity in +Clare Clairmont, as was natural.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Miss Clairmont to Mrs. Williams.</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dearest Jane</span>—If I have not written to you before, it is owing to +low spirits. I have not been able to take the pen, because it would +have been dipped in too black a melancholy. I am tired of being in +trouble, particularly as it goes on augmenting every day. I have had a +hard struggle with myself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> lately to get over the temptation I had to +lay down the burthen at once, and be free as spirits are, and leave +this horrid world behind me. In order to let you understand what now +oppresses me, I must tell you my history since I came to Moscow. I +came here quite unknown. I was at first ill treated on that account, +but I soon acquired a great reputation, because all my pupils made +much more progress in whatever they undertook than those of other +people. I had few acquaintances among the English; to these I had +never mentioned a single circumstance of myself or fortunes, but took +care, on the contrary, to appear content and happy, as if I had never +known or seen any other society all my days. I sent you a letter by +Miss F., because I knew your name would excite no suspicions; but it +seems my mother got hold of Miss F., sought her out, and has thereby +done me a most incalculable mischief. Miss F. came back full of my +story here, and though she is very friendly to me, yet others who are +not so have already done me injury. The Professor at the University +here is a man of a good deal of talent, and was in close connection +with Lockhart, the son-in-law of Sir Walter Scott, and all that party; +he has a great deal of friendship for me, because, as he says, very +truly, I am the only person here besides himself who knows how to +speak English. He professes the most rigid principles, and is come to +that age when it is useless to endeavour to change them. I, however, +took care not to get upon the subject of principles, and so he was of +infinite use to me both by counselling and by protecting me with the +weight of his high approbation. You may imagine this man’s horror when +he heard who I was; that the charming Miss Clairmont, the model of +good sense, accomplishments, and good taste, was brought, issued from +the very den of freethinkers. I see that he is in a complete puzzle on +my account; he cannot explain to himself how I can be so extremely +delightful, and yet so detestable. The inveteracy of his objections is +shaken. This, however, has not hindered him from doing me serious +mischief. I was to have undertaken this winter the education of an +only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> daughter, the child of a very rich family where the Professor +reigns despotic, because he always settles every little dispute with +some unintelligible quotation or reference to a Latin or Greek author. +I am extremely interested in the child, he used to say, and no one can +give her the education she ought to have but Miss Clairmont. The +father and the mother have been running after me these years to +persuade me to enter when the child should be old enough. I consented, +when now, all is broken off, because the scruples of my professor do +not allow of it. God knows, he says, what Godwinish principles she +might not instil. You may, therefore, think how teased I have been; +more so from the uncertainty of my position, as I do not know how far +this may extend. If this is only the beginning, what may be the end? I +am not angry with this man, he only acts according to his conscience; +nor am I surprised. I shall never cease feeling and thinking that if I +had my choice, I had rather a thousand times have a child of mine +resigned to an early grave, and lost for ever to me, than have it +brought up in principles I abhor. If you ask me what I shall do, I can +only answer you as did the Princess Mentimiletto, when buried under +the ruins of her villa by an earthquake, “I await my fate in silence.” +In the meantime, while the page of fate is unrolling, I feel a secret +agitation which consumes me, the more so for being repressed. I am +fallen again into a bad state of health, but this is habitual to me +upon the recurrence of winter. What torments me the most is the +restraint I am under of always appearing gay in society, which I am +obliged to do to avoid their odious curiosity. Farewell awhile dismay +and terror, and let us turn to love and happiness. Never was +astonishment greater than mine on receiving your letter. I had somehow +imagined to myself that you never would love again, and you may say +what you like, dearest Jane, you won’t drive that out of my head. +“Blue Bag” may be a friend to you, but he never can be a lover. A +happy attachment that has seen its end leaves a void that nothing can +fill up; therefore I counsel the timorous and the prudent to take the +greatest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> care always to have an unhappy attachment, because with it +you can veer about like a weathercock to every point of life. What +would I not give to have an unhappy passion, for then one has full +permission and a perfect excuse to fall into a happy one; one has +something to expect, but a <i>happy passion</i>, like death, has <i>finis</i> +written in such large characters in its face there is no hoping for +any possibility of a change. You will allow me to talk upon this +subject, for I am unhappily the victim of a <i>happy passion</i>. I had +one; like all things perfect in its kind, it was fleeting, and mine +only lasted ten minutes, but these ten minutes have discomposed the +rest of my life. The passion, God knows for what cause, from no faults +of mine, however, disappeared, leaving no trace whatever behind it +except my heart wasted and ruined as if it had been scorched by a +thousand lightnings. You will therefore, I hope, excuse my not +following the advice you give me in your last letter, of falling in +love, and you will readily believe me when I tell you that I am not in +love, as you suspected, with my German friend Hermann. He went away +last spring for five years to the country. I have a great friendship +for him, because he has the most ardent love of all that is good and +beautiful of any one I know. I feel interested for his happiness and +welfare, but he is not the being who could make life feel less a +burthen to me than it does. It would, however, seem that you are a +little happier than you were, therefore I congratulate you on this +change of life. I am delighted that you have some one to watch over +you and guard you from the storms of life. Do pray tell me Blue Bag’s +name, (for what is a man without a name?), or else I shall get into +the habit of thinking of him as Blue Bag, and never be able to divest +myself of this disagreeable association all my life. You say Trelawny +is coming home, but you have said so so long, I begin to doubt it. If +he does come, how happy you will be to see him. Happy girl! you have a +great many happinesses. I have written to him many times, but he never +answers my letters; I suppose he does not wish to keep up the +correspondence, and so I have left off. If he comes home I am<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> sure he +will fall ill, because the change of climate is most pernicious to the +health. The first winter I passed in Russia I thought I should have +died, but then a good deal was caused by extreme anxiety. So take care +of Trelawny, and do not let him get his feet wet. You ask me to tell +you every particular of my way of life. For these last six months I +have been tormented to death; I am shut up with five hateful children; +they keep me in a fever from morning till night. If they fall into +their father’s or mother’s way, and are troublesome, they are whipped; +but the instant they are with me, which is pretty nearly all the day, +they give way to all their violence and love of mischief, because they +are not afraid of my mild disposition. They go on just like people in +a public-house, abusing one another with the most horrid names and +fighting; if I separate them, then they roll on the ground, shrieking +that I have broken their arm, or pretend to fall into convulsions, and +I am such a fool I am frightened. In short, I never saw the evil +spirit so plainly developed. What is worse, I cannot seriously be +angry with them, for I do not know how they can be otherwise with the +education they receive. Everything is a crime; they may neither jump, +nor run, nor laugh. It is now two months they have never been out of +the house, and the only thing they are indulged in is in eating, +drinking, and sleeping, so that I look upon their defects as +proceeding entirely from the pernicious lives they lead. This is a +pretty just picture of all Russian children, because the Russians are +as yet totally ignorant of anything like real education. You may, +therefore, imagine what a life I have been leading. In the summer, and +we had an Italian one, I bore up very well, because we were often in +the garden, but since the return of winter, which always makes me ill, +and their added tiresomeness, I am quite overpowered. The whole winter +long I have a fever, which comes on every evening, and prevents my +sleeping the whole night; sometimes it leaves me for a fortnight, but +then it begins again, but in summer I am as strong and healthy as +possible. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> approach of winter fills me with horror, because I know +I have eight long months of suffering and sickness. The only amusement +I have is Sunday evening, to see Miss F. and some others like her, and +the only subject of conversation is to laugh at the Russians, or +dress. My God, what a life! But complaint is useless, and therefore I +shall not indulge in it. I have said, so as those I love live, I will +bear all without a murmur. If ever I am independent, I will instantly +retire to some solitude; I will see no one, not even you nor Mary, and +there I will live until the horrible disgust I feel at all that is +human be somewhat removed by quiet and retirement. My heart is too +full of hatred to be fit for society in its present mood. I am very +sorry for the death of little Charles. The chances for succession are +now so equally balanced—the life of an old man and the life of <i>one</i> +young child—that I confess I see less hope than ever of the will’s +taking effect. It is frightful for the despairing to have their hopes +suspended thus upon a single hair. Pray do not forget to write to me +when Trelawny is come. How glad I shall be to know he is in England, +and yet how frightened for fear he should catch cold. I wish you would +tell me how you occupy your days; at what hour you do this, and at +what hour that. From 11 till 4 I teach my children, then we dine; at 5 +we rise from the table. They have half an hour’s dawdling, for play it +cannot be called, as they are in the drawing-room, and then they learn +two hours more. At 8 we drink tea, and then they go to bed, which is +never over till 11, because all must have their hair curled, which +takes up an enormous time.</p> + +<p>Since I have written the first part of my letter I have thought over +my affairs. I must go to Petersburgh, because it is quite another town +from Moscow, and being so much more foreign in their manners and ways +of thinking, I shall be less tormented. I have decided to go, +therefore I wish you very much to endeavour to procure me letters of +introduction. If Trelawny comes home, beg him to do so for me, +because, as he will be much in fashion, some of the numerous dear +female friends he will instantly have will do it for him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> If I could +have a letter of recommendation, not a letter of introduction, to the +English ambassador or his wife, I should be able to get over the +difficulties which now beset my passage. Do think of this, Jane. My +head is so completely giddy from worry and torment, that I am unable +to think upon my own affairs; only this I know, that I am in a +tottering situation. It is absolutely necessary that I should have +letters of recommendation, and to people high in the world at +Petersburgh, because it is very common in Russia for adventurers, such +as opera dancers too old to dance any more, and milliners, and that +class of women to come here. They are received with open arms by the +Russians, who are very hospitable, and then naturally they betray +themselves by their atrocious conduct, and are thrown off; and I have +known since I have been here several lamentable instances of this, and +I shall be classed with these people if I cannot procure letters to +people whose countenance and protection must refute the possibility of +such a supposition. I must confess to you that my pride never could +stand this, for these adventurers are such detestable people that I +have the utmost horror of them. What a miserable imposture is life, +that such as follow philosophy, nature and truth, should be classed +with the very refuse of mankind; that people who ought to be cited as +models of virtue and self-sacrifice should be trampled under foot with +the dregs of vice. It was not thus in the time of the Greeks; and this +reflection makes me tired of life, for I might have been understood in +the time of Socrates, but never shall be by the moderns. For this +reason I do not wish to live, as I cannot be understood; in order, +therefore, not to be despised, I must renounce all worldly concerns +whatever. I have long done so, and therefore you will not wonder that +I have long since given my parting look to life. Do not be surprised I +am so dull; I am surrounded by difficulties which I am afraid I never +shall get out of, and after so many years of trouble and anguish it is +natural I should wish it were over. Do not, my dearest Jane, mention +to my mother the harm her indiscretion has done, for though I shall +frankly tell her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> of it, yet it would wound her if she were to know I +had told you, and there is already so much pain in the world it is +frightful to add ever so little to the stock. You can merely say I +have asked for letters of introduction at Petersburgh.</p></div> + +<p>From the time of her first arrival in England after Edward’s death, Hogg +had been Jane Williams’ persistent, devoted, and long-suffering admirer. +Not many months after receiving Clare’s letter, she changed her name and +her abode, and was thenceforward known as Mrs. Hogg. Mary’s familiar +intercourse with her might, in any case, have been somewhat checked by +this event, but such a change would have been a small matter compared to +the bitter discovery she was soon to make, that, while accepting her +affection, Jane had never really cared for her; that her feeling had been +of the most superficial sort. Once independent of Mary, and under other +protection, she talked away for the benefit and amusement of other +people,—talked of their past life, prating of her power over Shelley and +his devotion to her,—of Mary’s gloom during those sad first weeks at +Lerici,—intimating that jealousy of herself was the cause. Stories which +lost nothing in the telling, wherein Jane Williams figured as a good +angel, while Mary Shelley was made to appear in an unfavourable or even an +absurd light.</p> + +<p>Mary had no suspicion, no foreboding of the mine that was preparing to +explode under her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> feet. She sympathised in her friend’s happiness, for +she could not regard it but as happiness for one in Jane’s circumstances +to be able to accept the love and protection of a devoted man. She herself +could not do it, but she often felt a wish that she were differently +constituted. She knew it was impossible; but no tinge of envy or +bitterness coloured her words to Trelawny when she wrote to tell him of +Jane’s resolution.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>... This is to be an eventful summer to us. Janey is writing to you +and will tell her own tale best. The person to whom she unites herself +is one of my oldest friends, the early friend of my own Shelley. It +was he who chose to share the honour, as he generously termed it, of +Shelley’s expulsion from Oxford. (And yet he is unlike what you may +conceive to be the ideal of the best friend of Shelley.) He is a man +of talent,—of wit,—he has sensibility and even romance in his +disposition, but his exterior is composed and, at a superficial +glance, cold. He has loved Jane devotedly and ardently since she first +arrived in England, almost five years ago. At first she was too +faithfully attached to the memory of Edward, nor was he exactly the +being to satisfy her imagination; but his sincere and long-tried love +has at last gained the day.</p> + +<p>... Nor will I fear for her in the risk she must run when she confides +her future happiness to another’s constancy and good principles. He is +a man of honour, he longs for home, for domestic life, and he well +knows that none could make such so happy as Jane. He is liberal in his +opinions, constant in his attachments, if she is happy with him now +she will be always.... Of course after all that has passed it is our +wish that all this shall be as little talked of as possible, the +obscurity in which we have lived favours this. We shall remove hence +during the summer, for of course we shall still continue near<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> each +other. I, as ever, must derive my only pleasure and solace from her +society.</p></div> + +<p>Before the summer of 1827 was over the cloud burst.</p> + +<p>Mary’s journal in June is less mournful than usual. Congenial society +always had the power of cheering her and making her forget herself. And in +her acquaintance with Thomas Moore she found a novelty which yet was akin +to past enjoyment.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Journal, June 26</i> (1827).—I have just made acquaintance with Tom +Moore. He reminds me delightfully of the past, and I like him much. +There is something warm and genuine in his feelings and manner which +is very attractive, and redeems him from the sin of worldliness with +which he has been charged.</p> + +<p><i>July 2.</i>—Moore breakfasted with me on Sunday. We talked of past +times,—of Shelley and Lord Byron. He was very agreeable, and I never +felt myself so perfectly at my ease with any one. I do not know why +this is; he seems to understand and to like me. This is a new and +unexpected pleasure. I have been so long exiled from the style of +society in which I spent the better part of my life; it is an +evanescent pleasure, but I will enjoy it while I can.</p> + +<p><i>July 11.</i>—Moore has left town; his singing is something new and +strange and beautiful. I have enjoyed his visits, and spent several +happy hours in his society. That is much.</p> + +<p><i>July 13.</i>—My friend has proved false and treacherous! Miserable +discovery. For four years I was devoted to her, and earned only +ingratitude. Not for worlds would I attempt to transfer the deathly +blackness of my meditations to these pages. Let no trace remain save +the deep, bleeding, hidden wound of my lost heart of such a tale of +horror and despair. Writing, study, quiet, such remedies I must seek. +What deadly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> cold flows through my veins! My head weighed down; my +limbs sink under me. I start at every sound as the messenger of fresh +misery, and despair invests my soul with trembling horror.</p> + +<p><i>October 9.</i>—Quanto bene mi rammento sette anni fa, in questa +medesima stagione i pensieri, I sentimenti del mio cuore! Allora +cominciai Valperga—allora sola col mio Bene fui felice. Allora le +nuvole furono spinte dal furioso vento davanti alla luna, nuvole +magnifiche, che in forme grandiose e bianche parevano stabili quanto +le montagne e sotto la tirannia del vento si mostravano piu fragili +che un velo di seta minutissima, scendeva allor la pioggia, gli albori +si spogliavano. Autunno bello fosti allora, ed ora bello terribile, +malinconico ci sei, ed io, dove sono?</p></div> + +<p>By those who hold their hearts safe at home in their own keeping, these +little breezes are called “storms in tea-cups.” The matter was of no +importance to any one but Mary. The aspect of her outward life was +unchanged by this heart-shipwreck over which the world’s waves closed and +left no sign.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<p class="title"><span class="smcap">July 1827-August 1830</span></p> + +<p>Many weary months passed away. Mary said nothing to the shallow-hearted +woman who had so grievously injured her. Jane had been so dear to her, and +was so inextricably bound up with a beloved past, that she shrank from +disturbing the superficial friendship which she nevertheless knew to be +hollow.</p> + +<p>To one of Mary’s temperament there was actual danger in living alone with +such a sorrow, and it was a happy thing when, in August, an unforeseen +distraction occurred to compel her thoughts into a new channel. She +received from an unknown correspondent a letter, resulting in an +acquaintance which, though it passed out of her life without leaving any +permanent mark, was, at the time, not unfruitful of interest.</p> + +<p>The letter was as follows—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Frances Wright to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, <i>22d August 1827</i>.</p> + +<p>I shall preface this letter with no apology; the motive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> which +dictates it will furnish, as I trust, a sufficient introduction both +for it and its writer. As the daughter of your father and mother +(known to me only by their works and opinions), as the friend and +companion of a man distinguished during life, and preserved in the +remembrance of the public as one distinguished not by genius merely, +but, as I imagine, by the strength of his opinions and his +fearlessness in their expression;—viewed only in these relations you +would be to me an object of interest and—permit the word, for I use +it in no vulgar sense—of curiosity. But I have heard (vaguely indeed, +for I have not even the advantage of knowing one who claims your +personal acquaintance, nor have I, in my active pursuits and +engagements in distant countries, had occasion to peruse your works), +yet I have heard, or read, or both, that which has fostered the belief +that you share at once the sentiments and talents of those from whom +you drew your being. If you possess the opinions of your father and +the generous feelings of your mother, I feel that I could travel far +to see you. It is rare in this world, especially in our sex, to meet +with those opinions united with those feelings, and with the manners +and disposition calculated to command respect and conciliate +affection. It is so rare, that to obtain the knowledge of such might +well authorise a more abrupt intrusion than one by letter; but, +pledged as I am to the cause of what appears to me moral truth and +moral liberty, that I (should) neglect any means for discovering a +real friend of that cause, I were almost failing to a duty.</p> + +<p>In thus addressing my inquiries respecting you to yourself, it were +perhaps fitting that I should enter into some explanations respecting +my own views and the objects which have fixed my attention. I +conceive, however, the very motive of this letter as herein explained, +with the printed paper I shall enclose with it, will supply a +sufficient assurance of the heterodoxy of my opinions and the nature +of my exertions for their support and furtherance. It will be +necessary to explain, however, what will strike you but indistinctly +in the deed of Nashoba, that the object of the experiment has in view +an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> association based on those principles of moral liberty and +equality heretofore advocated by your father. That these principles +form its base and its cement, and that while we endeavour to undermine +the slavery of colour existing in the North American Republic, we +essay equally to destroy the slavery of mind now reigning there as in +other countries. With one nation we find the aristocracy of colour, +with another that of rank, with all perhaps those of wealth, +instruction, and sex.</p> + +<p>Our circle already comprises a few united co-operators, whose choice +of associates will be guided by their moral fitness only; saving that, +for the protection and support of all, each must be fitted to exercise +some useful employment, or to supply 200 dollars per annum as an +equivalent for their support. The present generation will in all +probability supply but a limited number of individuals suited in +opinion and disposition to such a state of society; but that that +number, however limited, may best find their happiness and best +exercise their utility by uniting their interests, their society, and +their talents, I feel a conviction. In this conviction I have devoted +my time and fortune to laying the foundations of an establishment +where affection shall form the only marriage, kind feeling and kind +action the only religion, respect for the feelings and liberties of +others to the only restraint, and union of interest the bond of peace +and security. With the protection of the negro in view, whose cruel +sufferings and degradation had attracted my special sympathy, it was +necessary to seek the land of his bondage, to study his condition and +imagine a means for effecting his liberation; with the emancipation of +the human mind in view, from the shackles of moral and religious +superstition, it was necessary to seek a country where political +institutions should allow free scope for experiment; and with a +practice in view in opposition to all the laws of public opinion, it +was necessary to seek the seclusion of a new country, and build up a +city of refuge in the wilderness itself. Youth, a good constitution, +and a fixed purpose enabled me to surmount the fatigues, difficulties, +and privations of the necessary journeys, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> first opening of a +settlement in the American forests. Fifteen months have placed the +establishment in a fair way of progress, in the hands of united and +firm associates, comprising a family of colour from New Orleans. As +might be expected, my health gave way under the continued fatigues of +mind and body [incidental] to the first twelvemonth. A brain fever, +followed by a variety of sufferings, seemed to point to a sea-voyage +as the only chance of recovery. Accordingly I left Nashoba in May +last, was placed on board a steamboat on the Mississippi for Orleans, +then on board a vessel for Havre, and landed in fifty days almost +restored to health. I am now in an advanced state of convalescence, +but still obliged to avoid fatigue either bodily or mental. The +approaching marriage of a dear friend also retains me in Paris, and as +I shall return by way of New Orleans to my forest home in the month of +November, or December, I do not expect to visit London. The bearer of +this letter, should he, as I trust, be able to deliver it, will be +able to furnish any intelligence you may desire respecting Nashoba and +its inhabitants. In the name of Robert Dale Owen you will recognise +one of the trustees, and a son of Robert Owen of Lanark.</p> + +<p>Whatever be the fate of this letter, I wish to convey to Mary +Wollstonecraft Godwin Shelley my respect and admiration of those from +whom she holds those names, and my fond desire to connect her with +them in my esteem, and in the knowledge of mutual sympathy to sign +myself her friend,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Frances Wright.</span></p> + +<p>My address while in Europe—Aux soins du General Lafayette, Rue +d’Anjou, and 7 St. Honoré, à Paris.</p></div> + +<p>The bearer of this letter would seem to have been Robert Dale Owen +himself. His name must have recalled to Mary’s mind the letter she had +received at Geneva, long, long ago, from poor Fanny, describing and +commenting on the schemes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> for social regeneration of his father, Robert +Owen.</p> + +<p>Mary Shelley’s feeling towards Frances Wright’s schemes in 1827 may have +been accurately expressed by Fanny Godwin’s words in 1816.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>... “The outline of his plan is this: ‘That no human being shall work +more than two or three hours every day; that they shall be all equal; +that no one shall dress but after the plainest and simplest manner; +that they be allowed to follow any religion, or no religion, as they +please; and that their studies shall be Mechanics and Chemistry.’ I +hate and am sick at heart at the misery I see my fellow-beings +suffering, but I own I should not like to live to see the extinction +of all genius, talent, and elevated generous feeling in Great Britain, +which I conceive to be the natural consequence of Mr. Owen’s plan.”</p></div> + +<p>But any plan for human improvement, any unselfish effort to promote the +common weal, commanded the sure sympathy of Shelley’s widow and Mary +Wollstonecraft’s daughter, whether her judgment accorded perfectly or not +with that of its promoters. She responded warmly to the letter of her +correspondent, who wrote back in almost rapturous terms—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Frances Wright to Mary Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Paris</span>, <i>15th September 1827</i>.</p> + +<p>My Friend, my dear Friend—How sweet are the sentiments with which I +write that sacred word—so often prostituted, so seldom bestowed with +the glow of satisfaction and delight with which I now employ it! Most +surely will I go to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> England, most surely to Brighton, to wheresoever +you may be. The fond belief of my heart is realised, and more than +realised. You are the daughter of your mother. I opened your letter +with some trepidation, and perused it with more emotion than now suits +my shattered nerves. I have read it again and again, and acknowledge +it before I sleep. Most fully, most deeply does my heart render back +the sympathy yours gives. It fills up the sad history you have +sketched of blighted affections and ruined hopes. I too have suffered, +and we must have done so perhaps to feel for the suffering. We must +have loved and mourned, and felt the chill of disappointment, and +sighed over the moral blank of a heartless world ere we can be moved +to sympathy for calamity, or roused to attempt its alleviation. The +curiosity you express shall be most willingly answered in (as I trust) +our approaching meeting. You will see then that I have greatly pitied +and greatly dared, only because I have greatly suffered and widely +observed. I have sometimes feared lest too early affliction and too +frequent disappointment had blunted my sensibilities, when a +<i>rencontre</i> with some one of the rare beings dropt amid the dull +multitude, like oases in the desert, has refreshed my better feelings, +and reconciled me with others and with myself. That the child of your +parents should be one among these sweet visitants is greatly soothing +and greatly inspiring. But have we only discovered each other to +lament that we are not united? I cannot, will not think it. When we +meet,—and meet we must, and I hope soon,—how eagerly, and yet +tremblingly, shall I inquire into all the circumstances likely to +favour an approach in our destinies. I am now on the eve of separation +from a beloved friend, whom marriage is about to remove to Germany, +while I run back to my forests. And I must return without a bosom +intimate? Yes; our little circle has mind, has heart, has right +opinions, right feelings, co-operates in an experiment having in view +human happiness, yet I do want one of my own sex to commune with, and +sometimes to lean upon in all the confidence of equality of +friendship. You see I am not so disinterested as you suppose. +Delightful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> indeed it is to aid the progress of human improvement, and +sweet is the peace we derive from aiding the happiness of others. But +still the heart craves something more ere it can say—I am satisfied.</p> + +<p>I must tell, not write, of the hopes of Nashoba, and of all your +sympathising heart wishes to hear. On the 28th instant I shall be in +London, where I must pass some days with a friend about to sail for +Madeira. Then, unless you should come to London, I will seek you at +Brighton, Arundel, anywhere you may name. Let me find directions from +you. I will not say, use no ceremony with me—none can ever enter +between us. Our intercourse begins in the confidence, if not in the +fulness of friendship. I have not seen you, and yet my heart loves +you.</p> + +<p>I cannot take Brighton in my way; my sweet friend, Julia Garnett, +detaining me here until the latest moment, which may admit of my +reaching London on the 28th. I must not see you in passing. However +short our meeting, it must have some repose in it. The feelings which +draw me towards you have in them I know not what of respect, of +pitying sympathy, of expectation, and of tenderness. They must steal +some quiet undivided hours from the short space I have yet to pass in +Europe. Tell me when they shall be, and where. I expect to sail for +America with Mr. Owen and his family early in November, and may leave +London to visit a maternal friend in the north of England towards the +20th of October. Direct to me to the care of Mr. Robert Bayley, 4 +Basinghall Street, London.</p> + +<p>Permit me the assurance of my respect and affection, and accord me the +title, as I feel the sentiments, of a friend,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Frances Wright</span>.</p></div> + +<p>Circumstances conspired to postpone the desired meeting for some weeks, +but the following extract from another letter of Fanny Wright’s shows how +friendly was the correspondence.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>Yes, I do +“understand the happiness flowing from confidence and entire +sympathy, independent of worldly circumstances.” I know the latter +compared to the former are nothing.</p> + +<p>A delicate nursling of European luxury and aristocracy, I thought and +felt for myself, and for martyrised humankind, and have preferred all +hazards, all privations in the forests of the New World to the +dear-bought comforts of miscalled civilisation. I have made the hard +earth my bed, the saddle of my horse my pillow, and have staked my +life and fortune on an experiment having in view moral liberty and +human improvement. Many of course think me mad, and if to be mad mean +to be one of a minority, I am so, and very mad indeed, for our +minority is very small. Should that few succeed in mastering the first +difficulties, weaker spirits, though often not less amiable, may carry +forward the good work. But the fewer we are who now think alike, the +more we are of value to each other. To know you, therefore, is a +strong desire of my heart, and all things consistent with my +engagements (which I may call duties, since they are connected with +the work I have in hand) will I do to facilitate our meeting.</p></div> + +<p>Soon after this Mary made Frances Wright’s acquaintance, and heard from +herself all the story of her stirring life. She was not of American, but +of Scottish birth (Dundee), and had been very early left an orphan. Her +father had been a man of great ability and culture, of advanced liberal +opinions, and independent fortune. Fanny had been educated in England by a +maternal aunt, and in 1818, when twenty-three years of age, had gone with +her younger sister to the United States. Since that time her life had been +as adventurous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> as it was independent. Enthusiastic, original, and +handsome, she found friends and adherents wherever she went. Two years she +spent in the States, where she found sympathy and stimulus for her +speculative energies, and free scope for her untried powers. She had +written a tragedy, forcible and effective, which was published at +Philadelphia and acted at New York. After that she had been three years in +Paris, where she enjoyed the friendship and sympathy of Lafayette and +other liberal leaders. In 1824 she was once more in America, fired with +the idea of solving the slavery question. She purchased a tract of land on +the Nashoba river (Tennessee), and settled negroes there, assuming, in her +impetuosity, that to convert slaves into freemen it was only necessary to +remove their fetters, and that they would soon work out their liberty. She +found out her error. In Shelley’s words, slightly varied, “How should +slaves produce anything but idleness, even as the seed produces the +plant?” The slaves, freed from the lash, remained slaves as before, only +they did very little work. Fanny Wright was disappointed; but, as her +letters plainly show, her schemes went much farther than negro +emancipation; she aimed at nothing short of a complete social +reconstruction, to be illustrated on a small scale at the Nashoba +settlement.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>Overwork, exposure to the sun, and continuous excitement, told, at last, +on her constitution. As she informed Mrs. Shelley in her first letter, she +had broken down with brain fever, and, when convalescent, had been ordered +to Europe.</p> + +<p>In Mary Wollstonecraft’s daughter she found a friend, hardly an adherent. +Fundamentally, their principles were alike, but their natures were +differently attuned. Neither mentally nor physically had Mary Shelley the +temperament of a revolutionary innovator. She had plenty of moral courage, +but she was too scrupulous, too reflective, and too tender. The cause of +liberty was sacred to her, so long as it bore the fruit of justice, +self-sacrifice, fidelity to duty. Fanny Wright worshipped liberty for its +own sake, confident that every other good would follow it, with the +generous, unpractical certainty of conviction that proceeds as much from a +sanguine disposition as from a set of opinions. Experience and +disappointment have little power over these temperaments, and so they +never grow old—or prudent. It may well be that all the ideas, all the +great changes, in which is summed up the history of progress, have +originated with natures like these. They are the salt of the earth; but +man cannot live by salt alone, and their ideas are carried out for them in +detail, and the actual everyday<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> work of the world is unconsciously +accomplished, by those who, having put their hand to the plough, do not +look back, nor yet far forward.</p> + +<p>Still, it was a remarkable meeting, that of these two women. Fanny Wright +was a person who, once seen, was not easily forgotten. “She was like +Minerva;” such is the recollection of Mrs. Shelley’s son. Mrs. Trollope +has described her personal appearance when, three years later, she was +creating a great sensation by lecturing in the chief American cities—</p> + +<p class="blockquot">She came on the stage surrounded by a bodyguard of Quaker ladies in +the full costume of their sect.... Her tall and majestic figure, the +deep and almost solemn expression of her eyes, the simple contour of +her finely-formed head, her garment of plain white muslin, which hung +around her in folds that recalled the drapery of a Grecian +statue,—all contributed to produce an effect unlike anything that I +had ever seen before, or ever expect to see again.</p> + +<p>On the other hand the following is Robert Dale Owen’s sketch of Mary +Shelley.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">... In person she was of middle height and graceful figure. Her face, +though not regularly beautiful, was comely and spiritual, of winning +expression, and with a look of inborn refinement as well as culture. +It had a touch of sadness when at rest. She impressed me as a person +of warm social feelings, dependent for happiness on living +encouragement, needing a guiding and sustaining hand.</p> + +<p>It is certain that Mary felt a warm interest in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> her new friend. She made +her acquainted with Godwin, and lost no opportunity of seeing and +communing with her during her stay in England; nor did they part till +Fanny Wright was actually on board ship.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">“Dear love,” wrote Fanny, from Torbay, “how your figure lives in my +mind’s eye as I saw you borne away from me till I lost sight of your +little back among the shipping!”</p> + +<p>From Nashoba, a few months later, she addressed another letter to Mary, +which, though slightly out of place, is given here. There had, apparently, +been some passing discord between her and the founder of the “New Harmony” +colony.<a name='fna_9' id='fna_9' href='#f_9'><small>[9]</small></a></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Frances Wright to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Nashoba</span>, <i>20th March 1828</i>.</p> + +<p>Very, very welcome was your letter of the 16th November, which awaited +my return from a little excursion down the Mississippi, undertaken +soon after my arrival. Bless your sweet kind heart, my sweet Mary! +Your little enclosure, together with a little billet brought me by +Dale, and which came to the address of Mr. Trollope’s chambers just as +he left London, is all the news I have yet received of or from our +knight-errant. Once among Greeks and Turks, correspondence must be +pretty much out of the question, so unless he address to you some more +French compliments from Toulon, I shall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> not look to hear of him for +some months. Ay, truly, they are incomprehensible animals, these same +<i>soi-disant</i> lords of this poor planet! Like their old progenitor, +Father Adam, they walk about boasting of their wisdom, strength, and +sovereignty, while they have not sense so much as to swallow an apple +without the aid of an Eve to put it down their throats. I thank thee +for thine attempt to cram caution and wisdom into the cranium of my +wandering friend. Thy good offices may afford a chance for his +bringing his head on his shoulders to these forests, which otherwise +would certainly be left on the shores of the Euxine, on the top of +Caucasus, or at the sources of the Nile.</p> + +<p>I wrote thee hastily of my arrival and all our wellbeing in my last, +and of Dale’s <i>amende honorable</i>, and of Fanny’s departure up the +Western waters, nor have I now leisure for details too tedious for the +pen, though so short to give by the tongue. Dale arrived, his sweet +kind heart all unthawed, and truly when he left us for Harmony I think +the very last thin flake of Scotch ice had melted from him. Camilla +and Whitby leave me also in a few days for Harmony, from whence the +latter will probably travel back with Dale, and Whitby go up the Ohio +to engage a mechanic for the building of our houses. I hoped to have +sent you, with this, the last communication of our little knot of +trustees, in which we have stated the modification of our plan which +we have found it advisable to adopt, with the reasons of the same. We +have not been able to get it printed at Memphis, so Dale is to have it +thrown off at Harmony, from whence you will receive it. The substance +of it is, that we have reduced our co-operation to a simple +association, each throwing in from our private funds 100 dollars per +annum for the expenses of the table, including those of the cook, whom +we hire from the Institution, she being one of the slaves gifted to +it. All other expenses regard us individually, and need not amount to +100 dollars more. Also, each of us builds his house or room, the cost +of which, simple furniture included, does not surpass 500 dollars. The +property of the trust will stand thus free of all burden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> whatsoever, +to be devoted to the foundation of a school, in which we would fain +attempt a thorough co-operative education, looking only to the next +generation to effect what we in vain attempted ourselves. You see that +the change consists in demanding as a requisite for admission an +independent income of 200 dollars, instead of receiving labour as an +equivalent.</p> + +<p>Yes, dear Mary, I do find the quiet of these forests and our +ill-fenced cabins of rough logs more soothing to the spirit, and now +no less suited to the body than the warm luxurious houses of European +society. Yet that it would be so with you, or to any less broken in by +enthusiastic devotion to human reform and mental liberty than our +little knot of associates, I cannot judge. I now almost forget the +extent of the change made in the last few years in my habits, yet more +than in my views and feelings; but when I recall it, I sometimes doubt +if many could imitate it without feeling the sacrifices almost equal +to the gains; to me sacrifices are nothing. I have not felt them as +such, and now forget that there were any made.</p> + +<p>Farewell, dear Mary. Recall me affectionately and respectfully to the +memory of your Father. You will wear me in your own, I know. Camilla +sends her affectionate wishes.—Yours fondly,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">F. Wright</span>.</p></div> + +<p>It was probably in connection with Fanny Wright’s visit that Mrs. Shelley +had, in October of 1827, contemplated the possibility of a flying trip to +the Continent; an idea which alarmed her father (for his own sake) not a +little, although she had taken care to assure him of her intended speedy +return. He was in as bad a way, financially, and as dependent as ever, but +proud of the fact that he kept up his good spirits through it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> all, and +sorry for Mary that she could not say as much.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Godwin to Mary.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Gower Place</span>, <i>9th October 1827</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>—We received your letter yesterday, and I sent you the +<i>Examiner</i>.</p> + +<p>Nothing on earth, as you may perceive, could have induced me to break +silence respecting my circumstances, short of your letter of the 1st +instant, announcing a trip to the Continent, without the least hint +when you should return. It seems to me so contrary to the course of +nature that a father should look for supplies to his daughter, that it +is painful to me at any time to think of it.</p> + +<p>You say that [as] you had announced some time ago that you must be in +town in November, I should have inferred that that was irreversible. +All I can answer is, that I did not so infer.</p> + +<p>I called yesterday, agreeably to your suggestion, upon young Evans; +but all I got from him was, that the thing was quite out of his way; +to which he added (and I reproved him for it accordingly) that we had +better go to the Jews. I called on Hodgetts on the 7th of September, +and asked him to lend me £20 or £30. He said, “Would a month hence do? +he could then furnish £20.” Last Saturday he supped here, and brought +me £10, adding that was all he could do. I have heard nothing either +from Peacock or from your anonymous friend. I wrote to you, of course, +at Brighton on Saturday (before supper-time), which letter I suppose +you have received.</p> + +<p>How differently you and I are organised. In my seventy-second year I +am all cheerfulness, and never anticipate the evil day (with +distressing feelings) till to do so is absolutely unavoidable. Would +to God you were my daughter in all but my poverty! But I am afraid you +are a Wollstonecraft. We are so curiously made that one atom put in +the wrong place in our original structure will often make us unhappy +for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> life. But my present cheerfulness is greatly owing to <i>Cromwell</i>, +and the nature of my occupation, which gives me an object <i>omnium +horarum</i>—a stream for ever running, and for ever new. Do you remember +Denham’s verses on the Thames at Cooper’s Hill?—</p> + +<p class="poem">Oh! could I flow like thee, and make thy stream<br /> +My great example, as it is my theme!<br /> +Though deep, yet clear, though gentle, yet not dull;<br /> +Strong, without rage; without o’erflowing, full.</p> + +<p>Though I cannot attain this in my <i>Commonwealth</i>, you, perhaps, may in +your <i>Warbeck</i>.</p> + +<p>May blessings shower on you as fast as the perpendicular rain at this +moment falls by my window! prays your affectionate Father,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">William Godwin</span>.</p></div> + +<p>During most of this autumn Mrs. Shelley and her boy were staying at +Arundel, in Sussex, with, or in the near neighbourhood of her friends, the +Miss Robinsons. There were several sisters, to one of whom, Julia, Mrs. +Shelley was much attached.</p> + +<p>While at Arundel another letter reached her from Trelawny, who was +contemplating the possibility of a return to England.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Zante, Ionian Islands</span>, <i>24th October 1827</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dearest Mary</span>—I received your letter dated July, and replied to both +you and Hunt; but I was then at Cerigo, and as the communication of +the islands is carried on by a succession of boats, letters are +sometimes lost. I have now your letter from Arundel, 9th September. It +gives me pleasure to hear your anxieties as to money matters are at an +end; it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> one weighty misery off your heart. You err most +egregiously if you think I am occupied with women or intrigues, or +that my time passes pleasantly. The reverse of all this is the case; +neither women nor amusements of any sort occupy my time, and a sadder +or more accursed kind of existence I never in all my experience of +life endured, or, I think, fell to the lot of human being. I have been +detained here for these last ten months by a villainous law-suit, +which may yet endure some months longer, and then I shall return to +you as the same unconnected, lone, and wandering vagabond you first +knew me. I have suffered a continual succession of fevers during the +summer; at present they have discontinued their attack; but they have, +added to what I suffered in Greece, cut me damnably, and I fancy now I +must look like an old patriarch who has outlived his generation. I +cannot tell whether to congratulate Jane or not; the foundation she +has built on for happiness implies neither stability nor permanent +security; for a summer bower ’tis well enough to beguile away the +summer months, but for the winter of life I, for my part, should like +something more durable than a fabric made up of vows and promises. Nor +can I say whether it would be wise or beneficial to either should +Clare consent to reside with you in England; in any other country it +might be desirable, but in England it is questionable.</p> + +<p>The only motive which has deterred me from writing to Jane and Clare +is that I have been long sick and ill at ease, daily anticipating my +return to the Continent, and concocting plans whereby I might meet you +all, for one hour after long absence is worth a thousand letters. And +as to my heart, it is pretty much as you left it; no new impressions +have been made on it or earlier affections erased. As we advance in +the stage of life we look back with deeper recollections from where we +first started; at least, I find it so. Since the death of Odysseus, +for whom I had the sincerest friendship, I have felt no private +interest for any individual in this country. The Egyptian fleet, and +part of the Turkish, amounting to some hundred sail, including +transports, have been totally destroyed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> by the united squadron of +England, France, and Russia in the harbour of Navarino; so we soon +expect to see a portion of Greece wrested from the Turks, and +something definitely arranged for the benefit of the Greeks.—Dearest +Mary, I am ever your</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Edward Trelawny</span>.</p> + +<p>To Jane and Clare say all that is affectionate from me, and forget not +Leigh Hunt and his Mary Ann. <i>I</i> would write them all, but I am sick +at heart.</p></div> + +<p>All these months the gnawing sorrow of her friend’s faithlessness lay like +an ambush at Mary’s heart. In responding to Fanny Wright’s overtures of +friendship she had sought a distraction from the bitter thoughts and deep +dejection which had been mainly instrumental in driving her from town. But +in vain, like the hunted hare, she buried her head and hoped to be +forgotten. Slanderous gossip advances like a prairie-fire, laying +everything waste, and defying all attempts to stop or extinguish it. Jane +Williams’ stories were repeated, and, very likely, improved upon. They got +known in a certain set. Mary Shelley might still have chosen not to hear +or not to notice, had she been allowed. But who may ignore such things in +peace? As the French dramatist says in <i>Nos Intimes</i>, “<i>Les amis sont +toujours là</i>.” <i>Les amis</i> are there to enlighten you—if you are +ignorant—as to your enemies in disguise, to save you from illusions, and +to point out to you—should you forget it—the duty of upholding,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> at any +sacrifice, your own interests and your own dignity.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Journal, February 12, 1828.</i>—Moore is in town. By his advice I +disclosed my discoveries to Jane. How strangely are we made! She is +horror-struck and miserable at losing my friendship; and yet how +unpardonably she trifled with my feelings, and made me all falsely a +fable to others.</p> + +<p>The visit of Moore has been an agreeable variety to my monotonous +life. I see few people—Lord Dillon, G. Paul, the Robinsons, <i>voilà +tout</i>.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley to Mrs. Hogg.</span></p> + +<p>Since Monday I have been ceaselessly occupied by the scene begun and +interrupted, which filled me with a pain that now thrills me as I +revert to it. I then strove to speak, but your tears overcame me, +whilst the struggle gave me an appearance of coldness.</p> + +<p>If I revert to my devotion to you, it is to prove that no worldly +motives could estrange me from the partner of my miseries. Often, +having you at Kentish Town, I have wept from the overflow of +affection; often thanked God who had given you to me. Could any but +yourself have destroyed such engrossing and passionate love? And what +are the consequences of the change?</p> + +<p>When first I heard that you did not love me, every hope of my life +deserted me. The depression I sank under, and to which I am now a +prey, undermines my health. How many hours this dreary winter I have +paced my solitary room, driven nearly to madness, and I could not +expel from my mind the memories of harrowing import that one after +another intruded themselves! It was not long ago that, eagerly +desiring death, though death should only be oblivion, I thought that +how to purchase oblivion of what was revealed to me last July, a +tortuous death would be a bed of roses.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>Do not ask me, I beseech you, a detail of the revelations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> made to +me. Some of those most painful you made to several; others, of less +import, but which tended more, perhaps, than the more important to +show that you loved me not, were made only to two.</p> + +<p>I could not write of these, far less speak of them. If any doubt +remain on your mind as to what I know, write to Isabel,<a name='fna_10' id='fna_10' href='#f_10'><small>[10]</small></a> and she +will inform you of the extent of her communication to me. I have been +an altered being since then; long I thought that almost a deathblow +was given, so heavily and unremittingly did the thought press on and +sting me; but one lives on through all to be a wreck.</p> + +<p>Though I was conscious that, having spoken of me as you did, you could +not love me, I could not easily detach myself from the atmosphere of +light and beauty that ever surrounded you. Now I tried to keep you, +feeling the while that I had lost you; but you penetrated the change, +and I owe it to you not to disguise the cause. What will become of us, +my poor girl?</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>This explains my estrangement. While with you I was solely occupied by +endeavouring not to think or feel, for had I done either I should not +have been so calm as I daresay I appeared.... Nothing but my Father +could have drawn me to town again; his claims only prevent me now from +burying myself in the country. I have known no peace since July. I +never expect to know it again. Is it not best, then, that you forget +the unhappy</p> + +<p class="signa">M. W. S.?</p></div> + +<p>We hear no more of this painful episode. It did not put a stop to Jane’s +intercourse with Mary. Friendship, in the old sense, could never be. But, +to the end of Mary’s life, her letters show the tenderness, the +half-maternal solicitude she ever felt for the companion and sharer of her +deepest affliction.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>Another distraction came to her now in the shape of an invitation to +Paris, which she accepted, although she was feeling far from well, a fact +which she attributed to depression of spirits, but which proved to have +quite another cause.</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><i>Journal, April 11</i> (1828).—I depart for Paris, sick at heart, yet +pining to see my friend (Julia Robinson).</p> + +<p>A lady, an intimate friend of hers at this time, who, in a little book +called <i>Traits of Character</i>, has given a very interesting (though, in +some details, inaccurate) sketch of Mary Shelley, says that her visit to +Paris was eagerly looked forward to by many. “Honour to the authoress and +admiration for the woman awaited her.” But, directly after her arrival, +she was prostrated on a sick—it was feared, death-bed. Her journal, three +months later, tells the sequel.</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><i>Journal, July 8, Hastings.</i>—There was a reason for my depression: I +was sickening of the small-pox. I was confined to my bed the moment I +arrived in Paris. The nature of my disorder was concealed from me till +my convalescence, and I am so easily duped. Health, buoyant and +bright, succeeded to my illness. The Parisians were very amiable, and, +a monster to look at as I was, I tried to be agreeable, to compensate to them.</p> + +<p>The same authoress asserts that neither when she recovered nor ever after +was she in appearance the Mary Shelley of the past. She was not scarred by +the disease (“which in its natural form she had had in childhood”), but +the pearly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> delicacy and transparency of her skin and the brightness and +luxuriance of her soft hair were grievously dimmed.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">She bore this trial to womanly vanity well and bravely, for she had +that within which passeth show—high intellectual endowments, and, +better still, a true, loving, faithful heart.</p> + +<p>The external effects of her illness must, to a great degree, have +disappeared in course of time, for those who never knew her till some +twenty years later than this revert to their first impression of her in +words almost identical with those used by Christy Baxter when, at ninety +years of age, she described Mary Godwin at fifteen as “white, bright, and +clear.”</p> + +<p>If, however, she had any womanly vanity at all, it must have been a trial +to her that, just now, her old friend Trelawny should return for a few +months to England. She did not see him till November, when Clare also +arrived, on a flying visit to her native land. But, before their meeting, +she had received some characteristic letters from Trelawny.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Southampton</span>, <i>8th July 1828</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>—My moving about and having had much to do must be my excuse +for not writing as often as I should do. That it is but an excuse I +allow; the truth would be better, but who nowadays ever thinks of +speaking truth? The true reason, then, is that I am getting old, and +writing has become irksome. You cannot plead either, so write on, dear +Mary.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> I love you sincerely, no one better. Time has not quenched the +fire of my nature; my feelings and passions burn fierce as ever, and +will till they have consumed me. I wear the burnished livery of the sun.</p> + +<p>To whom am I a neighbour? and near whom? I dwell amongst tame and +civilised human beings, with somewhat the same feelings as we may +guess the lion feels when, torn from his native wilderness, he is +tortured into domestic intercourse with what Shakespeare calls “forked +animals,” the most abhorrent to his nature.</p> + +<p>You see by this how little my real nature is altered, but now to reply +to yours. I cannot decidedly say or fix a period of our meeting. It +shall be soon, if you stay there, at Hastings; but I have business on +hand I wish to conclude, and now that I can see you when I determine +to do so, I, as you see, postpone the engagement because it is within +my grasp. Such is the perverseness of human nature! Nevertheless, I +will write, and I pray you to do so likewise. You are my dear and long +true friend, and as such I love you.—Yours, dear,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Trelawny</span>.</p> + +<p>I shall remain ten or twelve days here, so address Southampton; it is +enough.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Trewithen</span>, <i>September 1828</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>—I really do not know why I am everlastingly boring you with +letters. Perhaps it is to prevent you forgetting me; or to prove to +you that I do not forget you; or I like it, which is a woman’s +reason....</p> + +<p>How is Jane (Hogg)? Do remember me kindly to her. I hope you are +friends, and that I shall see her in town. I have no right to be +discontented or fastidious when she is not. I trust she is contented +with her lot; if she is, she has an advantage over most of us. Death +and Time have made sad havoc amongst my old friends here; they are +never idle, and yet we go on as if they concerned us not, and thus +dream our lives away till we wake no more, and then our bodies are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +thrown into a hole in the earth, like a dead dog’s, that infects the +atmosphere, and the void is filled up, and we are forgotten.</p> + +<p>Can such things be, and overcome us like a summer cloud, without our +special wonder?...</p></div> + +<p>Trelawny’s visit to England was of short duration. Before the end of the +next February (1829) he was in Florence, overflowing with new plans, and, +as usual, imparting them eagerly, certain of sympathy, to Mrs. Shelley. +His renewed intercourse with her had led to no diminution of friendship. +He may have found her even more attractive than when she was younger; more +equable in spirits, more lenient in her judgments, her whole disposition +mellowed and ripened in the stern school of adversity.</p> + +<p>Their correspondence, which for two or three years was very frequent, +opened, however, with a difference of opinion. Trelawny was ambitious of +writing Shelley’s biography, and wanted Mary to help him by giving him the +facts for it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Poste Restante, Florence</span>, <i>11th March 1829</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>—I arrived here some sixteen or seventeen days back. I +travelled in a very leisurely way; whilst on the road I used +expedition, but I stayed at Lyons, Turin, Genoa, and Leghorn. I have +taken up my quarters with Brown. I thought I should get a letter here +from you or Clare, but was disappointed. The letter you addressed to +Paris I received; tell Clare I was pained at her silence, yet though +she neglects to write to me, I shall not follow her example, but will +write her in a few days.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>My principal object in writing to you now is to tell you that I am +actually writing my own life. Brown and Landor are spurring me on, and +are to review it sheet by sheet, as it is written; moreover, I am +commencing as a tribute of my great love for the memory of Shelley his +life and moral character. Landor and Brown are in this to have a hand, +therefore I am collecting every information regarding him. I always +wished you to do this, Mary; if you will not, as of the living I love +him and you best, incompetent as I am, I must do my best to show him +to the world as I found him. Do you approve of this? Will you aid in +it? without which it cannot be done. Will you give documents? Will you +write anecdotes? or—be explicit on this, dear—give me your opinion; +if you in the least dislike it, say so, and there is an end of it; if +on the contrary, set about doing it without loss of time. Both this +and my life will be sent you to peruse and approve or alter before +publication, and I need not say that you will have free scope to +expunge all you disapprove of.</p> + +<p>I shall say no more till I get your reply to this.</p> + +<p>The winter here, if ten or twelve days somewhat cold can be called +winter, has been clear, dry, and sunny; ever since my arrival in Italy +I have been sitting without fire, and with open windows. Come away, +dear Mary, from the horrible climate you are in; life is not endurable +where you are.</p> + +<p>Florence is very gay, and a weight was taken from my mind, and body +too, in getting on this side of the Alps. Heaven and hell cannot be +very much more dissimilar....</p> + +<p>You may suppose I have now writing enough without scrawling long +letters, so pardon this short one, dear Mary, from your affectionate</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">E. J. Trelawny</span>.</p> + +<p><i>P.S.</i>—Love to Clare.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley to Trelawny.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>April 1829.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Trelawny</span>—Your letter reminded me of my misdeeds of omission, +and of not writing to you as I ought,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> and it assured me of your kind +thoughts in that happy land where as angels in heaven you can afford +pity to us Arctic islanders. It is too bad, is it not, that when such +a Paradise does exist as fair Italy, one should be chained here, +without the infliction of such absolutely cold weather? I have never +suffered a more ungenial winter. Winter it is still; a cold east wind +has prevailed the last six weeks, making exercise in the open air a +positive punishment. This is truly English; half a page about the +weather, but here this subject has every importance; is it fine? you +guess I am happy and enjoying myself; is it as it always is? you know +that one is fighting against a domestic enemy which saps at the very +foundations of pleasure.</p> + +<p>I am glad that you are occupying yourself, and I hope that your two +friends will not cease urging you till you really put to paper the +strange wild adventures you recount so well. With regard to the other +subject, you may guess, my dear Friend, that I have often thought, +often done more than think on the subject. There is nothing I shrink +from more fearfully than publicity. I have too much of it, and, what +is worse, I am forced by my hard situation to meet it in a thousand +ways. Could you write my husband’s life without naming me, it would be +something; but even then I should be terrified at the rousing the +slumbering voice of the public;—each critique, each mention of your +work might drag me forward. Nor indeed is it possible to write +Shelley’s life in that way. Many men have his opinions,—none heartily +and conscientiously act on them as he did,—it is his act that marks +him.</p> + +<p>You know me, or you do not—in which case I will tell you what I am—a +silly goose, who, far from wishing to stand forward to assert myself +in any way, now that I am alone in the world, have but the time to +wrap night and the obscurity of insignificance around me. This is +weakness, but I cannot help it; to be in print, the subject of men’s +observations, of the bitter hard world’s commentaries, to be attacked +or defended, this ill becomes one who knows how little she possesses +worthy to attract attention, and whose chief <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>merit—if it be one—is +a love of that privacy which no woman can emerge from without regret.</p> + +<p>Shelley’s life must be written. I hope one day to do it myself, but it +must not be published now. There are too many concerned to speak +against him; it is still too sore a subject. Your tribute of praise, +in a way that cannot do harm, can be introduced into your own life. +But remember, I pray for omission, for it is not that you will not be +too kind, too eager to do me more than justice. But I only seek to be +forgotten.</p> + +<p>Clare has written to you she is about to return to Germany. She will, +I suppose, explain to you the circumstances that make her return to +the lady she was before with desirable. She will go to Carlsbad, and +the baths will be of great service to her. Her health is improved, +though very far from restored. For myself, I am as usual well in +health and longing for summer, when I may enjoy the peace that alone +is left me. I am another person under the genial influence of the sun; +I can live unrepining with no other enjoyment but the country made +bright and cheerful by its beams; till then I languish. Percy is quite +well; he grows very fast and looks very healthy.</p> + +<p>It gives me great pleasure to hear from you, dear friend, so write +often. I have now answered your letter, though I can hardly call this +one. So you may very soon expect another. How are your dogs? and where +is Roberts? Have you given up all idea of shooting? I hear Medwin is a +great man at Florence, so Pisa and economy are at an end. +Adieu.—Yours,</p> + +<p class="signa">M. S.</p></div> + +<p>The fiery “Pirate” was much disappointed at Mary’s refusal to collaborate +with him, and quite unable to understand her unwillingness to be the +instrument of making the facts of her own and Shelley’s life the subject +of public discussion. His resentment soon passed away, but his first wrath +was evidently expressed with characteristic vigour.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley to Trelawny.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>15th December 1829.</i></p> + +<p>... Your last letter was not at all kind. You are angry with me, but +what do you ask, and what do I refuse? You talk of writing Shelley’s +life, and ask me for materials. Shelley’s life, as far as the public +have to do with it, consisted of few events, and these are publicly +known; the private events were sad and tragical. How would you relate +them? As Hunt has, slurring over the real truth? Wherefore write +fiction? and the truth, any part of it, is hardly for the rude cold +world to handle. His merits are acknowledged, his virtues;—to bring +forward actions which, right or wrong (and that would be a matter of +dispute), were in their results tremendous, would be to awaken +calumnies and give his enemies a voice.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>As to giving Moore materials for Lord Byron’s life, I thought—I +think—I did right. I think I have achieved a great good by it. I wish +it to be kept secret—decidedly I am averse to its being published, +for it would destroy me to be brought forward in print. I commit +myself on this point to your generosity. I confided the fact to you as +I would anything I did, being my dearest friend, and had no idea that +I was to find in you a harsh censor and public denouncer....</p> + +<p>Did I uphold Medwin? I thought that I had always disliked him. I am +sure I thought him a great annoyance, and he was always borrowing +crowns which he never meant to pay and we could ill spare. He was +Jane’s friend more than any one’s.</p> + +<p>To be sure, we did not desire a duel, nor a horsewhipping, and Lord +Byron and Mrs. B. ... worked hard to promote peace.—Affectionately +yours,</p> + +<p class="signa">M. W. S.</p></div> + +<p>During this year Mrs. Shelley was busily employed on her own novel, +<i>Perkin Warbeck</i>, the subject of which may have occurred to her in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>connection with the historic associations of Arundel Castle. It is a work +of great ingenuity and research, though hardly so spontaneous in +conception as her earlier books. In spite of her retired life she had come +to be looked on as a celebrity, and many distinguished literary people +sought her acquaintance. Among these was Lord Dillon, conspicuous by his +good looks, his conversational powers, his many rare qualities of head and +heart, and his numerous oddities. Between him and Mrs. Shelley a strong +mutual regard existed, and the following letter is of sufficient interest +to be inserted here. The writer had desired Mary’s opinion on the subject +of one of his poems.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Lord Dillon to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Ditchley</span>, <i>18th March 1829</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mrs. Shelley</span>—I return you many thanks for your letter and +your favourable opinion. It is singular that you should have hit upon +the two parts that I almost think the best of all my poem. I fear that +my delineations of women do not please you, or persons who think as +you do. I have a classic feeling about your sex—that is to say, I +prefer nature to what is called delicacy.... I must be excused, +however; I have never loved or much liked women of refined sentiment, +but those of strong and blunt feelings and passions.... Pray tell me +candidly, for I believe you to be sincere, though at first I doubted +it, for your manner is reserved, and that put me on my guard; but now +I admit you to my full confidence, which I seldom give. Is not +Eccelino considered as too free? Tell me then truly—I never quote +whenever I write to a person. You may trust me. You might tell me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> all +the secrets in the world; they would never be breathed. I shall see +you in May, and then we may converse more freely, but I own you look +more sly than I think you are, and therefore I never was so candid +with you as I think I ought to be. Have not people who did not know +you taken you for a cunning person? You have puzzled me very much. +Women always feel flattered when they are told they have puzzled +people. I will tell you what has puzzled me. Your writings and your +manner are not in accordance. I should have thought of you—if I had +only read you—that you were a sort of my Sybil, outpouringly +enthusiastic, rather indiscreet, and even extravagant; but you are +cool, quiet, and feminine to the last degree—I mean in delicacy of +manner and expression. Explain this to me. Shall I desire my brother +to call on you with respect to Mr. Peter in the Tower? He is his +friend, not mine. He is very clever, and I think you would like him. +Pray tell Miss G. to write to me.—Yours most truly,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Dillon</span>.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p><i>Journal, October 8</i> (1829).—I was at Sir Thomas Lawrence’s to-day +whilst Moore was sitting, and passed a delightful morning. We then +went to the Charter House, and I saw his son, a beautiful boy.</p> + +<p><i>January 9</i> (1830).—Poor Lawrence is dead.</p> + +<p>Having seen him so lately, the suddenness of this event affects me +deeply. His death opens all wounds. I see all those I love die around +me, while I lament.</p> + +<p><i>January 22.</i>—I have begun a new kind of life somewhat, going a +little into society and forming a variety of acquaintances. People +like me, and flatter and follow me, and then I am left alone again, +poverty being a barrier I cannot pass. Still I am often amused and +sometimes interested.</p> + +<p><i>March 23.</i>—I gave a <i>soirée</i>, which succeeded very well. Mrs. Hare +is going, and I am very sorry. She likes me, and she is gentle and +good. Her husband is clever and her set very agreeable, rendered so by +the reunion of some of the best people about town.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>Mrs. Shelley now resided in Somerset Street, Portman Square. Her +occasional “at homes,” though of necessity simple in character, were not +on that account the less frequented. Here might be met many of the most +famous and most charming men and women of their day, and here Moore would +thrill all hearts and bring tears to all eyes by his exquisitely pathetic +singing of his own melodies.</p> + +<p>The hostess herself, gentle and winning, was an object of more admiration +than would ever be suspected from the simple, almost deprecatory tone of +her scraps of journal. Among her MSS. are numerous anonymous poems +addressed to her, some sentimental, others high-flown in compliment, +though none, unfortunately, of sufficient literary merit to be, in +themselves, worth preserving. But, whether they afforded her amusement or +gratification, it is probable that she had to work too hard and too +continuously to give more than a passing thought to such things. From the +following letter of Clare’s it may be inferred that <i>Perkin Warbeck</i>, +which appeared in 1830, was, in a pecuniary sense, something of a +disappointment, and that this was the more vexatious as Mary had lent +Clare money during her visit to England, and would have been glad, now, to +be repaid, not, however, on her own account, but that of Marshall, +Godwin’s former amanuensis and her kind friend<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> in her childhood, whom, it +is evident, she was helping to support in his old age.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Clare to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Dresden</span>, <i>28th March 1830</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mary</span>—At last I take up the pen to write to you. At least thus +much can I affirm, that I take it up, but whether I shall ever get to +the end of my task and complete this letter is beyond me to decide. +One of the causes of my long delay has been the hope of being able to +send you the money for Marshall. I was to have been paid in February, +but as yet have received neither money nor notice from Mrs. K. ... By +this I am led to think she does not intend to do so until her return +here in May. I am vexed, for I have been reproaching myself the whole +winter with this debt. Of this be sure, the instant I am paid I will +despatch what I owe you to London.... Here I was interrupted, and for +two days have been unable to continue. How delighted I was with the +news of Percy’s health, as also with his letter, though I am afraid it +was written unwillingly and cost him a world of pains. Poor child! he +little thinks how much I am attached to him! When I first saw him I +thought him cold, but afterwards he discovered so much intellect in +all his speeches, and so much originality in his doings, that I +willingly pardoned him for not being interested in anything but +himself. In some weeks he will again be at home for Easter. But what +is this to me, since I shall not see him, nor perhaps even ever again. +It seems settled that my destination is Vienna. The negotiation with +Mrs. K. ... has been broken off on my showing great unwillingness to +go to Italy; that it may not be renewed I will not say. She now talks +of going to Nice, to which place I have no objection in the world to +accompany her. But nothing of this can be settled till she comes, for +as neither of us can speak frankly in our letters, owing to their +being subject to her husband’s inspection, we have as yet done nothing +but mutually misinterpret the circumspect and circuitous phraseology +in which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> our real meaning was wrapped. Nothing can equal the letters +she has written to me; they were detached pieces of agony. How she +lived at all after bringing such productions into the world I cannot +guess. Instruments of torture are nothing to them. She favoured me +with one every week, which was a very clever contrivance on her part +to keep us in an agitation equal to the one she suffered at Moghileff. +Thanks to her and Natalie’s perpetual indisposition, I have passed a +tolerably disagreeable winter. At home I was employed in rubbings, +stretchings, putting on trusses, dressing ulcers, applying leeches, +and bandaging swollen glands. Out-of-doors our recreations were [all] +baths, baths of bullock’s blood, mud baths, steam baths, soap baths, +and electricity. If I had served in a hospital I should not have been +more constantly employed with sickness and its appendages. I could +understand this order of things pretty well, and even perhaps from +custom find some beauty in their deformity if the sky were pitch black +and the stars red; but when I see them so beautiful I cannot help +imagining that they were made to look down upon a life more consonant +with their own natures than the one I lead, and I am filled with the +most bitter dislike of it. I ought to confess, however, that it is a +great mitigation of my disagreeable life to live in Dresden; such is +the structure of existence here that a thousand alleviations to misery +are offered. Here, as in Italy, you cannot walk the streets without +meeting with some object which affords ready and agreeable occupation +to the mind. I never yet was in a place where I met so much to please +and so little to shock me. In vain I endeavour to recollect anything I +could wish otherwise; not a fault presents itself. The more I become +acquainted with the town and see its smallness, the more I am struck +with the uncommon resources in literature <i>e le belle arti</i> it +possesses. With what regret shall I leave it for Vienna. Farewell, +then, a long farewell to Mount Olympus and its treasures of wisdom, +science, poetry, and skill; the vales may be green and many rills +trill through them, and many flocks pasture there, but the inhabitants +will be as vile and miserable to me as were the shepherds of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> Admetus +to Apollo when he kept their company. At any rate Vienna is better +than Russia. I trust and hope when I am there you will make some +little effort to procure the newspapers and reviews and new works; +this alone can soften the mortification I shall feel in being obliged +to live in that city. Already I have lost the little I had gained in +my English, and I can only write with an effort that is painful to me; +it precludes the possibility of my finding any pleasure in +composition. I pause a hundred times and lean upon my hand to +endeavour to find words to express the idea that is in my mind. It is +a vain endeavour; the idea is there, but no words, and I leave my task +unfinished. Another favour I have to ask you, which is, if I should +require your mediation to get a book published at Paris, you will +write to your friends there, and otherwise interest yourself as warmly +as you can about it. Promise me this, and give me an answer upon it as +quick as you can. I have had many letters from Charles. His affairs +have taken the most favourable turn at Vienna. Everything is <i>couleur +de rose</i>. More employment than he can accept seems likely to be +offered to him; this is consolatory. He talks with rapture of his +future plans, has taken a charming house, painted and furnished a +pretty room for me, and will send Antonia and the babes to the lovely +hills at some miles from the town so soon as they arrive.</p> + +<p>Mamma has written to me everything concerning Colburn; this is indeed +a disappointment, and the more galling because odiously unjust. Let me +hear if your plan of writing the <i>Memoirs of Josephine</i> is likely to +be put into execution. This perhaps would pay you better. I tremble +for the anxiety of mind you suffer about Papa and your own pecuniary +resources.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>What says the world to Moore’s <i>Lord Byron</i>? I saw some extracts in a +review, and cannot express the pleasure I experienced in finding it +was sad stuff. It was the journal of the Noble Lord, and I should say +contained as fine a picture of indigestion as one could expect to meet +with in Dr. Paris, Graham, or Johnson. Of Trelawny I know little. He +wrote<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> to me, describing where he was living and what kind of life he +was leading. I have not yet answered him, although I make a sacred +promise every day not to let it go over my head without so doing. But +there is a certain want of sympathy between us which makes writing to +him extremely disagreeable to me. I admire, esteem, and love him; some +excellent qualities he possesses in a degree that is unsurpassed, but +then it is exactly in another direction from my centre and my impetus. +He likes a turbid and troubled life, I a quiet one; he is full of fine +feelings and has no principles, I am full of fine principles but never +had a feeling; he receives all his impressions through his heart, I +through my head. <i>Que voulez vous? Le moyen de se recontrer</i> when one +is bound for the North Pole and the other for the South?</p> + +<p>What a terrible description you give of your winter. Ours, though +severe, was an exceedingly fine one. From the time I arrived here +until now there has not been a day that was not perfectly dry and +clear. Within this last week we have had a great deal of rain. I well +understand how much your spirits must have been affected by three +months’ incessant foggy raw weather. In my mind nothing can compensate +for a bad climate. How I wish I could draw you to Dresden. You would +go into society and would see a quantity of things which, treated by +your pen, would bring you in a good profit. Life is very cheap here, +and in the summer you might take a course of Josephlitz or Carlsbad, +which would set up your health and enable you to bear the winter of +London with tolerable philosophy. Forgive me if I don’t write +descriptions. It is impossible, situated as I am. I have not one +moment free from annoyance from morning till night. This state of +things depresses my mind terribly. When I have a moment of leisure it +is breathed in a prayer for death. You will not wonder, therefore, +that I think the Miss Booths right in their manner of acting; what is +the use of trifling or mincing the matter with so despotic a ruler as +the Disposer of the Universe? The one who is left is much to be +pitied, for now she must die by herself, and that I think is as +disagreeable as to live by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> oneself. In your next pray mention +something about politics and how the London University is getting on. +The accounts here of the distress in England are awful. Foreigners +talk of that country as they would of Torre del Greco or Torre dell’ +Annunciata at the announcement of an eruption of Vesuvius. I should +think my mother must be delighted to be no more plagued with us; it +was really a great bother and no pleasure for her. She writes me a +delightful account of Papa’s health and spirits. Heaven grant it may +continue. I am reading <i>Political Justice</i>, and am filled with +admiration at the vastness of the plan, and the clearness and skill, +nothing less than immortal, with which it is executed.</p> + +<p>Farewell! write to me about your novel and particularly the opinion it +creates in society. Pray write. The letters of my acquaintances +(friends I have none) are my only pleasure. Natalie is pretty well; +the knee is better, inasmuch as the swelling is smaller, but the +weakness is as great as ever. We sit opposite to one another in +perfect wretchedness; I because I am obliged to entreat her all day to +do what she does not like, and she because she is entreated.</p> + +<p class="signa">C. C.</p> + +<p>My love to William.</p></div> + +<p>During the next five years the “Author of <i>Frankenstein</i>” wrote several +short tales (some of which were published in the <i>Keepsake</i>, an annual +periodical, the precursor of the <i>Book of Beauty</i>), but no new novel. She +was to have abundant employment in furthering the work of another.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<p class="title"><span class="smcap">August 1830-October 1831</span></p> + +<p>To all who know Trelawny’s curious book, the following correspondence, +which tells the story of its publication and preparation for the press, +will in itself be interesting. To readers of Mary Shelley’s life it has a +strong additional interest as illustrating, better than any second-hand +narrative can do, the unique kind of friendship subsisting between her and +Trelawny, and which, based on genuine mutual regard and admiration, and a +common devotion to the memory of Shelley and of a golden age which ended +at his death, proved stronger than all obstacles, and, in spite of +occasional eclipses through hasty words and misunderstandings, in spite of +wide differences in temperament, in habits, in opinions, and morals, yet +survived with a kind of dogged vitality for years.</p> + +<p>Shelley said of <i>Epipsychidion</i> that it was “an idealised history of his +life and feelings.” <i>The Adventures of a Younger Son</i> is an idealised +history of Trelawny’s youth and exploits, and very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> amusing it is, though +rather gruesome in some of its details; a romance of adventures, of +hair-breadth escapes by flood and field. As will be seen, the original MS. +had to be somewhat toned down before it was presented to the public, but +it is, as it stands, quite sufficiently forcible, as well as +blood-curdling, for most readers.</p> + +<p>The letters may now be left to tell their own tale.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>16th August 1830.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mary</span>—That my letter may not be detained, I shall say nothing +about Continental politics.</p> + +<p>My principal motive in writing is to inform you that I have nearly +completed the first portion of <i>my History</i>, enough for three ordinary +volumes, which I wish published forthwith. The Johnsons, as I told you +before, are totally ruined by an Indian bankruptcy; the smallness of +my income prevents my supporting them. Mr. Johnson is gone to India to +see if he can save aught from the ruin of his large fortune. In the +meantime his wife is almost destitute; this spurs me on. Brown, who is +experienced in these matters, declares I shall have no difficulty in +getting a very considerable sum for the MS. now. I shall want some +friend to dispose of it for me. My name is not to appear or to be +disclosed to the bookseller or any other person. The publisher who may +purchase it is to be articled down to publish the work without +omitting or altering a single word, there being nothing actionable, +though a great deal objectionable, inasmuch as it is tinctured with +the prejudices and passions of the author’s mind. However, there is +nothing to prevent women reading it but its general want of merit. The +opinion of the two or three who have read it is that it will be very +successful, but I know how little value can be attached to such +critics. I’ll tell you what I think—that it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> good, and might have +been better; it is [filled] with events that, if not marred by my +manner of narrating, must be interesting. I therefore plainly foresee +it will be generally read or not at all. Who will undertake to, in the +first place, dispose of it, and, in the second, watch its progress +through the press? I care not who publishes it: the highest bidder +shall have it. Murray would not like it, it is too violent; parsons +and <i>Scots</i>, and, in short, also others are spoken of irreverently, if +not profanely. But when I have your reply I shall send the MS. to +England, and your eyes will be the judge, so tell me precisely your +movements.—Your attached</p> + +<p class="signa">E. J. T.</p> + +<p>Poste Restante, Florence.</p> + +<p>When does Moore conclude his <i>Life of Byron</i>? If I knew his address I +could give him a useful hint that would be of service to the fame of +the Poet.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Florence</span>, <i>28th October 1830</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dearest Mary</span>—My friend Baring left Florence on the 25th to proceed +directly to London, so that he will be there as soon as you can get +this letter. He took charge of my MSS., and promised to leave them at +Hookham’s, Bond Street, addressed to you. I therefore pray you lose no +time in inquiring about them; they are divided into chapters and +volumes, copied out in a plain hand, and all ready to go to press. +They have been corrected with the greatest care, and I do not think +you will have any trouble with them on that score. All I want you to +do is to read them attentively, and then show them to Murray and +Colburn, or any other publisher, and to hear if they will publish them +and what they will give. You may say the author cannot at present be +<i>named</i>, but that, when the work goes forth in the world, there are +many who will recognise it. Besides the second series, which treats of +Byron, Shelley, Greece, etc., will at once remove the veil, and the +publisher who has the first shall have that. Yet at present I wish the +first series to go forth strictly anonymous,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> and therefore you must +on no account trust the publisher with my name. Surely there is matter +enough in the book to make it interesting, if only viewed in the light +of a <i>romance</i>. You will see that I have divided it into very short +chapters, in the style of Fielding, and that I have selected mottoes +from the only three poets who were the staunch advocates of liberty, +and my contemporaries. I have left eight or nine blanks in the mottoes +for you to fill up from the work of one of those poets. Brown, who was +very anxious about the fame of Keats, has given many of his MSS. for +the purpose. Now, if you could find any from the MSS. of Shelley or +Byron, they would excite much interest, and their being strictly +applicable is not of much importance. If you cannot, why, fill them up +from the published works of Byron, Shelley, or Keats, but no others +are to be admitted. When you have read the work and heard the opinion +of the booksellers, write to me before you settle anything; only +remember I am very anxious that no alterations or omissions should be +made, and that the mottoes, whether long or short, double or treble, +should not be curtailed. Will not Hogg assist you? I might get other +people, but there is no person I have such confidence in as you, and +the affair is one of confidence and trust, and are we not bound and +united together by ties stronger than those which earth has to impose? +Dearest friend, I am obliged hastily to conclude.—Yours +affectionately,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">E. J. Trelawny</span>.</p> + +<p>George Baring, Esq., who takes my book, is the brother of the banker; +he has read it, and is in my confidence, and will be very ready to see +and confer with you and do anything. He is an excellent person. I +shall be very anxious till I hear from you.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley To Trelawny.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span style="padding-right: 1em;"><span class="smcap">33 Somerset Street</span>,</span><br /> +<i>27th December 1830</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Trelawny</span>—At present I can only satisfy your impatience with +the information that I have received your MS.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> and read the greater +part of it. Soon I hope to say more. George Baring did not come to +England, but after considerable delay forwarded it to me from Cologne.</p> + +<p>I am delighted with your work; it is full of passion, energy, and +novelty; it concerns the sea, and that is a subject of the greatest +interest to me. I should imagine that it must command success.</p> + +<p>But, my dear friend, allow me to persuade you to permit certain +omissions. In one of your letters to me you say that “there is nothing +in it that a woman could not read.” You are correct for the most part, +and yet without the omission of a few words here and there—the scene +before you go to school with the mate of your ship—and above all the +scene of the burning of the house, following your scene with your +Scotch enemy—I am sure that yours will be a book interdicted to +women. Certain words and phrases, pardoned in the days of Fielding, +are now justly interdicted, and any gross piece of ill taste will make +your booksellers draw back.</p> + +<p>I have named all the objectionable passages, and I beseech you to let +me deal with them as I would with Lord Byron’s <i>Don Juan</i>, when I +omitted all that hurt my taste. Without this yielding on your part I +shall experience great difficulty in disposing of your work; besides +that I, your partial friend, strongly object to coarseness, now wholly +out of date, and beg you for my sake to make the omissions necessary +for your obtaining feminine readers. Amidst so much that is beautiful +and imaginative and exalting, why leave spots which, believe me, are +blemishes? I hope soon to write to you again on the subject.</p> + +<p>The burnings, the alarms, the absorbing politics of the day render +booksellers almost averse to publishing at all. God knows how it will +all end, but it looks as if the autocrats would have the good sense to +make the necessary sacrifices to a starving people.</p> + +<p>I heard from Clare to-day; she is well and still at Nice. I suppose +there is no hope of seeing you here. As for me, I of course still +continue a prisoner. Percy is quite well, and is growing more and more +like Shelley. Since it is necessary to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> live, it is a great good to +have this tie to life, but it is a wearisome affair. I hope you are +happy.—Yours, my dearest friend, ever,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley</span>.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Firenze</span>, <i>19th January 1831</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dearest Mary</span>—For, notwithstanding what you may think of me, you +every day become dearer to me. The men I have linked myself to in my +wild career through life have almost all been prematurely cut off, and +the only friends which are left me are women, and they are strange +beings. I have lost them all by some means or other; they are dead to +me in being married, or (for you are all slaves) separated by +obstacles which are insurmountable, and as Lord Chatham observes, +“Friendship is a weed of slow growth in aged bosoms.” But now to your +letter. I to-day received yours of the 27th of December; you say you +have received my MS. It has been a painful and arduous undertaking +narrating my life. I have omitted a great deal, and avoided being a +pander to the public taste for the sake of novelty or effect. Landor, +a man of superior literary acquirements; Kirkup, an artist of superior +taste; Baring, a man of the world and very religious; Mrs. Baring, +moral and squeamish; Lady Burghersh, aristocratic and proud as a +queen; and lastly, Charles Brown, a plain downright Cockney critic, +learned in the trade of authorship, and has served his time as a +literary scribe. All these male and female critics have read and +passed their opinions on my narrative, and therefore you must excuse +my apparent presumption in answering your objections to my book with +an appearance of presumptuous dictation. Your objections to the +coarseness of those scenes you have mentioned have been foreseen, and, +without further preface or apology, I shall briefly state my wishes on +the subject. Let Hogg or Horace Smith read it, and, without your +<i>giving any</i> opinion, hear theirs; then let the booksellers, Colburn +or others, see it, and then if it is their general opinion that there +are <i>words</i> which are better<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> omitted, why I must submit to their +being omitted; but do not prompt them by prematurely giving your +opinion. My life, though I have sent it you, as the dearest friend I +have, is not written for the amusement of women; it is not a novel. If +you begin clipping the wings of my true story, if you begin erasing +words, you must then omit sentences, then chapters; it will be pruning +an Indian jungle down to a clipped French garden. I shall be so +appalled at my MS. in its printed form, that I shall have no heart to +go on with it. Dear Mary, I love women, and you know it, but my life +is not dedicated to them; it is to men I write, and my first three +volumes are principally adapted to sailors. England is a nautical +nation, and, if they like it, the book will amply repay the publisher, +and I predict it will be popular with sailors, for it is true to its +text. By the time you get this letter the time of publishing is come, +and we are too far apart to continue corresponding on the subject. Let +Hogg, Horace Smith, or any one you like, read the MS.; or the +booksellers; if they absolutely object to any particular words or +short passages, why let them be omitted by leaving blanks; but I +should prefer a first edition as it now stands, and then a second as +the bookseller thought best. In the same way that <i>Anastasius</i> was +published, the suppression of the first edition of that work did not +prevent its success. All men lament that <i>Don Juan</i> was not published +as it was written, as under any form it would have been interdicted to +women, and yet under any form they would have unavoidably read it.</p> + +<p>Brown, who is learned in the bookselling trade, says I should get £200 +per volume. Do not dispose of it under any circumstances for less than +£500 the three volumes. Have you seen a book written by a man named +Millingen? He has written an article on me, and I am answering it. My +reply to it I shall send you. The <i>Literary Gazette</i>, which published +the extract regarding me, I have replied to, and to them I send my +reply; the book I have not seen. If they refuse, as the article I +write is amusing, you will have no difficulty in getting it admitted +in some of the London <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>magazines. It will be forwarded to you in a few +days, so you see I am now fairly coming forward in a new character. I +have laid down the sword for the pen. Brown has just called with the +article in question copied, and I send it together.</p> + +<p>I have spoken to you about filling up the mottoes; the title of my +book I wish to be simply thus—<i>The Life of a Man</i>, and not <i>The +Discarded Son</i>, which looks too much like romance or a common +novel....</p> + +<p>Florence is very gay, and there are many pretty girls here, and balls +every night. Tell Mrs. Paul not to be angry at my calling her and her +sisters by their Christian names, for I am very lawless, as you know, +in that particular, and not very particular on other things.</p> + +<p>Brown talks of writing to you about the mottoes to my book, as he is +very anxious about those of his friend Keats. Have you any MS. of +Shelley’s or Byron’s to fill up the eight or ten I left blank? +Remember the short chapters are to be adhered to in its printed form. +I shall have no excitement to go on writing till I see what I have +already written in print. By the bye, my next volumes will to general +readers be far more interesting, and published with my name, or at +least called Treloen, which is our original family name.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Poste Restante, Firenze</span>,<br /> +<span style="padding-right: 2em;"><i>5th April 1831</i>.</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mary</span>—Since your letter, dated December 1830, I have not had a +single line from you, yet in that you promised to write in a few days. +Why is this? or have you written, and has your letter miscarried, or +have not my letters reached you? I was anxious to have published the +first part of my life this year, and if it had succeeded in +interesting general readers, it would have induced me to have +proceeded to its completion, for I cannot doubt that if the first +part, published anonymously, and treating of people, countries, and +things little known, should suit the public palate, that the latter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +treating of people that everybody knows, and of things generally +interesting, must be successful. But till I see the effect of the +first part, I cannot possibly proceed to the second, and time is +fleeting, and I am lost in idleness. I cannot write a line, and thus +six months, in which I had leisure to have finished my narrative, are +lost, and I am now deeply engaged in a wild scheme which will lead me +to the East, and it is firmly my belief that when I again leave Europe +it will be for ever. I have had too many hair-breadth escapes to hope +that fortune will bear me up. My present Quixotic expedition is to be +in the region wherein is still standing the column erected by +Sardanapalus, and on it by him inscribed words to the effect: <i>Il faut +jouir des plaisirs de la vie; tout le reste n’est rien</i>.</p> + +<p>At present I can only say, if nothing materially intervenes to prevent +me, that in the autumn of this year I shall bend my steps towards the +above-mentioned column, and try the effect of it.</p> + +<p>I am sick to death of the pleasureless life I lead here, and I should +rather the tinkling of the little bell, which I hear summoning the +dead to its last resting-place, was ringing for my body than endure +the petty vexations of what is called civilised life, and see what I +saw a few days back, the Austrian tyrants trampling on their helot +Italians; but letters are not safe.—Your affectionate friend,</p> + +<p class="signa">E. J. T.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley to Trelawny.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Somerset Street</span>, <i>22d March 1831</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Trelawny</span>—What can you think of me and of my silence? I can +guess by the contents of your letters and your not having yet received +answers. Believe me that if I am at all to blame in this it arises +from an error in judgment, not from want of zeal. Every post-day I +have waited for the next, expecting to be able to communicate +something definitive, and now still I am waiting; however, I trust +that this letter will contain some certain intelligence before I send +it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> After all, I have done no more than send your manuscripts to +Colburn, and I am still in expectation of his answer. In the first +place, they insist on certain parts being expunged,—parts of which I +alone had the courage to speak to you, but which had before been +remarked upon as inadmissible. These, however (with trifling +exceptions), occur only in the first volume. The task of deciding upon +them may very properly be left to Horace Smith, if he will undertake +it—we shall see. Meanwhile, Colburn has not made up his mind as to +the price. He will not give £500. The terms he will offer I shall hope +to send before I close this letter, so I will say no more except to +excuse my having conceded so much time to his dilatoriness. In all I +have done I may be wrong; I commonly act from my own judgment; but +alas! I have great experience. I <i>believe</i> that, if I sent your work +to Murray, he would return it in two months unread; simply saying that +he does not print novels. Your end part would be a temptation, did not +your intention to be severe on Moore make it improbable that he would +like to engage in it; and he would keep me as long as Colburn in +uncertainty; still this may be right to do, and I shall expect your +further instructions by return of post. However, in one way you may +help yourself. You know Lockhart. He reads and judges for Murray; +write to him; your letter shall accompany the MS. to him. Still, this +thing must not be done hastily, for if I take the MS. out of Colburn’s +hands, and, failing to dispose of it elsewhere, I come back to him, he +will doubtless retreat from his original proposal. There are other +booksellers in the world, doubtless, than these two, but, occupied as +England is by political questions, and impoverished miserably, there +are few who have enterprise at this juncture to offer a price. I quote +examples. My father and myself would find it impossible to make any +tolerable arrangement with any one except Colburn. He at least may be +some guide as to what you may expect. Mr. Brown remembers the golden +days of authors. When I first returned to England I found no +difficulty in making agreements with publishers; they came to seek me; +now money is scarce, and readers fewer than ever.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> I leave the rest of +this page blank. I shall fill it up before it goes on Friday.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Friday, 25th March.</i></p> + +<p>At length, my dear friend, I have received the ultimatum of these +great people. They offer you £300, and another £100 on a second +edition; as this was sent me in writing, and there is no time for +further communication before post-hour, I cannot <i>officially</i> state +the number of the edition. I should think 1000. I think that perhaps +they may be brought to say £400 at once, or £300 at once and £200 on +the second edition. There can be no time for parleying, and therefore +you must make up your mind whether after doing good battle, if +necessary, I shall accept their terms. Believe <i>my experience</i> and +that of those about me; you will not get a better offer from others, +because money is not to be had, and Bulwer and other fashionable and +selling authors are now obliged to content themselves with half of +what they got before. If you decline this offer, I will, if you +please, try Murray; he will keep me two months at least, and the worst +is, if he won’t do anything, Colburn will diminish his bargain, and we +shall be in a greater mess than ever. I know that, as a woman, I am +timid, and therefore a bad negotiator, except that I have perseverance +and zeal, and, I repeat, experience of things as they are. Mr. Brown +knows what they were, but they are sadly changed. The omissions +mentioned must be made, but I will watch over them, and the mottoes +and all that shall be most carefully attended to, depend on me.</p> + +<p>Do not be displeased, my dear friend, that I take advantage of this +enormous sheet of paper to save postage, and ask you to tear off one +half sheet, and to send it to Mrs. Hare. You talk of my visiting +Italy. It is impossible for me to tell you how much I repine at my +imprisonment here, but I dare not anticipate a change to take me there +for a long time. England, its ungenial clime, its difficult society, +and the annoyances to which I am subjected in it weigh on my spirits +more than ever, for every step I take only shows me how impossible +[it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> is], situated as I am, that I should be otherwise than wretched. +My sanguine disposition and capacity to endure have borne me up +hitherto, but I am sinking at last; but to quit so stupid a topic and +to tell you news, did you hear that Medwin contrived to get himself +gazetted for full pay in the Guards? I fancy that he employed his +connection with the Shelleys, who are connected with the King through +the Fitz Clarences. However, a week after he was gazetted as retiring. +I suppose the officers cut him at mess; his poor wife and children! +how I pity them! Jane is quite well, living in tranquillity. Hogg +continues all that she can desire....</p> + +<p>She lives where she did; her children are well, and so is my Percy, +who grows more like Shelley. I hear that your old favourite, Margaret +Shelley, is prettier than ever; your Miss Burdett is married. I have +been having lithographed your letter to me about Caroline. I wish to +disperse about 100 copies among the many hapless fair who imagine +themselves to have been the sole object of your tenderness. Clare is +to have a first copy. Have you heard from poor dear Clare? She +announced a little time ago that she was to visit Italy with the +Kaisaroff to see you. I envied her, but I hear from her brother +Charles that she has now quarrelled with Madame K., and that she will +go to Vienna. God grant that her sufferings end soon. I begin to +anticipate it, for I hear that Sir Tim is in a bad way. I shall hear +more certain intelligence after Easter. Mrs. P. spends her Easter with +Caroline, who lives in the neighbourhood, and will dine at Field +Place. I have not seen Mrs. Aldridge since her marriage; she has +scarcely been in town, but I shall see her this spring, when she comes +up as she intends. You know, of course, that Elizabeth St. Aubyn is +married, so you know that your ladies desert you sadly. If Clare and I +were either to die or marry you would be left without a Dulcinea at +all, with the exception of the sixscore new objects for idolatry you +may have found among the pretty girls in Florence. Take courage, +however; I am scarcely a Dulcinea, being your friend and not the Lady +of your love, but such as I am, I do not think<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> that I shall either +die or marry this year, whatever may happen the next; as it is only +spring you have some time before you.</p> + +<p>We are all here on the <i>qui vive</i> about the Reform Bill; if it pass, +and Tories and all expect it, well,—if not, Parliament is dissolved +immediately, and they say that the new writs are in preparation. The +Whigs triumphed gloriously in the boldness of their measure. England +will be free if it is carried. I have had very bad accounts from Rome, +but you are quiet as usual in Florence. I am scarcely wicked enough to +desire that you should be driven home, nor do I expect it, and yet how +glad I should be to see you. You never mention Zella. Adieu, my dear +Trelawny.—I am always affectionately yours,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary W. Shelley</span>.</p> + +<p>Hunt has set up a little 2d. paper, the <i>Tatler</i>, which is succeeding; +this keeps him above water. I have not seen him very lately. He lives +a long way off. He is the same as ever, a person whom all must love +and regret.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Poste Restante, Firenze</span>,<br /> +<span style="padding-right: 2em;"><i>8th April 1831</i>.</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>—The day after I had despatched a scolding letter to you, I +received your Titanic letter, and sent Mrs. Hare her fathom of it....</p> + +<p>Now, let’s to business. I thank you for the trouble you have taken +about the MS. Let Colburn have it, and try to get £400 down, for as to +what may be promised on a second edition, I am told is mere humbug. +When my work is completed I have no doubt the first part will be +reprinted, but get what you can paid down at once; as to the rest, I +have only to say that I consent to Horace Smith being the sole +arbitrator of what is necessary to be omitted, but do not let him be +prompted, and tell him only to omit what is <i>absolutely +indispensable</i>. Say to him that it is a friend of Shelley’s who asks +him this favour, but do not let him or any other individual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> know that +I am the author. If my name is known, and the work can be brought home +to me, the consequences will be most disastrous. I beseech you bear +this in mind. Let all the mottoes appear in their respective chapters +without any omission, regardless of their number to each chapter, for +they are all good, and fill up the eight or ten I left blank from +Byron and Shelley; if from MS. so much the better. The changes in the +opinions of all mankind on political and other topics are favourable +to such writers as I and the Poets of Liberty whom I have selected. We +shall no longer be hooted at; it is our turn to triumph now. Would +those glorious spirits, to whose genius the present age owes so much, +could witness the triumphant success of these opinions. I think I see +Shelley’s fine eyes glisten, and faded cheek glow with fire unearthly. +England, France, and Belgium free, the rest of Europe must follow; the +theories of tyrants all over the world are shaken as by an earthquake; +they may be propped up for a time, but their fall is inevitable. I am +forgetting the main business of my letter. I hope, Mary, that you have +not told Colburn or any one else that I am the author of the book. +Remember that I must have the title simply <i>A Man’s Life</i>, and that I +should like to have as many copies for my friends as you can get from +Colburn—ten, I hope—and that you will continue to report progress, +and tell me when it is come out. You must have a copy, Horace Smith +one, and Jane and Lady Burghersh; she is to be heard of at Apsley +House—Duke of Wellington’s—and then I have some friends here; you +must send me a parcel by sea. If the time is unfavourable for +publication, from men’s minds being engrossed with politics, yet it is +so far an advantage that my politics go with the times, and not as +they would have been some years back, obnoxious and premature. I +decide on Colburn as publisher, not from liberality of his terms, but +his courage, and trusting that as little as possible will be omitted; +and, by the bye, I wish you to keep copies, for I have none, of those +parts which are omitted. Enough of this. Of Clare I have seen nothing. +Do not you, dear Mary, abandon me by following the evil<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> examples of +my other ladies. I should not wonder if fate, without our choice, +united us; and who can control his fate? I blindly follow his decrees, +dear Mary.—Your</p> + +<p class="signa">E. J. T.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley to Trelawny.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Somerset Street</span>, <i>14th June 1831</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Trelawny</span>—Your work is in progress at last, and is being +printed with great rapidity. Horace Smith undertook the revision, and +sent a very favourable report of it to the publishers; to me he says: +“Having written to you a few days ago, I have only to annex a copy of +my letter to Colburn and Bentley, whence you will gather my opinion of +the MS.; it is a most powerful, but rather perilous work, which will +be much praised and much abused by the liberal and bigoted. I have +read it with great pleasure and think it admirable, in everything but +the conclusion;” by this he means, as he says to Colburn and Bentley, +“The conclusion is abrupt and disappointing, especially as previous +allusions have been made to his later life which is not given. +Probably it is meant to be continued, and if so it would be better to +state it, for I have no doubt that his first part will create a +sufficient sensation to ensure the sale of a second.”</p> + +<p>In his former letter to me H. S. says: “Any one who has proved himself +the friend of yourself and of him whom we all deplore I consider to +have strong claims on my regard, and I therefore willingly undertake +the revision of the MS. Pray assure the author that I feel flattered +by this little mark of his confidence in my judgment, and that it will +always give me pleasure to render him these or any other services.” +And now, my dear Trelawny, I hope you will not be angry at the title +given to your book; the responsibility of doing anything for any one +so far away as you is painful, and I have had many qualms, but what +could I do? The publishers strongly objected to the <i>History of a Man</i> +as being no title at all, or rather one to lead astray. The one +adopted is taken from the first words of your MS., where you declare +yourself a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> younger son—words pregnant of meaning in this country, +where to be the younger son of a man of property is to be virtually +discarded,—and they will speak volumes to the English reader; it is +called, therefore, <i>The Adventures of a Younger Son</i>. If you are angry +with me for this I shall be sorry, but I knew not what to do. Your MS. +will be preserved for you; and remember, also, that it is pretty well +known whom it is by. I suppose the persons who read the MS. in Italy +have talked, and, as I told you, your mother speaks openly about it. +Still it will not appear in print, in no newspaper accounts over which +I have any control as emanating from the publisher. Let me know +immediately how I am to dispose of the dozen copies I shall receive on +your account. One must go to H. Smith, another to me, and to whom +else? The rest I will send to you in Italy.</p> + +<p>There is another thing that annoys me especially. You will be paid in +bills dating from the day of publication, now not far distant; three +of various dates. To what man of business of yours can I consign +these? the first I should think I could get discounted at once, and +send you the cash; but tell me what I am to do. I know that all these +hitches and drawbacks will make you vituperate womankind, and had I +ever set myself up for a woman of business, or known how to manage my +own affairs, I might be hurt; but you know my irremediable +deficiencies on those subjects, and I represented them strongly to you +before I undertook my task; and all I can say in addition is, that as +far as I have seen, both have been obliged to make the same +concessions, so be as forgiving and indulgent as you can.</p> + +<p>We are full here of reform or revolution, whichever it is to be; I +should think something approaching the latter, though the first may be +included in the last. Will you come over and sit for the new +parliament? what are you doing? Have you seen Clare? how is she? She +never writes except on special occasions, when she wants anything. +Tell her that Percy is quite well.</p> + +<p>You tell me not to marry,—but I will,—any one who will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> take me out +of my present desolate and uncomfortable position. Any one,—and with +all this do you think that I shall marry? Never,—neither you nor +anybody else. Mary Shelley shall be written on my tomb,—and why? I +cannot tell, except that it is so pretty a name that though I were to +preach to myself for years, I never should have the heart to get rid +of it.</p> + +<p>Adieu, my dear friend. I shall be very anxious to hear from you; to +hear that you are not angry about all the <i>contretemps</i> attendant on +your publication, and to receive your further directions.—Yours very +truly,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">M. W. Shelley</span>.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Poste Restante, Firenze</span>,<br /> +<span style="padding-right: 2em;"><i>29th June 1831</i>.</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>—Your letter, dated 14th June, I have received, after a long +interval, and your letter before that is dated 22d March. It would +appear by your last that you must have written another letter between +March and June, by allusions in this last respecting my Mother. If so, +it has never reached me, so that if it contained anything which is +necessary for me to know, I pray you let me have a transcript, so far +as your memory will serve to give it me. I am altogether ignorant of +what arrangements you have made with Colburn; and am only in +possession of the facts contained in the second, to wit, that Horace +Smith is revising the work for publication. I trust he will not be too +liberal with the pruning-knife. When will the cant and humbug of these +costermonger times be reformed? Nevertheless tell H. Smith that the +author is fully sensible of his kindness and (for once, at least, in +his life) with all his heart joins his voice to that of the world in +paying tribute to the sterling ability of Mr. Horace Smith; and I +remember Shelley and others speaking of him as one often essayed on +the touchstone of proof, and never found wanting. Horace Smith’s +criticism on the <i>Life</i> is flattering, and as regards the perilous +part—why I never have, and never shall, crouch to those I utterly +despise, to wit, the bigoted. The Roman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> Pontiff might as well have +threatened me with excommunication when on board the <i>Grub</i>, if I +failed to strike my top-sails, and lower my proud flag to the lubberly +craft which bore his silly banner, bedaubed with mitres, crosses, and +St. Peter’s Keys.</p> + +<p>I did not mean to call my book <i>The History of a Man</i>, but simply +thus, <i>A Man’s Life</i>; “Adventures” and “Younger Son” are commonplace, +and I don’t like it; but if it is to be so, why, I shall not waste +words in idle complaints: would it were as I had written it. By the +bye, you say justly the MS. ends abruptly; the truth is, as you know, +it is only the first part of my life, and to conclude it will fill +three more volumes: that it is to be concluded, I thought I had stated +in a paragraph annexed to the last chapter of that which is now in the +press, which should run thus—</p> + +<p>“I am, or rather have, continued this history of my life, and it will +prove I have not been a passive instrument of despotism, nor shall I +be found consorting with those base, sycophantic, and mercenary +wretches who crouch and crawl and fawn on kings, and priests, and +lords, and all in authority under them. On my return to Europe, its +tyrants had gathered together all their helots and gladiators to +restore the cursed dynasty of the Bourbons, and thousands of slaves +went forth to extinguish and exterminate liberty, truth, and justice. +I went forth, too, my hand ever against them, and when tyranny had +triumphed, I wandered an exile in the world and leagued myself with +men worthy to be called so, for they, inspired by wisdom, uncoiled the +frauds contained in lying legends, which had so long fatally deluded +the majority of mankind. Alas! those apostles have not lived to see +the tree they planted fructify; would they had tarried a little while +to behold this new era of 1830-31, how they would have rejoiced to +behold the leagued conspiracy of kings broken, and their bloodhound +priests and nobles muzzled, their impious confederacy to enslave and +rob the people paralysed by a blow that has shaken their usurpation to +the base, and must inevitably be followed by their final overthrow. +Yes, the sun of freedom is dawning on the pallid slaves of Europe,” etc.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>The conclusion of this diatribe I am certain you have, and if you have +not the beginning, why put it in beginning with the words: “I have +continued the history of my life.”</p> + +<p>If I thought there was a probability that I could get a seat in the +reformed House of Commons, I would go to England, or if there was a +probability of revolution. I was more delighted with your resolve not +to change your name than with any other portion of your letter. +Trelawny, too, is a good name, and sounds as well as Shelley; it fills +the mouth as well and will as soon raise a spirit. By the bye, when +you send my books, send me also Mary Wollstonecraft’s <i>Rights of +Women</i>, and Godwin’s new work on <i>Man</i>, and tell me what you are now +writing. The Hares are at Lucca Baths. Never omit to tell me what you +know of Caroline. Do you think there is any opening among the +demagogues for me? It is a bustling world at present, and likely so to +continue. I must play a part. Write, Mary mine, speedily.</p> + +<p>Is my book advertised? If so, the motto from Byron should accompany +it.</p> + +<p>Clare only remained in Florence about ten days; some sudden death of a +relative of the family she resides with recalled them to Russia. I saw +her three or four times. She was very miserable, and looked so pale, +thin, and haggard. The people she lived with were bigots, and treated +her very badly. I wished to serve her, but had no means. Poor lady, I +pity her; her life has been one of continued misery. I hope on Sir +Timothy’s death it will be bettered; her spirits are broken, and she +looks fifty; I have not heard of her since her departure. Mrs. Hare +once saw her, but she was so prejudiced against her, from stories she +had heard against her from the Beauclercs, that she could hardly be +induced to notice her. You are aware that I do not wish my book to +appear as if written for publication, and therefore have avoided all +allusions which might induce people to think otherwise. I wish all the +mottoes to be inserted, as they are a selection of beautiful poetry, +and many of them not published.</p> + +<p>The bills, you say, Colburn and Bentley are to give you;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> perhaps +Horace Smith may further favour me by getting them negotiated. I am +too much indebted to him to act so scurvily as not to treat him with +entire confidence, so with the injunction of secrecy you may tell him +my name. If he dislikes the affair of the bills, as I cannot employ +any of my people of business, why give the bills, or rather place them +in the hands of a man who keeps a glover’s shop (I know him well). His +name is Moon, and his shop is corner one in Orange Street, Bloomsbury +Square. When I get your reply, I will, if necessary, write to him on +the subject. I pray you write me on receipt of this. My child Zella is +growing up very pretty, and with a soul of fire. She is living with +friends of mine near Lucca.</p> + +<p>The only copies of the book I wish you to give away are to Horace +Smith, Mary Shelley, Lady Burghersh, No. 1 Hyde Park Terrace, Oxford +Road, and Jane Williams, to remind her that she is not forgotten. +Shelley’s tomb and mine in Rome, is, I am told, in a very dilapidated +state. I will see to its repair. Send me out six copies by sea; one if +you can sooner. Address them to Henry Dunn, Leghorn.</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">E. J. Trelawny.</span></p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Poste Restante, Firenze</span>,<br /> +<span style="padding-right: 2em;"><i>19th July 1831</i>.</span></p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>By the bye, Mary, if it is not too late, I should wish the name of +Zella to be spelt in the correct Arabic, thus, <i>Zellâ</i>, in my book. I +changed it in common with several others of the names to prevent my +own being too generally recognised; with regard to hers, if not too +late, I should now wish it to appear in its proper form, besides +which, in the chapter towards the conclusion, wherein I narrate an +account of a pestilence which was raging in the town of Batavia, I +wish the word Java fever to be erased, and cholera morbus substituted. +For we alone had the former malady on board the schooner, having +brought it into the Batavia Roads<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> with us, but on our arrival there +we found the cholera raging with virulence, most of those attacked +expiring in the interval of the setting and rising of the sun. Luis, +our steward, I thought died from fever, as we had had it previously on +board, but the medicals pronounced it or denounced it cholera. If the +alteration can be made, it will be interesting, as in the history of +the cholera I see published, they only traced the origin to 1816, when +the fact is, it was in 1811 that I am speaking of, and no doubt it has +existed for thousands of years before, but it is only of late, like +the natives of Hindoostan, it has visited Europe. It is sent by +Nemesis, a fitting retribution for the gold and spices we have robbed +them of. The malediction of my Malayan friends has come to pass, for I +have no doubt the Russian caravans which supply that empire with tea, +silks, and spices introduced the cholera, or gave it into the bargain, +or as <i>bona mano</i>. I wish you would write, for I am principally +detained here by wishing to get a letter from you ere I go to some +other place.—Yours, and truly,</p> + +<p class="signa">E. T.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley to Trelawny.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Somerset Street</span>, <i>26th July 1831</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Trelawny</span>—Your third volume is now printing, so I should +imagine that it will very soon be published; everything shall be +attended to as you wish. The letter to which I alluded in my former +one was a tiny one enclosed to Clare, which perhaps you have received +by this time. It mentioned the time of the agreement; £300 in bills of +three, six, and eight months, dated from the day of publication, and +£100 more on a second edition. The mention I made of your mother was, +that she speaks openly in society of your forthcoming memoirs, so that +I should imagine very little real secrecy will attend them. However, +you will but gain reputation and admiration through them.</p> + +<p>I hope you are going on, for your continuation will, I am sure, be +ardently looked for. I am so sorry for the delay of all last winter, +yet I did my best to conclude the affair; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> the state of the nation +has so paralysed bookselling that publishers were very backward, +though Colburn was in his heart eager to get at your book. As to the +price, I have taken pains to ascertain; and you receive as much as is +given to the best novelists at this juncture, which may console your +vanity if it does not fill your pocket.</p> + +<p>The Reform Bill will pass, and a considerable revolution in the +government of the country will, I imagine, be the consequence.</p> + +<p>You have talents of a high order. You have powers; these, with +industry and discretion, would advance you in any career. You ought +not, indeed you ought not to throw away yourself as you do. Still, I +would not advise your return on the speculation, because England is so +sad a place that the mere absence from it I consider a peculiar +blessing.</p> + +<p>My name will <i>never</i> be Trelawny. I am not so young as I was when you +first knew me, but I am as proud. I must have the entire affection, +devotion, and, above all, the solicitous protection of any one who +would win me. You belong to womenkind in general, and Mary Shelley +will <i>never</i> be yours.</p> + +<p>I write in haste, but I will write soon again, more at length. You +shall have your copies the moment I receive them. Believe me, with all +gratitude and affection, yours,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">M. W. Shelley</span>.</p> + +<p>Jane thanks you for the book promised. I am infinitely chagrined at +what you tell me concerning Clare. If the B.’s spoke against her, that +means Mrs. B. and her stories were gathered from Lord Byron, who +feared Clare and did not spare her; and the stories he told were such +as to excuse the prejudice of any one.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Same to the Same.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Somerset Street</span>, <i>2d October 1831</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Trelawny</span>—I suppose that I have now some certain intelligence +to send you, though I fear that it will both<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> disappoint and annoy +you. I am indeed ashamed that I have not been able to keep these +people in better order, but I trusted to honesty, when I ought to have +ensured it; however, thus it stands: your book is to be published in +the course of the month, and then your bills are to be dated. As soon +as I get them I will dispose of them as you direct, and you will +receive notice on the subject without delay. I cannot procure for you +a copy until then; they pretend that it is not all printed. If I can +get an opportunity I will send you one by private hand, at any rate I +shall send them by sea without delay. I will write to Smith about +negotiating your bills, and I have no doubt that I shall be able +somehow or other to get you money on them. I will go myself to the +City to pay Barr’s correspondent as soon as I get the cash. Thus your +<i>pretty dear</i> (how fascinating is flattery) will do her best, as soon +as these tiresome people fulfil their engagements. In some degree they +have the right on their side, as the day of publication is a usual +time from which to date the bills, and that was the time which I +acceded to; but they talked of such hurry and speed that I expected +that that day was nearer at hand than it now appears to be. November +<i>is</i> the publishing month, and no new things are coming out now. In +fact, the Reform Bill swallows up every other thought. You have heard +of the Lords’ majority against it, much longer than was expected, +because it was not imagined that so many bishops would vote against +Government....</p> + +<p>Do whenever you write send me news of Clare. She never writes herself, +and we are all excessively anxious about her. I hope she is better. +God knows when fate will do anything for us. I despair. Percy is well, +I fancy that he will go to Harrow in the spring; it is not yet finally +arranged, but this is what I wish, and therefore I suppose it will be, +as they have promised to increase my allowance for him, and leave me +pretty nearly free, only with Eton prohibited; but Harrow is now in +high reputation under a new head-master. I am delighted to hear that +Zella is in such good hands, it is so necessary in this world of woe +that children should learn betimes to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> yield to necessity; a girl +allowed to run wild makes an unhappy woman.</p> + +<p>Hunt has set up a penny daily paper, literary and theatrical; it is +succeeding very well, but his health is wretched, and when you +consider that his sons, now young men, do not contribute a penny +towards their own support, you may guess that the burthen on him is +very heavy. I see them very seldom, for they live a good way off, and +when I go he is out, she busy, and I am entertained by the children, +who do not edify me. Jane has just moved into a house about half a +mile further from town, on the same road; they have furnished it +themselves. Dina improves, or rather she always was, and continues to +be, a very nice child.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> +</div> + +<p>The <i>Adventures</i> did not reach a second edition in their original form; +the first edition failed, indeed, to repay its expenses; but they were +afterwards republished in <i>Colburn’s Family Library</i>. The second part of +Trelawny’s Autobiography took the chatty and discursive form, so popular +at the present day, of “Reminiscences.” It is universally known as +<i>Recollections<a name='fna_11' id='fna_11' href='#f_11'><small>[11]</small></a> of Shelley, Byron, and the Author</i>.</p> + +<p>So long as Shelley and Byron survive as objects of interest in this world, +so long must this fascinating book share their existence. As originally +published, it has not a dull page. Life-like as if written at the moment +it all happened, it yet has the pictorial sense of proportion which can +rarely exist till a writer stands at such a distance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> (of time) from the +scenes he describes that he can estimate them, not only as they are, but +in their relation to surrounding objects. It would seem as if, for the +conversations at least, Trelawny must sometimes have drawn on his +imagination as well as his memory; if so, it can only be replied that, by +his success, he has triumphantly vindicated his artistic right to do so. +Terse, original, and characteristic, each speech paints its speaker in +colours which we know and feel to be true. Nothing seems set down for +effect; it is spontaneous, unstudied, everyday reality. And if the history +of Trelawny’s own exploits in Greece somewhat recall the “tarasconnades” +of his early adventures, it at least puts a thrilling finish to a book it +was hard to conclude without falling into bathos. As a writer on Shelley, +Trelawny surely stands alone. Many authors have praised Shelley, others +have condemned and decried him, others again have tried to pity and +“excuse” him. No one has apprehended as happily as Trelawny the peculiar +<i>timbre</i>, if it may be so described, of his nature, or has brought out so +vividly, and with so few happy touches, his moral and social +characteristics. Saint or sinner, the Shelley of Trelawny is no lay +figure, no statue even, no hero of romance; it is <i>Shelley</i>, the man, the +boy, the poet. Trelawny assures us that Hogg’s picture of Shelley as a +youth is absolutely faithful. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> Hogg’s picture only shows us Shelley in +his “salad days,” and even that we are never allowed to contemplate +without the companion-portrait of the biographer, smiling with cynical +amusement while he yields his tribute of heartfelt, but patronising +praise.</p> + +<p>The conclusions to which Hogg had come by observation Trelawny arrived at +by intuition. Fiery and imaginative, his nature was by far the more +sympathetic of the two; though it may be that, in virtue of very +unlikeness, Hogg would have proved, in the long run, the fitter companion +for Shelley.</p> + +<p>Between Trelawny and Mary there existed the same kind of adjustable +difference. His descriptions of her have been largely drawn upon in +earlier chapters of the present work, and need not be reverted to here. +She had been seven years dead when the <i>Recollections</i> were published. +Twenty years later, when Mary Shelley had been twenty-seven years in her +grave, there appeared a second edition of the book. In those twenty years, +what change had come over the spirit of its pages? An undefinable +difference, like that which comes over the face of Nature when the wind +changes from west to east,—and yet not so undefinable either, for it had +power to reverse some very definite facts. Byron’s feet, for instance, +which—as the result of an investigation after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> death—were described, in +1858, as having, both, been “clubbed and withered to the knee,” “the feet +and legs of a sylvan satyr,” are, in 1878, pronounced to have been +<i>faultless</i>, but for the contraction of the back sinews (the “Tendon +Achilles”), which prevented his heels from resting on the ground. +“Unfortunately,” to quote Mr. Garnett’s comment on this discrepancy, in +his article on <i>Shelley’s Last Days</i>, “as in the natural world the same +agencies that are elevating one portion of the earth’s surface are at the +same time depressing another, so, in the microcosm of Mr. Trelawny’s +memory and judgment, the embellishment of Lord Byron’s feet has been +accompanied by a corresponding deterioration of Mrs. Shelley’s heart and +head.”</p> + +<p>Yes; the Mary Shelley with whom, in early days, even Trelawny could find +no fault, save perhaps for a tendency to mournfulness in solitude and an +occasional fit of literary abstraction when she might have been looking +after the commissariat—who in later years was his trusty friend, his sole +correspondent, his literary editor, his man of business—and withal his +“pretty dear” “every day dearer” to him, “Mary—my Mary”—superior surely +to the rest of her sex, with whom at one time it seems plain enough that +he would have been nothing loth to enter into an alliance, offensive and +defensive, for life, would she but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> have preferred the name of Trelawny to +that of Shelley,—this Mary whose voice had been silent for seven and +twenty years, and to whom he himself had raised a monument of praise, +rises from her tomb as conventional and commonplace, unsympathetic and +jealous, narrow, orthodox, and worldly.</p> + +<p>Yet she had borne with his exactions and scoldings and humours for +friendship’s sake, and with full faith in the loyalty and generosity of +his heart. A pure and delicate-minded woman, she had not been scandalised +by his lawless morals. She had had the courage to withstand him when he +was wrong, working for him the while like a devoted slave. Never was a +more true and disinterested friendship than hers for him; and he, who knew +her better than most people did, was well aware of it.</p> + +<p>Where then was the change? Alas! It was in himself. In this revolving +world, where “Time that gave doth now his gift confound,” and where +“nought may endure but mutability,” the “flourish set on youth” is soon +transfixed.</p> + +<p>Greek fevers and gunshot wounds told on the “Pirate’s” disposition as well +as on his constitution. The habits of mind he had cultivated and been +proud of,—combativeness, opposition to all authority as such—finally +became his masters; he could not even acquiesce in his own experience. Age +and the ravages of Time were to blame<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> for his morbid censoriousness; +Time—that “feeds on the rarities of Nature’s truth.” These later +recollections are but the distorted images of a blurred mirror. But, none +the less, the tale is a sad one. We can but echo Trelawny’s own words to +Mary<a name='fna_12' id='fna_12' href='#f_12'><small>[12]</small></a>—“Can such things be, and overcome us like a summer cloud, +without our especial wonder?”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +<p class="title"><span class="smcap">October 1831-October 1839</span></p> + +<p>Trelawny’s book was only one among many things which claimed Mrs. +Shelley’s attention during these three years.</p> + +<p>In 1830 Godwin published his <i>Thoughts on Man</i>. The relative positions of +father and daughter had come to be reversed, and Mary now negotiated with +the publishers for the sale of his work, as he had formerly done for her. +Godwin himself set a high value, even for him, on this book, and +anticipated for it a future and an influence which were not to be +realised.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Godwin to Mary.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>15th April 1830.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>—If you do me the favour to see Murray, I know not how far +you can utter the following things; or if you do, how far they will +have any weight with his highness; yet I cannot but wish you should +have them in your mind.</p> + +<p>The book I offer is a collection of ten new and interesting truths, +illustrated in no unpopular style. They are the fruit of thirty years’ +meditation (it being so long since I wrote the <i>Enquirer</i>), in the +full maturity of my understanding.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>The book, therefore, will be very far from being merely one book more +added to the number of books already existing in English literature. +It must, as I conceive, when published make a deep impression, and +cause the thinking part of the public to perceive—There are here laid +before us ten interesting truths never before delivered.</p> + +<p>Whether it is published during my life or after my death it is a light +that cannot be extinguished—“the precious life-blood of a discerning +spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life.”</p></div> + +<p>In the following amusing letter Clare gives Mary a few commissions. She +was to interest her literary acquaintance in Paris in the publication and +success of a French poem by a friend of Clare’s at Moscow, the greatest +wish of whose heart was to appear in print. She was also to find a means +of preventing the French translatress of Moore’s <i>Life of Byron</i> from +introducing Clare’s name into her elucidatory footnotes. This was indeed +all-important to Clare, as any revival of scandal about her might have +robbed her of the means of subsistence, but it was also an extremely +difficult and delicate task for Mary. But no one ever hesitated to make +her of use. Her friends estimated her power by her goodwill, and her +goodwill by their own need of her services; and they were generally right, +for the will never failed, and the way was generally found.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Clare to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Nice</span>, <i>11th December 1830</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mary</span>—Your last letter, although so +melancholy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> gave me much +pleasure, merely, therefore, because it came from you.</p> + +<p>I intended to have written to all and each of you, but until now have +not been able to put my resolution into execution. It must seem to you +that I am strangely neglectful of my friends, or perhaps you think +since I am so near Trelawny that I have been taking a lesson from him +in the art of cultivating one’s friendships; but neither of these is +the case, my silence is quite on another principle than this.</p> + +<p>I am not desperately in love, nor just risen from my bed at four in +the afternoon in order to write my millionth love letter, nor am I +indifferent to those whom time and the malice of fortune have yet +spared to me, but simply I have been too busy.</p> + +<p>Since I have been at Nice I have had to change lodgings four times; +besides this, we were a long time without a maid, and received and +paid innumerable visits. My whole day was spent in shifting my +character. In the morning I arose a waiting-maid, and, having attended +to the toilette of Natalie, sank into a house-maid, a laundry-maid, +and, after noon, I fear me, a cook, having to look to the cleaning of +the rooms, the getting up of linen, and the preparation of various +pottages fit for the patient near me. At mid-day I turned into a +governess, gave my lessons, and at four or five became a fine lady for +the rest of the day, and paid visits or received them, for at Nice it +is the custom, so soon as a stranger arrives, that everybody <i>comme il +faut</i> in the place comes to call upon you; nor can you shut your doors +against them even if you were dying, for as Nice is the resort of the +sick, and as everybody either is sick or has been sick, nursing has +become the common business.</p> + +<p>So we went on day after day. We had <i>dejeuners dansants</i>, <i>soirées +dansantes</i> (<i>dîners dansants</i> are considered as <i>de trop</i> by order of +the physicians), <i>bals parés</i>, <i>théatres</i>, <i>opéras</i>, <i>grands dîners</i>, +<i>petits soupers</i>, <i>concerts</i>, <i>visites de matin</i>, <i>promenades à âne</i>, +<i>parties de campagne</i>, <i>réunions littéraires</i>, <i>grands cercles</i>, +<i>promenades en bateau</i>, <i>coteries choisies</i>, <i>thunder-storms</i> from +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> sea, and <i>political storms</i> from France; in short, if we had only +had an earthquake, or the shock of one, we should have run through the +whole series of modifications of which human existence is susceptible. +<i>Voilà Paris, Voilà Paris</i>, as the song says.</p> + +<p>You may perhaps expect that the novelty of society should have +suggested to me remarks and observations as multifarious as the forms +under which I observed it. Sorry I am to say that either from its +poverty, or from my own poverty of intellect, I have not gathered from +it anything beyond the following couple of conclusions, that people of +the world, disguise themselves as they may, possess but two qualities, +a great want of understanding, and a vast pretension to sentiment. +From this duplexity arises the duplicity with which they are so often +charged, and no wonder, for with hearts so heavy, and heads so light, +how is it possible to keep anything like a straightforward course? In +alleviation of this, I must confess that wherever I went I carried +about with me my own identity (that unhappy identity which has cost me +so dear, and of which, with all my pains, I have never been able to +lose a particle), and contemplated the people I judge through the +medium of its rusty atoms.</p> + +<p>I must speak to you of an affair that interests me deeply. M. Gambs +has informed me that he has sent to Paris a poem of his in manuscript +called <i>Möise</i>. He gave it to the Prince Nicolas Scherbatoff at +Moscow, just upon his setting out for Paris; this is many months ago. +Whether the Prince gave any promise to endeavour to get it published I +do not know; but if he did, he is such a very indolent and selfish man +that his efforts would never get the thing done. M. Gambs has written +to me to ask if you have any literary friends in Paris who would be +kind enough to interest themselves about it. The address of the Prince +is as follows: Son Excellence Le Prince Nicolas Scherbatoff, Rue St. +Lazare, No. 17, à Paris. Can you not get some one to call upon him to +ask about the manuscript, and to propose it to some bookseller?</p> + +<p>This some one may enter into a direct correspondence with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> M. Gambs by +addressing him Chez M. Lenhold, Marchand de Musique, à Moscow. I +should be highly delighted if you could settle things in this way, as +I know my friend has nothing more at heart than to appear in print, +and that I should be glad to be the means of communicating some +pleasure to an existence which I know is almost utterly without it, +and of showing my gratitude for the kindness and goodness he has +showered upon me; nor, as far as my poor judgment goes, is the work +unworthy of inspiring interest, and of being saved from oblivion. It +pleased me much when it was read to me; but then it is true I was in a +desert, and there a drop of water will often seem to us more precious +than the finest jewel.</p> + +<p>Another subject connected with Paris also presses itself on my mind. +In Moore’s <i>Life of Lord Byron</i> only the most distant allusion was +made to Lady Caroline Lamb; yet, in the French translation, its +performer, Madame Sophie Bellay (or some such name) had the indelicacy +to unveil the mystery in a note, and to expose it in distinct and +staring characters to the public. This piece of impudence was harmless +to Lady Caroline, since her independence of others was assured beyond +a doubt; but to any one whose bread depends upon the public a printed +exposure of their conduct will infallibly bring on destitution, and +reduce them to the necessity of weighing upon their relations for +support.</p> + +<p>I know the subject is a disagreeable one, and that you do not like +disagreeable subjects. I know nothing of business or whether there +exists any means of averting this blow; perhaps a representation to +the translator of the evils that would follow would be sufficient; but +as I have no means of trying this, I am reduced to suggest the subject +to your attention, with the firm hope that you will find some method +of warding off the threatened mischief.</p> + +<p>What you tell me of the state of family resources has naturally +depressed my spirits. Will the future never cease unrolling new shapes +of misery? Stair above stair of wretchedness is all we know; the +present, bad as it is, is always better than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> what comes after. Of all +the crowd of eager inquirers at the Delphic shrine was there ever +found one who thanked, or had any reason to thank, the Pythia for what +she disclosed to him? For me, I have long abandoned hope and the +future, and am now diligently pursuing and retracing the past, going +the back way as it were to eternity in order to avoid the +disappointments and perplexities of an unknown course. But I must beg +pardon for my cowardice and disagreeableness, and leave it, or else I +shall be recollected with as much reluctance as the Pythia.</p> + +<p>I wish I could give you any idea of the beauty of Nice. So long as I +can walk about beside the sounding sea, beneath its ambient heaven, +and gaze upon the far hills enshrined in purple light, I catch such +pleasure from their loveliness that I am happy without happiness; but +when I come home, then it seems to me as if all the phantasmagoria of +hell danced before my eyes.</p> + +<p>Mrs. K. has arrived and in no very amiable humour. The only +conversation I hear is, first, the numberless perfections of herself, +husband, and child; this, as it is true, would be well enough, but +still upon repetition it tires; second, the infinite superiority of +Russia over all other countries, since it is an established truth that +liberty and civilisation are the most dreadful of all evils. I, to +avoid ill-temper, assent to all they say; then in company, when +opposed in their doctrines, they drag me forward, and the tacit +consent I have given, as an argument in favour of their way of +thinking, and I am at once set down by everybody either as a fawning +creature or an utter fool. However, I am glad she has come, as the +responsibility of Natalie’s health was too much. For heaven’s sake +excuse me to dear Jane that I have not written. My first moment shall +be given to do so.</p> + +<p>I think of England and my friends all day long. Entreat everybody to +write to me. Do pray do so yourself. My love to my Mother and Papa, +and William and everybody. How happy was I that Percy was well.—In +haste, ever yours,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">C. Clairmont</span>.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>Mrs. Shelley’s mind was much occupied during 1831 by the serious question +of sending her son to a public school. She wished to give him the best +possible education, and she wished, too, to give it him in such a form as +would place him at no disadvantage among other young men when he took his +place in English society.</p> + +<p>Shelley (she mentions in one of her letters) had expressed himself in +favour of a public school, but Shelley’s family had also to be consulted, +and she seems to have had reason to hope they would help in the matter.</p> + +<p>They quite concurred in her views for Percy, only putting a veto on Eton, +where legends of his father’s school-days might still be lingering about. +Nothing was better than that she should send him to a public school—<i>if +she could</i>. These last words were implied, not expressed. But a public +school education in England is not to be given on a very limited income. +Funds had to be found; and Mrs. Shelley made, through the lawyer, a direct +request to Sir Timothy for assistance.</p> + +<p>She received the following answer—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mr. Whitton to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Stone Hall</span>, <i>6th November 1831</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Madam</span>—I have been, from the time I received your last favour to +the present, in correspondence with Sir Timothy Shelley as to your +wishes of an advance upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> £300 per annum he now makes to you, and +I recommended him to consult his friend and solicitor, Mr. Steadman, +of Horsham, thereon, and which he did.</p> + +<p>You have not perhaps well put together and estimated on the great +amount of the charges upon the estate by the late Mr. Shelley, and on +the legacies given by his will; but looking at all these, and the very +limited interest of the estate now vested in you, Sir Timothy has +paused in his consideration thereof, and in the result has brought his +mind, that, having regard to the other provisions he is bound to make +for his other children, he ought not to increase the allowance to you, +and upon that ground he declines so doing; and therefore feels the +necessity of your making such arrangements as you may find necessary +to make the £300 per annum answer the purposes for yourself and for +your son, and he has this morning stated to me his fixed determination +to abide thereby; and I lose not a moment, after I receive this +communication from him, to make it known to you, and I trust and hope +you will find it practicable to give him a good education out of the +£300 a year.—I remain, Madam, your very obedient servant,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Wm. Whitton</span>.</p></div> + +<p>The seeming brutality of the concluding sentence must in fairness be +ascribed to the writer and not to those he represented.</p> + +<p>To Mrs. Shelley, knowing the impossibility of carrying out the public +school plan on her own income, the wishes and hopes must have sounded a +mockery. It had to be done, however, if it was the best thing for the boy. +The money must be earned, and she worked on.</p> + +<p>One day she received from her father a new kind of petition, which, +showing the effect on him of advancing years, must have struck a pang to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +her heart. She was accustomed to his requests for money, but now he wrote +to her for <i>an idea</i>.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Godwin to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>13th April 1832.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mary</span>—You desire me to write to you, if I have anything +particular to say.</p> + +<p>I write, then, to say that I am still in the same dismaying +predicament in which I have been for weeks past—at a loss for +materials to make up my third volume. This is by no means what I +expected.</p> + +<p>I knew, and I know, that incidents of hair-breadth escapes and +adventures are innumerable, and that without having fixed on any one +of them, I took for granted they would come when I called for them. +Such is the mischievous effect, the anxious expectation, that is +produced by past success.</p> + +<p>I believe that when I came to push with all my force against the +barriers that seemed to shut me in they would give way, and place all +the treasures of invention before me.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, it unfortunately happens that I cannot lay my present +disappointment to the charge of advancing age.</p> + +<p>I find all my faculties and all my strength in full bloom about me. My +disappointment has put that to a sharp trial. I thought that the +severe stretch of my faculties would cause them to yield, and subside +into feebleness and torpor. No such thing. Day after day, week after +week, I apply to this one question, without remission and with +discernment. But I cannot please myself. If I make the round of all my +thoughts, and come home empty-handed, it would seem that in the flower +and vigour of my youth I should have done the same.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, my situation is deplorable. I am not free to choose the +thing I would do. I have written two volumes and a quarter, and have +received five-sixths of the price of my work.</p> + +<p>I am afraid you will think I am useless, by teasing you with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +“conceptions only proper to myself.” But it is not altogether so. A +bystander may see a point of game which a player overlooks. Though I +cannot furnish myself with satisfactory incidents I have disciplined +my mind into a tone that would enable me to improve them, if offered +to me.</p> + +<p>My mind is like a train of gunpowder, and a single spark, now happily +communicated, might set the whole in motion and activity.</p> + +<p>Do not tease yourself about my calamity; but give it one serious +thought. Who knows what such a thought may produce?—Your affectionate +Father,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">William Godwin</span>.</p></div> + +<p>In the spring of 1832 the cholera appeared in London. Clare, at a +distance, was torn to pieces between real apprehension for the safety of +her friends, and distracting fears lest the disease should select among +them for its victim some one on whose life depended the realisation of +Shelley’s will. For Percy especially she was solicitous. Mary must take +him away at once, to the seaside—anywhere: if money was an obstacle she, +Clare, was ready to help to defray the cost out of her salary.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Shelley did leave London, although, it may safely be asserted, at no +one’s expense but her own. She stayed for a month at Southend, and +afterwards for a longer time at Sandgate.</p> + +<p>Besides contributing tales and occasionally verses to the <i>Keepsake</i>, she +was employed now and during the next two or three years in preparing and +writing the Italian and Spanish Lives of Literary Men for Lardner’s +<i>Cabinet Cyclopædia</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> These included, among the Italians—Petrarch, +Boccaccio, Bojardo, Macchiavelli, Metastasio, Goldoni, Alfieri, Ugo +Foscolo, etc.; among the Spanish and Portuguese—Cervantes, Lope de Vega, +Calderon, Camoens, and a host of others, besides notices of the +Troubadours, the “Romances Moriscos,” and the early poets of Portugal.</p> + +<p>Clare, too, tried her hand at a story, to which she begged Mary to be a +kind of godmother.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I have written a tale, which I think will do for the <i>Keepsake</i>. I +shall send it home for your perusal. Will you correct it? Do write and +let me know where I may send it, so as to be sure to find you. Will +you be angry with me if I beg you to write the last scene of it? I am +now so unwell I can’t.</p> + +<p>My only time for writing is after 10 at night; the rest of the tale +was composed at that hour, after having been scolding and talking and +giving lessons from 7 in the morning.</p> + +<p>It was very near its end when I got so ill, I gave it up. If you +cannot do anything with it you can at least make curl-papers of it, +and that is always something. Do not mention it to anybody; should it +be printed one can speak of it, and if you judge it not worthy, then +it is no use mortifying my vanity.</p> + +<p>The truth, is I should never think of writing, knowing well my +incapacity for it, but I want to gain money. What would one not do for +that, since it is the only key of freedom? One is even impudent enough +to ask a great authoress to finish one’s tale for one. I think, in +your hands, it might get into the <i>Keepsake</i>, for it is about a Pole, +and that is the topic of the day.</p> + +<p>If it should get any money, half will naturally belong to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> you. Should +you have the kindness to arrange it, Julia would perhaps also be so +kind as to copy it out for me, that the alterations in your hand may +not be seen. I wish it to be signed “Mont Obscur.”...</p></div> + +<p>Mary did what was asked of her. Trelawny, now in England again, had +influence in some literary quarters, and, at her request, willingly +consented to exert it on Clare’s behalf.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile he requested her to receive his eldest daughter on a visit of +considerable length.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>17th July 1832.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mary</span>—I am awaiting an occasion of sending —— to Italy, my +friend, Lady D., undertaking the charge of her.</p> + +<p>It may be a month before she leaves England. At the end of this month +Mrs. B. leaves London, and you will do me a great service if you will +permit my daughter to reside with you till I can make the necessary +arrangements for going abroad; she has been reared in a rough school, +like her father. I wish her to live and do as you do, and that you +will not put yourself to the slightest inconvenience on her account.</p> + +<p>As we are poor, the rich are our inheritance, and we are justified on +all and every occasion to rob and use them.</p> + +<p>But we must be honest and just amongst ourselves, therefore —— must +to the last fraction pay her own expenses, and neither put you to +expense nor inconvenience. For the rest, I should like —— to learn +to lean upon herself alone—to see the practical part of life: to +learn housekeeping on trifling means, and to benefit by her +intercourse with a woman like you; but I am ill at compliments.</p> + +<p>If you will permit —— to come to you, I will send or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> bring her to +you about the 25th of this month. I should like you and —— to know +each other before she leaves England, and thus I have selected you to +take charge of her in preference to any other person; but say if it +chimes in with your wishes.</p> + +<p>Adieu, dear Mary.—Your attached friend,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Edward Trelawny</span>.</p> + +<p>By the bye, tell me where the Sandgate coach starts from, its time of +leaving London, and its time of arrival at Sandgate, and where you +are, and if they will give you another bedroom in the house you are +lodging in; and if you have any intention of leaving Sandgate soon.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>27th July 1832.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mary</span>—You told me in your letter that it would be more +convenient for you to receive —— on the last of the month, so I made +my arrangements accordingly. I now find it will suit me better to come +to you on Wednesday, so that you may expect —— on the evening of +that day by the coach you mention. I shall of course put up at the +inn.</p> + +<p>As to your style of lodging or living, —— is not such a fool as to +let that have any weight with her; if you were in a cobbler’s stall +she would be satisfied; and as to the dulness of the place, why, that +must mainly depend on ourselves. Brompton is not so very gay, and the +reason of my removing —— to Italy is that Mrs. B. was about sending +her to reside with strangers at Lincoln; besides —— is acting +entirely by her own free choice, and she gladly preferred Sandgate to +Lincoln. At all events, come we shall; and if you, by barricading or +otherwise, oppose our entrance, why I shall do to you, not as I would +have others do unto me, but as I do unto others,—make an onslaught on +your dwelling, carry your tenement by assault, and give the place up +to plunder.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>So on Wednesday evening (at 5, by your account) you must be prepared +to quietly yield up possession or take the consequences. So as you +shall deport yourself, you will find me your friend or foe,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Trelawny</span>.</p></div> + +<p>Mary’s guest stayed with her over a month. During this time she was +saddened by the sudden death of her friendly acquaintance, Lord Dillon. +She was anxious, too, about her father, whose equable spirits had failed +him this year. No assistance seemed to avail much to ease his +circumstances; he was not far from his eightieth year, and still his hopes +were anchored in a yet-to-be-written novel.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“I feel myself able and willing to do everything, and to do it well,” +so he wrote, “and nobody disposed to give me the requisite +encouragement. If I can agree with these tyrants” (his publishers) +“for £300, £400, or £500 for a novel, and to be subsisted by them +while I write it, I probably shall not starve for a twelvemonth to +come ... but this dancing attendance wears my spirits and destroys my +tranquillity. ‘Hands have I, but I handle not; I have feet, but I walk +not; neither is there any breath in my nostrils.’</p> + +<p>“Meanwhile my life wears away, and ‘there is no work, nor device, nor +knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave whither I go.’ But, indeed, I am +wrong in talking of that, for I write now, not for marble to be placed +over my remains, but for bread to put into my mouth.”</p></div> + +<p>Mary tried in the summer to tempt him down to Sandgate for a change. But +the weather was very cold, and he declined.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="right"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span><i>28th August 1832.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>—</p> + +<p class="poem">See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year,<br /> +Sullen and sad, with all his rising train—<br /> +Vapours, and clouds, and storms.</p> + +<p>I am shivering over a little fire at the bottom of my grate, and have +small inclination to tempt the sea-breezes and the waves; we must +therefore defer our meeting till it comes within the walls of London.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p><i>Au revoir!</i> To what am I reserved? I know not.</p> + +<p class="poem">The wide (no not) the unbounded prospect lies before me,<br /> +But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.</p></div> + +<p>A new shadow was now to fall upon the poor old man, in the death from +cholera of his only son, Mary’s half-brother, William. This son in his +early youth had given some trouble and caused some anxiety, but his +character, as he grew up, had become steadier and more settled. He was +happily married, and seemed likely to be a source of real comfort and +satisfaction to his parents in their old age. By profession he was a +reporter, but he had his hereditary share of literary ability and of +talent “turned for the relation of fictitious adventures,” and left in MS. +a novel called <i>Transfusion</i>, published by his father after his death, +with the motto—</p> + +<p class="poem">Some noble spirits, judging by themselves,<br /> +May yet conjecture what I might have been.</p> + +<p>Although inevitably somewhat hardened against misfortune of the heart by +his self-centred habits<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> of mind and anxiety about money, Godwin was much +saddened by this loss, and to Mrs. Godwin it was a very great and bitter +grief indeed.</p> + +<p>Clare saw at once in this the beginning of fresh troubles; the realisation +of all the gloomy forebodings in which she had indulged. She wrote to Jane +Hogg—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>That nasty year, 1832, could not go over without imitating in some +respects 1822, and bringing death and misfortune to us. From the time +it came in till it went out I trembled, expecting at every moment to +hear the most gloomy tidings.</p> + +<p>William’s death came, and fulfilled my anticipations; misfortune as it +was, it was not such a heavy one to me as the loss of others might +have been. I, however, was fond of him, because I did not view his +faults in that desponding light which his other relations did. I have +seen more of the world, and, comparing him with other young men, his +frugality, his industry, his attachment to his wife, and his talents, +raised him, in my opinion, considerably above the common par.</p> + +<p>But in our family, if you cannot write an epic poem or novel that by +its originality knocks all other novels on the head, you are a +despicable creature, not worth acknowledging. What would they have +done or said had their children been fond of dress, fond of cards, +drunken, profligate, as most people’s children are?</p></div> + +<p>To Mary she wrote in a somewhat different tone, assuming that she, Clare, +was the victim on whom all misfortune really fell, and wondering at Mary’s +incredible temerity in allowing her boy, that all-important heir-apparent, +to face the perils of a public school.</p> + +<p>And then, losing sight for a moment of her own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> feverish anxiety, she +gives a vivid sketch of Mrs. Mason’s family.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Miss Clairmont to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Pisa</span>, <i>26th October 1832</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mary</span>—Though your last letter was on so melancholy a subject, +yet I am so destitute of all happiness that to receive it was one to +me.</p> + +<p>I have not yet got over the shock of William’s death; from the moment +I heard of it until now I have been in a complete state of +annihilation. How long it will last I am sure I cannot tell; I hope +not much longer, or perhaps I shall go mad.</p> + +<p>A horrible and most inevitable future is the image that torments me, +just as it did ten years ago, in this very city. But I won’t torment +you, who have a thousand enjoyments that veil it from you, and need +not feel the blow till it comes. Our fates were always different; mine +is to feel the shadow of coming misfortunes, and to sicken beneath it. +There seems to have been great imprudence on William’s part: my Mother +says he went to Bartholomew Fair the day before he was taken ill; then +he did not have medical assistance so soon as ill, which they say is +of the highest importance in the cholera, so altogether I suppose his +life was thrown away—a most lucky circumstance for himself, but God +knows what it will be for the Godwins.</p> + +<p>His death changed my plans. I had settled to go to Vienna, but as the +cholera is still there, I no longer considered myself free to offer +another of my Mother’s children to be its victim. Mrs. Mason +represented the imprudence of it, considering my weak health, the +depressed state of my spirits for the last twelve years, the fatigue +of the long journey, and the chilliness of the season of the year, +which are all things that predispose excessively to the disease, and I +yielded out of regard to my Mother. I thought she would prefer +anything to my dying, or else at Vienna, Charles tells me, I could +earn more than I am likely to earn here. For the same reason<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> Paris +was abandoned. I beg you will tell her this, and hope she will think I +have done well.</p> + +<p>In the meantime I stay with Mrs. Mason, and have got an engagement as +day governess with an English family, which will supply me with money +for my own expenses, but nothing more. In the spring they wish to take +me entirely, but the pay is not brilliant. When I know more about them +I will tell you. Nothing can equal Mrs. Mason’s kindness to me. Hers +is the only house, except my Mother’s, in which all my life I have +always felt at home. With her, I am as her child; from the merest +trifle to the greatest object, she treats me as if her happiness +depended on mine. Then she understands me so completely. I have no +need to disguise my sentiments; to barricade myself up in silence, as +I do almost with everybody, for fear they should see what passes in my +mind, and hate me for it, because it does not resemble what passes in +theirs. This ought to be a great happiness to me, and would, did not +her unhappiness and her precarious state of health darken it with the +torture of fear. It is too bitter, after a long life passed in +unbroken misery, to find a good only that you may lose it.</p> + +<p>Laurette’s marriage is to take place at the end of November. Mrs. +Mason having tried every means to hinder it, and seeing that she +cannot, is now impatient it should be over. Their present state is too +painful. She cannot disguise her dislike of Galloni; he having nearly +killed her with his scenes, and Laurette cannot sympathise with her; +being on the point of marrying him, and feeling grateful for his +excessive attachment, she wishes to think as well of him as she can. +It is the first time the mother and daughter have ever divided in +opinion, and galls both in a way that seems unreasonable to those who +live in the world, and are accustomed to meet rebuffs in their dearest +feelings at every moment. But our friends live in solitude, and have +nursed themselves into a height of romance about everything. They both +think their destinies annihilated, because the union of their minds +has suffered this interruption. However, no violence mingles with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +this sentiment and excites displeasure; on the contrary, I wish it +did, for it would be easier to heal than the tragic immutable sorrow +with which they take it.</p> + +<p>While these two dissolve in quiet grief, Nerina, the Italian, agitates +herself on the question; she forgets all her own love affairs, and all +the sabre slashes and dagger stabs of her own poor heart, to fall into +fainting fits and convulsions every time she sees Laurette and her +mother fix their eyes mournfully upon each other; then she talks and +writes upon the subject incessantly, even till 3 o’clock in the +morning. She has a band of young friends of both sexes, and with them, +either by word of mouth or by letter, she <i>sfogares</i> herself of her +hatred of Galloni, of the unparalleled cruelty of Laurette’s fate, and +of the terrific grave that is yawning for her mother; her mind is +discursive, and she introduces into her lamentations observations upon +the faulty manner in which she and her sister have been educated, +strictures upon the nature of love, objurgations against the whole +race of man, and eloquent appeals to the female sex to prefer +patriotism to matrimony.</p> + +<p>All the life that is left in the house is now concentrated in Nerina, +and I am sure she cannot complain of a dearth of sensations, for she +takes good care to feel with everything around her, for if the chair +does but knock the table, she shudders and quakes for both, and runs +into her own study to write it down in her journal. Into this small +study she always hurries me, and pours out her soul, and I am well +pleased to listen, for she is full of genius; when the tide has flowed +so long, it has spent itself, we generally pause, and then begin to +laugh at the ridiculous figures human beings cut in struggling all +their might and main against a destiny which forces millions and +millions of enormous planets on their way, and against which all +struggling is useless.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>8th November.</i></p> + +<p>My letter has been lying by all this time, I not having time to write. +I am afraid this winter I shall scarcely be able to keep up a +correspondence at all. I must be out at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> 9 in the morning, and am not +home before 10 at night. I inhabit at Mrs. Mason’s a room without a +fire, so that when I get home there is no sitting in it without +perishing with cold. I cannot sit with the Masons, because they have a +set of young men every night to see them, and I do not wish to make +their acquaintance. I walk straight into my own room on my return. +Writing either letters or articles will be a matter of great +difficulty. The season is very cold here. My health always diminishes +in proportion to the cold.</p> + +<p>I am very glad to hear that Percy likes Harrow, but I shudder from +head to foot when I think of your boldness in sending him there. I +think in certain things you are the most daring woman I ever knew. +There are few mothers who, having suffered the misfortunes you have, +and having such advantages depending upon the life of an only son, +would venture to expose that life to the dangers of a public school.</p> + +<p>As for me, it is not for nothing that my fate has been taken out of my +own hands and put into those of people who have wantonly torn it into +miserable shreds and remnants; having once endured to have my whole +happiness sacrificed to the gratification of some of their foolish +whims, why I can endure it again, and so my mind is made up and my +resolution taken. I confess, I could wish there were another world in +which people were to answer for what they do in this! I wish this, +because without it I am afraid it will become a law that those who +inflict must always go on inflicting, and those who have once suffered +must always go on suffering.</p> + +<p>I hope nothing will happen to Percy; but the year, the school itself +that you have chosen, and the ashes<a name='fna_13' id='fna_13' href='#f_13'><small>[13]</small></a> that lie near it, and the +hauntings of my own mind, all seem to announce the approach of that +consummation which I dread.</p> + +<p>I am very glad you are delighted with Trelawny. My affections are +entirely without jealousy; the more those I love love others, and are +loved by them, the better pleased<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> am I. I am in a vile humour for +writing a letter; you would not wonder at it if you knew how I am +plagued. I can say from experience that the wonderful variety there is +of miseries in this world is truly astonishing; if some Linnæus would +class them as he did flowers, the number of their kinds would far +surpass the boasted infinitude of the vegetable creation. Not a day +nor hour passes but introduces me to some new pain, and each one +contains within itself swarms of smaller ones—animalculæ pains which +float up and down in it, and compose its existence and their own. What +Mademoiselle de L’Espinasse was for love, I am for pain,—all my +letters are on the same subject, and yet I hope I do not repeat +myself, for truly, with such diversity of experience, I ought not.</p> + +<p>Our friends here send their best love to you, and are interested in +your perilous destiny. I have just received a letter from my Mother, +and in obedience to her representations draw my breath as peacefully +as I can till the month of January. Will you explain to me one phrase +of her letter? Talking of the chances of their getting money, she +says: “Then Miss Northcote is not expected to live over the winter,” +and not a word beside. Who in the world is Miss Northcote? and what +influence can her death have in bettering their prospects?</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding my writing such a beastly letter as this to you, pray +do write. I work myself into the most dreadful state of irritation +when I am long without letters from some of you. Tell Jane I entreat +her to write, and tell my Mother that the bill of lading of the parcel +for me is come, but Mrs. Mason sent it off to Leghorn without my +seeing it, and was too ill herself to look at the date, so I know not +when it was shipped, but as Mr. Routh has the bill, I suppose I shall +hear when it has arrived and performed quarantine.</p> + +<p>Thank Trelawny for me for his kindness about the article. Pisa is very +dull yet. I am told there are seven or eight English families arrived, +but I have not seen them.</p> + +<p>Farewell, my dear Mary. Be well and happy, and excuse my +dulness.—Yours ever affectionately,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">C. Clairmont</span>.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>One term’s experience was enough to convince Mrs. Shelley that she could +only afford to continue her son’s school education by leaving London +herself and settling with him at Harrow for some years.</p> + +<p>In January 1833 she wrote an account of her affairs to her old friend, +Mrs. Gisborne—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Never was poor body so worried as I have been ever since I last wrote, +I think; worries which plague and press on one, and keep one fretting. +Money, of course, is the Alpha and Omega of my tale. Harrow proves so +fearfully expensive that I have been sadly put to it to pay Percy’s +bill for one quarter (£60, <i>soltanto</i>), and, to achieve it, am +hampered for the whole year. My only resource is to live at Harrow, +for in every other respect I like the school, and would not take him +from it. He will become a home boarder, and school expenses will be +very light. I shall take a house, being promised many facilities for +furnishing it by a kind friend.</p> + +<p>To go and live at pretty Harrow, with my boy, who improves each day +and is everything I could wish, is no bad prospect, but I have much to +go through, and am so poor that I can hardly turn myself. It is hard +on my poor dear Father, and I sometimes think it hard on myself to +leave a knot of acquaintances I like; but that is a fiction, for half +the times I am asked out I cannot go because of the expense, and I am +suffering now for the times when I do go, and so incur debt.</p> + +<p>No, Maria mine, God never intended me to do other than struggle +through life, supported by such blessings as make existence more than +tolerable, and yet surrounded by such difficulties as make fortitude a +necessary virtue, and destroy all idea of great and good luck. I might +have been much worse off, and I repeat this to myself ten thousand +times a day to console myself for not being better.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>My Father’s novel is printed, and, I suppose, will come out soon. Poor +dear fellow! It is hard work for him.</p> + +<p>I am in all the tremor of fearing what I shall get for my novel, which +is nearly finished. His and my comfort depend on it. I do not know +whether you will like it. I cannot guess whether it will succeed. +There is no writhing interest; nothing wonderful nor tragic—will it +be dull? <i>Chi lo sa?</i> We shall see. I shall, of course, be very glad +if it succeeds.</p> + +<p>Percy went back to Harrow to-day. He likes his school much. Have I any +other news for you? Trelawny is gone to America; he is about to cross +to Charlestown directly there is a prospect of war—war in America. I +am truly sorry. Brothers should not fight for the different and +various portions of their inheritance. What is the use of republican +principles and liberty if peace is not the offspring? War is the +companion and friend of monarchy; if it be the same of freedom, the +gain is not much to mankind between a sovereign and president.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> +</div> + +<p>Not long after taking up her residence at Harrow, which she did in April +1833, Mrs. Shelley was attacked by influenza, then prevailing in a +virulent form. She did not wholly recover from its effects till after the +Midsummer holidays, which she spent at Putney for change of air. She found +the solitude of her new abode very trying. Her boy had, of course, his +school pursuits and interests to occupy him, and, though her literary work +served while it lasted to ward off depression, the constant mental strain +was attended with an inevitable degree of reaction for which a little +genial and sympathetic human intercourse would have been the best—indeed, +the only—cure.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>As for her father, now she had gone he missed her sadly.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Godwin to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>July 1833.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>—I shall certainly not come to you on Monday. It would do +neither of us good. I am a good deal of a spoiled child. And were I +not so, and could rouse myself, like Diogenes, to be independent of +all outward comforts, you would treat me as if I could not, so that it +would come to the same thing.</p> + +<p>What a while it is since I saw you! The last time was the 10th of +May,—towards two months,—we who used to see each other two or three +times a week! But for the scale of miles at the bottom of the map, you +might as well be at Timbuctoo or in the deserts of Arabia.</p> + +<p>Oh, this vile Harrow! Your illness, for its commencement or duration, +is owing to that place. At one time I was seriously alarmed for you.</p> + +<p>And now that I hope you are better, with what tenaciousness does it +cling to you! If I ever see you again I wonder whether I shall know +you. I am much tormented by my place, by my book, and hardly suppose I +shall ever be tranquil again.</p> + +<p>I am disposed to adopt the song of Simeon, and to say, “Lord, now +lettest thou thy servant depart in peace!” At seventy years of age, +what is there worth living for? I have enjoyed existence, been active, +strenuous, proud, but my eyes are dim, and my energies forsake +me.—Your affectionate Father,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">William Godwin</span>.</p></div> + +<p>The next letter is addressed to Trelawny, now in America,</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley to Trelawny.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Harrow</span>, <i>7th May 1834</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Trelawny</span>—I confess I have been sadly remiss in not writing to +you. I have written once, however, as you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> have written once (but +once) to me. I wrote in answer to your letter. I am sorry you did not +get it, as it contained a great deal of gossip. It was misdirected by +a mistake of Jane’s.... It was sent at the end of last September to +New York. I told you in it of the infidelity of several of your +womankind,—how Mrs. R. S. was flirting with Bulwer, to the infinite +jealousy of Mrs. Bulwer, and making themselves the talk of the +town.... Such and much tittle-tattle was in that letter, all old news +now.... The S.’s (Captain Robert and wife, I mean) went to Paris and +were ruined, and are returned under a cloud to rusticate in the +country in England.</p> + +<p>Bulwer is making the amiable to his own wife, who is worth in beauty +all the Mrs. R. S.’s in the world....</p> + +<p>Jane has been a good deal indisposed, and has grown very thin. Jeff +had an appointment which took him away for several months, and she +pined and grew ill on his absence; she is now reviving under the +beneficent influence of his presence.</p> + +<p>I called on your mother a week or two ago; she always asks after you +with <i>empressement</i>, and is very civil indeed to me. She was looking +well, but —— tells me, in her note enclosing your letter, that she +is ill of the same illness as she had two years ago, but not so bad. I +think she lives too well.</p> + +<p>—— is expecting to be confined in a very few weeks, or even days. +She is very happy with B.... He is a thoroughly good-natured and +estimable man; it is a pity he is not younger and handsomer; however, +she is a good girl, and contented with her lot; we are very good +friends.... I should like much to see your friend, Lady Dorothea, but, +though in Europe, I am very far from her. I live on my hill, +descending to town now and then. I should go oftener if I were richer. +Percy continues quite well, and enjoys my living at Harrow, which is +more than I do, I am sorry to say, but there is no help.</p> + +<p>My Father is in good health. Mrs. Godwin has been very ill lately, but +is now better.</p> + +<p>I thought Fanny Kemble was to marry and settle in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> America: what a +singular likeness you have discovered! I never saw her, except on the +stage.</p> + +<p>So much for news. They say it is a long lane that has no turning. I +have travelled the same road for nearly twelve years; adversity, +poverty, and loneliness being my companions. I suppose it will change +at last, but I have nothing to tell of myself except that Percy is +well, which is the beginning and end of my existence.</p> + +<p>I am glad you are beginning to respect women’s feelings.... You have +heard of Sir H.’s death. Mrs. B. (who is great friends with S., now +Sir William, an M.P.) says that it is believed that he has left all he +could to the Catholic members of his family. Why not come over and +marry Letitia, who in consequence will be rich? and, I daresay, still +beautiful in your eyes, though thirty-four.</p> + +<p>We have had a mild, fine winter, and the weather now is as warm, +sunny, and cheering as an Italian May. We have thousands of birds and +flowers innumerable, and the trees of spring in the fields.</p> + +<p>Jane’s children are well. The time will come, I suppose, when we may +meet again more (richly) provided by fortune, but youth will have +flown, and that in a woman is something....</p> + +<p>I have always felt certain that I should never again change my name, +and that is a comfort, it is a pretty and a dear one. Adieu, write to +me often, and I will behave better, and as soon as I have accumulated +a little news, write again.—Ever yours,</p> + +<p class="signa">M. W. S.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley to Mrs. Gisborne.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>17th July 1834.</i></p> + +<p>I am satisfied with my plan as regards him (Percy). I like the school, +and the affection thus cultivated for me will, I trust, be the +blessing of my life.</p> + +<p>Still there are many drawbacks; this is a dull, inhospitable place. I +came counting on the kindness of a friend who lived<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> here, but she +died of the influenza, and I live in a silence and loneliness not +possible anywhere except in England, where people are so <i>islanded</i> +individually in habits; I often languish for sympathy, and pine for +social festivity.</p> + +<p>Percy is much, but I think of you and Henry, and shrink from binding +up my life in a child who may hereafter divide his fate from mine. But +I have no resource; everything earthly fails me but him; except on his +account I live but to suffer. Those I loved are false or dead; those I +love, absent and suffering; and I, absent and poor, can be of no use +to them. Of course, in this picture, I subtract the enjoyment of good +health and usually good spirits,—these are blessings; but when driven +to think, I feel so desolate, so unprotected, so oppressed and +injured, that my heart is ready to break with despair. I came here, as +I said, in April 1833, and 9th June was attacked by the influenza, so +as to be confined to my bed; nor did I recover the effects for several +months.</p> + +<p>In September, during Percy’s holidays, I went to Putney, and recovered +youth and health; Julia Robinson was with me, and we spent days in +Richmond Park and on Putney Heath, often walking twelve or fourteen +miles, which I did without any sense of fatigue. I sorely regretted +returning here. I am too poor to furnish. I have lodgings in the +town,—disagreeable ones,—yet often, in spite of care and sorrow, I +feel wholly compensated by my boy.... God help me if anything was to +happen to him—I should not survive it a week. Besides his society I +have also a good deal of occupation.</p> + +<p>I have finished a novel, which, if you meet with, read, as I think +there are parts which will please you. I am engaged writing the lives +of some of the Italian <i>literati</i> for Dr. Lardner’s <i>Cyclopædia</i>. I +have written those of Petrarch, Boccaccio, etc., and am now engaged on +Macchiavelli; this takes up my time, and is a source of interest and +pleasure.</p> + +<p>My Father, I suppose you know, has a tiny, shabby place under +Government. The retrenchments of Parliament <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>endanger and render us +anxious. He is quite well, but old age takes from his enjoyments. Mrs. +Godwin, after influenza, has been suffering from the tic-doloreux in +her arm most dreadfully; they are trying all sorts of poisons on her +with little effect. Their discomfort and low spirits will force me to +spend Percy’s holidays in town, to be near them. Jane and Jeff are +well; he was sent last autumn and winter by Lord Brougham as one of +the Corporation Commissioners; he was away for months, and Jane took +the opportunity to fall desperately in love with him—she pined and +grew ill, and wasted away for him. The children are quite well. Dina +spent a week here lately; she is a sweet girl. Edward improves daily +under the excellent care taken of his education. I leave Jane to +inform you of their progress in Greek. Dina plays wonderfully well, +and has shown great taste for drawing, but this last is not +cultivated.</p> + +<p>I did not go to the Abbey, nor the Opera, nor hear Grisi; I am shut +out from all things—like you—by poverty and loneliness. Percy’s +pleasures are not mine; I have no other companion.</p> + +<p>What effect Paganini would have had on you, I cannot tell; he threw me +into hysterics. I delight in him more than I can express. His wild, +ethereal figure, rapt look, and the sounds he draws from his violin +are all superhuman—of human expression. It is interesting to see the +astonishment and admiration of Spagnoletti and Nervi as they watch his +evolutions.</p> + +<p>Bulwer is a man of extraordinary and delightful talent. He went to +Italy and Sicily last winter, and, I hear, disliked the inhabitants. +Yet, notwithstanding, I am sure he will spread inexpressible and +graceful interest over the <i>Last Days of Pompeii</i>, the subject of his +new novel. Trelawny is in America, and not likely to return. Hunt +lives at Chelsea, and thrives, I hear, by his London pursuit. I have +not seen him for more than a year, for reasons I will not here +detail—they concern his family, not him.</p> + +<p>Clare is in a situation in Pisa, near Mrs. Mason. Laurette<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> and Nerina +are married; the elder badly, to one who won her at the dagger’s +point—a sad unintelligible story; Nerina, to the best and most +delightful Pistoiese, by name Bartolomeo Cini—both to Italians. +Laurette lives at Genoa, Nerina at Livorno; the latter is only newly a +bride, and happier than words can express. My Italian maid, Maria, +says to Clare, <i>Non vedrò ora mai la mia Padrona ed il mio Bimbo?</i> her +Bimbo—as tall as I am and large in proportion—has good health +withal....</p> + +<p>Pray write one word of information concerning your health before I +attribute your silence to forgetfulness; but you must not trifle now +with the anxiety you have awakened. I will write again soon. With +kindest regards to your poor, good husband, the fondest hopes that +your health is improved, and anxious expectation of a letter, believe +me, ever affectionately yours,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">M. W. Shelley</span>.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley To Mrs. Gisborne.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Harrow</span>, <i>30th October 1834</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dearest Maria</span>—Thank you many times for your kind dear letter. God +grant that your constitution may yet bear up a long time, and that you +may continue impressed with the idea of your happiness. To be loved is +indeed necessary. Sympathy and companionship are the only sweets to +make the nauseous draught of life go down; and I, who feel this, live +in a solitude such as, since the days of hermits in the desert, no one +was ever before condemned to! I see no one, speak to no one—except +perhaps for a chance half-hour in the course of a fortnight. I never +walk beyond my garden, because I cannot walk alone. You will say I +ought to force myself; so I thought once, and tried, but it would not +do. The sense of desolation was too oppressive. I only find relief +from the sadness of my position by living a dreamy existence from +which realities are excluded; but going out disturbed this; I wept; my +heart beat with a sense of injury and wrong; I was better shut up. +Poverty prevents me from visiting town; I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> am too far for visitors to +reach me; I must bear to the end. Twelve years have I spent, the +currents of life benumbed by poverty; life and hope are over for me, +but I think of Percy!</p> + +<p>Yet for the present something more is needed—something not so +<i>unnatural</i> as my present life. Not that I often feel <i>ennui</i>—I am +too much employed—but it hurts me, it destroys the spring of my mind, +and makes me at once over-sensitive with my fellow-creatures, and yet +their victim and their dupe. It takes all strength from my character, +and makes me—who by nature am too much so—timid. I used to have one +resource, a belief in my <i>good fortune</i>; this is exchanged after +twelve years—one adversity, blotted and sprinkled with many +adversities; a dark ground, with sad figures painted on it—to a +belief in my ill fortune.</p> + +<p>Percy is spared to me, because I am to live. He is a blessing; my +heart acknowledges that perhaps he is as great an one as any human +being possesses; and indeed, my dear friend, while I suffer, I do not +repine while he remains. He is not all you say; he has no ambition, +and his talents are not so transcendent as you appear to imagine; but +he is a fine, spirited, clever boy, and I think promises good things; +if hereafter I have reason to be proud of him, these melancholy days +and weeks at Harrow will brighten in my imagination—and they are not +melancholy. I am seldom so, but they are not right, and it will be a +good thing if they terminate happily soon.</p> + +<p>At the same time, I cannot in the least regret having come here: it +was the only way I had of educating Percy at a public school, of which +institution, at least here at Harrow, the more I see the more I like; +besides that, it was Shelley’s wish that his son should be brought up +at one. It is, indeed, peculiarly suited to Percy; and whatever he may +be, he will be twice as much as if he had been brought up in the +narrow confinement of a private school.</p> + +<p>The boys here have liberty to the verge of licence; yet of the latter, +save the breaking of a few windows now and then, there is none. His +life is not quite what it would be if he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> did not live with me, but +the greater scope given to the cultivation of the affections is surely +an advantage.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>You heard of the dreadful fire at the Houses of Parliament. We saw it +here from the commencement, raging like a volcano; it was dreadful to +see, but, fortunately, I was not aware of the site. Papa lives close +to the Speaker’s, so you may imagine my alarm when the news reached +me, fortunately without foundation, as the fire did not gain that part +of the Speaker’s house near them, so they were not even +inconvenienced. The poor dear Speaker has lost dreadfully; what was +not burnt is broken, soaked, and drenched—all their pretty things; +and imagine the furniture and princely chambers—the house was a +palace. For the sake of convenience to the Commons, they are to take +up their abode in the ruins. With kindest wishes for you and S. G., +ever dearest friend, your affectionate</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary W. Shelley</span>.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Same to the Same.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>February 1835.</i></p> + +<p>... I must tell you that I have had the offer of £600 for an edition +of Shelley’s works, with <i>Life and Notes</i>. I am afraid it cannot be +arranged, yet at least, and the <i>Life</i> is out of the question; but in +talking over it the question of letters comes up. You know how I +shrink from all private detail for the public; but Shelley’s letters +are beautifully written, and everything private might be omitted.</p> + +<p>Would you allow the publisher to treat with you for their being added +to my edition? If I could arrange all as I wish, they might be an +acquisition to the books, and being transacted through me, you could +not see any inconvenience in receiving the price they would be worth +to the bookseller. This is all <i>in aria</i> as yet, but I should like to +know what you think about it. I write all this, yet am very anxious to +hear from you; never mind postage, but do write.</p> + +<p>Percy is reading the <i>Antigone</i>; he has begun mathematics.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> Mrs. +Cleveland<a name='fna_14' id='fna_14' href='#f_14'><small>[14]</small></a> and Jane dined with me the other day. Mrs. Cleveland +thought Percy wonderfully improved.</p> + +<p>The volume of Lardner’s <i>Cyclopædia</i>, with my <i>Lives</i>, was published +on the first of this month; it is called <i>Lives of Eminent Literary +Men</i>, vol. i. The lives of Dante and Ariosto are by Mr. Montgomery, +the rest are mine.</p> + +<p>Do write, my dearest Maria, and believe me ever and ever, +affectionately yours,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">M. W. Shelley</span>.</p></div> + +<p><i>Lodore</i>, Mrs. Shelley’s fifth novel, came out in 1835. It differs from +the others in being a novel of society, and has been stigmatised, rather +unjustly, as weak and colourless, although at the time of its publication +it had a great success. It is written in a style which is now out of date, +and undoubtedly fails to fulfil the promise of power held out by +<i>Frankenstein</i> and to some extent by <i>Valperga</i>, but it bears on every +page the impress of the refinement and sensibility of the author, and has, +moreover, a special interest of its own, due to the fact that some of the +incidents are taken from actual occurrences in her early life, and some of +the characters sketched from people she had known.</p> + +<p>Thus, in the description of Clorinda, it is impossible not to recognise +Emilia Viviani. The whole episode of Edward Villier’s arrest and +imprisonment for debt, and his young wife’s anxieties, is an echo of her +own experience at the time when Shelley was hiding from the bailiffs and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +meeting her by stealth in St. Paul’s or Holborn. Lodore himself has some +affinity to Byron, and possibly the account of his separation from his +wife and of their daughter’s girlhood is a fanciful train of thought +suggested by Byron’s domestic history. Most of Mary’s novels present the +contrast of the Shelleyan and Byronic types. In this instance the latter +was recognised by Clare, and drew from her one of those bitter tirades +against Byron, which, natural enough in her at the outset, became in the +course of years quite morbidly venomous. Not content with laying Allegra’s +death to his charge, she, in her later letters, accuses him of +treacherously plotting and conspiring, out of hatred to herself, to do +away with the child, an allegation unjust and false. In the present +instance, however, she only entered an excited protest against his +continual reappearance as the hero of a novel.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Mrs. Hare admired <i>Lodore</i> amazingly; so do I, or should I, if it were +not for that modification of the beastly character of Lord Byron of +which you have composed Lodore. I stick to <i>Frankenstein</i>, merely +because that vile spirit does not haunt its pages as it does in all +your other novels, now as Castruccio, now as Raymond,<a name='fna_15' id='fna_15' href='#f_15'><small>[15]</small></a> now as +Lodore. Good God! to think a person of your genius, whose moral tact +ought to be proportionately exalted, should think it a task befitting +its powers to gild and embellish and pass off as beautiful what was +the merest compound of vanity, folly, and every miserable weakness +that ever met together in one human being! As I do not want to be +severe on the poor man, because he is dead<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> and cannot defend himself, +I have only taken the lighter defects of his character, or else I +might say that never was a nature more profoundly corrupted than his +became, or was more radically vulgar than his was from the very +outset. Never was there an individual less adapted, except perhaps +Alcibiades, for being held up as anything but an object of +commiseration, or as an example of how contemptible is even +intellectual greatness when not joined with moral greatness. I shall +be anxious to see if the hero of your new novel will be another +beautified Byron. Thank heaven! you have not taken to drawing your +women upon the same model. Cornelia I like the least of them; she is +the most like him, because she is so heartlessly proud and selfish, +but all the others are angels of light.</p> + +<p>Euthanasia<a name='fna_16' id='fna_16' href='#f_16'><small>[16]</small></a> is Shelley in female attire, and what a glorious being +she is! No author, much less the ones—French, English, or German—of +our day, can bring a woman that matches her. Shakespeare has not a +specimen so perfect of what a woman ought to be; his, for amiability, +deep feeling, wit, are as high as possible, but they want her +commanding wisdom, her profound benevolence.</p> + +<p>I am glad to hear you are writing again; I am always in a fright lest +you should take it into your head to do what the warriors do after +they have acquired great fame,—retire and rest upon your laurels. +That would be very comfortable for you, but very vexing to me, who am +always wanting to see women distinguishing themselves in literature, +and who believe there has not been or ever will be one so calculated +as yourself to raise our sex upon that point. If you would but know +your own value and exert your powers you could give the men a most +immense drubbing! You could write upon metaphysics, politics, +jurisprudence, astronomy, mathematics—all those highest subjects +which they taunt us with being incapable of treating, and surpass +them; and what a consolation it would be, when they begin some of +their prosy, lying, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> plausible attacks upon female inferiority, to +stop their mouths in a moment with your name, and then to add, “and if +women, whilst suffering the heaviest slavery, could out-do you, what +would they not achieve were they free?”</p></div> + +<p>With this manifesto on the subject of women’s genius in general and of +Mary’s in particular—perhaps just redeemed by its tinge of irony from the +last degree of absurdity—it is curious to contrast Mrs. Shelley’s own +conclusions, drawn from weary personal experience, and expressed, towards +the end of the following letter, in a mood which permitted her no +illusions and few hopes.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley to Mrs. Gisborne.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Harrow</span>, <i>11th June 1835</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dearest Friend</span>—It is so inexpressibly warm that were not a frank +lying before me ready for you, I do not think I should have courage to +write. Do not be surprised, therefore, at stupidity and want of +connection. I cannot collect my ideas, and this is a goodwill offering +rather than a letter.</p> + +<p>Still I am anxious to thank S. G. for the pleasure I have received +from his tale of Italy—a tale all Italy, breathing of the land I +love. The descriptions are beautiful, and he has shed a charm round +the concentrated and undemonstrative person of his gentle heroine. I +suppose she is the reality of the story; did you know her?</p> + +<p>It is difficult, however, to judge how to procure for it the +publication it deserves. I have no personal acquaintance with the +editors of any of the annuals—I had with that of the <i>Keepsake</i>, but +that is now in Mrs. Norton’s hands, and she has not asked me to write, +so I know nothing about it; but there arises a stronger objection from +the length of the story. As<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> the merit lies in the beauty of the +details, I do not see how it could be cut down to <i>one quarter</i> of its +present length, which is as long as any tale printed in an annual. +When I write for them, I am worried to death to make my things shorter +and shorter, till I fancy people think ideas can be conveyed by +intuition, and that it is a superstition to consider words necessary +for their expression.</p> + +<p>I was so very delighted to get your last letter, to be sure the +“Wisest of Men” said no news was good news, but I am not apt to think +so, and was uneasy. I hope this weather does not oppress you. What an +odd climate! A week ago I had a fire, and now it is warmer than Italy; +warmer at least in a box pervious to the sun than in the stone palaces +where one can breathe freely. My Father is well. He had a cough in the +winter, but after we had persuaded him to see a doctor it was easily +got rid of. He writes to me himself, “I am now well, now nervous, now +old, now young.” One sign of age is, that his horror is so great of +change of place that I cannot persuade him ever to visit me here. One +would think that the sight of the fields would refresh him, but he +likes his own nest better than all, though he greatly feels the +annoyance of so seldom seeing me.</p> + +<p>Indeed, my kind Maria, you made me smile when you asked me to be civil +to the brother of your kind doctor. I thought I had explained my +situation to you. You must consider me as one buried alive. I hardly +ever go to town; less often I see any one here. My kind and dear young +friends, the Misses Robinson, are at Brussels. I am cut off from my +kind. What I suffer! What I have suffered! I, to whom sympathy, +companionship, the interchange of thought is more necessary than the +air I breathe, I will not say. Tears are in my eyes when I think of +days, weeks, months, even years spent alone—eternally alone. It does +me great harm, but no more of so odious a subject. Let me speak rather +of my Percy; to see him bright and good is an unspeakable blessing; +but no child can be a companion. He is very fond of me, and would be +wretched if he saw me unhappy; but he is with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> his boys all day long, +and I am alone, so I can weep unseen. He gets on very well, and is a +fine boy, very stout; this hot weather, though he exposes himself to +the sun, instead of making him languid, heightens the colour in his +cheeks and brightens his eyes. He is always gay and in good humour, +which is a great blessing.</p> + +<p>You talk about my poetry and about the encouragement I am to find from +Jane and my Father. When they read all the fine things you said they +thought it right to attack me about it, but I answered them simply, +“She exaggerates; you read the best thing I ever wrote in the +<i>Keepsake</i> and thought nothing of it.” I do not know whether you +remember the verses I mean. I will copy it in another part; it was +written for music. Poor dear Lord Dillon spoke of it as you do of the +rest; but “one swallow does not make a summer.” I can never write +verses except under the influence of strong sentiment, and seldom even +then. As to a tragedy, Shelley used to urge me, which produced his +own. When I returned first to England and saw Kean, I was in a fit of +enthusiasm, and wished much to write for the stage, but my Father very +earnestly dissuaded me. I think that he was in the wrong. I think +myself that I could have written a good tragedy, but not now. My good +friend, every feeling I have is blighted, I have no ambition, no care +for fame. Loneliness has made a wreck of me. I was always a dependent +thing, wanting fosterage and support. I am left to myself, crushed by +fortune, and I am nothing.</p> + +<p>You speak of woman’s intellect. We can scarcely do more than judge by +ourselves. I know that, however clever I may be, there is in me a +vacillation, a weakness, a want of eagle-winged resolution that +appertains to my intellect as well as to my moral character, and +renders me what I am, one of broken purposes, failing thoughts, and a +heart all wounds. My mother had more energy of character, still she +had not sufficient fire of imagination. In short, my belief is, +whether there be sex in souls or not, that the sex of our material +mechanism makes us quite different creatures,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> better, though weaker, +but wanting in the higher grades of intellect.</p> + +<p>I am almost sorry to send you this letter, it is so querulous and sad; +yet, if I write with any effusion, the truth will creep out, and my +life since you left has been so stained by sorrow and disappointments. +I have been so barbarously handled both by fortune and my +fellow-creatures, that I am no longer the same as when you knew me. I +have no hope. In a few years, when I get over my present feelings and +live wholly in Percy, I shall be happier. I have devoted myself to him +as no mother ever did, and idolise him; and the reward will come when +I can forget a thousand memories and griefs that are as yet alive and +burning, and I have nothing to do but brood.</p> + +<p>Percy is gone two miles off to bathe; he can swim, and I am obliged to +leave the rest to fate. It is no use coddling, yet it costs me many +pangs; but he is singularly trustworthy and careful. Do write, and +believe me ever your truly attached friend,</p> + +<p class="signa">M. W. S.</p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="poem"> +<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">A DIRGE</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 6em;">I</span><br /> +This morn thy gallant bark, love,<br /> +Sailed on a stormy sea;<br /> +’Tis noon, and tempests dark, love,<br /> +Have wrecked it on the lee.<br /> +Ah woe! ah woe! ah woe!<br /> +By spirits of the deep<br /> +He’s cradled on the billow<br /> +To his unwaking sleep.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">II</span><br /> +Thou liest upon the shore, love,<br /> +Beside the knelling surge,<br /> +But sea-nymphs ever more, love,<br /> +Shall sadly chant thy dirge.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>Oh come! oh come! oh come!<br /> +Ye spirits of the deep;<br /> +While near his seaweed pillow<br /> +My lonely watch I keep.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">III</span><br /> +From far across the sea, love,<br /> +I hear a wild lament,<br /> +By Echo’s voice for thee, love,<br /> +From ocean’s caverns sent.<br /> +Oh list! oh list! oh list!<br /> +Ye spirits of the deep,<br /> +Loud sounds their wail of sorrow,<br /> +While I for ever weep.</p></div> + +<p><i>P.S.</i>—Do you not guess why neither these nor those I sent you could +please those you mention? Papa loves not the memory of Shelley, +because he feels that he injured him; and Jane—do you not understand +enough of her to be convinced of the thoughts that make it distasteful +to her that I should feel, and above all be thought by others to feel, +and to have a right to feel? Oh! the human heart! It is a strange +puzzle.</p></div> + +<p>The weary, baffled tone of this letter was partly due to a low state of +health, which resulted in a severe attack of illness. During her boy’s +Midsummer holidays she went to Dover in search of strength, and, while +there, received a letter from Trelawny, who had returned from America, as +vivacious and irrepressible as ever.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Bedford Hotel, Brighton</span>,<br /> +<span style="padding-right: 1em;"><i>12th September 1835</i>.</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mary, dear</span>—Six days I rest, and do all that I have to do on the +seventh, because it is forbidden. If they would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> make it felony to +obey the Commandments (without benefit of clergy), don’t you think the +pleasures of breaking the law would make me keep them?</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>I cannot surmise <i>one</i> of the “thousand reasons” which you say are to +prevent my seeing you. On the contrary, your being “chained to your +rock” enables me to play the vulture at discretion. It is well for +you, therefore, that I am “the most prudent of men.” What a host of +virtues I am gifted with! When I am dead, lady mine, build a temple +over me and make pilgrimages. Talking of tombs, let it be agreed +between you and me that whichever <i>first</i> has <i>five hundred pounds</i> at +his disposal shall dedicate it to the placing a fitting monument over +the ashes of Shelley.</p> + +<p>We will go to Rome together. The time, too, cannot be far distant, +considering all things. Remember me to Percy. I shall direct this to +Jane’s, not that I think you are there. Adieu, Mary!—Your</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">E. Trelawny</span>.</p></div> + +<p>During the latter part of Mary’s residence in London she had seen a great +deal of Mrs. Norton, who was much attracted by her and very fond of her +society, finding in her a most sympathetic friend and confidant at the +time of those domestic troubles, culminating in the separation from her +children, which afterwards obtained a melancholy publicity. Mrs. Shelley +never became wholly intimate with her brilliant contemporary. Reserve, and +a certain pride of poverty, forbade it, but she greatly admired her, and +they constantly corresponded.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="right"><i>1835.</i></p> + +<p>... “I do not wonder,” Mary wrote to Trelawny, “at your not being able +to deny yourself the pleasure of Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> Norton’s society. I never saw a +woman I thought so fascinating. Had I been a man I should certainly +have fallen in love with her; as a woman, ten years ago, I should have +been spellbound, and, had she taken the trouble, she might have wound +me round her finger. Ten years ago I was so ready to give myself away, +and being afraid of men, I was apt to get <i>tousy-mousy</i> for women; +experience and suffering have altered all that. I am more wrapt up in +myself, my own feelings, disasters, and prospects for Percy. I am now +proof, as Hamlet says, both against man and woman.</p> + +<p>“There is something in the pretty way in which Mrs. Norton’s +witticisms glide, as it were, from her lips, that is very charming; +and then her colour, which is so variable, the eloquent blood which +ebbs and flows, mounting, as she speaks, to her neck and temples, and +then receding as fast; it reminds me of the frequent quotation of +‘eloquent blood,’ and gives a peculiar attraction to her +conversation—not to speak of fine eyes and open brow.</p> + +<p>“Now do not in your usual silly way show her what I say. She is, +despite all her talents and sweetness, a London lady. She would quiz +me—not, perhaps, to you—well do I know the London <i>ton</i>—but to +every one else—in her prettiest manner.”</p></div> + +<p>The day after this she was writing again to Mrs. Gisborne.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="right"><i>13th October 1835.</i></p> + +<p>Of myself, my dearest Maria, I can give but a bad account. Solitude, +many cares, and many deep sorrows brought on this summer an illness, +from which I am only now recovering. I can never forget, nor cease to +be grateful to Jane for her excessive kindness to me, when I needed it +most, confined, as I was, to my sofa, unable to move. I went to Dover +during Percy’s holidays, and change of air and bathing made me so much +better that I thought myself well, but on my return here I had a +relapse, from which now this last week I am, I trust,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> fast +recovering. Bark and port wine seem the chief means of my getting +well. But in the midst of all this I had to write to meet my expenses. +I have published a second volume of Italian Lives in Lardner’s +<i>Encyclopædia</i>. All in that volume, except Galileo and Tasso, are +mine. The last is chief, I allow, and I grieve that it had been +engaged to Mr. M. before I began to write. I am now about to write a +volume of Spanish and Portuguese Lives. This is an arduous task, from +my own ignorance, and the difficulty of getting books and information. +The booksellers want me to write another novel, <i>Lodore</i> having +succeeded so well, but I have not as yet strength for such an +undertaking.</p> + +<p>Then there is no Spanish circulating library. I cannot, while here, +read in the Museum if I would, and I would not if I could. I do not +like finding myself a stray bird alone among men, even if I knew +them.<a name='fna_17' id='fna_17' href='#f_17'><small>[17]</small></a> One hears how happy people will be to lend me their books, +but when it comes to the point it is very difficult to get at them. +However, as I am rather persevering, I hope to conquer these obstacles +after all. Percy grows; he is taller than I am, and very stout. If he +does not turn out an honour to his parents, it will be through no +deficiency in virtue or in talents, but from a dislike of mingling +with his fellow-creatures, except the two or three friends he cannot +do without. He may be the happier for it; he has a good understanding, +and great integrity of character. Adieu, my dear friend.-Ever +affectionately yours,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary W. Shelley</span>.</p></div> + +<p>In April 1836 poor old Godwin died, and with him passed away a large part +of Mary’s life. Of those in whose existence her own was summed up only her +son now remained, and even he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> not more dependent on her than her +father had been. Godwin had been to his daughter one of those lifelong +cares which, when they disappear, leave a blank that nothing seems to +fill, too often because the survivor has borne the burden so long as to +exhaust the power and energy indispensable to recovery. But she had also +been attached to him all her life with an “excessive and romantic +attachment,” only overcome in one instance by a stronger devotion still—a +defection she never could and never did repent of, but for which her whole +subsequent life had been passed in attempting to make up. If she confided +any of her feelings to her diary, no fragment has survived.</p> + +<p>She busied herself in trying to obtain from Government some assistance—an +annuity if possible—for Mrs. Godwin. It was very seldom in her life that +Mary asked anybody for anything, and the present exception was made in +favour of one whom she did not love, and who had never been a good friend +to her. But had Mrs. Godwin been her own mother instead of a disagreeable, +jealous, old stepmother, she could not have made greater exertions in her +behalf. Mrs. Norton was ready and willing to help by bringing influence to +bear in powerful quarters, and gave Mary some shrewd advice as to the +wording of her letter to Lord Melbourne. She wrote—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>... Press <i>not</i> +on the politics of Mr. Godwin (for God knows how much gratitude for that ever survives), but on his <i>celebrity</i>, +the widow’s <i>age</i> and <i>ill health</i>, and (if your proud little spirit will bear it) +on your own <i>toils</i>; for, after all, the truth is that you, being +generous, will, rather than see the old creature starve, work your +brains and your pen; and you have your son and delicate health to +hinder you from having <i>means</i> to help her.</p> + +<p>As to petitioning, no one dislikes begging more than I do, especially +when one begs for what seems mere justice; but I have long observed +that though people will resist <i>claims</i> (however just), they like to +do <i>favours</i>. Therefore, when <i>I</i> beg, I am a crawling lizard, a +humble toad, a brown snake in cold weather, or any other simile most +feebly <i>rampante</i>—the reverse of <i>rampant</i>, which would be the +natural attitude for petitioning,—but which must never be assumed +except in the poodle style, standing with one’s paws bent to catch the +bits of bread on one’s nose.</p> + +<p>Forgive my jesting; upon my honour I feel sincerely anxious for your +anxiety, and sad enough on my own affairs, but Irish blood <i>will</i> +dance. My meaning is, that if one asks <i>at all</i>, one should rather +think of the person written to than one’s own feelings. He is an +indolent man—talk of your literary labours; a kind man—speak of her +age and infirmities; a patron of all <i>genius</i>—talk of your father’s +<i>and your own</i>; a prudent man—speak of the likelihood of the pension +being a short grant (as you have done); lastly, he is a <i>great</i> +man—take it all as a personal favour. As to not apologising for the +intrusion, we ought always to kneel down and beg pardon for daring to +remind people we are not so well off as they are.</p></div> + +<p>What was asked was that Godwin’s small salary, or a part of it, should be +continued to Mrs. Godwin for her life. As the nominal office Godwin had +held was abolished at his death, this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> could not be; but Lord Melbourne +pledged himself to do what he could to obtain assistance for the widow in +some form or other, so it is probable that Mary effected her purpose.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Trelawny to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Hastings</span>, <i>25th September 1836</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mary, dear</span>—Your letter was exceedingly welcome; it was honoured +accordingly. You divine truly; I am leading a vegetable sort of a +life. They say the place is pretty, the air is good, the sea is fine. +I would willingly exchange a pretty place for a pretty girl. The air +is keen and shrewish, and as to the sea, I am satisfied with a bath of +less dimensions. Notwithstanding the want of sun, and the abundance of +cold winds, I lave my sides daily in the brine, and thus I am +gradually cooling down to the temperature—of the things round about +me—so that the thinnest skinned feminine may handle me without fear +of consequences. Possibly you may think that I am like the torpid +snake that the forester warmed by his hearth. No, I am not. I am +steeling myself with Plato and Platonics; so now farewell to love and +womankind. “Othello’s occupation’s gone.”</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> +</div> + +<p>From an allusion in one of Mrs. Norton’s letters to Mary, it appears +likely that what follows refers to Fanny Kemble (Mrs. Butler).</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>You say, “Had I seen those eyes you saw the other day.” Yes, the darts +shot from those eyes are still rankling in my body; yet it is a +pleasing pain. The wound of the scorpion is healed by applying the +scorpion to the wound. Is she not a glorious being? Have you ever seen +such a presence? Is she not dazzling? There is enchantment in all her +ways. Talk of the divine power of music, why, she is all melody, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> +poetry, and beauty, and harmony. How envious and malignant must the +English be not to do her homage universal. They never had, or will +have again, such a woman as that. I would rather be her slave than +king of such an island of Calibans. You have a soul, and sense, and a +deep feeling for your sex, and revere such “cunning patterns of +excelling nature,” therefore—besides, I owe it you—I will transcribe +what she says of you: “I was nervous, it was my first visit to any +one, and there is a gentle frankness in her manner, and a vague +remembrance of the thought and feeling in her books which prevents my +being as with a ‘visiting acquaintance.’”</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>Zella is doing wondrous well, and chance has placed her with a +womankind that even I (setting beauty aside) am satisfied with. By the +bye, I wish most earnestly you could get me some good <i>morality</i> in +the shape of Italian and French. It is indispensable to the keeping +alive her remembrance of those languages, and not a book is to be had +here, nor do I know exactly how to get them by any other means, so +pray think of it.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>I am inundated with letters from America, and am answering them by +Mrs. Jameson; she sailing immediately is a very heavy loss to me. She +is the friendliest-hearted woman in the world. I would rather lose +anything than her....</p> + +<p>I don’t think I shall stay here much longer; it is a bad holding +ground; my cable is chafing. I shall drift somewhere or other. It is +well for Mamma Percy has so much of her temperate blood. When us three +meet, we shall be able to ice the wine by placing it between us; that +will be nice, as the girls say.</p> + +<p>A glance from Mrs. Nesbitt has shaken my firm nerves a little. There +is a mystery—a deep well of feeling in those star-like eyes of hers. +It is strange that actresses are the only true and natural people; +they only act in the proper season and place, whilst all the rest seem +eternally playing a part, and like dilettanti acting, damn’d absurdly.</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">J. Trelawny.</span></p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>From Brighton, at New Year, Mrs. Shelley sent Trelawny a cheery greeting.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">From Mrs. Shelley to Trelawny.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Brighton</span>, <i>3d January 1837</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Trelawny</span>—This day will please you; it is a thaw; what snow we +had! Hundreds of people have been employed to remove it during the +last week; at first they cut down deep several feet as if it had been +clay, and piled it up in glittering pyramids and masses; then they +began to cart it on to the beach; it was a new sort of Augean stable, +a never-ending labour. Yesterday, when I was out, it was only got rid +of in a very few and very circumscribed spots. Nature is more of a +Hercules; she puts out a little finger in the shape of gentle thaw, +and it recedes and disappears.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>Percy arrived yesterday, having rather whetted than satisfied his +appetite by going seven times to the play. He plays like Apollo on the +flageolet, and like Apollo is self-taught. Jane thinks him a miracle! +it is very odd. He got a frock-coat at Mettes, and, if you had not +disappointed us with your handkerchief, he would have been complete; +he is a good deal grown, though not tall enough to satisfy me; +however, there is time yet. He is quite a child still, full of +theatres and balloons and music, yet I think there is a gentleness +about him which shows the advent of the reign of petticoats—how I +dread it!</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>Poor Jane writes dismally. She is so weak that she has frequent +fainting fits; she went to a physician, who ordered her to wean the +child, and now she takes three glasses of wine a day, and every other +strengthening medicament, but she is very feeble, and has a cough and +tendency to inflammation on the chest. I implored her to come down +here to change the air, and Jeff gave leave, and would have given the +money; but fear lest his dinner should be overdone while she was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +away, and lest the children should get a finger scratched, makes her +resolve not to come; what bad bogie is this? If she got stronger how +much better they would be in consequence! I think her in a critical +state, but she will not allow of a remedy.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>Poor dear little Zella. I hope she is well and happy.... Thank you for +your offer about money. I have plenty at present, and hope to do well +hereafter. You are very thoughtful, which is a great virtue. I have +not heard from your mother or Charlotte since you left; a day or two +afterwards I saw Betsy Freeman; she was to go to her place the next +day. I paid her for her work; she looked so radiantly happy that you +would have thought she was going to be married rather than to a place +of hardship. I never saw any one look so happy. I told her to let me +know how she got on, and to apply to me if she wanted assistance.... I +am glad you are amused at your brother’s. I really imagined that Fanny +Butler had been the attraction, till, sending to the Gloucester, I +found you were gone by the Southampton coach, and then I suspected +another magnet—till I find that you are in all peace, or rather war, +at Sherfield House—much better so.</p> + +<p>I am better a great deal; quite well, I believe I ought to call +myself, only I feel a little odd at times. I have seen nothing of the +S.’s. I have met with scarce an acquaintance here, which is odd; but +then I do not look for them. I am too lazy. I hope this letter will +catch you before you leave your present perch.—Believe me always, +yours truly,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">M. W. Shelley</span>.</p> + +<p>Will this be a happy New Year? Tell me; the last I can’t say much for, +but I always fear worse to come. Nobody’s mare is dead,—if this frost +does not kill,—my own (such as it will be) is far enough off still.</p></div> + +<p>The next letter is dated only three weeks later. What happened in that +short time to account for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> its complete change of tone does not appear, +except that from one allusion it may be inferred that Mrs. Shelley was +overtaken by unexpected money difficulties at a moment when she had +fancied herself tolerably at ease on that score. Nothing more likely, for +in the matter of helping others she never learnt prudence or the art of +self-defence.<a name='fna_18' id='fna_18' href='#f_18'><small>[18]</small></a> Probably, however, there was a deeper cause for her +sombre mood. She was being pressed on all sides to write the biography of +her father. The task would have been well suited to her powers; she looked +on it, moreover, in the light of a duty which she wished and intended to +perform. Fragments and sketches of hers for this book have been published, +and are among the best specimens of her writing. But +circumstances—scruples—similar to those which had hindered her from +writing Shelley’s life stood between her and the present fulfilment of the +task. There were few people to whom she could bring herself to explain her +reasons, and those few need not have required, still less insisted on any +such explanation. But Trelawny, hot and vehement, could and would not see +why Mary did not rush into the field at once, to immortalise the man whose +system of philosophy, more than any other writer’s, had moulded Shelley’s. +He never spared words, and he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>probably taxed her with cowardice or +indolence, time-serving and “worldliness.”</p> + +<p>Shaken by her father’s loss, and saddened by that of her friends, Mr. and +Mrs. Gisborne, who had died within a short time of each other shortly +before this, exhausted by work, her feelings warped by solitude, struggle, +and disappointment, this challenge to explain her conduct evoked the most +mournful of all her letters, as explicit as any one could wish; true in +its bitterness, and most bitter in its truth.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Shelley To Trelawny.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Brighton</span>, <i>Thursday, 27th January 1837</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Trelawny</span>—I am very glad to hear that you are amused and happy; +fate seems to have turned her sunny side to you, and I hope you will +long enjoy yourself. I know of but one pleasure in the world—sympathy +with another, or others, rather; leaving out of the question the +affections, the society of agreeable, gifted, congenial-minded beings +is the only pleasure worth having in the world. My fate has debarred +me from this enjoyment, but you seem in the midst of it.</p> + +<p>With regard to my Father’s life I certainly could not answer it to my +conscience to give it up. I shall therefore do it, but I must wait. +This year I have to fight my poor Percy’s battle, to try and get him +sent to College without further dilapidation of his ruined prospects, +and he has now to enter life at College. That this should be +undertaken at a moment when a cry was raised against his mother, and +that not on the question of <i>politics</i> but <i>religion</i>, would mar all. +I must see him fairly launched before I commit myself to the fury of +the waves.</p> + +<p>A sense of duty towards my Father, whose passion was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> posthumous fame, +makes me ready, as far as I am concerned, to meet the misery that must +be mine if I become an object of scurrility and attack; for the rest, +for my own private satisfaction, all I ask is obscurity. What can I +care for the parties that divide the world, or the opinions that +possess it? What has my life been? What is it? Since I lost Shelley I +have been alone, and worse. I had my Father’s fate for many a year +pressing me to the earth; I had Percy’s education and welfare to guard +over, and in all this I had no one friendly hand stretched out to +support me. Shut out from even the possibility of making such an +impression as my personal merits might occasion, without a human being +to aid or encourage, or even to advise me, I toiled on my weary +solitary way. The only persons who deigned to share those melancholy +hours, and to afford me the balm of affection, were those dear +girls<a name='fna_19' id='fna_19' href='#f_19'><small>[19]</small></a> whom you chose so long to abuse. Do you think that I have +not felt, that I do not feel all this? If I have been able to stand up +against the breakers which have dashed against my stranded, wrecked +bark, it has been by a sort of passive, dogged resistance, which has +broken my heart, while it a little supported my spirit. My happiness, +my health, my fortunes, all are wrecked. Percy alone remains to me, +and to do him good is the sole aim of my life. One thing I will add; +if I have ever found kindness, it has not been from liberals; to +disengage myself from them was the first act of my freedom. The +consequence was that I gained peace and civil usage, which they denied +me; more I do not ask; of fate I only ask a grave. I know not what my +future life is, and shudder, but it must be borne, and for Percy’s +sake I must battle on.</p> + +<p>If you wish for a copy of my novel<a name='fna_20' id='fna_20' href='#f_20'><small>[20]</small></a> you shall have one, but I did +not order it to be sent to you, because, being a rover, all luggage +burthens. I have told them to send it to your mother, at which you +will scoff, but it was the only way I had to show my sense of her +kindness. You may pick and choose those from whom you deign to receive +kindness; you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> are a man at a feast, champagne and comfits your diet, +and you naturally scoff at me and my dry crust in a corner. Often have +you scoffed and sneered at all the aliment of kindness or society that +fate has afforded me. I have been silent, for the hungry cannot be +dainty, but it is useless to tell a pampered man this. Remember in all +this, except in one or two instances, my complaint is not against +<i>persons</i>, but <i>fate</i>. Fate has been my enemy throughout. I have no +wish to increase her animosity or her power by exposing [myself] more +than I possibly can to her venomous attacks.</p> + +<p>You have sent me no address, so I direct this to your Mother; give her +and Charlotte my love, and tell them I think I shall be in town at the +beginning of next month; my time in this house is up on the 3d, and I +ought to be in town with Percy to take him to Sir Tim’s solicitors, +and so begin my attack. I should advise you, by the bye, not to read +my novel; you will not like it. I cannot <i>teach</i>; I can only +paint—such as my paintings are,—and you will not approve of much of +what I deem natural feeling, because it is not founded on the new +light.</p> + +<p>I had a long letter from Mrs. N[orton]. I admire her excessively, and +I <i>think</i> I could love her infinitely, but I shall not be asked nor +tried, and shall take very good care not to press myself. I know what +her relations think.</p> + +<p>If you are still so rich, and can lend me £20 till my quarter, I shall +be glad. I do not know that I absolutely [need] it here now, but may +run short at last, so, if not inconvenient, will you send it next +week?</p> + +<p>I shall soon be in town, I suppose; <i>where</i>, I do not yet know. I +dread my return, for I shall have a thousand worries.</p> + +<p>Despite unfavourable weather, quiet and ease have much restored my +health, but mental annoyance will soon make me as ill as ever. Only +writing this letter makes me feel half dead. Still, to be thus at +peace is an expensive luxury, and I must forego it for other duties, +which I have been allowed to forget for a time, but my holiday is past.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>Happy is Fanny Butler if she can shed tears and not be destroyed by +them; this luxury is denied me. I am obliged to guard against low +spirits as my worst disease, and I do guard, and usually I am not in +low spirits. Why then do you awaken me to thought and suffering by +forcing me to explain the motives of my conduct? Could you not trust +that I thought anxiously, decided carefully, and from disinterested +motives, not to save myself, but my child, from evil. Pray let the +stream flow quietly by, as glittering on the surface as it may, and do +not awaken the deep waters which are full of briny bitterness. I never +wish any one to dive into the secret depths; be content, if I can +render the surface safe sailing, that I do not annoy you with clouds +and tempests, but turn the silvery side outward, as I ought, for God +knows I would not render any living creature so miserable as I could +easily be; and I would also guard myself from the sense of woe which I +tie hard about, and sink low, low, out of sight and fathom line.</p> + +<p>Adieu. Excuse all this; it is your own fault; speak of yourself. Never +speak of me, and you will never again be annoyed with so much +stupidity.—Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="signa">M. S.</p></div> + +<p>The painful mood of this letter was not destined to find present relief. +From her father’s death in 1836 till the year 1840 was to be perhaps the +hardest, dreariest, and most laborious time she had ever known. No chance +had she now to distract her mind or avoid the most painful themes. Her +very occupation was to tie her down to these. She was preparing her +edition of Shelley’s works, with notes. The prohibition as to bringing his +name before the public seems to have been withdrawn or at any rate +slackened; it had probably become evident, even to those least disposed to +see, that the undesirable publicity, if not given by the right<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> person, +would inevitably be given by the wrong one. Much may also have been due to +the fact that Mr. Whitton, Sir Timothy’s solicitor, was dead, and had been +replaced by another gentleman who, unlike his predecessor, used his +influence to promote milder counsels and a better mutual understanding +than had prevailed hitherto.</p> + +<p>This task was accepted by Mary as the most sacred of duties, but it is +probable that if circumstances had permitted her to fulfil it in the years +which immediately followed Shelley’s death she would have suffered from it +less than now. It might not have been so well done, she might have written +at too great length, or have indulged in too much expression of personal +feeling; and in the case of omissions from his writings, the decision +might have been even harder to make. Still it would have cost her less. +Her heart, occupied by one subject, would have found a kind of relief in +the necessity for dwelling on it. But seventeen years had elapsed, and she +was forty-two, and very tired. Seventeen years of struggle, labour, and +loneliness; even the mournful satisfaction of retrospect poisoned and +distorted by Jane Williams’ duplicity. She could no longer dwell on the +thought of that affection which had consoled her in her supreme +misfortune.</p> + +<p>Mary had had many and bitter troubles and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> losses, but nothing entered +into her soul so deeply as the defection of this friend. Alienation is +worse than bereavement. Other sorrows had left her desolate; this one left +her different.</p> + +<p>Hence the fact that an undertaking which would once have been a painful +pleasure was too often a veritable martyrdom. Who does not remember Hans +Andersen’s little princess, in his story of the <i>White Swans</i>, who freed +her eleven brothers from the evil enchantment which held them transformed, +by spinning shirts of stinging-nettles? Such nettle-shirts had Mary now to +weave and spin, to exorcise the evil spirits which had power of +misrepresenting and defaming Shelley’s memory, and to save Percy for ever +from their sinister spells.</p> + +<p>Her health was weak, her heart was sore, her life was lonely, and, in +spite of her undaunted efforts, she was still so badly off that she was, +as the last letter shows, reduced to accepting Trelawny’s offer of a loan +of money. Nor was it only her work that she had on her mind; she was also +very anxious about her son’s future. He had, at this time, an idea of +entering the Diplomatic Service, and his mother overcame her diffidence so +far as to try and procure an opening for him—no easy thing to find. Among +the people she consulted and asked was Lytton Bulwer; his answer was not +encouraging.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span><span class="smcap">Sir E. L. Bulwer to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Hertford Street</span>, <i>17th March 1839</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Mrs. Shelley</span>—Many thanks for your kind congratulations. I am +delighted to find you like <i>Richelieu</i>.</p> + +<p>With regard to your son, with his high prospects, the diplomacy may do +very well; but of all professions it is the most difficult to rise in. +The first steps are long and tedious. An Attaché at a small Court is +an exile without pay, and very little opening to talent. However, for +young men of fortune and expectations it fills up some years agreeably +enough, what with flirting, dressing, dancing, and perhaps, if one has +good luck, a harmless duel or two!</p> + +<p>To be serious, it is better than being idle, and one certainly learns +languages, knowledge of the world, and good manners. Perhaps I may +send my son, some seventeen years hence, if my brother is then a +minister, into that career. But it will depend on his prospects. Are +you sure that you can get an attachéship? It requires a good deal of +interest, and there are plenty of candidates among young men of rank, +and, I fear, claims more pressing and urging than the memory of +genius. I could not procure that place for a most intimate friend of +mine a little time ago. I will take my chance some evening, but I fear +not Thursday; in fact, I am so occupied just at present that till +after Easter I have scarcely a moment to myself, and at Easter I must +go to Lincoln.—Yours ever,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">E. L. Bulwer</span>.</p></div> + +<p>Mrs. Norton interested herself in the matter. She could not effect much, +but she was sympathetic and kind.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“You have your troubles,” she wrote, “struggling for one who, I trust, +will hereafter repay you for every weary hour and years of +self-denial, and I shall be glad to hear from you now and then how all +goes on with you and him, so do not forget me when you have a spare +half hour, and if ever I have any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> good news to send, do not doubt my +then writing by the first post, for I think my happiest moments now +are when, in the strange mixture of helplessness and power which has +made the warp and woof of my destiny, I can accidentally serve some +one who has had more of the world’s buffets than its good fortune.”</p></div> + +<p>Some scraps of journal belonging to 1839 afford a little insight into Mrs. +Shelley’s difficulties while editing her husband’s MSS.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Journal, February 12</i> (1839).—I almost think that my present +occupation will end in a fit of illness. I am editing Shelley’s Poems, +and writing notes for them. I desire to do Shelley honour in the notes +to the best of my knowledge and ability; for the rest, they are or are +not well written; it little matters to me which. Would that I had more +literary vanity, or vanity of any kind; I were happier. As it is, I am +torn to pieces by memory. Would that all were mute in the grave!</p> + +<p>I <i>much</i> disliked the leaving out any of <i>Queen Mab</i>. I dislike it +still more than I can express, and I even wish I had resisted to the +last; but when I was told that certain portions would injure the +copyright of all the volumes to the publisher, I yielded. I had +consulted Hunt, Hogg, and Peacock; they all said I had a right to do +as I liked, and offered no one objection. Trelawny sent back the +volume to Moxon in a rage at seeing parts left out....</p> + +<p>Hogg has written me an insulting letter because I left out the +dedication to Harriet....</p> + +<p>Little does Jefferson, how little does any one, know me! When Clarke’s +edition of <i>Queen Mab</i> came to us at the Baths of Pisa, Shelley +expressed great pleasure that these verses were omitted. This +recollection caused me to do the same. It was to do him honour. What +could it be to me? There are other verses I should well like to +obliterate for ever, but they will be printed; and any to her could in +no way tend to my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> discomfort, or gratify one ungenerous feeling. They +shall be restored, though I do not feel easy as to the good I do +Shelley. I may have been mistaken. Jefferson might mistake me and be +angry; that were nothing. He has done far more, and done his best to +give another poke to the poisonous dagger which has long rankled in my +heart. I cannot forgive any man that insults any woman. She cannot +call him out,—she disdains words of retort; she must endure, but it +is never to be forgiven; not, “indeed, cherished as matter of +enmity”—that I never feel,—but of caution to shield oneself from the +like again.</p> + +<p>In so arduous a task, others might ask for encouragement and kindness +from their friends,—I know mine better. I am unstable, sometimes +melancholy, and have been called on some occasions imperious; but I +never did an ungenerous act in my life. I sympathise warmly with +others, and have wasted my heart in their love and service.</p> + +<p>All this together is making me feel very ill, and my holiday at +Woodlay only did me good while it lasted.</p> + +<p><i>March.</i> ... Illness did ensue. What an illness! driving me to the +verge of insanity. Often I felt the cord would snap, and I should no +longer be able to rule my thoughts; with fearful struggles, miserable +relapses, after long repose I became somewhat better.</p> + +<p><i>October 5, 1839.</i>—Twice in my life I have believed myself to be +dying, and my soul being alive, though the bodily functions were faint +and perishing, I had opportunity to look Death in the face, and I did +not fear it—far from it. My feelings, especially in the first and +most perilous instance, was, I go to no new creation. I enter under no +new laws. The God that made this beautiful world (and I was then at +Lerici, surrounded by the most beautiful manifestation of the visible +creation) made that into which I go; as there is beauty and love here, +such is there, and I feel as if my spirit would when it left my frame +be received and sustained by a beneficent and gentle Power.</p> + +<p>I had no fear, rather, though I had no active wish but a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> passive +satisfaction in death. Whether the nature of my illness—debility from +loss of blood, without pain—caused this tranquillity of soul, I +cannot tell; but so it was, and it had this blessed effect, that I +have never since anticipated death with terror, and even if a violent +death (which is the most repugnant to human nature) menaced me, I +think I could, after the first shock, turn to the memory of that hour, +and renew its emotion of perfect resignation.</p></div> + +<p>The darkest moment is that which precedes the dawn. These unhappy years +were like the series of “clearing showers” which often concludes a stormy +day. The clouds were lifting, and though Mary Shelley could never be other +than what sorrow and endurance had made her, the remaining years of her +life were to bring alleviations to her lot,—slanting rays of afternoon +sunshine, powerless, indeed, to warm into life the tender buds of morning, +but which illumined the landscape and lightened her path, and shed over +her a mild radiance which she reflected back on others, affording to them +the brightness she herself could know no more, and diffusing around her +that sensation of peace which she was to know now, perhaps, for the first +time.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +<p class="title"><span class="smcap">October 1839-February 1851</span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Shelley’s annotated edition of Shelley’s works was completed by the +appearance, in 1840, of the collected prose writings; along with which was +republished the <i>Journal of a Six Weeks’ Tour</i> (a joint composition) and +her own two letters from Geneva, reprinted in the present work.</p> + +<p>Mary’s correspondence with Carlyle on the subject of a motto for her book +was the occasion of the following note—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">5 Cheyne Row, Chelsea</span>,<br /> +<span style="padding-right: 1em;"><i>3d December 1839</i>.</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Shelley</span>—There does some indistinct remembrance of a +sentence like the one you mention hover in my head; but I cannot +anywhere lay hand on it. Indeed, I rather think it was to this effect: +“Treat men as what they should be, and you help to make them so.” +Further, is it not rather one of Wilhelm’s kind speeches than of the +Uncle’s or the Fair Saint’s? James Fraser shall this day send you a +copy of the work; you, with your own clear eyes, shall look for +yourself.</p> + +<p>I have no horse now; the mud forced me to send it into the country +till dry weather came again. Layton House is so much the farther off. +<i>Tant pis pour moi.</i>—Yours always truly,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">T. Carlyle</span>.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>The words ultimately prefixed to the collection are the following, from +Carlyle—</p> + +<p class="blockquot">That thou, O my Brother, impart to me truly how it stands with thee in +that inner heart of thine; what lively images of things past thy +memory has painted there; what hopes, what thoughts, affections, +knowledge, do now dwell there. For this and no other object that I can +see was the gift of hearing and speech bestowed on us two.</p> + +<p>The proceeds of this work were such as to set her for some time at +comparative ease on the score of money; the Godwin quicksand was no longer +there to engulf them.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Journal, June 1, 1840</i> (Brighton).—I must mark this evening, tired +as I am, for it is one among few—soothing and balmy. Long oppressed +by care, disappointment, and ill health, which all combined to depress +and irritate me, I felt almost to have lost the spring of happy +reverie. On such a night it returns—the calm sea, the soft breeze, +the silver bow new bent in the western heaven—Nature in her sweetest +mood, raised one’s thoughts to God and imparted peace.</p> + +<p>Indeed I have many, many blessings, and ought to be grateful, as I am, +though the poison lurks among them; for it is my strange fate that all +my friends are sufferers—ill health or adversity bears heavily on +them, and I can do little good, and lately ill health and extreme +depression have even marred the little I could do. If I could restore +health, administer balm to the wounded heart, and banish care from +those I love, I were in myself happy, while I am loved, and Percy +continues the blessing that he is. Still, who on such a night must not +feel the weight of sorrow lessened? For myself, I repose in gentle and +grateful reverie, and hope for others. I am content for myself. Years +have—how much!—cooled the ardent and swift spirit that at such hours +bore me freely along. Yet, though I no longer soar, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> repose. Though +I no longer deem all things attainable, I enjoy what is; and while I +feel that whatever I have lost of youth and hope, I have acquired the +enduring affection of a noble heart, and Percy shows such excellent +dispositions that I feel that I am much the gainer in life.</p> + +<p>Fate does indeed visit some too heavily—poor R. for instance, God +restore him! God and good angels guard us! surely this world, stored +outwardly with shapes and influences of beauty and good, is peopled in +its intellectual life by myriads of loving spirits that mould our +thoughts to good, influence beneficially the course of events, and +minister to the destiny of man. Whether the beloved dead make a +portion of this company I dare not guess, but that such exist I +feel—far off, when we are worldly, evil, selfish; drawing near and +imparting joy and sympathy when we rise to noble thoughts and +disinterested action. Such surely gather round one on such an evening, +and make part of that atmosphere of love, so hushed, so soft, on which +the soul reposes and is blest.</p></div> + +<p>These serene lines were written by Mrs. Shelley within a few days of +leaving England on the first of those tours described by her in the series +of letters published as <i>Rambles in Germany and Italy</i>. It had been +arranged that her son and two college friends, both of whom, like him, +were studying for their degree, should go abroad for the Long Vacation, +and that Mrs. Shelley should form one of the reading party. Paris was to +be the general rendezvous. Mrs. Shelley, who was staying at Brighton, +intended travelling <i>viâ</i> Dieppe, but her health was so far from strong +that she shrank from the long crossing, and started from Dover instead. +She was now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> accompanied by a lady’s-maid, a circumstance which relieved +her from some of the fatigue incidental to a journey. They travelled by +diligence; a new experience to her, as, in her former wanderings with +Shelley, they had had their own carriage (save indeed on the first tour of +all, when they set off to walk through France with a donkey); and in more +recent years she had travelled, in England, by the newly-introduced +railroads—</p> + +<p class="blockquot">“To which, whatever their faults may be, I feel eternally grateful,” +she says; adding afterwards, “a pleasant day it will be when there is +one from Calais to Paris.”</p> + +<p>So recent a time, and yet how remote it seems! Mary had never been a good +traveller, but she found now, to her surprise and satisfaction, that in +spite of her nervous suffering she was better able than formerly to stand +the fatigue of a journey. She had painful sensations, but</p> + +<p class="blockquot">the fatigue I endured seemed to take away weariness instead of +occasioning it. I felt light of limb and in good spirits. On the +shores of France I shook the dust of accumulated cares from off me: I +forgot disappointment and banished sorrow: weariness of body replaced +beneficially weariness of soul—so much heavier, so much harder to bear.</p> + +<p>Change, in short, did her more good than travelling did her harm.</p> + +<p class="blockquot">“I feel a good deal of the gipsy coming upon me,” she wrote a few days +later, “now that I am leaving Paris. I bid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> adieu to all +acquaintances, and set out to wander in new lands, surrounded by +companions fresh to the world, unacquainted with its sorrows, and who +enjoy with zest every passing amusement. I myself, apt to be too +serious, but easily awakened to sympathy, forget the past and the +future, and am ready to be amused by all I see as much or even more than they.”</p> + +<p>From Paris they journeyed to Metz and Trèves, down the Moselle and the +Rhine, by Schaffhausen and Zurich, over the Splugen Pass to Cadenabbia on +the Lake of Como. Here they established themselves for two months. Mrs. +Shelley occupied herself in the study of Italian literature, while the +young men were busy with their Cambridge work. Her son’s friends were +devoted to her, and no wonder. Indeed, her amiability and sweetness, her +enjoyment of travelling, her wide culture and great store of knowledge, +her acuteness of observation, and the keen interest she took in all she +saw, must have made her a most fascinating companion. On leaving Como they +visited Milan, and, on their way home, passing through Genoa, Mary looked +again on the Villa Diodati, and the little Maison Chapuis nestling below, +where she had begun to write <i>Frankenstein</i>. All unaltered; but in her, +what a change! Shelley, Byron, the blue-eyed William, where were they? +Where was Fanny, whose long letters had kept them informed of English +affairs? Mary herself, and Clare, were they the same people as the two +girls, one fair,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> one dark, who had excited so much idle and impertinent +speculation in the tourists from whose curiosity Byron had fled?</p> + +<p class="poem">But where are the snows of yester-year?</p> + +<p>In autumn Mrs. Shelley and her son returned to England; but the next year +they again went abroad, and this time for a longer sojourn.</p> + +<p>They were now better off than they had ever been, for, after Percy had +attained his majority and taken his degree, his grandfather made him an +allowance of £400 a year; a free gift, not subject to the condition of +repayment. This welcome relief from care came not a day too soon. Mrs. +Shelley’s strength was much shaken, her attacks of nervous illness were +more frequent, and, had she had to resume her life of unvaried toil, the +results might have been serious.</p> + +<p>It is probably to this event that Mrs. Norton refers in the following note +of congratulation—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Norton to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Shelley</span>—I cannot tell you how sincerely glad I was to get a +note so cheerful, and cheerful on such good grounds as your last. I +hope it is the <i>dawn</i>, that your day of struggling is over, and +nothing to come but gradually increasing comfort. With tolerable +prudence, and abroad, I should hope Percy would find his allowance +quite sufficient, and I think it will be a relief that may lift your +mind and do your health good to see him properly provided for.</p> + +<p>I am too ill to leave the sofa or I should (by rights) be at Lord +Palmerston’s this evening, but, when I see any one likely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> to support +the very modest request made to Lord P., I will speak about it to +them; I have little doubt that, since they are not asked for a paid +attachéship, you will succeed.</p> + +<p>... In three weeks I am to set up the magnificence of a “one ’orse +chay” myself, and then Fulham and the various streets of London where +friends and foes live will become attainable; at present I have never +stirred over the threshold since I came up from Brighton.—Ever yours +very truly,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Car. Norton</span>.</p></div> + +<p>They began their second tour by a residence at Kissingen, where Mrs. +Shelley had been advised to take the waters for her health. The “Cur” over +(by which she benefited a good deal), they proceeded to Gotha, Weimar, +Leipzig, Berlin, and Dresden—all perfectly new ground to Mary. Dresden +and its treasures of art were a delight to her, only marred by the +overwhelming heat of the summer.</p> + +<p>Through Saxon Switzerland they travelled to Prague, and Mary was roused to +enthusiasm by the intense romantic interest of the Bohemian capital, as +she was afterwards by the magnificent scenery of the approach to Linz (of +which she gives in her letters a vivid description), and of Salzburg and +the Salzkammergut.</p> + +<p>Through the Tyrol, over the Brenner Pass, by the Lake of Garda, they came +to Verona, and finally to Venice—another place fraught to Mary with +associations unspeakable.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Many a scene which I have since visited and admired has faded in my +mind, as a painting in a diorama melts away, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> another struggles +into the changing canvass; but this road was as distinct in my mind as +if traversed yesterday. I will not here dwell on the sad circumstances +that clouded my first visit to Venice. Death hovered over the scene. +Gathered into myself, with my “mind’s eye” I saw those before me long +departed, and I was agitated again by emotions, by passions—and those +the deepest a woman’s heart can harbour—a dread to see her child even +at that instant expire, which then occupied me. It is a strange, but, +to any person who has suffered, a familiar circumstance, that those +who are enduring mental or corporeal agony are strangely alive to +immediate external objects, and their imagination even exercises its +wild power over them.... I have experienced it; and the particular +shape of a room, the progress of shadows on a wall, the peculiar +flickering of trees, the exact succession of objects on a journey, +have been indelibly engraved in my memory, as marked in and associated +with hours and minutes when the nerves were strung to their utmost +tension by endurance of pain, or the far severer infliction of mental +anguish. Thus the banks of the Brenta presented to me a moving scene; +not a palace, not a tree of which I did not recognise, as marked and +recorded, at a moment when life and death hung upon our speedy arrival +at Venice.</p> + +<p>And at Fusina, as then, I now beheld the domes and towers of the Queen +of Ocean arise from the waves with a majesty unrivalled upon earth.</p></div> + +<p>They spent the winter at Florence, and by April were in Rome. This indeed +was the Holy Land of Mary Shelley’s pilgrimage. There was the spot where +William lay; there the tomb which held the heart of Shelley. Mary may well +have felt as if standing by her own graveside. Was not her heart of hearts +buried with them? And there, too, was the empty grave where now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> Trelawny +lies; the touching witness to that undying devotion of his to Shelley’s +memory which Mary never forgot.</p> + +<p>None of this is touched upon—it could not be—in the published letters. +The Eternal City itself filled her with such emotions and interests as not +even she had ever felt before. It is curious to compare some of these with +her earlier letters from abroad, and to notice how, while her power of +observation was undiminished, the intellectual faculties of thought and +comparison had developed and widened, while her interest was as keen as in +her younger days, nay keener, for her attention now, poor thing, was +comparatively undivided.</p> + +<p>Scenery, art, historical associations, the political and social state of +the countries she visited, and the characteristics of the people, nothing +was lost on her, and on all she saw she brought to bear the ripened +faculties of a reflective and most appreciative mind. Some of her remarks +on Italian politics are almost prophetic in their clear-sighted +sagacity.<a name='fna_21' id='fna_21' href='#f_21'><small>[21]</small></a> That after all she had suffered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> she should have retained +such keen powers of enjoyment as she did may well excite wonder. Perhaps +this enjoyment culminated at Sorrento, where she and her son positively +revelled in the luxuriant beauty and witchery of a perfect southern +summer.</p> + +<p>Her impressions of these two tours were published in the form of letters, +and entitled <i>Rambles in Germany and Italy</i>, and were dedicated to Samuel +Rogers in 1844.</p> + +<p>He thus acknowledged the copy of the work she sent him—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">St. James’s Place</span>,<br /> +<span style="padding-right: 1em;"><i>30th July 1844</i>.</span></p> + +<p>What can I say to you in return for the honour you have done me—an +honour so undeserved! If some feelings make us eloquent, it is not so +with others, and I can only thank you from the bottom of my heart, and +assure you how highly I shall value and how carefully I shall preserve +the two precious volumes on every account—for your sake and for their +own.—Ever yours most sincerely,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">S. Rogers</span>.</p></div> + +<p>In the spring of 1844 it became evident that Sir Timothy Shelley’s life +was drawing to a close.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> In anticipation of what was soon to happen, Mary, +always mindful of her promise to Leigh Hunt, wrote to him as follows—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Putney</span>, <i>20th April 1844</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Hunt</span>—The tidings from Field Place seem to say that ere long +there will be a change; if nothing untoward happens to us till then, +it will be for the better. Twenty years ago, in memory of what +Shelley’s intentions were, I said that you should be considered one of +the legatees to the amount of £2000. I need scarcely mention that when +Shelley talked of leaving you this sum he contemplated reducing other +legacies, and that one among them is (by a mistake of the solicitor) +just double what he intended it to be.</p> + +<p>Twenty years have, of course, much changed my position. Twenty years +ago it was supposed that Sir Timothy would not live five years. +Meanwhile a large debt has accumulated, for I must pay back all on +which Percy and I have subsisted, as well as what I borrowed for +Percy’s going to college. In fact, I scarcely know how our affairs +will be. Moreover, Percy shares now my right; that promise was made +without his concurrence, and he must concur to render it of avail. Nor +do I like to ask him to do so till our affairs are so settled that we +know what we shall have—whether Shelley’s uncle may not go to law; in +short, till we see our way before us.</p> + +<p>It is both my and Percy’s great wish to feel that you are no longer so +burdened by care and necessity; in that he is as desirous as I can be; +but the form and the degree in which we can do this must at first be +uncertain. From the time of Sir Timothy’s death I shall give +directions to my banker to honour your quarterly cheques for £30 a +quarter; and I shall take steps to secure this to you, and to Marianne +if she should survive you.</p> + +<p>Percy has read this letter, and approves. I know your <i>real</i> delicacy +about money matters, and that you will at once be ready to enter into +my views; and feel assured that if any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> present debt should press, if +we have any command of money, we will take care to free you from it.</p> + +<p>With love to Marianne, affectionately yours,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">Mary Shelley</span>.</p></div> + +<p>Sir Timothy died in this year, and Mary’s son succeeded to the baronetcy +and estates. The fortune he inherited was much encumbered, as, besides +paying Shelley’s numerous legacies and the portions of several members of +the family, he had also to refund, with interest, all the money advanced +to his mother for their maintenance for the last twenty-one years, +amounting now to a large sum, which he met by means of a mortgage effected +on the estates. But all was done at last. Clare was freed from the +necessity for toil and servitude; she was, indeed, well off, as she +inherited altogether £12,000. Hers is the legacy to which Mrs. Shelley +alludes as being, by a mistake, double what had been intended. When +Shelley made his will, he bequeathed to her £6000. Not long before the end +of his life he added a codicil, to the effect that <i>these</i> £6000 should be +invested for her benefit, intending in this way (it is supposed) to secure +to her the interest of this sum, and to protect her against recklessness +on her own part or needy rapacity on the part of others. Through the +omission in the lawyer’s draft of the word “these” this codicil was +construed into a second bequest of £6000,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> which she received. The Hunts, +by Shelley’s bounty and the generosity of his wife and son, were made +comparatively easy in their circumstances. Byron had declined to be +numbered among Shelley’s legatees; not so Mr. Hogg, whose letter on the +occasion is too characteristic to omit.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Hogg to Mrs. Shelley.</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>—I have just had an interview with Mr. Gregson. He spoke of +your affairs cheerfully, and thinks that, with prudence and economy, +you and your baronet-boy will do well; and such, I trust and earnestly +hope, will be the result of this long turmoil of worldly perplexity.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gregson paid me the noble tribute of the most generous and kind +and munificent affection of our incomparable friend. He not only paid +the legacy, but very obligingly offered me some interest; for which +offer, and for such prompt payment, I return my best thanks to +yourself and to Percy.</p> + +<p>I was glad to hear from Mr. Gregson, for the honour of poesy, that +Lord Byron had declined to receive his legacy. How much I wish that my +scanty fortunes would justify the like refusal on my part!</p> + +<p>I daresay you wish that you were a good deal richer—that this had +happened and not that—and that a great deal, which was quite +impossible, had been done, and so on! I should be sorry to believe +that you were quite contented; such a state of mind, so preposterous +and unnatural, especially in any person whose circumstances were +affluent, would surely portend some great calamity.</p> + +<p>I hope that I may venture to look forward to the time when the Baronet +will inhabit Field Place in a style not unworthy of his name. My +desire grows daily in the strength to keep up <i>families</i>, for it is +only from these that Shelleys and Byrons proceed.</p></div> + + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/facing_305.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="center">THOMAS JEFFERSON HOGG,<br /> +AS HE SAT PLAYING AT CHESS AT BOSCOMBE.<br /> +FROM A SKETCH BY R. EASTON.</p> +<p class="center"><small><i>To face Page 305 (Vol. ii.)</i></small></p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>If low people sometimes +effect a little in some particular line, they always show that they are poor, creeping creatures in the main and in general.</p> + +<p>However this may be, and whatever you or yours may take of Shelley +property, “either by heirship or conquest,” as they say in Scotland, I +hope that you may not be included in the unbroken entail of gout, +which takes so largely from the comforts, and adds so greatly to the +irritability natural to yours, dear Mary, very faithfully,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">T. J. Hogg</span>.</p></div> + +<p>For many and good reasons there could be little real sympathy between Hogg +and Mary Shelley. In lieu of it she willingly accepted his genuine +enthusiasm for Shelley, and she was a better friend to him than he was to +her. The veiled impertinence of his tone to her must have severely tried +her patience, if not her endurance. Indeed, the mocking style of his +ironical eulogies of her talents, and her fidelity to the memory of her +husband are more offensive to those who know what she was than any +ill-humoured tirade of Trelawny’s.</p> + +<p>The high esteem in which Mrs. Shelley was held by the eminent literary men +who were her contemporaries is pleasantly attested in a number of letters +and notes addressed to her by T. Moore, Samuel Rogers, Carlyle, Bulwer, +Prosper Merimée, and others; letters for the most part of no great +importance except in so far as they show the familiar and friendly terms +existing between the writers and Mrs. Shelley. One, however, from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> Walter +Savage Landor, deserves insertion here for its intrinsic interest—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Shelley</span>—It would be very ungrateful in me to delay for a +single post an answer to your very kind letter. If only three or four +like yourself (supposing there are that number in one generation) are +gratified by my writings, I am quite content. Hardly do I know whether +in the whole course of fifty years I have been so fortunate. For one +of my earliest resolutions in life was never to read what was written +about me, favourable or unfavourable; and another was, to keep as +clear as possible of all literary men, well knowing their jealousies +and animosities, and so little did I seek celebrity, or even renown, +that on making a present of my Gebir and afterwards of my later poems +to the bookseller, I insisted that they should not even be advertised. +Whatever I have written since I have placed at the disposal and +discretion of some friend. Are not you a little too enthusiastic in +believing that writers can be much improved by studying my writings? I +mean in their style. The style is a part of the mind, just as feathers +are part of the bird. The style of Addison is admired—it is very lax +and incorrect. But in his manner there is the shyness of the Loves; +there is the graceful shyness of a beautiful girl not quite grown up! +People feel the cool current of delight, and never look for its +source. However, he wrote the Vision of Mirza, and no prose man in any +age of the world had written anything so delightful. Alas! so far from +being able to teach men how to write, it will be twenty years before I +teach them how to spell. They will write simil<i>e</i>, for<i>ei</i>gn, +sover<i>ei</i>gn, therefo<i>re</i>, imp<i>el</i>, comp<i>el</i>, reb<i>el</i>, etc. I wish they +would turn back to Hooker, not for theology—the thorns of theology +are good only to heat the oven for the reception of wholesome food. +But Hooker and Jonson and Milton spelt many words better than we do. +We need not wear their coats, but we may take the gold buttons off +them and put them on smoother stuff.—Believe me, dear Mrs. Shelley, +very truly yours,</p> + +<p class="signa"><span class="smcap">W. S. Landor</span>.</p></div> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/letter_1.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/letter_2.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>Of individuals as of nations, it may be true that those are happiest who +have no history. The later years of Mrs. Shelley, which offer no event of +public interest, were tranquil and comparatively happy. She brought out no +new work after 1844.<a name='fna_22' id='fna_22' href='#f_22'><small>[22]</small></a> It had been her intention, now that the +prohibition which constituted the chief obstacle was removed, to undertake +the long-projected <i>Life of Shelley</i>. It seemed the more desirable as +there was no lack of attempts at biography. Chief among these was the +series of articles entitled “Shelley Papers,” contributed by Mr. Hogg to +the <i>New Monthly</i> magazine during 1832. They were afterwards incorporated +with that so-called <i>Life of Shelley</i> which deals only with Shelley’s +first youth, and which, though it consists of one halfpennyworth of +Shelley to an intolerable deal of Hogg, is yet a classic, and one of the +most amusing classics in the world; so amusing, indeed, that, for its +sake, we might address the author somewhat as Sterne is said to have +apostrophised Mrs. Cibber, after hearing her sing a pathetic air of +Handel, “Man, for this be all thy sins forgiven thee!” The second chapter +of the book includes some fragments of biography by Mary, a facsimile of +one of which, in her handwriting, is given here.</p> + +<p>Medwin’s <i>Life of Shelley</i>, inaccurate and false<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> in facts, distasteful in +style and manner, had caused Mrs. Shelley serious annoyance. The author, +who wrote for money chiefly, actually offered to suppress the book <i>for a +consideration</i>; a proposal which Mrs. Shelley treated with the silent +contempt it deserved. These were, however, strong arguments in favour of +her undertaking the book herself. She summoned up her resolution and began +to collect her materials.</p> + +<p>But it was not to be. Her powers and her health were unequal to the task. +The parallel between her and the Princess of the nettle-shirts was to be +carried out to the bitter end, for the last nettle-shirt lacked a sleeve, +and the youngest brother always retained one swan’s wing instead of an +arm. The last service Mary could have rendered to Shelley was never to be +completed, and so the exact details of certain passages of Shelley’s life +must remain for ever, to some extent, matters of speculation. No one but +Mary could have supplied the true history and, as she herself had said, in +the introductory note to her edition of his poems, it was not yet time to +do that. Too many were living who might have been wounded or injured; nay, +there still are too many to admit of a biographer’s speaking with perfect +frankness. But, although she might have furnished to some circumstances a +key which is now for ever lost, it is equally true that there was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> much to +be said, which hardly could, and most certainly never would have been told +by her. Of his earliest youth and his life with Harriet she could, +herself, know nothing but by hearsay. But the chief difficulty lay in the +fact that too much of her own history was interwoven with his. How could +she, now, or at any time, have placed herself, as an observer, so far +outside the subject of her story as to speak of her married life with +Shelley, of its influence on the development of his character and genius, +of the effect of that development, and of her constant association with it +on herself? Yet any life of him which left this out of account would have +been most incomplete. More than that, no biography of such a man as +Shelley can be completely successful which is written under great +restrictions and difficulties. To paint a life-like picture of a nature +like his requires a genius akin to his, aglow with the fervour of +confident enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>It was, then, as well that Mary never wrote the book. The invaluable notes +which she did write to Shelley’s poems have done for him all that it was +in her power to accomplish, and all that is necessary. They put the reader +in possession of the knowledge it concerns him to have; that of the scenes +or the circumstances which inspired or suggested the poems themselves.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>In 1847 she became acquainted with the lady to whom her son was afterwards +married, and who was to be to Mrs. Shelley a kind of daughter and sister +in one. No one, except her son, is living who knew Mary so well and loved +her so enthusiastically. A mutual friend had urged them to become +acquainted, assuring them both “they ought to know each other, they would +suit so perfectly.” Some people think that this course is one which tends +oftener to postpone than to promote the desired intimacy. In the present +case it was justified by the result. Mrs. Shelley called. Her future +daughter-in-law, on entering the room, beheld something utterly unlike +what she had imagined or expected in the famous Mrs. Shelley,—a fair, +lovely, almost girlish-looking being, “as slight as a reed,” with +beautiful clear eyes, who put out her hand as she rose, saying half +timidly, “I’m Mary Shelley.” From that moment—we have her word for +it—the future wife of Sir Percy had lost her heart to his mother! Their +intercourse was frequent, and soon became necessary to both. The younger +lady had had much experience of sorrow, and this drew the bond all the +closer.</p> + +<p>Not for some time after this meeting did Sir Percy appear on the scene. +His engagement followed at no distant date, and after his marriage he, +with his wife and his mother, who never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> during her life was to be parted +from them, again went abroad.</p> + +<p>The cup of such happiness as in this world was possible to Mary Shelley +seemed now to be full, but the time was to be short during which she could +taste it. She only lived three years longer, years chequered by very great +anxiety (on account of illness), yet to those who now look back on them +they seem as if lived under a charm. To live with Mary Shelley was indeed +like entertaining an angel. Perfect unselfishness, <i>selflessness</i> indeed, +characterised her at all times.</p> + +<p>One illustration of this is afforded by her repression of the terror she +felt when she saw Shelley’s passion for the sea asserting itself in his +son. Her own nerves had been shaken and her life darkened by a +catastrophe, but not for this would she let it overshadow the lives of +others. Not even when her son, with a friend, went off to Norway in a +little yacht, and she was dependent for news of them on a three weeks’ +post, would she ever let him know the mortal anxiety she endured, but +after his marriage she told it to her daughter-in-law, saying, “Now he +will never wish to go to sea.”</p> + +<p>But of herself she never seemed to think at all; she lived in and for +others. Her gifts and attainments, far from being obtruded, were kept out +of sight; modest almost to excess as she was,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> she yet knew the secret of +putting others at their ease. She was ready with sympathy and help and +gentle counsel for all who needed them, and to the friends of her son she +was such a friend as they will never forget.</p> + +<p>The thought of Shelley, the idea of his presence, never seemed to leave +her mind for a moment. She would constantly refer to what he might think, +or do, or approve of, almost as if he had been in the next room. Of his +history, or her own, she never spoke, nor did she ever refer to other +people connected with their early life, unless there was something good to +be said of them. Of those who had behaved ill to her, no word—on the +subject of their behaviour—passed her lips. Her daughter-in-law had so +little idea of what her associations were with Clare, that on one occasion +when Miss Clairmont was coming to stay at Field Place, and Lady Shelley, +who did not like her, expressed a half-formed intention of being absent +during her visit and leaving Mrs. Shelley to entertain her, she was +completely taken aback by the exclamation which escaped Mary’s lips, +“Don’t go, dear! don’t leave me alone with her! she has been the bane of +my life ever since I was three years old!”</p> + +<p>No more was ever said, but this was enough, even to those who did not know +all, to reveal a long history of endurance.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>Clare came, and more than once, to stay at Field Place, but her +excitability and eccentricity had so much increased as, at times, to be +little if at all under her own control, and after one unmistakable proof +of this, it was deemed (by those who cared for Mrs. Shelley) desirable +that she should go and return no more.</p> + +<p>She died at Florence in 1878.</p> + +<p>Mary Shelley’s strength was ebbing, her nervous ailments increased, and +the result was a loss of power in one side. Life at Field Place had had to +be abandoned on grounds of health (not her own), and Sir Percy Shelley had +purchased Boscombe Manor for their country home, anticipating great +pleasure from his mother’s enjoyment of the beautiful spot and fine +climate. But she became worse, and never could be moved from her house in +Chester Square till she was taken to her last resting-place. She died on +the 21st of February 1851.</p> + +<p>She died, “and her place among those who knew her intimately has never +been filled up. She walked beside them, like a spirit of good, to comfort +and benefit, to lighten the darkness of life, to cheer it with her +sympathy and love.”</p> + +<p>These, her own words about Shelley, may with equal fitness be applied to +her.</p> + +<p>Her grave is in Bournemouth Churchyard,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> where, some time after, her +father and mother were laid by her side.</p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p>As an author Mary Shelley did not accomplish all that was expected of her. +Her letters from abroad, both during her earlier and later tours, the +descriptive fragments intended for her father’s biography, and above all +her notes on Shelley’s works, are indeed valuable and enduring +contributions to literature. But it was in imaginative work that she had +aspired to excel, and in which both Shelley and Godwin had urged her to +persevere, confident that she could achieve a brilliant success. None of +her novels, however, except <i>Frankenstein</i>, can be said to have survived +the generation for which they were written. Only in that work has she left +an abiding mark on literature. Yet her powers were very great, her culture +very extensive, her ambition very high.</p> + +<p>The friend whose description of her has been quoted in an earlier chapter +tries to account for this. She says—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I think a partial solution for the circumscribed fame of Mrs. Shelley +as a writer may be traced to her own shrinking and sensitive +retiringness of nature. If, as Thackeray, perhaps justly, observes, +“Persons, to succeed largely in this world, must assert themselves,” +most assuredly Mary Shelley never tried that path to distinction....</p> + +<p>I never knew, in my life, either man or woman whose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> whole character +was so entirely in harmony: no jarring discords—no incongruous, +anomalous, antagonistic opposites met to disturb the perfect unity, +and to counteract one day the impressions of the former. Gentleness +was ever and always her distinguishing characteristic. Many years’ +friendship never showed me a deviation from it. But with this softness +there was neither irresolution nor feebleness....</p> + +<p>Many have fancied and accused her of being cold and apathetic. She was +no such thing. She had warm, strong affections: as daughter, wife, and +mother she was exemplary and devoted. Besides this, she was a +faithful, unswerving friend.</p> + +<p class="center"><strong><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span><span class="spacer">·</span></strong></p> + +<p>She was not a mirthful—scarcely could be called a cheerful person; +and at times was subject to deep and profound fits of despondency, +when she would shut herself up, and be quite inaccessible to all. Her +undeviating love of truth was ever acted on—never swerved from. Her +worst enemy could never charge her with falsification—even +equivocation. Truth—truth—truth—was the governing principle in all +the words she uttered, the thoughts and judgments she expressed. Hence +she was most intolerant to deceit and falsehood, in any shape or +guise, and those who attempted to practise it on her aroused as much +bitter indignation as her nature was capable of....</p> + +<p>It is too often the case that authors talk too much of their writings, +and all thereunto belonging. Mrs. Shelley was the extremest reverse of +this. In fact, she was almost morbidly averse to the least allusion to +herself as an authoress. To call on her and find her table covered +with all the accessories and unmistakable traces of <i>book-making</i>, +such as copy, proofs for correction, etc., made her nearly as nervous +and unselfpossessed as if she had been detected in the commission of +some offence against the conventionalities of society, or the code of +morality....</p> + +<p>I really think she deemed it unwomanly to print and publish; and had +it not been for the hard cash which, like so many of her craft, she so +often stood in need of, I do not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> think she would ever have come +before the world as an authoress....</p> + +<p>Like all raised in supremacy above their fellows, either mentally or +physically, Mrs. Shelley had her enemies and detractors. But none ever +dared to impugn the correctness of her conduct. From the hour of her +early widowhood to the period of her death, she might have married +advantageously several times. But she often said, “I know not what +temptation could make me change the name of Shelley.”</p></div> + +<p>But the true cause lay deeper still, and may afford a clue to more puzzles +than this one. What Mary Godwin might have become had she remained Mary +Godwin for six or eight years longer it is impossible now to do more than +guess at. But the free growth of her own original nature was checked and a +new bent given to it by her early union with Shelley. Two original +geniuses can rarely develop side by side, certainly not in marriage, least +of all in a happy marriage. Two minds may, indeed, work consentaneously, +but one, however unconsciously, will take the lead; should the other +preserve its complete independence, angles must of necessity develop, and +the first fitness of things disappear. And in a marriage of enthusiastic +devotion and mutual admiration, the younger or the weaker mind, however +candid, will shirk or stop short of conclusions which, it instinctively +feels, may lead to collision. On the other hand, strong and pronounced +views or peculiarities on the part of one may tend to elicit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> their exact +opposite on the part of the other; both results being equally remote from +real independence of thought. However it may be, either in marriage or in +any intellectual partnership, it is a general truth that from the moment +one mind is penetrated by the influence of another, its own native power +over other minds has gone, and for ever. And Mary parted with this power +at sixteen, before she knew what it was to have it. When she left her +father’s house with Shelley she was but a child, a thing of promise, +everything about her yet to be decided. Shelley himself was a half-formed +creature, but of infinite possibilities and extraordinary powers, and +Mary’s development had not only to keep pace with his, but to keep in time +and tune with his. Sterne said of Lady Elizabeth Hastings that “to have +loved her was a liberal education.” To love Shelley adequately and +worthily was that and more—it was a vocation, a career,—enough for a +life-time and an exceptional one.</p> + +<p>Every reader of the present biography must see too that in Mary Shelley’s +case physical causes had much to do with the limit of her intellectual +achievements. Between seventeen and twenty-five she had drawn too largely +on the reserve funds of life. Weak health and illness, a roving unsettled +life, the birth and rearing, and then the loss, of children; great joys +and great griefs, all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> crowded into a few young years, and coinciding with +study and brain-work and the constant call on her nervous energy +necessitated by companionship with Shelley, these exhausted her; and when +he who was the beginning and end of her existence disappeared, “and the +light of her life as if gone out,”<a name='fna_23' id='fna_23' href='#f_23'><small>[23]</small></a> she was left,—left what those +eight years had made her, to begin again from the beginning all alone. And +nobly she began, manfully she struggled, and wonderfully, considering all +things, did she succeed. No one, however, has more than a certain, +limited, amount of vitality to express in his or her life; the vital force +may take one form or another, but cannot be used twice over. The best of +Mary’s power spent itself in active life, in ministering to another being, +during those eight years with Shelley. What she gained from him, and it +was much, was paid back to him a hundredfold. When he was gone, and those +calls for outward activity were over, there lay before her the life of +literary labour and thought for which nature and training had +pre-eminently fitted her. But she could not call back the freshness of her +powers nor the wholeness of her heart. She did not fully know, or realise, +then, the amount of life-capital she had run through. She did realise it +at a later time, and the very interesting entry in her journal, dated +October 21, 1838,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> is a kind of profession of faith; a summary of her +views of life; the result of her reflections and of her experience—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Journal, October 21.</i>—I have been so often abused by pretended +friends for my lukewarmness in “the good cause,” that I disdain to +answer them. I shall put down here a few thoughts on this subject. I +am much of a self-examiner. Vanity is not my fault, I think; if it is, +it is uncomfortable vanity, for I have none that teaches me to be +satisfied with myself; far otherwise—and, if I use the word disdain, +it is that I think my qualities (such as they are) not appreciated +from unworthy causes. In the first place, with regard to “the good +cause”—the cause of the advancement of freedom and knowledge, of the +rights of women, etc.—I am not a person of opinions. I have said +elsewhere that human beings differ greatly in this. Some have a +passion for reforming the world, others do not cling to particular +opinions. That my parents and Shelley were of the former class makes +me respect it. I respect such when joined to real disinterestedness, +toleration, and a clear understanding. My accusers, after such as +these, appear to me mere drivellers. For myself, I earnestly desire +the good and enlightenment of my fellow-creatures, and see all, in the +present course, tending to the same, and rejoice; but I am not for +violent extremes, which only bring on an injurious reaction. I have +never written a word in disfavour of liberalism: that I have not +supported it openly in writing arises from the following causes, as +far as I know—</p> + +<p>That I have not argumentative powers: I see things pretty clearly, but +cannot demonstrate them. Besides, I feel the counter-arguments too +strongly. I do not feel that I could say aught to support the cause +efficiently; besides that, on some topics (especially with regard to +my own sex) I am far from making up my mind. I believe we are sent +here to educate ourselves, and that self-denial, and disappointment, +and self-control are a part of our education; that it is not by +taking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> away all restraining law that our improvement is to be +achieved; and, though many things need great amendment, I can by no +means go so far as my friends would have me. When I feel that I can +say what will benefit my fellow-creatures, I will speak; not before. +Then, I recoil from the vulgar abuse of the inimical press. I do more +than recoil: proud and sensitive, I act on the defensive—an +inglorious position. To hang back, as I do, brings a penalty. I was +nursed and fed with a love of glory. To be something great and good +was the precept given me by my Father; Shelley reiterated it. Alone +and poor, I could only be something by joining a party; and there was +much in me—the woman’s love of looking up, and being guided, and +being willing to do anything if any one supported and brought me +forward—which would have made me a good partisan. But Shelley died +and I was alone. My Father, from age and domestic circumstances, could +not <i>me faire valoir</i>. My total friendlessness, my horror of pushing, +and inability to put myself forward unless led, cherished and +supported—all this has sunk me in a state of loneliness no other +human being ever before, I believe, endured—except Robinson Crusoe. +How many tears and spasms of anguish this solitude has cost me, lies +buried in my memory.</p> + +<p>If I had raved and ranted about what I did not understand, had I +adopted a set of opinions, and propagated them with enthusiasm; had I +been careless of attack, and eager for notoriety; then the party to +which I belonged had gathered round me, and I had not been alone.</p> + +<p>It has been the fashion with these same friends to accuse me of +worldliness. There, indeed, in my own heart and conscience, I take a +high ground. I may distrust my own judgment too much—be too indolent +and too timid; but in conduct I am above merited blame.</p> + +<p>I like society; I believe all persons who have any talent (who are in +good health) do. The soil that gives forth nothing may lie ever +fallow; but that which produces—however humble its product—needs +cultivation, change of harvest, refreshing dews, and ripening sun. +Books do much; but the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> living intercourse is the vital heat. Debarred +from that, how have I pined and died!</p> + +<p>My early friends chose the position of enemies. When I first +discovered that a trusted friend had acted falsely by me, I was nearly +destroyed. My health was shaken. I remember thinking, with a burst of +agonising tears, that I should prefer a bed of torture to the +unutterable anguish a friend’s falsehood engendered. There is no +resentment; but the world can never be to me what it was before. Trust +and confidence, and the heart’s sincere devotion are gone.</p> + +<p>I sought at that time to make acquaintances—to divert my mind from +this anguish. I got entangled in various ways through my ready +sympathy and too eager heart; but I never crouched to society—never +sought it unworthily. If I have never written to vindicate the rights +of women, I have ever befriended women when oppressed. At every risk I +have befriended and supported victims to the social system; but I make +no boast, for in truth it is simple justice I perform; and so I am +still reviled for being worldly.</p> + +<p>God grant a happier and a better day is near! Percy—my +all-in-all—will, I trust, by his excellent understanding, his clear, +bright, sincere spirit and affectionate heart, repay me for sad long +years of desolation. His career may lead me into the thick of life or +only gild a quiet home. I am content with either, and, as I grow +older, I grow more fearless for myself—I become firmer in my +opinions. The experienced, the suffering, the thoughtful, may at last +speak unrebuked. If it be the will of God that I live, I may ally my +name yet to “the Good Cause,” though I do not expect to please my +accusers.</p> + +<p>Thus have I put down my thoughts. I may have deceived myself; I may be +in the wrong; I try to examine myself; and such as I have written +appears to me the exact truth.</p> + +<p>Enough of this! The great work of life goes on. Death draws near. To +be better after death than in life is one’s hope and endeavour—to be +so through self-schooling. If I write the above, it is that those who +love me may hereafter know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> that I am not all to blame, nor merit the +heavy accusations cast on me for not putting myself forward. I cannot +do that; it is against my nature. As well cast me from a precipice and +rail at me for not flying.</p></div> + +<p>The true success of Mary Shelley’s life was not, therefore, the +intellectual triumph of which, during her youth, she had loved to dream, +and which at one time seemed to be actually within her grasp, but the +moral success of beauty of character. To those people—a daily increasing +number in this tired world—who erect the natural grace of animal spirits +to the rank of the highest virtue, this success may appear hardly worth +the name. Yet it was a very real victory. Her nature was not without +faults or tendencies which, if undisciplined, might have developed into +faults, but every year she lived seemed to mellow and ripen her finer +qualities, while blemishes or weaknesses were suppressed or overcome, and +finally disappeared altogether.</p> + +<p>As to her theological views, about which the most contradictory opinions +have been expressed, it can but be said that nothing in Mrs. Shelley’s +writings gives other people the right to formulate for her any dogmatic +opinions at all. Brought up in a purely rationalistic creed, her education +had of course, no tinge of what is known as “personal religion,” and it +must be repeated here that none of her acts and views were founded, or +should be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> judged as if they were founded on Biblical commands or +prohibitions. That the temper of her mind, so to speak, was eminently +religious there can be no doubt; that she believed in God and a future +state there are many allusions to show.<a name='fna_24' id='fna_24' href='#f_24'><small>[24]</small></a> Perhaps no one, having lived +with the so-called atheist, Shelley, could have accepted the idea of the +limitation, or the extinction of intelligence and goodness. Her liberality +of mind, however, was rewarded by abuse from some of her acquaintance, +because her toleration was extended even to the orthodox.</p> + +<p>Her moral opinions, had they ever been formulated, which they never were, +would have approximated closely to those of Mary Wollstonecraft, limited, +however, by an inability, like her father’s, <i>not</i> to see both sides of a +question, and also by the severest and most elevated standard of moral +purity, of personal faith and loyalty. To be judged by such a standard she +would have regarded as a woman’s highest privilege. To claim as a “woman’s +right” any licence, any lowering of the standard of duty in these matters, +would have been to her incomprehensible and impossible. But, with all +this, she discriminated. Her standard was not that of the conventional +world.</p> + +<p>At every risk, as she says, she befriended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> those whom she considered +“victims to the social system.” It was a difficult course; for, while her +acquaintance of the “advanced” type accused her of cowardice and +worldliness for not asserting herself as a champion of universal liberty, +there were more who were ready to decry her for her friendly relations +with Countess Guiccioli, Lady Mountcashel, and others not named here; to +say nothing of Clare, to whom much of her happiness had been sacrificed. +She refrained from pronouncing judgment, but reserved her liberty of +action, and in all doubtful cases gave others the benefit of the doubt, +and this without respect of persons. She would not excommunicate a humble +individual for what was passed over in a man or woman of genius; nor +condemn a woman for what, in a man, might be excused, or might even add to +his social reputation. Least of all would she secure her own position by +shunning those whose case had once been hers, and who in their after life +had been less fortunate than she. Pure herself, she could be charitable, +and she could be just.</p> + +<p>The influence of such a wife on Shelley’s more vehement, visionary +temperament can hardly be over-estimated. Their moods did not always suit +or coincide; each, at times, made the other suffer. It could not be +otherwise with two natures so young, so strong, and so individual. But, if +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span>forbearance may have been sometimes called for on the one hand, and on +the other a charity which is kind and thinks no evil, it was only a part +of that discipline from which the married life of geniuses is not exempt, +and which tests the temper and quality of the metal it tries; an ordeal +from which two noble natures come forth the purer and the stronger.</p> + +<p>The indirect, unconscious power of elevation of character is great, and +not even a Shelley but must be the better for association with it, not +even he but must be the nobler, “yea, three times less unworthy” through +the love of such a woman as Mary. He would not have been all he was +without her sustaining and refining influence; without the constant sense +that in loving him she loved his ideals also. We owe him, in part, to her.</p> + +<p>Love—the love of Love—was Shelley’s life and creed. This, in Mary’s +creed, was interpreted as love of Shelley. By all the rest she strove to +do her duty, but, when the end came, that survived as the one great fact +of her life—a fact she might have uttered in words like his—</p> + +<p class="poem">And where is Truth? On tombs; for such to thee<br /> +Has been my heart; and thy dead memory<br /> +Has lain from (girlhood), many a changeful year,<br /> +Unchangingly preserved, and buried there.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><i>F. D. & Co.</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><i>Printed by</i> <span class="smcap">R. & R. Clark</span>, <i>Edinburgh</i>.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2>POSTSCRIPT</h2> + + +<p>Since this book was printed, a series of letters from Harriet Shelley to +an Irish friend, Mrs. Nugent, containing references to the separation from +Shelley, has been published in the New York <i>Nation</i>. These letters, +however, add nothing to what was previously known of Harriet’s history and +life with Shelley. After November 1813 the correspondence ceases. It is +resumed in August 1814, after the separation and Shelley’s departure from +England. Harriet’s account of these events—gathered by her at second-hand +from those who can, themselves, have had no knowledge of the facts they +professed to relate—embodies all the slanderous reports adverted to in +the seventh chapter of the present work, and all the gratuitous falsehoods +circulated by Mrs. Godwin;—falsehoods which Professor Dowden, in the +Appendix to his <i>Life of Shelley</i>, has been at the trouble directly to +disprove, statement by statement;—falsehoods of which the Author cannot +but hope that an amply sufficient, if an indirect, refutation may be found +in the present Life of Mary Shelley.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2>ERRATA</h2> + + +<p>Vol. i. p. 55, footnote, <i>for</i> “Schlabrendorf,” <i>read</i> “Schlaberndorf.”</p> + +<p>Vol. i. p. 84, line 7, <i>for</i> “(including his own mother, in Skinner +Street),” <i>read</i> “(including his own mother) in Skinner Street.”</p> + +<p>Vol. i. p. 170, line 20, <i>for</i> “Heeding not the misery then spoken,” +<i>read</i> “Heeding not the words then spoken.”</p> + +<p>Vol. ii. p. 200, line 7, <i>for</i> “Moghiteff,” <i>read</i> “Moghileff.”</p> + +<p>Vol. ii. p. 216, line 12, <i>for</i> “Zela,” <i>read</i> “Zella.”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<div class="verts"> +<p class="center"><i>In 2 vols. Crown 8vo, with 2 Portraits, 24s.</i></p> +<p class="center"><span class="large">JOHN FRANCIS AND THE ‘ATHENÆUM.’</span></p> +<p class="center"><i>A LITERARY CHRONICLE OF HALF A CENTURY.</i></p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> JOHN C. FRANCIS.</p> + +<p class="center"><br />OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.</p> + +<p>‘The career of John Francis, publisher of the <i>Athenæum</i>, was worth +telling for the zeal with which, for more than thirty years, he pursued +the definite purpose of obtaining the abolition of the paper duty.... With +equal ardour did Mr. Francis labour for half a century in publishing the +weekly issue of the <i>Athenæum</i>; and these two volumes, which describe its +progress from its birth in January, 1828, to the full perfection of its +powers in 1882, are a fitting record of the literary history of that +period.’—<i>Academy.</i></p> + +<p>‘Anybody who wants a complete summary of what the world has been thinking +and doing since Silk Buckingham, with Dr. Stebbing and Charles Knight and +Sterling and Maurice as his staff, started the <i>Athenæum</i> in 1828, will +find plenty to satisfy him in <i>John Francis, a Literary Chronicle of Half +a Century</i>.... Mr. Francis’s autobiography is not the least valuable part +of this valuable record.’—<i>Graphic.</i></p> + +<p>‘As a record of the literature of fifty years, and in a less complete +degree of the progress of science and art, and as a memento of many +notable characters in various fields of intellectual culture, these +volumes are of considerable value.’—<i>Morning Post.</i></p> + +<p>‘The volumes abound with curious and interesting statements, and in +bringing before the public the most notable features of a distinguished +journal from its infancy almost to the present hour, Mr. Francis deserves +the thanks of all readers interested in literature.’—<i>Spectator.</i></p> + +<p>‘No memoir of Mr. Francis would be complete without a corresponding +history of the journal with which his name will for ever be identified.... +The extraordinary variety of subjects and persons referred to, embracing +as they do every event in literature, and referring to every person of +distinction in science or letters, is a record of such magnitude that we +can only indicate its outlines. To the literary historian the volumes will +be of incalculable service.’—<i>Bookseller.</i></p> + +<p>‘This literary chronicle of half a century must at once, or in course of a +short time, take a place as a permanent work of reference.’—<i>Publishers’ +Circular.</i></p> + +<p>‘Some valuable and interesting matter has been collected chronologically +regarding the literary history of the last fifty years.’—<i>Murray’s +Magazine.</i></p> + +<p>‘We have put before us a valuable collection of materials for the future +history of the Victorian era of English literature.’—<i>Standard.</i></p> + +<p>‘John Francis was a faithful servant, and also an earnest worker for the +good of his fellow-creatures. Sunday schools, charitable societies, and +mechanics’ institutes found in him a patient and steady helper, and no one +laboured more persistently and unselfishly to procure the abolition of the +pernicious taxes on knowledge.’—<i>Daily Chronicle.</i></p> + +<p>‘Such a life interests us, and carries with it a fruitful moral.... The +history of the <i>Athenæum</i> also well deserved to be told.’—<i>Daily News.</i></p> + +<p>‘A worthy monument of the development of literature during the last fifty +years.... The volumes contain not a little specially interesting to +Scotsmen.’—<i>Scotsman.</i></p> + +<p>‘Rich in literary and social interest, and afford a comprehensive survey +of the intellectual progress of the nation.’—<i>Leeds Mercury.</i></p> + +<p>‘It is in characters so sterling and admirable as this that the real +strength of a nation lies.... The public will find in the book reading +which, if light and easy, is also full of interest and suggestion.... We +suspect that writers for the daily and weekly papers will find out that it +is convenient to keep these volumes of handy size, and each having its own +index, extending the one to 20, the other to 30 pages, at their elbow for +reference.’—<i>Liverpool Mercury.</i></p> + +<p>‘The book is, in fact, as it is described, a literary chronicle of the +period with which it deals, and a chronicle put together with as much +skill as taste and discrimination. The information given about notable +people of the past is always interesting and often piquant, while it +rarely fails to throw some new light on the individuality of the person to +whom it refers.’—<i>Liverpool Daily Post.</i></p> + +<p>‘Our survey has been unavoidably confined almost exclusively to the first +volume; indeed, anything like an adequate account of the book is +impossible, for it may be described as a history in notes of the +literature of the period with which it deals. We confess that we have been +able to find very few pages altogether barren of interest, and by far the +larger portion of the book will be found irresistibly attractive by all +who care anything for the history of literature in our own +time.’—<i>Manchester Examiner.</i></p> + +<p>‘It was a happy thought in this age of jubilees to associate with a +literary chronicle of the last fifty years a biographical sketch of the +life of John Francis.... As we glance through the contents there is +scarcely a page which does not induce us to stop and read about the men +and events that are summoned again before us.’—<i>Western Daily Mercury.</i></p> + +<p>‘A mine of information on subjects connected with literature for the last +fifty years.’—<i>Echo.</i></p> + +<p>‘The volumes are full of interest.... The indexes of these two volumes +show at a glance that a feast of memorabilia, of gossip, of reminiscence, +is in store for the reader.’—<i>Nonconformist.</i></p> + +<p>‘The thought of compiling these volumes was a happy one, and it has been +ably carried out by Mr. John C. Francis, the son of the veteran +publisher.’—<i>Literary World.</i></p> + +<p>‘The entire work affords a comprehensive view of the intellectual life of +the period it covers, which will be found extremely helpful by students of +English literature.’—<i>Christian World.</i></p> + +<p>‘No other fifty years of English literature contain so much to interest an +English reader.’—<i>Freeman.</i></p> + +<p>‘To literary men the two volumes will have much interest; they contain the +raw material of history, and many of the gems which make it +sparkle.’—<i>Sword and Trowel.</i></p> + + +<p class="center">RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, NEW BURLINGTON STREET,<br /> +Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen.</p></div> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><strong>Footnotes:</strong></p> + +<p><a name='f_1' id='f_1' href='#fna_1'>[1]</a> Leigh Hunt used often to say that he was the dearest friend Shelley +had; I believe he was the most costly.—<i>Trelawny’s Recollections.</i></p> + +<p><a name='f_2' id='f_2' href='#fna_2'>[2]</a> Mrs. Shelley’s letter says twelve days, but this is an error, due, no +doubt, to her distress of mind. She gives the date of Trelawny’s return to +Leghorn as the 25th of July; it should have been the 18th.</p> + +<p><a name='f_3' id='f_3' href='#fna_3'>[3]</a> Mrs. Mason.</p> + +<p><a name='f_4' id='f_4' href='#fna_4'>[4]</a> The Hunts.</p> + +<p><a name='f_5' id='f_5' href='#fna_5'>[5]</a> See Godwin’s letter, page 96.</p> + +<p><a name='f_6' id='f_6' href='#fna_6'>[6]</a> So it happened, however.</p> + +<p><a name='f_7' id='f_7' href='#fna_7'>[7]</a> Mrs. Hunt, an amateur sculptress of talent, was also skilful in +cutting out profiles in cardboard. From some of these, notably from one of +Lord Byron, successful likenesses were made.</p> + +<p><a name='f_8' id='f_8' href='#fna_8'>[8]</a> Lord Byron.</p> + +<p><a name='f_9' id='f_9' href='#fna_9'>[9]</a> Fanny Wright subsequently married a Frenchman, M. Phiquepal Darusmont. +Under the head of “Darusmont” a sketch of her life, by Mr. R. Garnett, +containing many highly interesting details of her career, is to be found +in the <i>Dictionary of National Biography</i>.</p> + +<p><a name='f_10' id='f_10' href='#fna_10'>[10]</a> Miss Robinson.</p> + +<p><a name='f_11' id='f_11' href='#fna_11'>[11]</a> “Recollections” in the original; “Records” in the later and, now, +better known edition.</p> + +<p><a name='f_12' id='f_12' href='#fna_12'>[12]</a> Page 191.</p> + +<p><a name='f_13' id='f_13' href='#fna_13'>[13]</a> Allegra was buried at Harrow.</p> + +<p><a name='f_14' id='f_14' href='#fna_14'>[14]</a> Jane’s mother.</p> + +<p><a name='f_15' id='f_15' href='#fna_15'>[15]</a> In <i>The Last Man</i>.</p> + +<p><a name='f_16' id='f_16' href='#fna_16'>[16]</a> The heroine of <i>Valperga</i>.</p> + +<p><a name='f_17' id='f_17' href='#fna_17'>[17]</a> Things have changed at the British Museum, not a little, since these +words were written.</p> + +<p><a name='f_18' id='f_18' href='#fna_18'>[18]</a> In a letter of Clare’s, before this time, referring to the marriage +of one of the Miss Robinsons, she remarks, “I am quite glad to think that +for the future you may only have Percy and yourself to maintain.”</p> + +<p><a name='f_19' id='f_19' href='#fna_19'>[19]</a> The Miss Robinsons.</p> + +<p><a name='f_20' id='f_20' href='#fna_20'>[20]</a> <i>Lodore.</i></p> + +<p><a name='f_21' id='f_21' href='#fna_21'>[21]</a> Such as the following, taken from the Preface: We have lately been +accustomed to look on Italy as a discontented province of Austria, +forgetful that her supremacy dates only from the downfall of Napoleon. +From the invasion of Charles VIII till 1815 Italy has been a battlefield, +where the Spaniard, the French, and the German have fought for mastery; +and we are blind indeed if we do not see that such will occur again, at +least among the two last. Supposing a war to arise between them, one of +the first acts of aggression on the part of France would be to try to +drive the Germans from Italy. Even if peace continue, it is felt that the +papal power is tottering to its fall,—it is only supported because the +French will not allow Austria to extend her dominions, and the Austrian is +eager to prevent any change that may afford pretence for the French to +interfere. Did the present Pope act with any degree of prudence, his +power, thus propped, might last some time longer; but as it is, who can +say how soon, for the sake of peace in the rest of Italy, it may not be +necessary to curtail his territories.</p> + +<p>The French feel this, and begin to dream of dominion across the Alps; the +occupation of Ancona was a feeler put out; it gained no positive object +except to check Austria; for the rest its best effect was to reiterate the +lesson they have often taught, that no faith should be given to their +promises of liberation.</p> + +<p><a name='f_22' id='f_22' href='#fna_22'>[22]</a> She had published her last novel, <i>Falkner</i>, in 1837.</p> + +<p><a name='f_23' id='f_23' href='#fna_23'>[23]</a> Carlyle’s epitaph on his wife.</p> + +<p><a name='f_24' id='f_24' href='#fna_24'>[24]</a> “My belief is,” she says in the preface to her edition of Shelley’s +prose works, “that spiritual improvement in this life prepares the way to +a higher existence.”</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY, VOLUME II (OF 2)***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 37956-h.txt or 37956-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/7/9/5/37956">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/9/5/37956</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thomas Marshall + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Life and Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Volume II (of 2) + + +Author: Florence A. Thomas Marshall + + + +Release Date: November 8, 2011 [eBook #37956] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF MARY +WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY, VOLUME II (OF 2)*** + + +E-text prepared by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team +(http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by +Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries +(http://www.archive.org/details/toronto) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 37956-h.htm or 37956-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37956/37956-h/37956-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37956/37956-h.zip) + + + Project Gutenberg also has Volume I of this work. + See http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37955 + + + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries. See + http://www.archive.org/details/lifelettersofmar02marsrich + + + + + +THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY + +II + +[Illustration: Photogravure by Annan & Swan + +_E. J. TRELAWNY._ + +_From a portrait after Severn._ + +_in the possession of Sir Percy F. Shelley, Bart._ + +London. Richard Bentley & Son: 1889.] + + +THE LIFE & LETTERS OF MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY + +by + +MRS. JULIAN MARSHALL + +With Portraits and Facsimile + +In Two Volumes + +VOL. II + + + + + + + +London +Richard Bentley & Son +Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen +1889 + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGES + + CHAPTER XVII + + JULY-SEPTEMBER 1822 + + 1822 (July).--Mary and Mrs. Williams go to Pisa--They can + learn nothing--Trelawny accompanies them back to Casa + Magni--The bodies of Shelley and Williams are washed + ashore--Trelawny brings Mary, Jane, and Clare back to + Pisa--Mary's endurance--Letters from Godwin--Mary's letter + to Mrs. Gisborne--The bodies are cremated--Dispute about + Shelley's heart--It remains with Mary--Mary's decision to + remain for a time with the Hunts, and to assist them and + Byron with the _Liberal_--Goes to Genoa--Mrs. Williams goes + to England--Letter from Mary to Mrs. Gisborne and Clare-- + Letters from Clare and Jane Williams--The Hunts and Byron + are established at Albaro 1-35 + + + CHAPTER XVIII + + SEPTEMBER 1822-JULY 1823 + + 1822 (October).--Mary's desolate condition--Her diary-- + Extracts--Discomfort with the Hunts--Byron's antipathy to + them all--Note from him to Mary--Trelawny's presence a + refreshment--Letters to and from him--Letter from Godwin-- + Journal--Letter to Clare--Mary's poem "The Choice." + + 1823. Trelawny's zealous care for Shelley's tomb--Mary's + gratitude--She decides on returning to England--Sir Timothy + Shelley's refusal to assist her--Letter from Godwin-- + Correspondence between Mary and Trelawny--Letter from + Godwin criticising _Valperga_--Byron is induced to go to + Greece--Summons Trelawny to accompany him--Mrs. Hunt's + confinement--Letters from Mary to Jane Williams--She starts + on her journey to England--Diary 36-88 + + + CHAPTER XIX + + JULY 1823-DECEMBER 1824 + + 1823. Mary's journey--Letters to the Leigh Hunts--Arrival + in London--Jane Williams--Her attractiveness--_Frankenstein_ + on the stage--Publication of Shelley's Posthumous Poems. + + 1824. Journal--Mary's wish to write for the stage--Godwin + discourages the idea--Affairs of the _Examiner_ newspaper-- + The Novellos--Mrs. Cowden Clarke's reminiscences of Mary-- + Death of Byron--Profound sensation--Journal--Letters from + Trelawny--Description of the "Cavern Fortress of Mount + Parnassus"--Letter from Mary to Trelawny--Letter to Leigh + Hunt--Negotiation with Sir T. Shelley--Allowance-- + Suppression of the Posthumous Poems--Journal--Medwin's + Memoirs of Byron--Asks Mary to assist him--Her feelings on + the subject--Letter to Mrs. Hunt--Journal 89-129 + + + CHAPTER XX + + JANUARY 1825-JULY 1827 + + 1825. Improvement in Mary's prospects--Letter to Miss + Curran--Letter to Leigh Hunt about his article on Shelley-- + Shelley's portrait arrives--Journal--Trelawny's adventures + and escape from Greece--Mary's letter to him (February 1826). + + 1826. Reminiscences of Lord Byron's projected performance + of _Othello_ at Pisa--Clare Clairmont's life as a governess + in Russia--Description of her--Letter from her to Jane + Williams--Publication of _The Last Man_--Hogg's + appreciation--Stoppage of Mary's allowance--Peacock's + intervention in her behalf--Death of Charles Shelley--Mary's + letter to Leigh Hunt on the subject of Shelley's intended + legacy--Increase of allowance--Melancholy letter from + Trelawny. + + 1827. Mary's reply--Letter from Clare to Jane Williams--Jane + Williams' duplicity--Mary becomes aware of it--Her misery-- + Journal 130-167 + + + CHAPTER XXI + + JULY 1827-AUGUST 1830 + + 1827. Letter to Mary from Frances Wright presented by + Robert Dale Owen--Friendly Correspondence--Acquaintance-- + Fanny Wright's history--Her personal appearance--Contrast + between her and Mrs. Shelley--She returns to America--Letter + from her--Letter from Godwin to Mary--Mary's stay at + Arundel--The Miss Robinsons--Letter from Trelawny-- + Explanation with Jane Williams--Letter from Mary--Visit to + Paris--Mary catches the small-pox--Trelawny arrives in + England--Letters from him. + + 1829. He returns to Italy--Letter to Mary to say he is + writing his own life--Asks Mary to help him with + reminiscences of Shelley--She declines--He is angry--Letter + from Lord Dillon--_Perkin Warbeck_. + + 1830. Journal (January)--Mrs. Shelley's "at homes" in + Somerset Street--T. Moore--_Perkin Warbeck_ a + disappointment--Need of money--Letter from Clare--Mary + writes for the _Keepsake_ 168-203 + + + CHAPTER XXII + + AUGUST 1830-OCTOBER 1831 + + 1830. Trelawny's autobiographical adventures to be entitled + _A Man's Life_--Correspondence with Mary respecting the + preparation and publication of the book. + + 1831. She negotiates the matter--Entreats for certain + modifications--The title is altered to _Adventures of a + Younger Son_--The author's vexation--Mary's patience--Horace + Smith's assistance--Trelawny surmises that "fate" may unite + him and Mary Shelley some day--"My name will never be + Trelawny"--Publication of the _Adventures_--Trelawny's later + _Recollections of Shelley, Byron, and the Author_--His rare + appreciation of Shelley--Singular discrepancies between the + first and second editions of the book--Complete change of + tone in later life with regard to Mrs. Shelley--Conclusions 204-232 + + + CHAPTER XXIII + + OCTOBER 1831-OCTOBER 1839 + + Godwin's _Thoughts on Man_ (1830)--Letter to Mary--Letter + from Clare--Question of Percy's going to a public school. + + 1831. Mary Shelley applies to Sir Timothy for an increase of + allowance--She is refused. + + 1832. Letter from Godwin asking for an idea or suggestion-- + Mary writes "Lives of Italian and Spanish Literary Men" for + Lardner's _Cyclopaedia_--Clare's tale--Cholera in London-- + Mary goes to Sandgate--Trelawny returns--His daughter stays + with Mary at Sandgate--Death of Lord Dillon--Letter from + Godwin--His son William dies of cholera--Posthumous novel, + _Transfusion_--Clare's letters to Jane and Mary. + + 1833. Mrs. Shelley goes to live at Harrow--Letter to Mrs. + Gisborne--Influenza--Solitude--Hard work--Letter from + 1834 Godwin--Letters from Mary to Trelawny and to Mrs. + Gisborne--Offer of L600 for annotated edition of Shelley's + works--Difficulties. + + 1835. _Lodore_--Its success--Reminiscences of her own + experiences--Letter from Clare--Melancholy letter from Mary + to Mrs. Gisborne--"A Dirge"--Trelawny returns from America-- + Mary's friendship with Mrs. Norton--Letter to Mrs. + Gisborne--Godwin's 1836 death--Efforts to get an annuity for + his widow--Letters from Mrs. Norton and Trelawny. + + 1837. Letters from Mary to Trelawny--Death of the Gisbornes-- + Impediments to Mary's undertaking the biography of her + father--Her edition of Shelley's works--Painful task. + + 1839. Letter from Sir E. L. Bulwer--Fragment from Mrs. + Norton--The Diplomatic Service--Journal--Bitter Vexations-- + Illness--Recovery 233-291 + + + CHAPTER XXIV + + OCTOBER 1839-FEBRUARY 1851 + + 1839. Publication of Shelley's prose works--Motto--Letter + from Carlyle. + + 1840. Journal--Brighton--Continental tour with Percy and his + reading-party--Stay at Como--Mary's enjoyment--Her son takes + his degree, and receives allowance from his grandfather-- + Letter of congratulation from Mrs. Norton--Mary 1841 and + Percy go abroad again--Kissingen; Gotha; Weimar; Leipzig; + Berlin; Dresden; Prague; Linz; Salzburg; Venice-- + Associations--Winter at Florence--Rome--Sorrento--Home again. + + 1844. _Rambles in Germany and Italy_--Dedication to Rogers: + note from him--Death of Sir T. Shelley--Mary's letter to + Leigh Hunt--Shelley's various legacies--Letter from Hogg-- + Portrait--Mrs. Shelley's literary friendships--Letter from + Walter Savage Landor--Hogg's _Shelley Papers_--Subsequent + _Life of Shelley_--Facsimile of fragment in Mary's + handwriting--Medwin's book inaccurate and objectionable-- + Mary fails to write Shelley's Life--Marriage of Sir 1847 + Percy Shelley--Mary lives with her son and daughter-in-law-- + Her sweetness and unselfishness--Her kindness to her son's + friends--Clare's visits to Field Place--Her excitability and + eccentricity--Her death at Florence; 1878. + + 1851. Mary Shelley's health declines--Her death--Her grave + in Bournemouth Churchyard--Retrospect of her history and + mental development--Extract from Journal of October 1838, + giving her own views--The success of her life a moral rather + than an intellectual one--Her nobility of character--Her + influence on Shelley--Her lifelong devotion to him 292-325 + + + + +THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +JULY-SEPTEMBER 1822 + + +They set off at once, death in their hearts, yet clinging outwardly to any +semblance of a hope. They crossed to Lerici, they posted to Pisa; they +went first to Casa Lanfranchi. Byron was there; he could tell them +nothing. It was midnight, but to rest or wait was impossible; they posted +on to Leghorn. They went about inquiring for Trelawny or Roberts. Not +finding the right inn they were forced to wait till next morning before +prosecuting their search. They found Roberts; he only knew the _Ariel_ had +sailed on Monday; there had been a storm, and no more had been heard of +her. Still they did not utterly despair. Contrary winds might have driven +the boat to Corsica or elsewhere, and information was perhaps withheld. + + "So remorselessly," says Trelawny, "are the quarantine laws enforced + in Italy that, when at sea, if you render assistance to a vessel in + distress, or rescue a drowning stranger, on returning to port you are + condemned to a long and rigorous quarantine of fourteen or more days. + The consequence is, should one vessel see another in peril, or even + run it down by accident, she hastens on her course, and by general + accord not a word is said or reported on the subject." + +Trelawny accompanied the forlorn women back to Casa Magni, whence, for the +next seven or eight days, he patrolled the coast with the coastguards, +stimulating them to keep a good look-out by the promise of a reward. On +Thursday, the 18th, he left for Leghorn, and on the next day a letter came +to him from Captain Roberts with the intelligence that the bodies of +Shelley and Williams had been washed ashore. The letter was received and +opened by Clare Clairmont. To communicate its contents to Mary or Jane was +more than she could do: in her distress she wrote to Leigh Hunt for help +or counsel. + + _Friday Evening, 19th July 1822._ + + MY DEAR SIR--Mr. Trelawny went for Livorno last night. There came this + afternoon a letter to him from Captain Roberts--he had left orders + with Mary that she might open it; I did not allow her to see it. He + writes there is no hope, but they are lost, and their bodies found + three miles from Via Reggio. This letter is dated 15th July, and says + he had heard this news 14th July. Outside the letter he has added, "I + am now on my way to Via Reggio, to ascertain the facts or _no facts_ + contained in my letter." This then implies that he doubts, and as I + also doubt the report, because we had a letter from the captain of + the port at Via Reggio, 15th July, later than when Mr. Roberts writes, + to say nothing had been found, for this reason I have not shown his + letter either to Mary or Mrs. Williams. How can I, even if it were + true? + + I pray you to answer this by return of my messenger. I assure you I + cannot break it to them, nor is my spirit, weakened as it is from + constant suffering, capable of giving them consolation, or protecting + them from the first burst of their despair. I entreat you to give me + some counsel, or to arrange some method by which they may know it. I + know not what further to add, except that their case is desperate in + every respect, and death would be the greatest kindness to us + all.--Ever your sincere friend, + + CLARE. + +This letter can hardly have been despatched before Trelawny arrived. He +had seen the mangled, half-devoured corpses, and had identified them at +once. It remained for him now to pronounce sentence of doom, as it were, +on the survivors. This is his story, as he tells it-- + + I mounted my horse and rode to the Gulf of Spezzia, put up my horse, + and walked until I caught sight of the lone house on the sea-shore in + which Shelley and Williams had dwelt, and where their widows still + lived. Hitherto in my frequent visits--in the absence of direct + evidence to the contrary--I had buoyed up their spirits by maintaining + that it was not impossible but that the friends still lived; now I had + to extinguish the last hope of these forlorn women. I had ridden fast + to prevent any ruder messenger from bursting in upon them. As I stood + on the threshold of their house, the bearer or rather confirmer of + news which would rack every fibre of their quivering frames to the + uttermost, I paused, and, looking at the sea, my memory reverted to + our joyous parting only a few days before. The two families then had + all been in the verandah, overhanging a sea so clear and calm that + every star was reflected on the water as if it had been a mirror; the + young mothers singing some merry tune with the accompaniment of a + guitar. Shelley's shrill laugh--I heard it still--rang in my ears, + with Williams' friendly hail, the general _buona notte_ of all the + joyous party, and the earnest entreaty to me to return as soon as + possible, and not to forget the commissions they had severally given + me. I was in a small boat beneath them, slowly rowing myself on board + the _Bolivar_, at anchor in the bay, loath to part from what I verily + believed to have been at that time the most united and happiest set of + human beings in the whole world. And now by the blow of an idle puff + of wind the scene was changed. Such is human happiness. + + My reverie was broken by a shriek from the nurse Caterina as, crossing + the hall, she saw me in the doorway. After asking her a few questions + I went up the stairs, and unannounced entered the room. I neither + spoke nor did they question me. Mrs. Shelley's large gray eyes were + fixed on my face. I turned away. Unable to bear this horrid silence, + with a convulsive effort she exclaimed-- + + "Is there no hope?" + + I did not answer, but left the room, and sent the servant with the + children to them. The next day I prevailed on them to return with me + to Pisa. The misery of that night and the journey of the next day, and + of many days and nights that followed, I can neither describe nor + forget. + +There is no journal or contemporary record of the next three or four +weeks; only from a few scattered hints in letters can any idea be gleaned +of this dark time, when the first realisation of incredible misfortune was +being lived out in detail. Leigh Hunt was almost broken-hearted. + + "Dearest Mary," he wrote from Casa Lanfranchi on the 20th July, "I + trust you will have set out on your return from that dismal place + before you receive this. You will also have seen Trelawny. God bless + you, and enable us all to be a support for one another. Let us do our + best if it is only for that purpose. It is easier for me to say that I + will do it than for you: but whatever happens, this I can safely say, + that I belong to those whom Shelley loves, and that all which it is + possible to me to do for them now and for ever is theirs. I will + grieve with them, endure with them, and, if it be necessary, work for + them, while I have life.--Your most affectionate friend, + + LEIGH HUNT. + + Marianne sends you a thousand loves, and longs with myself to try + whether we can say or do one thing that can enable you and Mrs. + Williams to bear up a little better. But we rely on your great + strength of mind." + +Mary bore up in a way that surprised those who knew how ill she had been, +how weak she still was, and how much she had previously been suffering in +her spirits. It was a strange, tense, unnatural endurance. Except to Miss +Curran at Rome, she wrote to no one for some time, not even to her father. +This, which would naturally have been her first communication, may well +have appeared harder to make than any other. Godwin's relations with +Shelley had of late been strained, to say the least,--and then, Mary could +not but remember his letters to her after Williams' death, and the +privilege he had claimed "as a father and a philosopher" of rebuking, nay, +of contemptuously deprecating her then excess of grief. How was she to +write now in such a tone as to avert an answer of that sort? how write at +all? She did accomplish it at last, but before her letter arrived Godwin +had heard of the catastrophe through Miss Kent, sister of Mrs. Leigh Hunt. +His fatherly feeling of anxiety for his daughter was aroused, and after +waiting two days for direct news, he wrote to her as follows-- + + GODWIN TO MARY. + + NO. 195 STRAND, _6th August 1822_. + + DEAR MARY--I heard only two days ago the most afflicting intelligence + to you, and in some measure to all of us, that can be imagined--the + death of Shelley on the 8th ultimo. I have had no direct information; + the news only comes in a letter from Leigh Hunt to Miss Kent, and, + therefore, were it not for the consideration of the writer, I should + be authorised to disbelieve it. That you should be so overcome as not + to be able to write is perhaps but too natural; but that Jane could + not write one line I could never have believed; and the behaviour of + the lady at Pisa towards us on the occasion is peculiarly cruel. + + Leigh Hunt says you bear up under the shock better than could have + been imagined; but appearances are not to be relied on. It would have + been a great relief to me to have had a few lines from yourself. In a + case like this, one lets one's imagination loose among the + possibilities of things, and one is apt to rest upon what is most + distressing and intolerable. I learned the news on Sunday. I was in + hope to have had my doubts and fears removed by a letter from yourself + on Monday. I again entertained the same hope to-day, and am again + disappointed. I shall hang in hope and fear on every post, knowing + that you cannot neglect me for ever. + + All that I expressed to you about silence and not writing to you again + is now put an end to in the most melancholy way. I looked on you as + one of the daughters of prosperity, elevated in rank and fortune, and + I thought it was criminal to intrude on you for ever the sorrows of an + unfortunate old man and a beggar. You are now fallen to my own level; + you are surrounded with adversity and with difficulty; and I no longer + hold it sacrilege to trouble you with my adversities. We shall now + truly sympathise with each other; and whatever misfortune or ruin + falls upon me, I shall not now scruple to lay it fully before you. + + This sorrowful event is, perhaps, calculated to draw us nearer to each + other. I am the father of a family, but without children; I and my + wife are falling fast into infirmity and helplessness; and in addition + to all our other calamities, we seem destined to be left without + connections and without aid. Perhaps now we and you shall mutually + derive consolation from each other. + + Poor Jane is, I am afraid, left still more helpless than you are. + Common misfortune, I hope, will incite between you the most friendly + feelings. + + Shelley lived, I know, in constant anticipation of the uncertainty of + his life, though not in this way, and was anxious in that event to + make the most effectual provision for you. I am impatient to hear in + what way that has been done; and perhaps you will make me your lawyer + in England if any steps are necessary. I am desirous to call on + Longdill, but I should call with more effect if I had authority and + instructions from you. Mamma desires me to say how truly and deeply + she sympathises in your affliction, and I trust you know enough of her + to feel that this is the language of her heart. + + I suppose you will hardly stay in Italy. In that case we shall be near + to, and support each other.--Ever and ever affectionately yours, + + WILLIAM GODWIN. + + I have received your letter dated (it has no date) since writing the + above; it was detained for some hours by being directed to the care of + Monro, for which I cannot account. William wrote to you on the 14th of + June, and I on the 23d of July. I will call on Peacock and Hogg as you + desire. Perhaps Williams' letter, and perhaps others, have been kept + from you. Let us now be open and unreserved in all things. + +This letter was doubtless intended to be kind and sympathetic, even in the +persistent prominence given to the business aspect of recent events. Yet +it was comical in its solemnity. For when had Godwin held it sacrilege to +trouble his daughter with his adversities, or shown the slightest scruple +in laying before her any misfortune or ruin that may have fallen on him? +and what new prospect was afforded her in the future by his promise of +doing so now? No; this privilege of a father and a philosopher had never +been neglected by him. + +Well indeed might he feel anxious as to what provision had been made for +his daughter by her husband. In these matters he had long ceased to have a +conscience, yet it was impossible he should be unaware that the utmost his +son-in-law had been able to effect, and that at the expense of enormous +sacrifices on the part of himself and his heirs, and of all the credit he +possessed with publishers and the one or two friends who were not also +dependents, had been to pay his, Godwin's, perpetual debts, and to keep +him, as long as he could be kept, afloat. + +Small opportunity had Shelley's "dear"[1] friends allowed him as yet to +make provision for his family in case of sudden misfortune! + +Godwin, however, was really anxious about Mary, and his anxiety was +perhaps increased by his letter; for in three days he wrote again, with +out alluding to money. + + GODWIN TO MARY. + + _9th August 1822._ + + MY DEAR MARY--I am inexpressibly anxious to hear from you, and your + present situation renders the reciprocation of letters and + answers--implying an interval of a month between each letter I receive + from you to the next--intolerable. + + My poor girl, what do you mean to do with yourself? You surely do not + mean to stay in Italy? How glad I should be to be near you, and to + endeavour by new expedients each day to endeavour to make up your + loss. But you are the best judge. If Italy is a country to which in + these few years you are naturalised, and if England is become dull and + odious to you, then stay! + + I should think, however, that now that you have lost your closest + friend, your mind would naturally turn homeward, and to your earliest + friend. Is it not so? Surely we might be a great support to each other + under the trials to which we are reserved. What signify a few outward + adversities if we find a friend at home? + + One thing I would earnestly recommend in our future intercourse, is + perfect frankness. I think you are of a frank nature, I am sure I am + so. We have now no battle to fight,--no contention to maintain,--that + is over now. + + Above all, let me entreat you to keep up your courage. You have many + duties to perform; you must now be the father as well as the mother; + and I trust you have energy of character enough to enable you to + perform your duties honourably and well.--Ever and ever most + affectionately yours, + + W. GODWIN. + +The stunning nature of the blow she had endured, the uncertainty and +complication of her affairs, and the absence of any one preponderating +motive, made it impossible for Mary to settle at once on any scheme for +the future. Her first idea was to return to England without delay, so as +to avoid any possible risk to her boy from the Italian climate. Her one +wish was to possess herself, before leaving, of the portrait of Shelley +begun at Rome by Miss Curran, and laid aside in an unfinished state as a +failure. In the absence of any other likeness it would be precious, and it +might perhaps be improved. It was on this subject that she had written to +Miss Curran in the quite early days of her misfortune; no answer had come, +and she wrote again, now to request "that favour now nearer my heart than +any other thing--the picture of my Shelley." + + "We leave Italy soon," she continued, "so I am particularly anxious to + obtain this treasure, which I am sure you will give me as soon as + possible. I have no other likeness of him, and in so utter desolation, + how invaluable to me is your picture. Will you not send it? Will you + not answer me without delay? Your former kindness bids me hope + everything." + +She was awakening to life again; in other words, to pain: with keen +anguish, like that of returning circulation to a limb which has been +frozen and numb, her feelings, her forces, her intellect, began to respond +to outward calls upon them, with a sensation, at times, of even morbid +activity. It was a kind of relief, now, to write to Mrs. Gisborne that +letter which contains the most graphic and connected of all accounts of +the past tragedy. + + MRS. SHELLEY TO MRS. GISBORNE. + + _15th August 1822._ + + I said in a letter to Peacock, my dear Mrs. Gisborne, that I would + send you some account of the last miserable months of my disastrous + life. From day to day I have put this off, but I will now endeavour to + fulfil my design. The scene of my existence is closed, and though + there be no pleasure in retracing the scenes that have preceded the + event which has crushed my hopes, yet there seems to be a necessity in + doing so, and I obey the impulse that urges me. I wrote to you either + at the end of May or the beginning of June. I described to you the + place we were living in--our desolate house, the beauty yet + strangeness of the scenery, and the delight Shelley took in all this. + He never was in better health or spirits than during this time. I was + not well in body or mind. My nerves were wound up to the utmost + irritation, and the sense of misfortune hung over my spirits. No words + can tell you how I hated our house and the country about it. Shelley + reproached me for this--his health was good, and the place was quite + after his own heart. What could I answer? That the people were wild + and hateful, that though the country was beautiful yet I liked a more + _countrified_ place, that there was great difficulty in living, that + all our Tuscans would leave us, and that the very jargon of these + _Genovesi_ was disgusting. This was all I had to say, but no words + could describe my feelings; the beauty of the woods made me weep and + shudder; so vehement was my feeling of dislike that I used to rejoice + when the winds and waves permitted me to go out in the boat, so that I + was not obliged to take my usual walk among the shaded paths, alleys + of vine festooned trees--all that before I doated on, and that now + weighed on me. My only moments of peace were on board that unhappy + boat when, lying down with my head on his knee, I shut my eyes and + felt the wind and our swift motion alone. My ill health might account + for much of this. Bathing in the sea somewhat relieved me, but on the + 8th of June (I think it was) I was threatened with a miscarriage, and + after a week of great ill health, on Sunday, the 16th, this took place + at 8 in the morning. I was so ill that for seven hours I lay nearly + lifeless--kept from fainting by brandy, vinegar, and eau-de-Cologne, + etc. At length ice was brought to our solitude; it came before the + doctor, so Clare and Jane were afraid of using it, but Shelley + overruled them, and by an unsparing application of it I was restored. + They all thought, and so did I at one time, that I was about to die, I + hardly wished that I had,--my own Shelley could never have lived + without me; the sense of eternal misfortune would have pressed too + heavily upon him, and what would have become of my poor babe? My + convalescence was slow, and during it a strange occurrence happened to + retard it. But first I must describe our house to you. The floor on + which we lived was thus-- + + +--------------------------------------------+ + | | | | + | 5 | 7 | 3 | + | | | | + |-----| |-----| + | | | | + | 6 | 2 | 4 | + | | | | + |-----+--------------------------------+-----| + | | + | 1 | + +--------------------------------------------+ + + 1 is a terrace that went the whole length of our house and was + precipitous to the sea; 2, the large dining-hall; 3, a private + staircase; 4, my bedroom; 5, Mrs. Williams' bedroom; 6, Shelley's; and + 7, the entrance from the great staircase. Now to return. As I said, + Shelley was at first in perfect health, but having over-fatigued + himself one day, and then the fright my illness gave him, caused a + return of nervous sensations and visions as bad as in his worst times. + I think it was the Saturday after my illness, while yet unable to + walk, I was confined to my bed--in the middle of the night I was awoke + by hearing him scream and come rushing into my room; I was sure that + he was asleep, and tried to waken him by calling on him, but he + continued to scream, which inspired me with such a panic that I jumped + out of bed and ran across the hall to Mrs. Williams' room, where I + fell through weakness, though I was so frightened that I got up again + immediately. She let me in, and Williams went to Shelley, who had been + wakened by my getting out of bed--he said that he had not been asleep, + and that it was a vision that he saw that had frightened him. But as + he declared that he had not screamed, it was certainly a dream, and no + waking vision. What had frightened him was this. He dreamt that, lying + as he did in bed, Edward and Jane came in to him; they were in the + most horrible condition; their bodies lacerated, their bones starting + through their skin, their faces pale yet stained with blood; they + could hardly walk, but Edward was the weakest, and Jane was supporting + him. Edward said, "Get up, Shelley, the sea is flooding the house, and + it is all coming down." Shelley got up, he thought, and went to his + window that looked on the terrace and the sea, and thought he saw the + sea rushing in. Suddenly his vision changed, and he saw the figure of + himself strangling me; that had made him rush into my room, yet, + fearful of frightening me, he dared not approach the bed, when my + jumping out awoke him, or, as he phrased it, caused his vision to + vanish. All this was frightful enough, and talking it over the next + morning, he told me that he had had many visions lately; he had seen + the figure of himself, which met him as he walked on the terrace and + said to him, "How long do you mean to be content?" no very terrific + words, and certainly not prophetic of what has occurred. But Shelley + had often seen these figures when ill; but the strangest thing is that + Mrs. Williams saw him. Now Jane, though a woman of sensibility, has + not much imagination, and is not in the slightest degree nervous, + neither in dreams nor otherwise. She was standing one day, the day + before I was taken ill, at a window that looked on the terrace, with + Trelawny. It was day. She saw, as she thought, Shelley pass by the + window, as he often was then, without a coat or jacket; he passed + again. Now, as he passed both times the same way, and as from the side + towards which he went each time there was no way to get back except + past the window again (except over a wall 20 feet from the ground), + she was struck at her seeing him pass twice thus, and looked out and + seeing him no more, she cried, "Good God, can Shelley have leapt from + the wall? Where can he be gone?" "Shelley," said Trelawny, "no Shelley + has passed. What do you mean?" Trelawny says that she trembled + exceedingly when she heard this, and it proved, indeed, that Shelley + had never been on the terrace, and was far off at the time she saw + him. Well, we thought no more of these things, and I slowly got + better. Having heard from Hunt that he had sailed from Genoa, on + Monday, 1st July, Shelley, Edward, and Captain Roberts (the gentleman + who built our boat) departed in our boat for Leghorn to receive him. I + was then just better, had begun to crawl from my bedroom to the + terrace, but bad spirits succeeded to ill health, and this departure + of Shelley's seemed to add insufferably to my misery. I could not + endure that he should go. I called him back two or three times, and + told him that if I did not see him soon I would go to Pisa with the + child. I cried bitterly when he went away. They went, and Jane, Clare, + and I remained alone with the children. I could not walk out, and + though I gradually gathered strength, it was slowly, and my ill + spirits increased. In my letters to him I entreated him to return; + "the feeling that some misfortune would happen," I said, "haunted me." + I feared for the child, for the idea of danger connected with him + never struck me. When Jane and Clare took their evening walk, I used + to patrol the terrace, oppressed with wretchedness, yet gazing on the + most beautiful scene in the world. This Gulf of Spezzia is subdivided + into many small bays, of which ours was far the most beautiful. The + two horns of the bay (so to express myself) were wood-covered + promontories, crowned with castles; at the foot of these, on the + farthest, was Lerici, on the nearest San Terenzo; Lerici being above a + mile by land from us, and San Terenzo about a hundred or two yards. + Trees covered the hills that enclosed this bay, and their beautiful + groups were picturesquely contrasted with the rocks, the castle, and + the town. The sea lay far extended in front, while to the west we saw + the promontory and islands, which formed one of the extreme boundaries + of the Gulf. To see the sun set upon this scene, the stars shine, and + the moon rise, was a sight of wondrous beauty, but to me it added only + to my wretchedness. I repeated to myself all that another would have + said to console me, and told myself the tale of love, peace, and + competence which I enjoyed; but I answered myself by tears--Did not my + William die, and did I hold my Percy by a firmer tenure? Yet I thought + when he, when my Shelley, returns, I shall be happy; he will comfort + me, if my boy be ill he will restore him, and encourage me. I had a + letter or two from Shelley, mentioning the difficulties he had in + establishing the Hunts, and that he was unable to fix the time of his + return. Thus a week passed. On Monday, 8th, Jane had a letter from + Edward, dated Saturday; he said that he waited at Leghorn for Shelley, + who was at Pisa; that Shelley's return was certain; "but," he + continued, "if he should not come by Monday, I will come in a felucca, + and you may expect me Tuesday evening at farthest." This was Monday, + the fatal Monday, but with us it was stormy all day, and we did not at + all suppose that they could put to sea. At 12 at night we had a + thunderstorm; Tuesday it rained all day, and was calm--wept on their + graves. On Wednesday the wind was fair from Leghorn, and in the + evening several feluccas arrived thence; one brought word that they + had sailed on Monday, but we did not believe them. Thursday was + another day of fair wind, and when 12 at night came, and we did not + see the tall sails of the little boat double the promontory before + us, we began to fear, not the truth, but some illness--some + disagreeable news for their detention. Jane got so uneasy that she + determined to proceed the next day to Leghorn in a boat, to see what + was the matter. Friday came, and with it a heavy sea and bad wind. + Jane, however, resolved to be rowed to Leghorn (since no boat could + sail), and busied herself in preparations. I wished her to wait for + letters, since Friday was letter day. She would not; but the sea + detained her; the swell rose so that no boat could venture out. At 12 + at noon our letters came; there was one from Hunt to Shelley; it said, + "Pray write to tell us how you got home, for they say that you had bad + weather after you sailed Monday, and we are anxious." The paper fell + from me. I trembled all over. Jane read it. "Then it is all over," she + said. "No, my dear Jane," I cried, "it is not all over, but this + suspense is dreadful. Come with me, we will go to Leghorn; we will + post to be swift, and learn our fate." We crossed to Lerici, despair + in our hearts; they raised our spirits there by telling us that no + accident had been heard of, and that it must have been known, etc., + but still our fear was great, and without resting we posted to Pisa. + It must have been fearful to see us--two poor, wild, aghast creatures + driving (like Matilda) towards the sea, to learn if we were to be for + ever doomed to misery. I knew that Hunt was at Pisa, at Lord Byron's + house, but I thought that Lord Byron was at Leghorn. I settled that we + should drive to Casa Lanfranchi, that I should get out, and ask the + fearful question of Hunt, "Do you know anything of Shelley?" On + entering Pisa, the idea of seeing Hunt for the first time for four + years, under such circumstances, and asking him such a question, was + so terrific to me, that it was with difficulty that I prevented myself + from going into convulsions. My struggles were dreadful. They knocked + at the door, and some one called out, _chi e?_ It was the Guiccioli's + maid. Lord Byron was in Pisa. Hunt was in bed; so I was to see Lord + Byron instead of him. This was a great relief to me. I staggered + upstairs; the Guiccioli came to meet me, smiling, while I could + hardly say, "Where is he--Sapete alcuna cosa di Shelley?" They knew + nothing; he had left Pisa on Sunday; on Monday he had sailed; there + had been bad weather Monday afternoon. More they knew not. Both Lord + Byron and the lady have told me since, that on that terrific evening I + looked more like a ghost than a woman--light seemed to emanate from my + features; my face was very white; I looked like marble. Alas! I had + risen almost from a bed of sickness for this journey; I had travelled + all day; it was now 12 at night, and we, refusing to rest, proceeded + to Leghorn--not in despair--no, for then we must have died; but with + sufficient hope to keep up the agitation of the spirits, which was all + my life. It was past 2 in the morning when we arrived. They took us to + the wrong inn; neither Trelawny nor Captain Roberts were there, nor + did we exactly know where they were, so we were obliged to wait until + daylight: we threw ourselves drest on our beds, and slept a little, + but at 6 o'clock we went to one or two inns, to ask for one or the + other of these gentlemen. We found Roberts at the "Globe." He came + down to us with a face that seemed to tell us that the worst was true, + and here we learned all that occurred during the week they had been + absent from us, and under what circumstances they had departed on + their return. + + Shelley had passed most of the time at Pisa, arranging the affairs of + the Hunts, and screwing Lord Byron's mind to the sticking place about + the journal. He had found this a difficult task at first, but at + length he had succeeded to his heart's content with both points. Mrs. + Mason said that she saw him in better health and spirits than she had + ever known him, when he took leave of her, Sunday, July 7, his face + burnt by the sun, and his heart light, that he had succeeded in + rendering the Hunts tolerably comfortable. Edward had remained at + Leghorn. On Monday, July 8, during the morning, they were employed in + buying many things, eatables, etc., for our solitude. There had been a + thunderstorm early, but about noon the weather was fine, and the wind + right fair for Lerici. They were impatient to be gone. Roberts said, + "Stay until to-morrow, to see if the weather is settled;" and Shelley + might have stayed, but Edward was in so great an anxiety to reach + home, saying they would get there in seven hours with that wind, that + they sailed; Shelley being in one of those extravagant fits of good + spirits, in which you have sometimes seen him. Roberts went out to the + end of the mole, and watched them out of sight; they sailed at 1, and + went off at the rate of about seven knots. About 3, Roberts, who was + still on the mole, saw wind coming from the Gulf, or rather what the + Italians call _a temporale_. Anxious to know how the boat would + weather the storm, he got leave to go up the tower, and, with the + glass, discovered them about ten miles out at sea, off Via Reggio; + they were taking in their topsails. "The haze of the storm," he said, + "hid them from me, and I saw them no more. When the storm cleared, I + looked again, fancying that I should see them on their return to us, + but there was no boat on the sea." + + This, then, was all we knew, yet we did not despair; they might have + been driven over to Corsica, and not knowing the coast, have gone God + knows where. Reports favoured this belief; it was even said that they + had been seen in the Gulf. We resolved to return with all possible + speed; we sent a courier to go from tower to tower, along the coast, + to know if anything had been seen or found, and at 9 A.M. we quitted + Leghorn, stopped but one moment at Pisa, and proceeded towards Lerici. + When at two miles from Via Reggio, we rode down to that town to know + if they knew anything. Here our calamity first began to break on us; a + little boat and a water cask had been found five miles off--they had + manufactured a _piccolissima lancia_ of thin planks stitched by a + shoemaker, just to let them run on shore without wetting themselves, + as our boat drew four feet of water. The description of that found + tallied with this, but then this boat was very cumbersome, and in bad + weather they might have been easily led to throw it overboard,--the + cask frightened me most,--but the same reason might in some sort be + given for that. I must tell you that Jane and I were not alone. + Trelawny accompanied us back to our home. We journeyed on and reached + the Magra about half-past 10 P.M. I cannot describe to you what I felt + in the first moment when, fording this river, I felt the water splash + about our wheels. I was suffocated--I gasped for breath--I thought I + should have gone into convulsions, and I struggled violently that Jane + might not perceive it. Looking down the river I saw the two great + lights burning at the _foce_; a voice from within me seemed to cry + aloud, "That is his grave." After passing the river I gradually + recovered. Arriving at Lerici we were obliged to cross our little bay + in a boat. San Terenzo was illuminated for a festa. What a scene! The + waving sea, the sirocco wind, the lights of the town towards which we + rowed, and our own desolate hearts, that coloured all with a shroud. + We landed. Nothing had been heard of them. This was Saturday, July 13, + and thus we waited until Thursday July 18, thrown about by hope and + fear. We sent messengers along the coast towards Genoa and to Via + Reggio; nothing had been found more than the _Lancetta_; reports were + brought us; we hoped; and yet to tell you all the agony we endured + during those twelve days, would be to make you conceive a universe of + pain--each moment intolerable, and giving place to one still worse. + The people of the country, too, added to one's discomfort; they are + like wild savages; on festas, the men and women and children in + different bands--the sexes always separate--pass the whole night in + dancing on the sands close to our door; running into the sea, then + back again, and screaming all the time one perpetual air, the most + detestable in the world; then the sirocco perpetually blew, and the + sea for ever moaned their dirge. On Thursday, 18th, Trelawny left us + to go to Leghorn, to see what was doing or what could be done. On + Friday I was very ill; but as evening came on, I said to Jane, "If + anything had been found on the coast, Trelawny would have returned to + let us know. He has not returned, so I hope." About 7 o'clock P.M. he + did return; all was over, all was quiet now; they had been found + washed on shore. Well, all this was to be endured. + + Well, what more have I to say? The next day we returned to Pisa, and + here we are still. Days pass away, one after another, and we live + thus; we are all together; we shall quit Italy together. Jane must + proceed to London. If letters do not alter my views, I shall remain in + Paris. Thus we live, seeing the Hunts now and then. Poor Hunt has + suffered terribly, as you may guess. Lord Byron is very kind to me, + and comes with the Guiccioli to see me often. To-day, this day, the + sun shining in the sky, they are gone to the desolate sea-coast to + perform the last offices to their earthly remains, Hunt, Lord Byron, + and Trelawny. The quarantine laws would not permit us to remove them + sooner, and now only on condition that we burn them to ashes. That I + do not dislike. His rest shall be at Rome beside my child, where one + day I also shall join them. _Adonais_ is not Keats', it is his own + elegy; he bids you there go to Rome. I have seen the spot where he now + lies,--the sticks that mark the spot where the sands cover him; he + shall not be there, it is too near Via Reggio. They are now about this + fearful office, and I live! + + One more circumstance I will mention. As I said, he took leave of Mrs. + Mason in high spirits on Sunday. "Never," said she, "did I see him + look happier than the last glance I had of his countenance." On Monday + he was lost. On Monday night she dreamt that she was somewhere, she + knew not where, and he came, looking very pale and fearfully + melancholy. She said to him, "You look ill; you are tired; sit down + and eat." "No," he replied, "I shall never eat more; I have not a + soldo left in the world." "Nonsense," said she, "this is no inn, you + need not pay." "Perhaps," he answered, "it is the worse for that." + Then she awoke; and, going to sleep again, she dreamt that my Percy + was dead; and she awoke crying bitterly--so bitterly, and felt so + miserable--that she said to herself, "Why, if the little boy should + die, I should not feel it in this manner." She was so struck with + these dreams, that she mentioned them to her servant the next day, + saying she hoped all was well with us. + + Well, here is my story--the last story I shall have to tell. All that + might have been bright in my life is now despoiled. I shall live to + improve myself, to take care of my child, and render myself worthy to + join him. Soon my weary pilgrimage will begin. I rest now, but soon I + must leave Italy, and then there is an end of all but despair. Adieu! + I hope you are well and happy. I have an idea that while he was at + Pisa, he received a letter from you that I have never seen; so not + knowing where to direct, I shall send this letter to Peacock. I shall + send it open; he may be glad to read it.--Yours ever truly, + + MARY W. S. + + + PISA, _15th August 1822_. + + I shall probably write soon again. I have left out a material + circumstance. A fishing-boat saw them go down. It was about 4 in the + afternoon. They saw the boy at mast-head, when baffling winds struck + the sails. They had looked away a moment, and, looking again, the boat + was gone. This is their story, but there is little doubt that these + men might have saved them, at least Edward, who could swim. They could + not, they said, get near her; but three-quarters of an hour after + passed over the spot where they had seen her. They protested no wreck + of her was visible; but Roberts, going on board their boat, found + several spars belonging to her: perhaps they let them perish to obtain + these. Trelawny thinks he can get her up, since another fisherman + thinks that he has found the spot where she lies, having drifted near + shore. Trelawny does this to know, perhaps, the cause of her wreck; + but I care little about it. + +All readers know Trelawny's graphic account of the burning of the bodies +of Shelley and Williams. Subsequent to this ceremony a painful episode +took place between Mary and Leigh Hunt. Hunt had witnessed the obsequies +(from Lord Byron's carriage), and to him was given by Trelawny the heart +of Shelley, which in the flames had remained unconsumed. This precious +relic he refused to give up to her who was its rightful owner, saying +that, to induce him to part with it, her claim must be maintained by +"strong and conclusive arguments." It was difficult to advance arguments +strong enough if the nature of the case was not in itself convincing. He +showed no disposition to yield, and Mary was desperate. Where logic, +justice, and good feeling failed, a woman's tact, however, succeeded. Mrs. +Williams "wrote to Hunt, and represented to him how grievous it was that +Shelley's remains should become a source of dissension between his dearest +friends. She obtained her purpose. Hunt said she had brought forward the +only argument that could have induced him to yield." + +Under the influence of a like feeling Mary seems to have borne Hunt no +grudge for what must, at least, have appeared to her as an act of most +gratuitous selfishness. + +But Mary Shelley and Jane Williams had, both of them, to face facts and +think of the future. Hardest of all, it became evident that, for the +present, they must part. Their affection for each other, warm in happier +times, had developed by force of circumstances into a mutual need; so much +nearer, in their sorrow, were they to each other than either could be to +any one else. But Jane had friends in England, and she required to enlist +the interest of Edward's relations in behalf of his orphan children. + +Meanwhile, if Mary had for the moment any outward tie or responsibility, +it was towards the Leigh Hunts, thus expatriated at the request and desire +of others, with a very uncertain prospect of permanent result or benefit. +Byron, having helped to start the _Liberal_ with contributions of his own, +and thus fulfilled a portion of his bond, might give them the slip at any +moment. Shelley, although little disposed toward the "coalition," had +promised assistance, and any such promise from him would have been sure to +mean, in practice, more, and not less, than it said. Mary had his MSS.; +she knew his intentions; she was, as far as any mortal could be, his +fitting literary representative. She had little to call her elsewhere. The +Hunts were friendly and affectionate and full of pity for her; they were +also poor and dependent. All tended to one result; she and they must for +the present join forces, so saving expense; and she was to give all the +help she could to the _Liberal_. Lord Byron was going to Genoa. Mary and +the Hunts agreed to take a house together there for several months or a +year. + +Once more she wrote from Pisa to her friend. + + MARY SHELLEY TO MRS. GISBORNE. + + PISA, _10th September 1822_. + + And so here I am! I continue to exist--to see one day succeed the + other; to dread night, but more to dread morning, and hail another + cheerless day. My Boy, too, is alas! no consolation. When I think how + he loved him, the plans he had for his education, his sweet and + childish voice strikes me to the heart. Why should he live in this + world of pain and anguish? At times I feel an energy within me to + combat with my destiny; but again I sink. I have but one hope for + which I live, to render myself worthy to join him,--and such a feeling + sustains one during moments of enthusiasm, but darkness and misery + soon overwhelm the mind when all near objects bring agony alone with + them. People used to call me lucky in my star; you see now how true + such a prophecy is! I was fortunate in having fearlessly placed my + destiny in the hands of one who, a superior being among men, a bright + "planetary" spirit enshrined in an earthly temple, raised me to the + height of happiness. So far am I now happy, that I would not change my + situation as his widow with that of the most prosperous woman in the + world; and surely the time will at length come when I shall be at + peace, and my brain and heart no longer be alive with unutterable + anguish. I can conceive of but one circumstance that could afford me + the semblance of content, that is the being permitted to live where I + am now, in the same house, in the same state, occupied alone with my + child, in collecting his manuscripts, writing his life, and thus to go + easily to my grave. But this must not be! Even if circumstances did + not compel me to return to England, I would not stay another summer in + Italy with my child. I will at least do my best to render him well and + happy, and the idea that my circumstances may at all injure him is the + fiercest pang my mind endures. + + I wrote you a long letter containing a slight sketch of my sufferings. + I sent it directed to Peacock, at the India House, because accident + led me to fancy that you were no longer in London. I said in that, + that on that day (15th August) they had gone to perform the last + offices for him; however, I erred in this, for on that day those of + Edward were alone fulfilled, and they returned on the 16th to + celebrate Shelley's. I will say nothing of the ceremony, since + Trelawny has written an account of it, to be printed in the + forthcoming journal. I will only say that all, except his heart (which + was inconsumable), was burnt, and that two days ago I went to Leghorn + and beheld the small box that contained his earthly dross; those + smiles, that form--Great God! no, he is not there, he is with me, + about me--life of my life, and soul of my soul; if his divine spirit + did not penetrate mine I could not survive to weep thus. + + I will mention the friends I have here, that you may form an idea of + our situation. Mrs. Williams, Clare, and I live all together; we have + one purse, and, joined in misery, we are for the present joined in + life. She, poor girl, withers like a lily; she lives for her children, + but it is a living death. Lord Byron has been very kind; the Guiccioli + restrains him. She, being an Italian, is capable of being jealous of a + living corpse, such as I. Of Hunt I will speak when I see you. But the + friend to whom we are eternally indebted is Trelawny. I have, of + course, mentioned him to you as one who wishes to be considered + eccentric, but who was noble and generous at bottom. I always thought + so, even when no fact proved it, and Shelley agreed with me, as he + always did, or rather I with him. We heard people speak against him on + account of his vagaries; we said to one another, "Still we like + him--we believe him to be good." Once, even, when a whim of his led + him to treat me with something like impertinence, I forgave him, and I + have now been well rewarded. In my outline of events you will see how, + unasked, he returned with Jane and me from Leghorn to Lerici; how he + stayed with us poor miserable creatures[2] five days there, + endeavouring to keep up our spirits; how he left us on Thursday, and, + finding our misfortune confirmed, then without rest returned on Friday + to us, and again without rest returned to Pisa on Saturday. These were + no common services. Since that he has gone through, by himself, all + the annoyances of dancing attendance on Consuls and Governors for + permission to fulfil the last duties to those gone, and attending the + ceremony himself; all the disagreeable part, and all the fatigue, fell + on him. As Hunt said, "He worked with the meanest and felt with the + best." He is generous to a distressing degree. But after all these + benefits to us, what I most thank him for is this. When on that night + of agony, that Friday night, he returned to announce that hope was + dead for us; when he had told me that his earthly frame being found, + his spirit was no longer to be my guide, protector, and companion in + this dark world, he did not attempt to console me--that would have + been too cruelly useless,--but he launched forth into, as it were, an + overflowing and eloquent praise of my divine Shelley, till I was + almost happy that thus I was unhappy, to be fed by the praise of him, + and to dwell on the eulogy that his loss thus drew from his friend. Of + my friends I have only Mrs. Mason to mention; her coldness has stung + me; yet she felt his loss keenly, and would be very glad to serve me; + but it is not cold offers of service one wants; one's wounded spirit + demands a number of nameless slight but dear attentions that are a + balm, and wanting these, one feels a bitterness which is a painful + addition to one's other sufferings. + + God knows what will become of me! My life is now very monotonous as to + outward events, yet how diversified by internal feeling! How often in + the intensity of grief does one instant seem to fill and embrace the + universe! As to the rest, the mechanical spending of my time: of + course I have a great deal to do preparing for my journey. I make no + visits, except one once in about ten days to Mrs. Mason. I have not + seen Hunt these nine days. Trelawny resides chiefly at Leghorn, since + he is captain of Lord Byron's vessel, the _Bolivar_; he comes to see + us about once a week, and Lord Byron visits me about twice a week, + accompanied by the Guiccioli; but seeing people is an annoyance which + I am happy to be spared. Solitude is my only help and resource; + accustomed, even when he was with me, to spend much of my time alone, + I can at those moments forget myself, until some idea, which I think + I would communicate to him, occurs, and then the yawning and dark + gulph again displays itself, unshaded by the rainbow which the + imagination had formed. Despair, energy, love, desponding and + excessive affliction are like clouds driven across my mind, one by + one, until tears blot the scene, and weariness of spirit consigns me + to temporary repose. + + I shudder with horror when I look back on what I have suffered, and + when I think of the wild and miserable thoughts that have possessed me + I say to myself, "Is it true that I ever felt thus?" and then I weep + in pity of myself; yet each day adds to the stock of sorrow, and death + is the only end. I would study, and I hope I shall. I would write, and + when I am settled I may. But were it not for the steady hope I + entertain of joining him, what a mockery would be this world! without + that hope I could not study or write, for fame and usefulness (except + as regards my child) are nullities to me. Yet I shall be happy if + anything I ever produce may exalt and soften sorrow, as the writings + of the divinities of our race have mine. But how can I aspire to that? + + The world will surely one day feel what it has lost when this bright + child of song deserted her. Is not _Adonais_ his own elegy? and there + does he truly depict the universal woe which should overspread all + good minds since he has ceased to be their fellow-labourer in this + worldly scene. How lovely does he paint death to be, and with what + heartfelt sorrow does one repeat that line-- + + But I am chained to Time, and cannot thence depart. + + How long do you think I shall live? as long as my mother? Then eleven + long years must intervene. I am now on the eve of completing my five + and twentieth year; how drearily young for one so lost as I. How young + in years for one who lives ages each day in sorrow. Think you that + these moments are counted in my life as in other people's? Oh no! The + day before the sea closed over mine own Shelley he said to Marianne, + "If I die to-morrow I have lived to be older than my father; I am + ninety years of age." Thus, also, may I say. The eight years I passed + with him was spun out beyond the usual length of a man's life, and + what I have suffered since will write years on my brow and intrench + them in my heart. Surely I am not long for this world; most sure + should I be were it not for my boy, but God grant that I may live to + make his early years happy. + + Well, adieu! I have no events to write about, and can, therefore, only + scrawl about my feelings; this letter, indeed, is only the sequel of + my last. In that I closed the history of all events that can interest + me; that letter I wish you to send my Father, the present one it is + best not. + + I suppose I shall see you in England some of these days, but I shall + write to you again before I quit this place. Be as happy as you can, + and hope for better things in the next world; by firm hope you may + attain your wishes. Again, adieu!--Affectionately yours, + + M. S. + + Do not write to me again here, or at all, until I write to you. + +Within a day or two after this letter was written, Mary, with Jane +Williams and their children, quitted Pisa; Clare only remaining behind. + +From a letter--a very indignant one--of Mrs. Mason's, it may be inferred +that appeals for a little assistance had been made on Clare's behalf to +Byron, who did not respond. He had been, unwittingly, contributing to her +support during the last few weeks of Shelley's life; Shelley having +undertaken to get some translations (from Goethe) made for Byron, and +giving the work secretly to Clare. The truth now came out, and she found +more difficulty than heretofore in getting paid. Dependent for the future +on her own exertions, she was going, according to her former resolution, +to Vienna, where Charles Clairmont was now established. Mary's departure +left her dreadfully solitary, and within a few hours she despatched one of +her characteristic epistles, touched with that motley of bitter cynicism +and grotesque, racy, humour which developed in her later letters. + + _Half-past 2, Wednesday Morning._ + + MY DEAR MARY--You have only been gone a few hours. I have been + inexpressibly low-spirited. I hope dear Jane will be with you when + this arrives. Nothing new has happened--what should? To me there seems + nothing under the sun, except the old tale of misery, misery! + + * * * * * + + + _Thursday._ + + I am to begin my journey to Vienna on Monday. Mrs. Mason will make me + go, and the consequence is that it will be double as much, as I am to + go alone. Imagine all the lonely inns, the weary long miles, if I do. + Observe, whatever befalls in life, the heaviest part, the very dregs + of the misfortune fall on me. + + Alone, alone, all, all alone, + Upon a wide, wide sea, + And Christ would take no mercy + Upon my soul in agony. + + But I believe my Minerva[3] is right, for I might wait to all eternity + for a party. You may remember what Lord Byron said about paying for + the translation; now he has mumbled and grumbled and demurred, and + does not know whether it is worth it, and will only give forty crowns, + so that I shall not be overstocked when I arrive at Vienna, unless, + indeed, God shall spread a table for me in the wilderness. I mean to + chew rhubarb the whole way, as the only diversion I can think of at + all suited to my present state of feeling, and if I should write you + scolding letters, you will excuse them, knowing that, with the + Psalmist, "Out of the bitterness of my mouth have I spoken." + + * * * * * + + Kiss the dear little Percy for me, and if Jane is with you, tell her + how much I have thought of her, and that her image will always float + across my mind, shining in my dark history like a ray of light across + a cave. Kiss her children also with all a grandmother's love. Accept + my best wishes for your happiness. Dio ti da, Maria, ventura.--Your + affectionate + + CLARE. + +Mary answered this letter from Genoa. + + FROM MARY TO CLARE. + + GENOA, _15th September 1822_. + + MY DEAR CLARE--I do not wonder that you were and are melancholy, or + that the excess of that feeling should oppress you. Great God! what + have we gone through, what variety of care and misery, all close now + in blackest night. And I, am I not melancholy? here in this busy + hateful Genoa, where nothing speaks to me of him, except the sea, + which is his murderer. Well, I shall have his books and manuscripts, + and in those I shall live, and from the study of these I do expect + some instants of content. In solitude my imagination and ever-moving + thoughts may afford me some seconds of exaltation that may render me + both happier here and more worthy of him hereafter. + + Such as I felt walking up a mountain by myself at sunrise during my + journey, when the rocks looked black about me, and a white mist + concealed all but them. I thought then, that, thinking of him and + exciting my mind, my days might pass in a kind of peace; but these + thoughts are so fleeting; and then I expect unhappiness alone from all + the worldly part of my life--from my intercourse with human beings. I + know that will bring nothing but unhappiness to me, if, indeed, I + except Trelawny, who appears so truly generous and kind. + + But I will not talk of myself, you have enough to annoy and make you + miserable, and in nothing can I assist you. But I do hope that you + will find Germany better suited to you in every way than Italy, and + that you will make friends, and, more than all, become really attached + to some one there. + + I wish, when I was in Pisa, that you had said that you thought you + should be short of money, and I would have left you more; but you + seemed to think 150 francesconi plenty. I would not go on with Goethe + except with a fixed price per sheet, to be paid regularly, and that + price not less than five guineas. Make this understood fully through + Hunt before you go, and then I will take care that you get the money; + but if you do not _fix_ it, then I cannot manage so well. You are + going to Vienna--how anxiously do I hope to find peace; I do not hope + to find it here. Genoa has a bad atmosphere for me, I fear, and + nothing but the horror of being a burthen to my family prevents my + accompanying Jane. If I had any fixed income I would go at least to + Paris, and I shall go the moment I have one. Adieu, my dear Clare; + write to me often, as I shall to you.--Affectionately yours, + + MARY W. S. + + I cannot get your German dictionary now, since I must have packed it + in my great case of books, but I will send it by the first + opportunity. + +Jane and her children were the next to depart, and for a short time Mary +Shelley and her boy were alone. Besides taking a house for the Hunts and +herself, she had the responsibility of finding one for Lord Byron. People +never scrupled to make her of use; but any object, any duty to fulfil, was +good for her in her solitary misery, and she devoted some of her vacant +time to sending an account of her plans to Mrs. Gisborne. + + MARY SHELLEY TO MRS. GISBORNE. + + GENOA, _17th September 1822_. + + ... I am here alone in Genoa; quite, quite alone! J. has left me to + proceed to England, and, except my sleeping child, I am alone. Since + you do not communicate with my Father, you will perhaps be surprised, + after my last letter, that I do not come to England. I have written to + him a long account of the arguments of all my friends to dissuade me + from that miserable journey; Jane will detail them to you; and, + therefore, I merely say now that, having no business there, I am + determined not to spend that money which will support me nearly a year + here, in a journey, the sole end of which appears to me the necessity + I should be under, when arrived in London, of being a burthen to my + Father. When my crowns are gone, if Sir Timothy refuses, I hope to be + able to support myself by my writings and mine own Shelley's MSS. At + least during many long months I shall have peace as to money affairs, + and one evil the less is much to one whose existence is suffering + alone. Lord Byron has a house here, and will arrive soon. I have taken + a house for the Hunts and myself outside one of the gates. It is large + and neat, with a _podere_ attached; we shall pay about eighty crowns + between us, so I hope that I shall find tranquillity from care this + winter, though that may be the last of my life so free, yet I do not + hope it, though I say so; hope is a word that belongs not to my + situation. He--my own beloved, the exalted and divine Shelley--has + left me alone in this miserable world; this earth, canopied by the + eternal starry heaven--where he is--where, oh, my God! yes, where I + shall one day be. + + Clare is no longer with me. Jane quitted me this morning at 4. After + she left me I again went to rest, and thought of Pugnano, its halls, + its cypresses, the perfume of its mountains, and the gaiety of our + life beneath their shadow. Then I dozed awhile, and in my dream saw + dear Edward most visibly; he came, he said, to pass a few hours with + us, but could not stay long. Then I woke, and the day began. I went + out, took Hunt's house; but as I walked I felt that which is with me + the sign of unutterable grief. I am not given to tears, and though my + most miserable fate has often turned my eyes to fountains, yet oftener + I suffer agonies unassuaged by tears. But during these last sufferings + I have felt an oppression at my heart I never felt before. It is not a + palpitation, but a _stringimento_ which is quite convulsive, and, did + I not struggle greatly, would cause violent hysterics. Looking on the + sea, or hearing its roar, his dirge, it comes upon me; but these are + corporeal sufferings I can get over, but that which is insurmountable + is the constant feeling of despair that shadows me: I seem to walk on + a narrow path with fathomless precipices all around me. Yet where can + I fall? I have already fallen, and all that comes of bad or good is a + mere mockery. + + Those about me have no idea of what I suffer; none are sufficiently + interested in me to observe that, though my lips smile, my eyes are + blank, or to notice the desolate look that I cast up towards the sky. + Pardon, dear friend, this selfishness in writing thus. There are + moments when the heart must _sfogare_ or be suffocated, and such a + moment is this--when quite alone, my babe sleeping, and dear Jane + having just left me, it is with difficulty I prevent myself from + flying from mental misery by bodily exertion, when to run into that + vast grave (the sea) until I sink to rest, would be a pleasure to me, + and instead of this I write, and as I write I say, Oh God, have pity + on me. At least I will have pity on you. Good-night, I will finish + this when people are about me, and I am in a more cheerful mood. + Good-night. I will go look at the stars. They are eternal, so is he, + so am I. + + You have not written to me since my misfortune. I understand this; you + first waited for a letter from me, and that letter told you not to + write. But answer this as soon as you receive it; talk to me of + yourselves, and also of my English affairs. I am afraid that they will + not go on very well in my absence, but it would cost more to set them + right than they are worth. I will, however, let you know what I think + my friends ought to do, that when you talk to Peacock he may learn + what I wish. A claim should be made on the part of Shelley's executors + for a maintenance for my child and myself from Sir Timothy. Lord Byron + is ready to do this or any other service for me that his office of + executor demands from him; but I do not wish it to be done separately + by him, and I want to hear from England before I ask him to write to + Whitton on the subject. Secondly, Ollier must be asked for all MSS., + and some plan be reflected on for the best manner of republishing + Shelley's works, as well as the writings he has left. Who will allow + money to Ianthe and Charles? + + As for you, my dear friends, I do not see what you can do for me, + except to send me the originals or copies of Shelley's most + interesting letters to you. I hope soon to get into my house, where + writing, copying Shelley's MSS., walking, and being of some use in the + education of Marianne's children will be my occupations. Where is that + letter in verse Shelley once wrote to you? Let me have a copy of it. + Is not Peacock very lukewarm and insensible in this affair? Tell me + what Hogg says and does, and my Father also, if you have an + opportunity of knowing. Here is a long letter all about myself, but + though I cannot write, I like to hear of others. Adieu, dear + friends.--Your sincerely attached, + + MARY W. SHELLEY. + +The fragment that follows is from Mrs. Williams' first letter, written +from Geneva, where she and Edward had lived in such felicity, and where +they had made friends with Medwin, Roberts, and Trelawny: a happy, +light-hearted time on which it was torture to look back. + + JANE WILLIAMS TO MARY SHELLEY. + + GENEVA, _September 1822_. + + I only arrived this day, my dearest Mary, and find your letter, the + only friend who welcomes me. I will not detail all the misery I have + suffered, let it be added to the heap that must be piled up; and when + the measure is brimful, it needs must overflow; and then, peace! What + have been my feelings to-day? I have gazed on that lake, still and + ever the same, rolling on in its course, as if this gap in creation + had never been made. I have passed that place where our little boat + used to land, but where is the hand stretched out to meet mine, where + the glad voice, the sweet smile, the beloved form? Oh! Mary, is my + heart human that I endure scenes like this, and live? My arrival at + the inn here has been one of the most painful trials I have yet + undergone. The landlady, who came to the door, did not recognise me + immediately, and when she did, our mutual tears prevented both + interrogation and answer for some minutes. I then bore my sorrowful + burden up these stairs he had formerly passed in all the pride of + youth, hope, and love. When will these heartrending scenes be + finished? Never! for, when they cease, memory will furnish others. + + * * * * * + + God bless you, dearest girl; take care of yourself. Remember me to the + Hunts.--Ever yours, + + JANE. + +Not long after this Byron arrived at Genoa with his train, and the Hunts +with their tribe. + + "All that were now left of our Pisan circle," writes Trelawny, + "established themselves at Albaro,--Byron, Leigh Hunt, and Mrs. + Shelley. The fine spirit that had animated and held us together was + gone. Left to our own devices, we degenerated apace." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +SEPTEMBER 1822-JULY 1823 + + +An eminent contemporary writer, speaking of Trelawny's writings, has +remarked: "So long as he dwells on Shelley, he is, like the visitants to +the _Witch of Atlas_, 'imparadised.'" This was true, in fact not as to the +writings, but the natures, of all who had friendly or intimate relations +with Shelley. His personality was like a clear, deep lake, wherein the sky +and the surrounding objects were reflected. Now and again a breeze, or +even a storm, might sweep across the "watery glass," playing strange, +grotesque pranks with the distorted reflections. But in general those who +surrounded it saw themselves, and saw each other, not as they were, but as +they appeared,--transfigured, idealised, glorified, by the impalpable, +fluid, medium. And like a tree that overhangs the water's edge, whose +branches dip and play in the clear ripples, nodding and beckoning to their +own living likeness there, so Mary had grown up by the side of this, her +own image in him,--herself indeed, but "imparadised" in the immortal +unreality of the magic mirror. + +Now the eternal frost had fallen: black ice and dreary snow had +extinguished that reflection for ever, and the solitary tree was left to +weather all storms in a wintry world, where no magic mirror was to be hers +any more. + +Mary Shelley's diary, now she was alone, altered its character. In her +husband's lifetime it had been a record of the passing facts of every day; +almost as concise in statement as that of her father. Now and then, in +travelling, she would stereotype an impression of beautiful scenery by an +elaborate description; sometimes, but very rarely, she had indulged (as at +Pisa) on reflections on people or things in general. + +The case was now exactly reversed. Alone with her child, with no one else +to live for; having no companion-mind with which to exchange ideas, and +having never known what it was to be without one before, her diary became +her familiar,--or rather her shadow, for it took its sombre colouring from +her and could give nothing back. The thoughts too monotonously sad, too +harrowing in their eloquent self-pity to be communicated to other people, +but which filled her heart, the more that heart was thrown back on itself, +found here an outlet, inadequate enough, but still the only one they had. +In thus recording her emotions for her own benefit, she had little idea +that these melancholy self-communings would ever be gathered up and +published for the satisfaction of the "reading world"; a world that loves +nothing so well as personal details, and would rather have the object of +its interest misrepresented than not represented at all. Outwardly +uneventful as Mrs. Shelley's subsequent life was, its few occurrences are, +as a rule, not even alluded to in her journal. Such things for the most +part lost their intrinsic importance to her when Shelley disappeared; it +was only in the world of abstractions that she felt or could imagine his +companionship. Her journal, in reality, records her first essay in living +alone. It was, to an almost incredible degree, a beginning. + +Her existence, from its outset, had been offered up at the shrine of one +man. To animate his solitude, to foster his genius, to help--as far as +possible--his labours, to companion him in a world that did not understand +him,--this had been her life-work, which lay now as a dream behind her, +while she awakened to find herself alone with the solitude, the work, the +cold unfriendly world, and without Shelley. + +Could any woman be as lonely? All who share an abnormal lot must needs be +isolated when cut adrift from the other life which has been their _raison +d'etre_; and Mary had begun so early, that she had grown, as it were, to +this state of double solitude. She had not been unconscious of the slight +hold they had on actualities. + + "Mary," observed Shelley one day at Pisa, when Trelawny was present, + "Trelawny has found out Byron already. How stupid we were; how long it + took us!" + + "That," she observed, "is because he lives with the living and we with + the dead." + +And as a fact, Shelley lived with the immortals; finite things were +outside his world; in his contemporaries it was what he would have +considered their immortal side that he cared for. There are conjurors who +can be tied by no knot from which they cannot escape, and so the +limitations of practical convention, those "ideas and feelings which are +but for a day," had no power to hold Shelley. + +And Mary knew no world but his. Now, young,--only twenty-five,--yet with +the past experience of eight years of chequered married life, and of a +simultaneous intellectual development almost perilously rapid, she stood, +an utter novice, on the threshold of ordinary existence. + + _Journal, October 2._--On the 8th of July I finished my journal. This + is a curious coincidence. The date still remains--the fatal 8th--a + monument to show that all ended then. And I begin again? Oh, never! + But several motives induce me, when the day has gone down, and all is + silent around me, steeped in sleep, to pen, as occasion wills, my + reflections and feelings. First, I have no friend. For eight years I + communicated, with unlimited freedom, with one whose genius, far + transcending mine, awakened and guided my thoughts. I conversed with + him, rectified my errors of judgment; obtained new lights from him; + and my mind was satisfied. Now I am alone--oh, how alone! The stars + may behold my tears, and the wind drink my sighs, but my thoughts are + a sealed treasure which I can confide to none. But can I express all I + feel? Can I give words to thoughts and feelings that, as a tempest, + hurry me along? Is this the sand that the ever-flowing sea of thought + would impress indelibly? Alas! I am alone. No eye answers mine; my + voice can with none assume its natural modulation. What a change! O my + beloved Shelley! how often during those happy days--happy, though + chequered--I thought how superiorly gifted I had been in being united + to one to whom I could unveil myself, and who could understand me! + Well, then, now I am reduced to these white pages, which I am to blot + with dark imagery. As I write, let me think what he would have said + if, speaking thus to him, he could have answered me. Yes, my own + heart, I would fain know what to think of my desolate state; what you + think I ought to do, what to think. I guess you would answer thus: + "Seek to know your own heart, and, learning what it best loves, try to + enjoy that." Well, I cast my eyes around, and, looking forward to the + bounded prospect in view, I ask myself what pleases me there. My + child;--so many feelings arise when I think of him, that I turn aside + to think no more. Those I most loved are gone for ever; those who held + the second rank are absent; and among those near me as yet, I trust to + the disinterested kindness of one alone. Beneath all this, my + imagination never flags. Literary labours, the improvement of my mind, + and the enlargement of my ideas, are the only occupations that elevate + me from my lethargy: all events seem to lead me to that one point, and + the courses of destiny having dragged me to that single resting-place, + have left me. Father, mother, friend, husband, children--all made, as + it were, the team which conducted me here, and now all, except you, my + poor boy (and you are necessary to the continuance of my life), all + are gone, and I am left to fulfil my task. So be it. + + _October 5._--Well, they are come;[4] and it is all as I said. I awoke + as from sleep, and thought how I had vegetated these last days; for + feeling leaves little trace on the memory if it be, like mine, + unvaried. I have felt for, and with myself alone, and I awake now to + take a part in life. As far as others are concerned, my sensations + have been most painful. I must work hard amidst the vexations that I + perceive are preparing for me, to preserve my peace and tranquillity + of mind. I must preserve some, if I am to live; for, since I bear at + the bottom of my heart a fathomless well of bitter waters, the + workings of which my philosophy is ever at work to repress, what will + be my fate if the petty vexations of life are added to this sense of + eternal and infinite misery? + + Oh, my child! what is your fate to be? You alone reach me; you are the + only chain that links me to time; but for you, I should be free. And + yet I cannot be destined to live long. Well, I shall commence my task, + commemorate the virtues of the only creature worth loving or living + for, and then, may be, I may join him. Moonshine may be united to her + planet, and wander no more, a sad reflection of all she loved on + earth. + + _October 7._--I have received my desk to-day, and have been reading my + letters to mine own Shelley during his absences at Marlow. What a + scene to recur to! My William, Clara, Allegra, are all talked of. They + lived then, they breathed this air, and their voices struck on my + sense; their feet trod the earth beside me, and their hands were warm + with blood and life when clasped in mine, where are they all? This is + too great an agony to be written about. I may express my despair, but + my thoughts can find no words. + + * * * * * + + I would endeavour to consider myself a faint continuation of his + being, and, as far as possible, the revelation to the earth of what he + was, yet, to become this, I must change much, and, above all, I must + acquire that knowledge and drink at those fountains of wisdom and + virtue from which he quenched his thirst. Hitherto I have done + nothing; yet I have not been discontented with myself. I speak of the + period of my residence here. For, although unoccupied by those studies + which I have marked out for myself, my mind has been so active that + its activity, and not its indolence, has made me neglectful. But now + the society of others causes this perpetual working of my ideas + somewhat to pause; and I must take advantage of this to turn my mind + towards its immediate duties, and to determine with firmness to + commence the life I have planned. You will be with me in all my + studies, dearest love! your voice will no longer applaud me, but in + spirit you will visit and encourage me: I know you will. What were I, + if I did not believe that you still exist? It is not with you as with + another, I believe that we all live hereafter; but you, my only one, + were a spirit caged, an elemental being, enshrined in a frail image, + now shattered. Do they not all with one voice assert the same? + Trelawny, Hunt, and many others. And so at last you quitted this + painful prison, and you are free, my Shelley; while I, your poor + chosen one, am left to live as I may. + + What a strange life mine has been! Love, youth, fear, and fearlessness + led me early from the regular routine of life, and I united myself to + this being, who, not one of _us_, though like to us, was pursued by + numberless miseries and annoyances, in all of which I shared. And then + I was the mother of beautiful children, but these stayed not by me. + Still he was there; and though, in truth, after my William's death + this world seemed only a quicksand, sinking beneath my feet, yet + beside me was this bank of refuge--so tempest-worn and frail, that + methought its very weakness was strength, and, since Nature had + written destruction on its brow, so the Power that rules human affairs + had determined, in spite of Nature, that it should endure. But that is + gone. His voice can no longer be heard; the earth no longer receives + the shadow of his form; annihilation has come over the earthly + appearance of the most gentle creature that ever yet breathed this + air; and I am still here--still thinking, existing, all but hoping. + Well, I close my book. To-morrow I must begin this new life of mine. + + _October 19._--How painful all change becomes to one, who, entirely + and despotically engrossed by [his] own feelings leads, as it were, an + _internal_ life, quite different from the outward and apparent one! + Whilst my life continues its monotonous course within sterile banks, + an under-current disturbs the smooth face of the waters, distorts all + objects reflected in it, and the mind is no longer a mirror in which + outward events may reflect themselves, but becomes itself the painter + and creator. If this perpetual activity has power to vary with endless + change the everyday occurrences of a most monotonous life, it appears + to be animated with the spirit of tempest and hurricane when any real + occurrence diversifies the scene. Thus, to-night, a few bars of a + known air seemed to be as a wind to rouse from its depths every + deep-seated emotion of my mind. I would have given worlds to have sat, + my eyes closed, and listened to them for years. The restraint I was + under caused these feelings to vary with rapidity; but the words of + the conversation, uninteresting as they might be, seemed all to convey + two senses to me, and, touching a chord within me, to form a music of + which the speaker was little aware. I do not think that any person's + voice has the same power of awakening melancholy in me as Albe's. I + have been accustomed, when hearing it, to listen and to speak little; + another voice, not mine, ever replied--a voice whose strings are + broken. When Albe ceases to speak, I expect to hear _that other_ + voice, and when I hear another instead, it jars strangely with every + association. I have seen so little of Albe since our residence in + Switzerland, and, having seen him there every day, his voice--a + peculiar one--is engraved on my memory with other sounds and objects + from which it can never disunite itself. I have heard Hunt in company + and in conversation with many, when my own one was not there. + Trelawny, perhaps, is associated in my mind with Edward more than with + Shelley. Even our older friends, Peacock and Hogg, might talk + together, or with others, and their voices suggest no change to me. + But, since incapacity and timidity always prevented my mingling in the + nightly conversations of Diodati, they were, as it were, entirely + _tete-a-tete_ between my Shelley and Albe; and thus, as I have said, + when Albe speaks and Shelley does not answer, it is as thunder without + rain,--the form of the sun without light or heat,--as any familiar + object might be shorn of its best attributes; and I listen with an + unspeakable melancholy that yet is not all pain. + + The above explains that which would otherwise be an enigma--why Albe, + by his mere presence and voice, has the power of exciting such deep + and shifting emotions within me. For my feelings have no analogy + either with my opinion of him, or the subject of his conversation. + With another I might talk, and not for the moment think of Shelley--at + least not think of him with the same vividness as if I were alone; + but, when in company with Albe, I can never cease for a second to have + Shelley in my heart and brain with a clearness that mocks + reality--interfering even by its force with the functions of + life--until, if tears do not relieve me, the hysterical feeling, + analogous to that which the murmur of the sea gives me, presses + painfully upon me. + + Well, for the first time for about a month, I have been in company + with Albe for two hours, and, coming home, I write this, so necessary + is it for me to express in words the force of my feelings. Shelley, + beloved! I look at the stars and at all nature, and it speaks to me of + you in the clearest accents. Why cannot you answer me, my own one? Is + the instrument so utterly destroyed? I would endure ages of pain to + hear one tone of your voice strike on my ear! + +For nearly a year--not a happy one--Mary lived with the Hunts. A bruised +and bleeding heart exposed to the cuffs and blows of everyday life, a +nervous temperament--too recently strained to its utmost pitch of +endurance--liable to constant, unavoidable irritation, a nature sensitive +and reserved, accustomed to much seclusion and much independence, thrown +into the midst of a large, noisy, and disorderly family,--these conditions +could hardly result in happiness. Leigh Hunt was nervous, delicate, +overworked, and variable in mood: his wife an invalid, condemned by the +doctors on her arrival in Italy, now expecting her confinement in the +ensuing summer, an event which she was told would be, for good or evil, +the crisis of her fate. Six children they had already had, who were +allowed--on principle--to do exactly as they chose, "until such time as +they were of an age to be reasoned with." + +The opening for activity and usefulness would, at another time, have been +beneficial to Mary, and, to some extent, was so now; but it was too early, +the change from her former state was too violent; she was not fit yet for +such severe bracing. She met her trials bravely; but it was another case +where buoyancy of spirits was indispensable to real success, and buoyancy +of spirits she had not, nor was likely to acquire in her present +surroundings. + +There was another person to whom these surroundings were even more +supremely distasteful than to her, and this was Byron. Small sympathy had +he for domestic life or sentiment even in their best aspects, and this +virtuous, slipshod, cockney Bohemianism had no attraction for him +whatever. The poor man must have suffered many things while the Hunts were +in possession of his _pian terreno_ at Pisa; he was rid of them now, but +the very sight of them was too much for him. + + LORD BYRON TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + _6th October 1822._ + + The sofa--which I regret is _not_ of your furniture--it was purchased + by me at Pisa since you left it. + + It is convenient for my room, though of little value (about 12 pauls), + and I offered to send another (now sent) in its stead. I preferred + retaining the purchased furniture, but always intended that you should + have as good or better in its place. I have a particular dislike to + anything of Shelley's being within the same walls with Mrs. Hunt's + children. They are dirtier and more mischievous than Yahoos. What they + can't destroy with their filth they will with their fingers. I presume + you received ninety and odd crowns from the wreck of the _Don Juan_, + and also the price of the boat purchased by Captain R., if not, you + will have _both_. Hunt has these in hand. + + With regard to any difficulties about money, I can only repeat that I + will be your banker till this state of things is cleared up, and you + can see what is to be done; so there is little to hinder you on that + score. I was confined for four days to my bed at Lerici. Poor Hunt, + with his six little blackguards, are coming slowly up; as usual he + turned back once--was there ever such a _kraal_ out of the Hottentot + country before? + + N. B. + +Among those of their former acquaintance who now surrounded Mary, the one +who by his presence ministered most to the needs of her fainting moral +nature was Trelawny. Leigh Hunt, when not disagreeing from her, was +affectionate, nay, gushing, and he had truly loved Shelley, but he was a +feeble, facetious, feckless creature,--a hypochondriac,--unable to do +much to help himself, still less another. Byron was by no means +ill-disposed, especially just now, but he was egotistic and indolent, and +too capricious,--as the event proved,--to be depended on. + +Trelawny's fresh vigorous personality, his bright originality and rugged +independence, and his unbounded admiration for Shelley, made him +wonderfully reviving to Mary; he had the effect on her of a gust of fresh +air in a close crowded room. He was unconventional and outspoken, and by +no means always complimentary, but he had a just appreciation of Mary's +real mental and moral superiority to the people around her, and a frank +liking for herself. Their friendship was to extend over many years, during +which Mary had ample opportunity of repaying the debt of obligation she +always felt she owed him for his kindness to her and Mrs. Williams at the +time of their great misery. + +The letters which follow were among the earliest of a long and varied +correspondence. + + MARY SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + _November 1822._ + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--I called on you yesterday, but was too late for you. + I was much pained to see you out of spirits the other night. I can in + no way make you better, I fear, but I should be glad to see you. Will + you dine with me Monday after your ride? If Hunt rides, as he + threatens, with Lord Byron, he will also dine late and make one of + our party. Remember, you will also do Hunt good by this, who pines in + this solitude. You say that I know so little of the world that I am + afraid I may be mistaken in imagining that you have a friendship for + me, especially after what you said of Jane the other night; but + besides the many other causes I have to esteem you, I can never + remember without the liveliest gratitude all you said that night of + agony when you returned to Lerici. Your praises of my lost Shelley + were the only balm I could endure, and he always joined with me in + liking you from the first moment we saw you. Adieu.--Your attached + friend, + + M. W. S. + + Have you got my books on shore from the _Bolivar_? If you have, pray + let me have them, for many are odd volumes, and I wish to see if they + are too much destroyed to rank with those I have. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + _November 1822._ + + DEAR MARY--I will gladly dine on Monday with you. As to melancholy, I + refer you to the good Antonio in Shylock. "Alas! I know now why I am + so sad. It is time, I think." You are not so learned in human dealings + as Iago, but you cannot so sadly err as to doubt the extent or truth + of my friendship. As to gain esteem, I do not think it a word + applicable to such a lawless character. Ruled by impulse, not by + reason, I am satisfied you should like me upon my own terms--impulse. + As to gratitude for uttering my thoughts of him I so loved and + admired, it was a tribute that all who knew him have paid to his + memory. "But weeping never could restore the dead," and if it could, + hope would prevent our tears. You may remember I always in preference + selected as my companion Edward, not Jane, and that I always dissented + from your general voice of her being perfection. I am still of the + same opinion; nothing more. But I have and ever shall feel deeply + interested, and would do much to serve her, and if thinking on those + trifles which diminish her lustre in my eyes makes me flag, Edward's + memory and my perfect friendship for him is sufficient excitement to + spur me on to anything. It is impossible to dislike Jane; but to have + an unqualified liking, such as I had for Edward, no--no--no! Talking + of gratitude, I really am and ought to be so to you, for bearing on, + untired, with my spleen, humours, and violence; it is a proof of real + liking, particularly as you are not of the sect who profess or + practise meekness, humility, and patience in common. + + T. + +Mary had not as yet been successful in getting possession of the +half-finished portrait of Shelley. Her letters had followed Miss Curran to +Paris, whence, in October, a reply at last arrived. + + "I am sorry," Miss Curran wrote, "I am not at Rome to execute your + melancholy commission. I mean to return in spring, but it may be then + too late. I am sure Mr. Brunelli would be happy to oblige you or me, + but you may have left Pisa before this, so I know not what to propose. + Your picture and Clare's I left with him to give you when you should + be at Rome, as I expected, before you returned to England. The one you + now write for I thought was not to be inquired for; it was so ill + done, and I was on the point of burning it with others before I left + Italy. I luckily saved it just as the fire was scorching, and it is + packed up with my other pictures at Rome; and I have not yet decided + where they can be sent to, as there are serious difficulties in the + way I had not adverted to. I am very sorry indeed, dear Mary, but you + shall have it as soon as I possibly can."... + +This was the early history of that portrait, which was recovered a year or +two later, and which has passed, and passes still, for Shelley's likeness, +and which, bad or good, is the only authentic one in existence. + +Mary now began to feel it a matter of duty as well as of expediency to +resume literary work, but she found it hard at first. + + "I am quite well, but very nervous," she wrote to Mrs. Gisborne; "my + excessive nervousness (how new a disorder for me--my illness in the + summer is the foundation of it) is the cause I do not write." + +She made a beginning with an article for the _Liberal_. Shelley's _Defence +of Poetry_ was, also, to be published in the forthcoming number, and the +MS. of this had to be got from England. She had reason to believe, too, +that Ollier, the publisher, had in his keeping other MSS. of Shelley's, +and she was restlessly desirous to get possession of all these, feeling +convinced that among them there was nothing perfect, nothing ready for +publication exactly as it stood. In her over-anxiety she wrote to several +people on this subject, thereby incurring the censure of her father, whom +she had also consulted about her literary plans. His criticisms on his +daughter's style were not unsound; she had not been trained in a school of +terseness, and, like many young authors, she was apt to err on the side of +length, and not to see that she did so. + + GODWIN TO MARY. + + NO. 195 STRAND, _15th November 1822_. + + MY DEAR MARY--I have devoted the last two days to the seeing everybody + an interview with whom would best enable me to write you a + satisfactory letter. Yesterday I saw Hogg and Mrs. Williams, and + to-day Peacock and Hanson junior. From Hogg I had, among other things, + to learn Mrs. Williams' address, for, owing to your neglect, she had + been a fortnight in London before I knew of her arrival. She appeared + to be in better health and better spirits than I expected; she did not + drop one tear; occasionally she smiled. She is a picturesque little + woman, and, as far as I could judge from one interview, I like her. + + Peacock has got Ollier's promise to deliver all Shelley's manuscripts, + and as earnest, he has received _Peter Bell_ and _A Curse on L.E._, + which he holds at your disposal. By the way, you should never give one + commission but to one person; you commissioned me to recover these + manuscripts from Ollier, you commissioned Peacock, and, I believe, + Mrs. Gisborne. This puts us all in an awkward situation. I heard of + Peacock's applying just in time to prevent me from looking like a + fool. Peacock says he cannot make up a parcel for you till he has been + a second time to Marlow on the question, which cannot be till about + Christmas. He appears to me, not lukewarm, but assiduous. Mrs. + Williams told me she should write to you by this day's post. She had + been inquiring in vain for Miss Curran's address--you should have + referred her to me for it, but you referred her to me for nothing. + This, by the way, is another instance of your giving one commission to + more than one person. You gave the commission about Miss Curran to + Mrs. Williams and to me. I received your letter, inclosing one to Miss + Curran, 21st October, which I immediately forwarded to her by a safe + hand, through her brother. You have probably heard from her by this + time; she is in Paris.... I have a plan upon the house of Longman + respecting _Castruccio_, but that depends upon coincidences, and I + must have patience. + + You ask my opinion of your literary plans. If you expect any price, + you must think of something new: _Manfred_ is a subject that nobody + interests himself about; the interest, therefore, must be made, and no + bookseller understands anything about that contingency. A book about + Italy as it is, written with any talent, would be sure to sell; but + I am afraid you know very little about the present race of Italians. + + As to my own affairs, nothing is determined. I expected something + material to have happened this week, but as yet I have heard nothing. + If the subscription fills, I shall perhaps be safe; if not, I shall be + driven to sea on a plank. + + Perhaps it may be of some use to you if I give you my opinion of + _Castruccio_. I think there are parts of high genius, and that your + two females are exceedingly interesting; but I am not satisfied. + _Frankenstein_ was a fine thing; it was compressed, muscular, and + firm; nothing relaxed and weak; no proud flesh. _Castruccio_ is a work + of more genius; but it appears, in reading, that the first rule you + prescribed to yourself was, I will let it be long. It contains the + quantity of four volumes of _Waverley_. No hard blow was ever hit with + a woolsack! Mamma desires me to remember her to you in the kindest + manner, and to say that she feels a deep interest in everything that + concerns you. She means to take the earliest opportunity to see Mrs. + Williams, both as she feels an earnest sympathy in her calamity, and + as she will be likely to learn a hundred particulars respecting the + dispositions and prospects of yourself and Jane, which she might in + vain desire to learn in any other quarter. You asked Mamma for some + present, a remembrance of your mother. She has reserved for you a ring + of hers, with Fanny Blood's hair set round with pearls. + + You will, of course, rely on it that I will send you the letters you + ask for by Peacock's parcel. Miss Curran's address is Hotel de + Dusseldorf Rue Petits St. Augustin, a Paris.--Believe me, ever your + most affectionate Father, + + WILLIAM GODWIN. + + My last letter was dated 11th October. + + + _Journal, November 10._--I have made my first probation in writing, + and it has done me much good, and I get more calm; the stream begins + to take to its new channel, insomuch as to make me fear change. But + people must know little of me who think that, abstractedly, I am + content with my present mode of life. Activity of spirit is my sphere. + But we cannot be active of mind without an object; and I have none. I + am allowed to have some talent--that is sufficient, methinks, to cause + my irreparable misery; for, if one has genius, what a delight it is to + be associated with a superior! Mine own Shelley! the sun knows of none + to be likened to you--brave, wise, noble-hearted, full of learning, + tolerance, and love. Love! what a word for me to write! yet, my + miserable heart, permit me yet to love,--to see him in beauty, to feel + him in beauty, to be interpenetrated by the sense of his excellence; + and thus to love singly, eternally, ardently, and not fruitlessly; for + I am still his--still the chosen one of that blessed spirit--still + vowed to him for ever and ever! + + _November 11._--It is better to grieve than not to grieve. Grief at + least tells me that I was not always what I am now. I was once + selected for happiness; let the memory of that abide by me. You pass + by an old ruined house in a desolate lane, and heed it not. But if you + hear that that house is haunted by a wild and beautiful spirit, it + acquires an interest and beauty of its own. + + I shall be glad to be more alone again; one ought to see no one, or + many; and, confined to one society, I shall lose all energy except + that which I possess from my own resources; and I must be alone for + those to be put in activity. + + A cold heart! Have I a cold heart? God knows! But none need envy the + icy region this heart encircles; and at least the tears are hot which + the emotions of this cold heart forces me to shed. A cold heart! yes, + it would be cold enough if all were as I wished it--cold, or burning + in the flame for whose sake I forgive this, and would forgive every + other imputation--that flame in which your heart, beloved, lay + unconsumed. My heart is very full to-night. + + I shall write his life, and thus occupy myself in the only manner + from which I can derive consolation. That will be a task that may + convey some balm. What though I weep? All is better than inaction + and--not forgetfulness--that never is--but an inactivity of + remembrance. + + And you, my own boy! I am about to begin a task which, if you live, + will be an invaluable treasure to you in after times. I must collect + my materials, and then, in the commemoration of the divine virtues of + your Father, I shall fulfil the only act of pleasure there remains for + me, and be ready to follow you, if you leave me, my task being + fulfilled. I have lived; rapture, exultation, content--all the varied + changes of enjoyment--have been mine. It is all gone; but still, the + airy paintings of what it has gone through float by, and distance + shall not dim them. If I were alone, I had already begun what I had + determined to do; but I must have patience, and for those events my + memory is brass, my thoughts a never-tired engraver. + France--Poverty--A few days of solitude, and some uneasiness--A + tranquil residence in a beautiful + spot--Switzerland--Bath--Marlow--Milan--the Baths of + Lucca--Este--Venice--Rome--Naples--Rome and + misery--Leghorn--Florence--Pisa--Solitude--The Williams'--The + Baths--Pisa: these are the heads of chapters, and each containing a + tale romantic beyond romance. + + I no longer enjoy, but I love. Death cannot deprive me of that living + spark which feeds on all given it, and which is now triumphant in + sorrow. I love, and shall enjoy happiness again. I do not doubt that; + but when? + +These fragments of journal give the course of her inward reflections; her +letters sometimes supply the clue to her outward life, _au jour le jour_. + + MARY SHELLEY TO CLARE CLAIRMONT. + + _20th December 1822._ + + MY DEAR CLARE--I have delayed writing to you so long for two reasons. + First, I have every day expected to hear from you; and secondly, I + wished to hear something decisive from England to communicate to you. + But I have waited in vain for both things. You do not write, and I + begin to despair of ever hearing from you again. A few words will tell + you all that has been done in England. When I wrote to you last, I + think that I told you that Lord Byron had written to Hanson, bidding + him call upon Whitton. Hanson wrote to Whitton desiring an interview, + which Whitton declined, requesting Hanson to make his application by + letter, which Hanson has done, and I know no more. This does not look + like an absolute refusal, but Sir Timothy is so capricious that we + cannot trust to appearances. + + And now the chapter about myself is finished, for what can I say of my + present life? The weather is bitterly cold with a sharp wind, very + unlike dear, _carissima_ Pisa; but soft airs and balmy gales are not + the attributes of Genoa, which place I daily and duly join Marianne in + detesting. There is but one fireplace in the house, and although + people have been for a month putting up a stove in my room, it smokes + too much to permit of its being lighted. So I am obliged to pass the + greater part of my time in Hunt's sitting-room, which is, as you may + guess, the annihilation of study, and even of pleasure to a great + degree. For, after all, Hunt does not like me: it is both our faults, + and I do not blame him, but so it is. I rise at 9, breakfast, work, + read, and if I can at all endure the cold, copy my Shelley's MSS. in + my own room, and if possible walk before dinner. After that I work, + read Greek, etc., till 10, when Hunt and Marianne go to bed. Then I am + alone. Then the stream of thought, which has struggled against its + _argine_ all through the busy day, makes a _piena_, and sorrow and + memory and imagination, despair, and hope in despair, are the winds + and currents that impel it. I am alone, and myself; and then I begin + to say, as I ever feel, "How I hate life! What a mockery it is to + rise, to walk, to feed, and then go to rest, and in all this a statue + might do my part. One thing alone may or can awake me, and that is + study; the rest is all nothing." And so it is! I am silent and + serious. Absorbed in my own thoughts, what am I then in this world if + my spirit live not to learn and become better? That is the whole of my + destiny; I look to nothing else. For I dare not look to my little + darling other than as--not the sword of Damocles, that is a wrong + simile, or to a wrecked seaman's plank--true, he stands, and only he, + between me and the sea of eternity; but I long for that plunge! No, I + fear for him pain, disappointment,--all, all fear. + + You see how it is, it is near 11, and my good friends repose. This is + the hour when I can think, unobtruded upon, and these thoughts, + _malgre moi_, will stain this paper. But then, my dear Clare, I have + nothing else except my nothingless self to talk about. You have + doubtless heard from Jane, and I have heard from no one else. I see no + one. The Guiccioli and Lord Byron once a month. Trelawny seldom, and + he is on the eve of his departure for Leghorn.... + + * * * * * + + Marianne suffers during this dreadfully cold weather, but less than I + should have supposed. The children are all well. So also is my Percy, + poor little darling: they all scold him because he speaks loud _a + l'Italien_. People love to, nay, they seem to exist on, finding fault + with others, but I have no right to complain, and this unlucky stove + is the sole source of all my _dispiacere_; if I had that, I should not + tease any one, or any one me, or my only one; but after all, these are + trifles. I have sent for another _ingeniere_, and I hope, before many + days are elapsed, to retire as before to my hole. + + I have again delayed finishing this letter, waiting for letters from + England, that I might not send you one so barren of all intelligence. + But I have had none. And nothing new has happened except Trelawny's + departure for Leghorn, so that our days are more monotonous than ever. + The weather is drearily cold, and an eternal north-east whistles + through every crevice. Percy, however, is far better in this cold than + in summer; he is warmly clothed, and gets on. + + Adieu. Pray write. My love to Charles; I am ashamed that I do not + write to him, but I have only an old story to repeat, and this letter + tells that.--Affectionately yours, + + MARY SHELLEY. + + + _Journal, December 31._--So this year comes to an end. Shelley, + beloved! the year has a new name from any thou knewest. When spring + arrives leaves you never saw will shadow the ground, and flowers you + never beheld will star it; the grass will be of another growth, and + the birds sing a new song--the aged earth dates with a new number. + + Sometimes I thought that fortune had relented towards us; that your + health would have improved, and that fame and joy would have been + yours, for, when well, you extracted from Nature alone an endless + delight. The various threads of our existence seemed to be drawing to + one point, and there to assume a cheerful hue. + + Again, I think that your gentle spirit was too much wounded by the + sharpness of this world; that your disease was incurable, and that in + a happy time you became the partaker of cloudless days, ceaseless + hours, and infinite love. Thy name is added to the list which makes + the earth bold in her age and proud of what has been. Time, with + unwearied but slow feet, guides her to the goal that thou hast + reached, and I, her unhappy child, am advanced still nearer the hour + when my earthly dress shall repose near thine, beneath the tomb of + Cestius. + +It must have been at about this time that Mary wrote the sad, +retrospective poem entitled "The Choice." + + THE CHOICE. + + My Choice!--My Choice, alas! was had and gone + With the red gleam of last autumnal sun; + Lost in that deep wherein he bathed his head, + My choice, my life, my hope together fled:-- + A wanderer here, no more I seek a home, + The sky a vault, and Italy a tomb. + Yet as some days a pilgrim I remain, + Linked to my orphan child by love's strong chain; + And, since I have a faith that I must earn, + By suffering and by patience, a return + Of that companionship and love, which first + Upon my young life's cloud like sunlight burst, + And now has left me, dark, as when its beams, + Quenched in the might of dreadful ocean streams, + Leave that one cloud, a gloomy speck on high, + Beside one star in the else darkened sky;-- + Since I must live, how would I pass the day, + How meet with fewest tears the morning's ray, + How sleep with calmest dreams, how find delights, + As fireflies gleam through interlunar nights? + + First let me call on thee! Lost as thou art, + Thy name aye fills my sense, thy love my heart. + Oh, gentle Spirit! thou hast often sung, + How fallen on evil days thy heart was wrung; + Now fierce remorse and unreplying death + Waken a chord within my heart, whose breath, + Thrilling and keen, in accents audible + A tale of unrequited love doth tell. + It was not anger,--while thy earthly dress + Encompassed still thy soul's rare loveliness, + All anger was atoned by many a kind + Caress or tear, that spoke the softened mind.-- + It speaks of cold neglect, averted eyes, + That blindly crushed thy soul's fond sacrifice:-- + My heart was all thine own,--but yet a shell + Closed in its core, which seemed impenetrable, + Till sharp-toothed misery tore the husk in twain, + Which gaping lies, nor may unite again. + Forgive me! let thy love descend in dew + Of soft repentance and regret most true;-- + In a strange guise thou dost descend, or how + Could love soothe fell remorse,--as it does now?-- + By this remorse and love, and by the years + Through which we shared our common hopes and fears, + By all our best companionship, I dare + Call on thy sacred name without a fear;-- + And thus I pray to thee, my friend, my Heart! + That in thy new abode, thou'lt bear a part + In soothing thy poor Mary's lonely pain, + As link by link she weaves her heavy chain!-- + And thou, strange star! ascendant at my birth, + Which rained, they said, kind influence on the earth, + So from great parents sprung, I dared to boast + Fortune my friend, till set, thy beams were lost! + And thou, Inscrutable, by whose decree + Has burst this hideous storm of misery! + Here let me cling, here to the solitudes, + These myrtle-shaded streams and chestnut woods; + Tear me not hence--here let me live and die, + In my adopted land--my country--Italy. + + A happy Mother first I saw this sun, + Beneath this sky my race of joy was run. + First my sweet girl, whose face resembled _his_, + Slept on bleak Lido, near Venetian seas. + Yet still my eldest-born, my loveliest, dearest, + Clung to my side, most joyful then when nearest. + An English home had given this angel birth, + Near those royal towers, where the grass-clad earth + Is shadowed o'er by England's loftiest trees: + Then our companion o'er the swift-passed seas, + He dwelt beside the Alps, or gently slept, + Rocked by the waves, o'er which our vessel swept, + Beside his father, nurst upon my breast, + While Leman's waters shook with fierce unrest. + His fairest limbs had bathed in Serchio's stream; + His eyes had watched Italian lightnings gleam; + His childish voice had, with its loudest call, + The echoes waked of Este's castle wall; + Had paced Pompeii's Roman market-place; + Had gazed with infant wonder on the grace + Of stone-wrought deities, and pictured saints, + In Rome's high palaces--there were no taints + Of ruin on his cheek--all shadowless + Grim death approached--the boy met his caress, + And while his glowing limbs with life's warmth shone, + Around those limbs his icy arms were thrown. + His spoils were strewed beneath the soil of Rome, + Whose flowers now star the dark earth near his tomb: + Its airs and plants received the mortal part, + His spirit beats within his mother's heart. + Infant immortal! chosen for the sky! + No grief upon thy brow's young purity + Entrenched sad lines, or blotted with its might + The sunshine of thy smile's celestial light;-- + The image shattered, the bright spirit fled, + Thou shin'st the evening star among the dead. + And thou, his playmate, whose deep lucid eyes, + Were a reflection of these bluest skies; + Child of our hearts, divided in ill hour, + We could not watch the bud's expanding flower, + Now thou art gone, one guileless victim more, + To the black death that rules this sunny shore. + + Companion of my griefs! thy sinking frame + Had often drooped, and then erect again + With shows of health had mocked forebodings dark;-- + Watching the changes of that quivering spark, + I feared and hoped, and dared to trust at length, + Thy very weakness was my tower of strength. + Methought thou wert a spirit from the sky, + Which struggled with its chains, but could not die, + And that destruction had no power to win + From out those limbs the soul that burnt within. + + Tell me, ye ancient walls, and weed-grown towers, + Ye Roman airs and brightly painted flowers, + Does not his spirit visit that recess + Which built of love enshrines his earthly dress?-- + No more! no more!--what though that form be fled, + My trembling hand shall never write thee--dead-- + Thou liv'st in Nature, Love, my Memory, + With deathless faith for aye adoring thee, + The wife of Time no more, I wed Eternity. + + 'Tis thus the Past--on which my spirit leans, + Makes dearest to my soul Italian scenes. + In Tuscan fields the winds in odours steeped + From flowers and cypresses, when skies have wept, + Shall, like the notes of music once most dear, + Which brings the unstrung voice upon my ear + Of one beloved, to memory display + Past scenes, past hopes, past joys, in long array. + Pugnano's trees, beneath whose shade he stood, + The pools reflecting Pisa's old pine wood, + The fireflies beams, the aziola's cry + All breathe his spirit which can never die. + Such memories have linked these hills and caves, + These woodland paths, and streams, and knelling waves + Past to each sad pulsation of my breast, + And made their melancholy arms the haven of my rest. + + Here will I live, within a little dell, + Which but a month ago I saw full well:-- + A dream then pictured forth the solitude + Deep in the shelter of a lovely wood; + A voice then whispered a strange prophecy, + My dearest, widowed friend, that thou and I + Should there together pass the weary day, + As we before have done in Spezia's bay, + As though long hours we watched the sails that neared + O'er the far sea, their vessel ne'er appeared; + One pang of agony, one dying gleam + Of hope led us along, beside the ocean stream, + But keen-eyed fear, the while all hope departs, + Stabbed with a million stings our heart of hearts. + The sad revolving year has not allayed + The poison of these bleeding wounds, or made + The anguish less of that corroding thought + Which has with grief each single moment fraught. + Edward, thy voice was hushed--thy noble heart + With aspiration heaves no more--a part + Of heaven-resumed past thou art become, + Thy spirit waits with his in our far home. + +Trelawny had departed for Leghorn and his favourite Maremma, _en route_ +for Rome, where, by his untiring zeal for the fit interment of Shelley's +ashes, he once more earned Mary's undying gratitude. The ashes, which had +been temporarily consigned to the care of Mr. Freeborn, British Consul at +Rome, had, before Trelawny arrived, been buried in the Protestant +cemetery: the grave was amidst a cluster of others. In a niche--formed by +two buttresses--in the old Roman wall, immediately under an ancient +pyramid, said to be the tomb of Caius Cestius, Trelawny (having purchased +the recess) built two tombs. In one of these the box containing Shelley's +ashes was deposited, and all was covered over with solid stone. The +details of the transaction, which extended over several months, are +supplied in his letters. + + TRELAWNY TO MARY SHELLEY. + + PIOMBINO, _7th_ and _11th January 1823_. + + Thus far into the bowels of the land + Have we marched on without impediment. + + DEAR MARY SHELLEY--Pardon my tardiness in writing, which from day to + day I have postponed, having no other cause to plead than idleness. On + my arrival at Leghorn I called on Grant, and was much grieved to find + our fears well founded, to wit, that nothing definitely had been done. + Grant had not heard from his correspondent at Rome after his first + statement of the difficulties; the same letter that was enclosed me + and read by you he (Grant) had written, but not received a reply. I + then requested Grant to write and say that I would be at Rome in a + month or five weeks, and if I found the impediments insurmountable, I + would resume possession of the ashes, if on the contrary, to + personally fulfil your wishes, and in the meantime to deposit them + secure from molestation, so that, without Grant writes to me, I shall + say nothing more till I am at Rome, which will be early in February. + In the meantime Roberts and myself are sailing along the coast, + shooting, and visiting the numerous islands in our track. We have been + here some days, living at the miserable hut of a cattle dealer on the + marshes, near this wretched town, well situated for sporting. + To-morrow we cross over to Elba, thence to Corsica, and so return + along the Maremma, up the Tiber in the boat, to Rome.... + + ... I like this Maremma, it is lonely and desolate, thinly populated, + particularly after Genoa, where human brutes are so abundant that the + air is dense with their garlic breath, and it is impossible to fly the + nuisance. Here there is solitude enough: there are less of the human + form here in midday than at Genoa midnight; besides, this vagabond + life has restored my health. Next year I will get a tent, and spend my + winter in these marshes.... + + ... Dear Mary, of all those that I know of, or you have told me of, + as connected with you, there is not one now living has so tender a + friendship for you as I have. I have the far greater claims on you, + and I shall consider it as a breach of friendship should you employ + any one else in services that I can execute. + + My purse, my person, my extremest means + Lye all unlocked to your occasion. + + I hope you know my heart so well as to make all professions needless. + To serve you will ever be the greatest pleasure I can experience, and + nothing could interrupt the almost unmingled pleasure I have received + from our first meeting but you concealing your difficulties or wishes + from me. With kindest remembrances to my good friends the Hunts, to + whom I am sincerely attached, and love and salaam to Lord Byron, I am + your very sincere + + EDWARD TRELAWNY. + + + "Indeed, I do believe, my dear Trelawny," wrote Mary in reply, on the + 30th of January 1823, "that you are the best friend I have, and most + truly would I rather apply to you in any difficulty than to any one + else, for I know your heart, and rely on it. At present I am very well + off, having still a considerable residue of the money I brought with + me from Pisa, and besides, I have received L33 from the _Liberal_. + Part of this I have been obliged to send to Clare. You will be sorry + to hear that the last account she has sent of herself is that she has + been seriously ill. The cold of Vienna has doubtless contributed to + this,--as it is even a dangerous aggravation of her old complaint. I + wait anxiously to hear from her. I sent her fifteen napoleons, and + shall send more if necessary and if I can. Lord B. continues kind: he + has made frequent offers of money. I do not want it, as you see." + + + _Journal, February 2nd._--On the 21st of January those rites were + fulfilled. Shelley! my own beloved! you rest beneath the blue sky of + Rome; in that, at least, I am satisfied. + + What matters it that they cannot find the grave of my William? That + spot is sanctified by the presence of his pure earthly vesture, and + that is sufficient--at least, it must be. I am too truly miserable to + dwell on what at another time might have made me unhappy. He is + beneath the tomb of Cestius. I see the spot. + + _February 3._--A storm has come across me; a slight circumstance has + disturbed the deceitful calm of which I boasted. I thought I heard my + Shelley call me--not my Shelley in heaven, but my Shelley, my + companion in my daily tasks. I was reading; I heard a voice say, + "Mary!" "It is Shelley," I thought; the revulsion was of agony. Never + more.... + +Mrs. Shelley's affairs now assumed an aspect which made her foresee the +ultimate advisability, if not necessity, of returning to England. Sir +Timothy Shelley had declined giving any answer to the application made to +him for an allowance for his son's widow and child; and Lord Byron, as +Shelley's executor, had written to him directly for a decisive answer, +which he obtained. + + SIR TIMOTHY SHELLEY TO LORD BYRON. + + FIELD PLACE, _6th February 1823_. + + MY LORD--I have received your Lordship's letter, and my solicitor, Mr. + Whitton, has this day shown me copies of certificates of the marriage + of Mrs. Shelley and of the baptism of her little boy, and also, a + short abstract of my son's will, as the same have been handed to him + by Mr. Hanson. + + The mind of my son was withdrawn from me and my immediate family by + unworthy and interested individuals, when he was about nineteen, and + after a while he was led into a new society and forsook his first + associates. + + In this new society he forgot every feeling of duty and respect to me + and to Lady Shelley. + + Mrs. Shelley was, I have been told, the intimate friend of my son in + the lifetime of his first wife, and to the time of her death, and in + no small degree, as I suspect, estranged my son's mind from his + family, and all his first duties in life; with that impression on my + mind, I cannot agree with your Lordship that, though my son was + unfortunate, Mrs. Shelley is innocent; on the contrary, I think that + her conduct was the very reverse of what it ought to have been, and I + must, therefore, decline all interference in matters in which Mrs. + Shelley is interested. As to the child, I am inclined to afford the + means of a suitable protection and care of him in this country, if he + shall be placed with a person I shall approve; but your Lordship will + allow me to say that the means I can furnish will be limited, as I + have important duties to perform towards others, which I cannot + forget. + + I have thus plainly told your Lordship my determination, in the hope + that I may be spared from all further correspondence on a subject so + distressing to me and my family. + + With respect to the will and certificates, I have no observation to + make. I have left them with Mr. Whitton, and if anything is necessary + to be done with them on my part, he will, I am sure, do it.--I have + the honour, my Lord, to be your Lordship's most obedient humble + servant, + + T. SHELLEY. + +Granting the point of view from which it was written, this letter, though +hard, was not unnatural. The author of _Adonais_ was, to Sir Timothy, a +common reprobate, a prodigal who, having gone into a far country, would +have devoured his father's living--could he have got it--with harlots; but +who had come there to well-deserved grief, and for whose widow even husks +were too good. To any possible colouring or modification of this view he +had resolutely shut his eyes and ears. No modification of his conclusions +was, therefore, to be looked for. + +But neither could it be expected that his point of view should be +intelligible to Mary. Nor did it commend itself to Godwin. It would have +been as little for his daughter's interest as for her happiness to +surrender the custody of her child. + + MARY SHELLEY TO LORD BYRON. + + MY DEAR LORD BYRON-- ... It appears to me that the mode in which Sir + Timothy Shelley expresses himself about my child plainly shows by what + mean principles he would be actuated. He does not offer him an asylum + in his own house, but a beggarly provision under the care of a + stranger. + + Setting aside that, I would not part with him. Something is due to me. + I should not live ten days separated from him. If it were necessary + for me to die for his benefit the sacrifice would be easy; but his + delicate frame requires all a mother's solicitude; nor shall he be + deprived of my anxious love and assiduous attention to his happiness + while I have it in my power to bestow it on him; not to mention that + his future respect for his excellent Father and his moral wellbeing + greatly depend upon his being away from the immediate influence of his + relations. + + This, perhaps, you will think nonsense, and it is inconceivably + painful to me to discuss a point which appears to me as clear as + noonday; besides I lose all--all honourable station and name--when I + admit that I am not a fitting person to take charge of my infant. The + insult is keen; the pretence of heaping it upon me too gross; the + advantage to them, if the will came to be contested, would be too + immense. + + As a matter of feeling, I would never consent to it. I am said to have + a cold heart; there are feelings, however, so strongly implanted in my + nature that, to root them out, life will go with it.--Most truly + yours, + + MARY SHELLEY. + + + GODWIN TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + STRAND, _14th February 1823_. + + MY DEAR MARY--I have this moment received a copy of Sir Timothy + Shelley's letter to Lord Byron, dated 6th February, and which, + therefore, you will have seen long before this reaches you. You will + easily imagine how anxious I am to hear from you, and to know the + state of your feelings under this, which seems like the last, blow of + fate. + + I need not, of course, attempt to assist your judgment upon the + proposition of taking the child from you. I am sure your feelings + would never allow you to entertain such a proposition. + + * * * * * + + I requested you to let Lord Byron's letter to Sir Timothy Shelley pass + through my hands, and you did so; but to my great mortification, it + reached me sealed with his Lordship's arms, so that I remained wholly + ignorant of its contents. If you could send me a copy, I should be + then much better acquainted with your present situation. + + Your novel is now fully printed and ready for publication. I have + taken great liberties with it, and I fear your _amour propre_ will be + proportionately shocked. I need not tell you that all the merit of the + book is exclusively your own. Beatrice is the jewel of the book; not + but that I greatly admire Euthanasia, and I think the characters of + Pepi, Binda, and the witch decisive efforts of original genius. I am + promised a character of the work in the _Morning Chronicle_ and the + _Herald_, and was in hopes to have sent you the one or the other by + this time. I also sent a copy of the book to the _Examiner_ for the + same purpose. + + + _Tuesday, 18th February._ + + Do not, I entreat you, be cast down about your worldly circumstances. + You certainly contain within yourself the means of your subsistence. + Your talents are truly extraordinary. _Frankenstein_ is universally + known, and though it can never be a book for vulgar reading, is + everywhere respected. It is the most wonderful work to have been + written at twenty years of age that I ever heard of. You are now five + and twenty, and, most fortunately, you have pursued a course of + reading, and cultivated your mind, in a manner the most admirably + adapted to make you a great and successful author. If you cannot be + independent, who should be? + + Your talents, as far as I can at present discern, are turned for the + writing of fictitious adventures. + + If it shall ever happen to you to be placed in sudden and urgent want + of a small sum, I entreat you to let me know immediately; we must see + what I can do. We must help one another.--Your affectionate Father, + + WILLIAM GODWIN. + +Mary felt the truth of what her father said, but, wounded and embittered +as she was, she had little heart for framing plans. + + _Journal, February 24._--Evils throng around me, my beloved, and I + have indeed lost all in losing thee. Were it not for my child, this + would be rather a soothing reflection, and, if starvation were my + fate, I should fulfil that fate without a sigh. But our child demands + all my care now that you have left us. I must be all to him: the + Father, death has deprived him of; the relations, the bad world + permits him not to have. What is yet in store for me? Am I to close + the eyes of our boy, and then join you? + + The last weeks have been spent in quiet. Study could not give repose + to, but somewhat regulated, my thoughts. I said: "I lead an innocent + life, and it may become a useful one. I have talent, I will improve + that talent; and if, while meditating on the wisdom of ages, and + storing my mind with all that has been recorded of it, any new light + bursts upon me, or any discovery occurs that may be useful to my + fellows, then the balm of utility may be added to innocence. + + What is it that moves up and down in my soul, and makes me feel as if + my intellect could master all but my fate? I fear it is only youthful + ardour--the yet untamed spirit which, wholly withdrawn from the hopes, + and almost from the affections of life, indulges itself in the only + walk free to it, and, mental exertion being all my thought except + regret, would make me place my hopes in that. I am indeed become a + recluse in thought and act; and my mind, turned heavenward, would, but + for my only tie, lose all commune with what is around me. If I be + proud, yet it is with humility that I am so. I am not vain. My heart + shakes with its suppressed emotions, and I flag beneath the thoughts + that oppress me. + + Each day, as I have taken my solitary walk, I have felt myself exalted + with the idea of occupation, improvement, knowledge, and peace. + Looking back to my life as a delicious dream, I steeled myself as well + as I could against such severe regrets as should overthrow my + calmness. Once or twice, pausing in my walk, I have exclaimed in + despair, "Is it even so?" yet, for the most part resigned, I was + occupied by reflection--on those ideas you, my beloved, planted in my + mind--and meditated on our nature, our source, and our destination. + To-day, melancholy would invade me, and I thought the peace I enjoyed + was transient. Then that letter came to place its seal on my + prognostications. Yet it was not the refusal, or the insult heaped + upon me, that stung me to tears. It was their bitter words about our + Boy. Why, I live only to keep him from their hands. How dared they + dream that I held him not far more precious than all, save the hope of + again seeing you, my lost one. But for his smiles, where should I now + be? + + Stars that shine unclouded, ye cannot tell me what will be--yet I can + tell you a part. I may have misgivings, weaknesses, and momentary + lapses into unworthy despondency, but--save in devotion towards my + Boy--fortune has emptied her quiver, and to all her future shafts I + oppose courage, hopelessness of aught on this side, with a firm trust + in what is beyond the grave. + + Visit me in my dreams to-night, my beloved Shelley! kind, loving, + excellent as thou wert! and the event of this day shall be forgotten. + + _March 19._--As I have until now recurred to this book to discharge + into it the overflowings of a mind too full of the bitterest waters of + life, so will I to-night, now that I am calm, put down some of my + milder reveries; that, when I turn it over, I may not only find a + record of the most painful thoughts that ever filled a human heart + even to distraction. + + I am beginning seriously to educate myself; and in another place I + have marked the scope of this somewhat tardy education, intellectually + considered. In a moral point of view, this education is of some years' + standing, and it only now takes the form of seeking its food in books. + I have long accustomed myself to the study of my own heart, and have + sought and found in its recesses that which cannot embody itself in + words--hardly in feelings. I have found strength in the conception of + its faculties; much native force in the understanding of them; and + what appears to me not a contemptible penetration in the subtle + divisions of good and evil. But I have found less strength of + self-support, of resistance to what is vulgarly called temptation; yet + I think also that I have found true humility (for surely no one can be + less presumptuous than I), an ardent love for the immutable laws of + right, much native goodness of emotion, and purity of thought. + + Enough, if every day I gain a profounder knowledge of my defects, and + a more certain method of turning them to a good direction. + + Study has become to me more necessary than the air I breathe. In the + questioning and searching turn it gives to my thoughts, I find some + relief to wild reverie; in the self-satisfaction I feel in commanding + myself, I find present solace; in the hope that thence arises, that I + may become more worthy of my Shelley, I find a consolation that even + makes me less wretched than in my most wretched moments. + + _March 30._--I have now finished part of the _Odyssey_. I mark this. I + cannot write. Day after day I suffer the most tremendous agitation. I + cannot write, or read, or think. Whether it be the anxiety for letters + that shakes a frame not so strong as hitherto--whether it be my + annoyances here--whether it be my regrets, my sorrow, and despair, or + all these--I know not; but I am a wreck. + +A letter from Trelawny gladdened her heart. It said-- + + I must confess I am to blame in not having sooner written, + particularly as I have received two letters from you here. Nothing + particular has happened to me since our parting but a desperate + assault of Maremma fever, which had nearly reunited me to my friends, + or, as Iago says, removed me. On my arrival here, my first object was + to see the grave of the noble Shelley, and I was most indignant at + finding him confusedly mingled in a heap with five or six common + vagabonds. I instantly set about removing this gross neglect, and + selecting the only interesting spot. I enclosed it apart from all + possibility of sacrilegious intrusion, and removed his ashes to it, + placed a stone over it, am now planting it, and have ordered a granite + to be prepared for myself, which I shall place in this beautiful + recess (of which the enclosed is a drawing I took), for when I am + dead, I have none to do me this service, so shall at least give one + instance in my life of proficiency. + +In reply Mary wrote informing him of her change of plan, and begging for +all minute details about the tomb, which she was not likely, now, to see. +Trelawny was expecting soon to rejoin Byron at Genoa, but he wrote at +once. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + ROME, _27th April 1823_. + + DEAR MARY--I should have sooner replied to your last, but that I + concluded you must have seen Roberts, who is or ought to be at Genoa. + He will tell you that the ashes are buried in the new enclosed + Protestant burying-ground, which is protected by a wall and gates from + every possible molestation, and that the ashes are so placed apart, + and yet in the centre and most conspicuous spot of the burying-ground. + I have just planted six young cypresses and four laurels, in front of + the recess you see by the drawing is formed by two projecting parts of + the old ruin. My own stone, a plain slab till I can decide on some + fitting inscription, is placed on the left hand. I have likewise dug + my grave, so that, when I die, there is only to lift up my coverlet + and roll me into it. You may lie on the other side, if you like. It is + a lovely spot. The only inscription on Shelley's stone, besides the + _Cor cordium_ of Hunt, are the lines I have added from Shakespeare-- + + Nothing of him that doth fade, + But doth suffer a sea-change + Into something rich and strange. + + This quotation, by its double meaning, alludes both to the manner of + his death and his genius, and I think the element on which his soul + took wing, and the subtle essence of his being mingled, may still + retain him in some other shape. The waters may keep the dead, as the + earth may, and fire and air. His passionate fondness might have been + from some secret sympathy in their natures. Thence the fascination + which so forcibly attracted him, without fear or caution, to trust an + element almost all others hold in superstitious dread, and venture as + cautiously on as they would in a lair of lions. I have just compiled + an epitaph for Keats and sent it to Severn, who likes it much better + than the one he had designed. He had already designed a lyre with only + two of the strings strung, as indicating the unaccomplished maturity + and ripening of his genius. He had intended a long inscription about + his death having been caused by the _neglect_ of his countrymen, and + that, as a mark of his displeasure, he said--thus and then. What I + wished to substitute is simply thus-- + + Here lies the spoils + of a + Young English Poet, + "Whose master-hand is cold, whose silver lyre unstrung," + And by whose desire is inscribed, + That his name was writ in water. + + The line quoted, you remember, is in Shelley, _Adonais_, and the last + Keats desired might be engraved on his tomb. Ask Hunt if he thinks it + will do, and to think of something to put on my ante-dated grave. I am + very anxious to hear how Marianne is getting on, and Hunt. You never + mention a word of them or the _Liberal_. + + I have been delayed here longer than I had intended, from want of + money, having lent and given it away thoughtlessly. However, old Dunn + has sent me a supply, so I shall go on to Florence on Monday. I will + assuredly see you before you go, and, if my exchequer is not + exhausted, go part of the way with you. However, I will write further + on this topic at Florence. Do not go to England, to encounter poverty + and bitter retrospections. Stay in Italy. I will most gladly share my + income with you, and if, under the same circumstances, you would do + the same by me, why then you will not hesitate to accept it. I know of + nothing would give me half so much pleasure. As you say, in a few + years we shall both be better off. Commend me to Marianne and Hunt, + and believe me, yours affectionately, + + E. TRELAWNY. + + Poste Restante a Genes. + + * * * * * + + You need not tell me that all your thoughts are concentrated on the + memory of your loss, for I have observed it, with great regret and + some astonishment. You tell me nothing in your letters of how the + _Liberal_ is getting on. Why do you not send me a number? How many + have come out? Does Hunt stay at Genoa the summer, and what does Lord + Byron determine on? I am told the _Bolivar_ is lent to some one, and + at sea. Where is Jane? and is Mrs. Hunt likely to recover? I shall + certainly go on to Switzerland if I can raise the wind. + + * * * * * + + + MARY SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + _10th May 1823._ + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--You appear to have fulfilled my entire wish in all + you have done at Rome. Do you remember the day you made that quotation + from Shakespeare in our living room at Pisa? Mine own Shelley was + delighted with it, and thus it has for me a pleasing association. Some + time hence I may visit the spot which, of all others, I desire most to + see. + + * * * * * + + It is not on my own account, my excellent friend, that I go to + England. I believe that my child's interests will be best consulted by + my return to that country.... + + Desiring solitude and my books only, together with the consciousness + that I have one or two friends who, although absent, still think of me + with affection, England of course holds out no inviting prospect to + me. But I am sure to be rewarded in doing or suffering for my little + darling, so I am resigned to this last act, which seems to snap the + sole link which bound the present to the past, and to tear aside the + veil which I have endeavoured to draw over the desolations of my + situation. Your kindness I shall treasure up to comfort me in future + ill. I shall repeat to myself, I have such a friend, and endeavour to + deserve it. + + Do you go to Greece? Lord Byron continues in the same mind. The G---- + is an obstacle, and certainly her situation is rather a difficult one. + But he does not seem disposed to make a mountain of her resistance, + and he is far more able to take a decided than a petty step in + contradiction to the wishes of those about him. If you do go, it may + hasten your return hither. I remain until Mrs. Hunt's confinement is + over; had it not been for that, the fear of a hot journey would have + caused me to go in this month,--but my desire to be useful to her, and + my anxiety concerning the event of so momentous a crisis has induced + me to stay. You may think with what awe and terror I look forward to + the decisive moment, but I hope for the best. She is as well, perhaps + better, than we could in any way expect. + + I had no opportunity to send you a second No. of the _Liberal_; we + only received it a short time ago, and then you were on the wing: the + third number has come out, and we had a copy by post. It has little in + it we expected, but it is an amusing number, and L. B. is better + pleased with it than any other.... + + I trust that I shall see you soon, and then I shall hear all your + news. I shall see you--but it will be for so short a time--I fear even + that you will not go to Switzerland; but these things I must not dwell + upon,--partings and separations, when there is no circumstance to + lessen any pang. I must brace my mind, not enervate it, for I know I + shall have much to endure. + + I asked Hunt's opinion about your epitaph for Keats; he said that the + line from _Adonais_, though beautiful in itself, might be applied to + any poet, in whatever circumstances or whatever age, that died; and + that to be in accord with the two-stringed lyre, you ought to select + one that alluded to his youth and immature genius. A line to this + effect you might find in _Adonais_. + + Among the fragments of my lost Shelley, I found the following poetical + commentary on the words of Keats,--not that I recommend it for the + epitaph, but it may please you to see it. + + Here lieth one, whose name was writ in water, + But, ere the breath that could erase it blew, + Death, in remorse for that fell slaughter, + Death, the immortalising winter, flew + Athwart the stream, and time's mouthless torrent grew + A scroll of crystal, emblazoning the name + Of Adonais. + + I have not heard from Jane lately; she was well when she last wrote, + but annoyed by various circumstances, and impatient of her lengthened + stay in England. How earnestly do I hope that Edward's brother will + soon arrive, and show himself worthy of his affinity to the noble and + unequalled creature she has lost, by protecting one to whom protection + is so necessary, and shielding her from some of the ills to which she + is exposed. + + Adieu, my dear Trelawny. Continue to think kindly of me, and trust in + my unalterable friendship. + + MARY SHELLEY. + + Albaro, 10th May. + +On his journey to Genoa, Trelawny stayed a night at Lerici, and paid a +last visit to the Villa Magni. There, "sleeping still on the mud floor," +its mast and oars broken, was Shelley's little skiff, the "Boat on the +Serchio." + +He mounted the "stairs, or rather ladder," into the dining-room. + + As I surveyed its splotchy walls, broken floor, cracked ceiling, and + poverty-struck appearance, while I noted the loneliness of the + situation, and remembered the fury of the waves that in blowing + weather lashed its walls, I did not marvel at Mrs. Shelley's and Mrs. + Williams' groans on first entering it; nor that it had required all + Ned Williams' persuasive powers to induce them to stop there. + +But these things were all far away in the past. + + As music and splendour + Survive not the lamp and the lute, + The heart's echoes render + No song when the spirit is mute. + + No song but sad dirges, + Like the wind through a ruined cell, + Or the mournful surges + That ring the dead seaman's knell. + +At Genoa he found the "Pilgrim" in a state of supreme indecision. He had +left him discontented when he departed in December. The new magazine was +not a success. Byron had expected that other literary and journalistic +advantages, leading to fame and power, would accrue to him from the +coalition with Leigh Hunt and Shelley, but in this he was disappointed, +and he was left to bear the responsibility of the partnership alone. + + "The death of Shelley and the failure of the _Liberal_ irritated + Byron," writes Trelawny; "the cuckoo-note, 'I told you so,' sung by + his friends, and the loud crowing of enemies, by no means allayed his + ill humour. In this frame of mind he was continually planning how to + extricate himself. His plea for hoarding was that he might have a good + round tangible sum of current coin to aid him in any emergency.... + + "He exhausted himself in planning, projecting, beginning, wishing, + intending, postponing, regretting, and doing nothing: the unready are + fertile in excuses, and his were inexhaustible." + +Since that time he had been flattered and persuaded into joining the Greek +Committee, formed in London to aid the Greeks in their war of +independence. Byron's name and great popularity would be a tower of +strength to them. Their proposals came to him at a right moment, when he +was dissatisfied with himself and his position. He hesitated for months +before committing himself, and finally summoned Trelawny, in peremptory +terms, to come to him and go with him. + + _15th June 1823._ + + MY DEAR T.--You must have heard that I am going to Greece. Why do you + not come to me? I want your aid and am extremely anxious to see + you.... They all say I can be of use in Greece. I do not know how, nor + do they; but, at all events, let us go.--Yours, etc., truly, + + N. BYRON. + +And, always ready for adventure, the "Pirate" came. Before his arrival +Mary's journey had been decided on. Mrs. Hunt's confinement was over: she +and the infant had both done well, and she was now in a fair way to live, +in tolerable health, for many years longer. Want of funds was now the +chief obstacle in Mary's way, but Byron was no longer ready, as he had +been, with offers of help. Changeable as the wind, and utterly unable to +put himself in another person's place, he, without absolutely declining to +fulfil his promises, made so many words about it, and treated the matter +as so great a favour on his own part, that Mary at last declined his +assistance, although it obliged her to take advantage of Trelawny's +often-repeated offers of help, which she would not rather have accepted, +as he was poor, while Byron was rich. The whole story unfolds itself in +the three ensuing letters. + + MARY SHELLEY TO JANE WILLIAMS. + + ALBARO, NEAR GENOA, _July 1823_. + + I write to you in preference to my Father, because you, to a great + degree, understand the person I have to deal with, and in + communicating what I say concerning him, you can, _viva voce_, add + such comments as will render my relation more intelligible. + + The day after Marianne's confinement, the 9th June, seeing all went on + so prosperously, I told Lord Byron that I was ready to go, and he + promised to provide means. When I talked of going post, it was because + he said that I should go so, at the same time declaring that he would + regulate all himself. I waited in vain for these arrangements. But, + not to make a long story, since I hope soon to be able to relate the + details--he chose to transact our negotiation through Hunt, and gave + such an air of unwillingness and sense of the obligation he conferred, + as at last provoked Hunt to say that there was no obligation, since he + owed me L1000. + + Glad of a quarrel, straight I clap the door! + + Still keeping up an appearance of amity with Hunt, he has written + notes and letters so full of contempt against me and my lost Shelley + that I could stand it no longer, and have refused to receive his still + proffered aid for my journey. This, of course, delays me. I can muster + about L30 of my own. I do not know whether this is barely sufficient, + but as the delicate constitution of my child may oblige me to rest + several times on the journey, I cannot persuade myself to commence my + journey with what is barely necessary. I have written, therefore, to + Trelawny for the sum requisite, and must wait till I hear from him. I + see you, my poor girl, sigh over these mischances, but never mind, I + do not feel them. My life is a shifting scene, and my business is to + play the part allotted for each day well, and, not liking to think of + to-morrow, I never think of it at all, except in an intellectual way; + and as to money difficulties, why, having nothing, I can lose nothing. + Thus, as far as regards what are called worldly concerns, I am + perfectly tranquil, and as free or freer from care as if my signature + should be able to draw L1000 from some banker. The extravagance and + anger of Lord Byron's letters also relieve me from all pain that his + dereliction might occasion me, and that his conscience twinges him is + too visible from his impatient kicks and unmannerly curvets. You would + laugh at his last letter to Hunt, when he says concerning his + connection with Shelley "that he let himself down to the level of the + democrats." + + In the meantime Hunt is all kindness, consideration, and + friendship--all feeling of alienation towards me has disappeared even + to its last dregs. He perfectly approves of what I have done. So I am + still in Italy, and I doubt not but that its sun and vivifying + geniality relieve me from those biting cares which would be mine in + England, I fear, if I were destitute there. But I feel above the mark + of Fortune, and my heart too much wounded to feel these pricks, on all + occasions that do not regard its affections, _s'arma di se, e d'intero + diamante_. Thus am I changed; too late, alas! for what ought to have + been, but not too late, I trust, to enable me, more than before, to be + some stay and consolation to my own dear Jane. + + MARY. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + _Saturday._ + + DEAR MARY--Will you tell me what sum you want, as I am settling my + affairs? You must from time to time let me know your wants, that I may + do my best to relieve them. You are sure of me, so let us use no more + words about it. I have been racking my memory to remember some person + in England that would be of service to you for my sake, but my rich + friends and relations are without hearts, and it is useless to + introduce you to the unfortunate; it would but augment your repinings + at the injustice of Fortune. My knight-errant heart has led me many a + weary journey foolishly seeking the unfortunate, the miserable, and + the outcast; and when found, I have only made myself as one of them + without redressing their grievances, so I pray you avoid, as you value + your peace of mind, the wretched. I shall see you, I hope, + to-day.--Yours very faithfully, + + E. TRELAWNY. + + + MARY SHELLEY TO JANE WILLIAMS. + + ALBARO, _23d July 1823_. + + DEAREST JANE--I have at length fixed with the _vetturino_. I depart on + the 25th, my best girl. I leave Italy; I return to the dreariest + reality after having dreamt away a year in this blessed and beloved + country. + + Lord Byron, Trelawny, and Pierino Gamba sailed for Greece on the 17th + inst. I did not see the former. His unconquerable avarice prevented + his supplying me with money, and a remnant of shame caused him to + avoid me. But I have a world of things to tell you on that score when + I see you. If he were mean, Trelawny more than balanced the moral + account. His whole conduct during his last stay here has impressed us + all with an affectionate regard, and a perfect faith in the + unalterable goodness of his heart. They sailed together; Lord Byron + with L10,000, Trelawny with L50, and Lord Byron cowering before his + eye for reasons you shall hear soon. The Guiccioli is gone to + Bologna--_e poi cosa fara? Chi lo sa? Cosa vuoi che lo dico?_... + + I travel without a servant. I rest first at Lyons; but do you write to + me at Paris, Hotel Nelson. It will be a friend to await me. Alas! I + have need of consolation. Hunt's kindness is now as active and warm as + it was dormant before; but just as I find a companion in him I leave + him. I leave him in all his difficulties, with his head throbbing with + overwrought thoughts, and his frame sometimes sinking under his + anxieties. Poor Marianne has found good medicine, _facendo un bimbo_, + and then nursing it, but she, with her female providence, is more bent + by care than Hunt. How much I wished, and wish, to settle near them at + Florence; but I must submit with courage, and patience may at last + come and give opiate to my irritable feelings. + + Both Hunt and Trelawny say that Percy is much improved since Maria + left me. He is affectionately attached to Sylvan, and very fond of + _Bimbo nuovo_. He kisses him by the hour, and tells me, _Come il + Signore Enrico ha comprato un Baby nuovo--forse ti dara il Baby + vecchio_, as he gives away an old toy on the appearance of a new one. + + I will not write longer. In conversation, nay, almost in thought, I + can, at this most painful moment, force my excited feelings to laugh + at themselves, and my spirits, raised by emotion, to seem as if they + were light, but the natural current and real hue overflows me and + penetrates me when I write, and it would be painful to you, and + overthrow all my hopes of retaining my fortitude, if I were to write + one word that truly translated the agitation I suffer into language. + + I will write again from Lyons, where I suppose I shall be on the 3d of + August. Dear Jane, can I render you happier than you are? The idea of + that might console me, at least you will see one that truly loves you, + and who is for ever your affectionately attached + + MARY SHELLEY. + + If there is any talk of my accommodations, pray tell Mrs. Gisborne + that I cannot sleep on any but a _hard_ bed. I care not how hard, so + that it be a mattress. + +And now Mary's life in Italy was at an end. Her resolution of returning to +England had been welcomed by her father in the letter which follows, and +it was to his house, and not to Mrs. Gisborne's that she finally decided +to go on first arriving. + + GODWIN TO MARY. + + NO. 195 STRAND, _6th May 1823_. + + It certainly is, my dear Mary, with great pleasure that I anticipate + that we shall once again meet. It is a long, long time now since you + have spent one night under my roof. You are grown a woman, have been a + wife, a mother, a widow. You have realised talents which I but faintly + and doubtfully anticipated. I am grown an old man, and want a child of + my own to smile on and console me. I shall then feel less alone than + I do at present. + + What William will be, I know not; he has sufficient understanding and + quickness for the ordinary concerns of life, and something more; and, + at any rate, he is no smiler, no consoler. + + When you first set your foot in London, of course I and Mamma expect + that it will be in this house. But the house is smaller, one floor + less, than the house in Skinner Street. It will do well enough for you + to make shift with for a few days, but it would not do for a permanent + residence. But I hope we shall at least have you near us, within a + call. How different from your being on the shores of the + Mediterranean! + + Your novel has sold five hundred copies--half the impression. + + Peacock sent your box by the _Berbice_, Captain Wayth. I saw him a + fortnight ago, and he said that he had not yet received the bill of + lading himself, but he should be sure to have it in time, and would + send it. I ought to have written to you sooner. Your letter reached me + on the 18th ult., but I have been unusually surrounded with + perplexities.--Your affectionate Father, + + WILLIAM GODWIN. + +On the 25th of July she left Genoa, Hunt accompanying her for the first +twenty miles. If one thought more than any other sustained her in her +unprotected loneliness, it was that of being reunited in England to her +sister in misfortune, Jane Williams, to whom her heart turned with a +singular tenderness, and to whom on her journey she addressed one more +letter, full of grateful affection and of a touching humility, new in her +character. + + MARY SHELLEY TO JANE WILLIAMS. + + ST. JEAN DE LA MAURIENNE, + _30th July 1823_. + + MY BEST JANE--I wrote to you from Genoa the day before I quitted it, + but I afterwards lost the letter. I asked the Hunts to look for it, + and send it if found, but ten to one you will never receive it. It + contained nothing, however, but what I can tell you in five minutes if + I see you. It told you of the departure of Lord Byron and Trelawny for + Greece, the former escaping with all his crowns, and the other + disbursing until he had hardly L10 left. It went to my heart to borrow + the sum from him necessary to make up my journey, but he behaved with + so much quiet generosity that one was almost glad to put him to that + proof, and witness the excellence of his heart. In this and in another + trial he acquitted himself so well that he gained all our hearts, + while the other--but more when we meet. + + I left Genoa Thursday, 25th. Hunt and Thornton accompanied me the + first twenty miles. This was much, you will say, for Hunt. But, thank + heaven, we are now the best friends in the world. He set his heart on + my quitting Italy with as comfortable feelings as possible, and he did + so much that notwithstanding all the [bitterness] that such an event, + joined to parting with a dear friend, occasioned me, yet I have borne + up with better spirits than I could in any way have hoped. It is a + delightful thing, my dear Jane, to be able to express one's affection + upon an old and tried friend like Hunt, and one so passionately + attached to my Shelley as he was, and is. It is pleasant also to feel + myself loved by one who loves me. You know somewhat of what I suffered + during the winter, during his alienation from me. He was displeased + with me for many just reasons, but he found me willing to expiate, as + far as I could, the evil I had done, so his heart was again warmed; + and if, my dear friend, when I return, you find me more amiable and + more willing to suffer with patience than I was, it is to him that I + owe this benefit, and you may judge if I ought not to be grateful to + him. I am even so to Lord Byron, who was the cause that I stayed at + Genoa, and thus secured one who, I am sure, can never change. + + The illness of one of our horses detains me here an afternoon, so I + write, and shall put the letter in the post at Chambery. I have come + without a servant or companion; but Percy is perfectly good, and no + trouble to me at all. We are both well; a little tired or so. Will you + tell my Father that you have heard from me, and that I am so far on my + journey. I expect to be at Lyons in three days, and will write to him + from that place. If there be any talk of my accommodations, pray put + in a word for a _hard_ bed, for else I am sure I cannot sleep. + + So I have left Italy, and alone with my child I am travelling to + England. What a dream I have had! and is it over? Oh no! for I do + nothing but dream; realities seem to have lost all power over me,--I + mean, as it were, mere tangible realities,--for, where the affections + are concerned, calamity has only awakened greater sensitiveness. + + I fear things do not go on well with you, my dearest girl! you are not + in your mother's house, and you cannot have settled your affairs in + India,--mine too! Why, I arrive poor to nothingness, and my hopes are + small, except from my own exertions; and living in England is dear. My + thoughts will all bend towards Italy; but even if Sir Timothy Shelley + should do anything, he will not, I am sure, permit me to go abroad. At + any rate we shall be together a while. We will talk of our lost ones, + and think of realising my dreams; who knows? Adieu, I shall soon see + you, and you will find how truly I am your affectionate + + MARY SHELLEY. + +With the following fragment, the last of her Italian journal, this chapter +may fitly close. + + _Journal, May 31._--The lanes are filled with fire-flies; they dart + between the trunks of the trees, and people the land with earth-stars. + I walked among them to-night, and descended towards the sea. I passed + by the ruined church, and stood on the platform that overlooks the + beach. The black rocks were stretched out among the blue waters, which + dashed with no impetuous motion against them. The dark boats, with + their white sails, glided gently over its surface, and the + star-enlightened promontories closed in the bay: below, amid the + crags, I heard the monotonous but harmonious voices of the fishermen. + + How beautiful these shores, and this sea! Such is the scene--such the + waves within which my beloved vanished from mortality. + + The time is drawing near when I must quit this country. It is true + that, in the situation I now am, Italy is but the corpse of the + enchantress that she was. Besides, if I had stayed here, the state of + things would have been different. The idea of our child's advantage + alone enables me to keep fixed in my resolution to return to England. + It is best for him--and I go. + + Four years ago we lost our darling William; four years ago, in + excessive agony, I called for death to free me from all I felt that I + should suffer here. I continue to live, and _thou_ art gone. I leave + Italy and the few that still remain to me. That I regret less; for our + intercourse is so much chequered with all of dross that this earth so + delights to blend with kindness and sympathy, that I long for + solitude, with the exercise of such affections as still remain to me. + Away, I shall be conscious that these friends love me, and none can + then gainsay the pure attachment which chiefly clings to them because + they knew and loved you--because I knew them when with you, and I + cannot think of them without feeling your spirit beside me. + + I cannot grieve for you, beloved Shelley; I grieve for thy + friends--for the world--for thy child--most for myself, enthroned in + thy love, growing wiser and better beneath thy gentle influence, + taught by you the highest philosophy--your pupil, friend, lover, + wife, mother of your children! The glory of the dream is gone. I am a + cloud from which the light of sunset has passed. Give me patience in + the present struggle. _Meum cordium cor!_ Good-night! + + I would give all that I am to be as now thou art, + But I am chained to time, and cannot thence depart. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +JULY 1823-DECEMBER 1824 + + +Mary's journey extended over a month, one week of which was passed in +Paris and Versailles, for the sake of seeing the Horace Smiths and other +old acquaintances now living there. Her letters to the Hunts, describing +the incidents and impressions of her journey, were as lively and cheerful +as she could make them. A few extracts follow here. + + TO LEIGH HUNT. + + ASTI, _26th July_. + + * * * * * + + Percy is very good and does not in the least _annoy_ me. In the state + of mind I am now in, the motion and change is delightful to me: my + thoughts run with the coach and wind, and double, and jerk, and are up + and down, and forward, and most often backward, till the labyrinth of + Crete is a joke in comparison to my intricate wanderings. They now + lead me to you, Hunt. You rose early, wrote, walked, dined, whistled, + sang and punned most outrageously, the worst puns in the world. My + best Polly, you, full of your chicks and of your new darling, yet + sometimes called "Henry" to see a beautiful new effect of light on the + mountains.... Dear girl, I have a great affection for you, believe + that, and don't talk or think sorrowfully, unless you have the + toothache, and then don't think, but talk infinite nonsense mixed with + infinite sense, and Hunt will listen, as I used. Thorny, you have not + been cross yet. Oh, my dear Johnny (don't be angry, Polly, with this + nonsense), do not let your impatient nature ever overcome you, or you + may suffer as I have done--which God forbid! Be true to yourself, and + talk much to your Father, who will teach you as he has taught me. It + is the idea of his lessons of wisdom that makes me feel the affection + I do for him. I profit by them, so do you: may you never feel the + remorse of having neglected them when his voice and look are gone, and + he can no longer talk to you; that remorse is a terrible feeling, and + it requires a faith and a philosophy immense not to be destroyed by + the stinging monster. + + + _28th July._ + + ... I was too late for the post yesterday at Turin, and too early this + morning, so as I determined to put this letter in the post myself, I + bring it with me to Susa, and now open it to tell you how delighted I + am with my morning's ride--the scenery is so divine. The high, dark + Alps, just on this southern side tipt with snow, close in a plain; the + meadows are full of clover and flowers, and the woods of ash, elm, and + beech descend and spread, and lose themselves in the fields; stately + trees, in clumps or singly, arise on each side, and wherever you look + you see some spot where you dream of building a home and living for + ever. The exquisite beauty of nature, and the cloudless sky of this + summer day soothe me, and make this 28th so full of recollections that + it is almost pleasurable. Wherever the spirit of beauty dwells, _he_ + must be; the rustling of the trees is full of him; the waving of the + tall grass, the moving shadows of the vast hills, the blue air that + penetrates their ravines and rests upon their heights. I feel him near + me when I see that which he best loved. Alas! nine years ago he took + to a home in his heart this weak being, whom he has now left for more + congenial spirits and happier regions. She lives only in the hope that + she may become one day as one of them. + + Absolutely, my dear Hunt, I will pass some three summer months in this + divine spot, you shall all be with me. There are no gentlemen's seats + at Palazzi, so we will take a cottage, which we will paint and refit, + just as this country here is, in which I now write, clean and plain. + We will have no servants, only we will give out all the needlework. + Marianne shall make puddings and pies, to make up for the vegetables + and meat which I shall boil and spoil. Thorny shall sweep the rooms, + Mary make the beds, Johnny clean the kettles and pans, and then we + will pop him into the many streams hereabouts, and so clean him. + Swinny, being so quick, shall be our Mercury, Percy our gardener, + Sylvan and Percy Florence our weeders, and Vincent our plaything; and + then, to raise us above the vulgar, we will do all our work, keeping + time to Hunt's symphonies; we will perform our sweepings and dustings + to the March in _Alceste_, we will prepare our meats to the tune of + the _Laughing Trio_, and when we are tired we will lie on our turf + sofas, while all our voices shall join in chorus in _Notte e giorno + faticar_. You see my paper is quite out, so I must say, for the last + time, Adieu! God bless you. + + MARY W. S. + + + _Tuesday, 5th August._ + + I have your letter, and your excuses, and all. I thank you most + sincerely for it: at the same time I do entreat you to take care of + yourself with regard to writing; although your letters are worth + infinite pleasure to me, yet that pleasure cannot be worth pain to + you; and remember, if you must write, the good, hackneyed maxim of + _multum in parvo_, and, when your temples throb, distil the essence of + three pages into three lines, and my "fictitious adventure"[5] will + enable me to open them out and fill up intervals. Not but what three + pages are best, but "you can understand me." And now let me tell you + that I fear you do not rise early, since you doubt my _ore mattutine_. + Be it known to you, then, that on the journey I always rise _before_ 3 + o'clock, that I _never_ once made the _vetturino_ wait, and, moreover, + that there was no discontent in our jogging on on either side, so + that I half expect to be a _Santa_ with him. He indeed got a little + out of his element when he got into France,--his good humour did not + leave him, but his self-possession. He could not speak French, and he + walked about as if treading on eggs. + + When at Paris I will tell you more what I think of the French. They + still seem miracles of quietness in comparison with Marianne's noisy + friends. And the women's dresses afford the drollest contrast with + those in fashion when I first set foot in Paris in 1814. Then their + waists were between their shoulders, and, as Hogg observed, they were + rather curtains than gowns; their hair, too, dragged to the top of the + head, and then lifted to its height, appeared as if each female wished + to be a Tower of Babel in herself. Now their waists are long (not so + long, however, as the Genoese), and their hair flat at the top, with + quantities of curls on the temples. I remember, in 1814, a Frenchman's + pathetic horror at Clare's and my appearance in the streets of Paris + in "Oldenburgh" (as they were called) hats; now they all wear machines + of that shape, and a high bonnet would of course be as far out of the + right road as if the earth were to take a flying leap to another + system. + + After you receive this letter, you must direct to me at my Father's + (pray put William Godwin, Esq., since the want of that etiquette + annoys him. I remember Shelley's unspeakable astonishment when the + author of _Political Justice_ asked him, half reproachfully, why he + addressed him _Mr._ Godwin), 195 Strand. + +On the 25th of August Mary met her father once more. At his house in the +Strand she spent her first ten days in England. Consideration for others, +and the old habit of repressing all show of feeling before Godwin helped +to steel her nerves and heart to bear the stings and aches of this +strange, mournful reunion. + +And now again, too, she saw her friend Jane. But fondly as Mary ever clung +to her, she must have been sensible of the difference between them. Mrs. +Williams' situation was forlorn indeed; in some respects even more so than +Mrs. Shelley's. But, though she had grieved bitterly, as well she might, +for Edward's loss, her nature was not _impressible_, and the catastrophe +which had fallen upon her had left her unaltered. Jane was unhappy, but +she was not inconsolable; her grief was becoming to her, and lent her a +certain interest which enhanced her attractions. And to men in general she +was very attractive. Godwin himself was somewhat fascinated by the +"picturesque little woman" who had called on him on her first arrival; who +"did not drop one tear" and occasionally smiled. As for Hogg, he lost his +heart to her at once. + +All this Mary must have seen. But Jane was an attaching creature, and Mary +loved her as the greater nature loves the lesser; she lavished on her a +wealth of pent-up tenderness, content to get what crumbs she could in +return. For herself a curious surprise was in store, which entertained, if +it did not cheer her. + +Just at the time of its author's return to England, _Frankenstein_, in a +dramatised form, was having a considerable "run" at the English Opera +House. + + MRS. SHELLEY TO LEIGH HUNT. + + _9th September 1823._ + + MY DEAR HUNT--Bessy promised me to relieve you from any inquietude you + might suffer from not hearing from me, so I indulged myself with not + writing to you until I was quietly settled in lodgings of my own. Want + of time is not my excuse; I had plenty, but, until I saw all quiet + around me, I had not the spirit to write a line. I thought of you + all--how much? and often longed to write, yet would not till I called + myself free to turn southward; to imagine you all, to put myself in + the midst of you, would have destroyed all my philosophy. But now I do + so. I am in little neat lodgings, my boy in bed, I quiet, and I will + now talk to you, tell you what I have seen and heard, and with as + little repining as I can, try (by making the best of what I have, the + certainty of your friendship and kindness) to rest half content that I + am not in the "Paradise of Exiles." Well, first I will tell you, + journalwise, the history of my sixteen days in London. + + I arrived Monday, the 25th of August. My Father and William came for + me to the wharf. I had an excellent passage of eleven hours and a + half, a glassy sea, and a contrary wind. The smoke of our fire was + wafted right aft, and streamed out behind us; but wind was of little + consequence; the tide was with us, and though the engine gave a "short + uneasy motion" to the vessel, the water was so smooth that no one on + board was sick, and Persino played about the deck in high glee. I had + a very kind reception in the Strand, and all was done that could be + done to make me comfortable. I exerted myself to keep up my spirits. + The house, though rather dismal, is infinitely better than the Skinner + Street one. I resolved not to think of certain things, to take all as + a matter of course, and thus contrive to keep myself out of the gulf + of melancholy, on the edge of which I was and am continually peeping. + + But lo and behold! I found myself famous. _Frankenstein_ had + prodigious success as a drama, and was about to be repeated, for the + twenty-third night, at the English Opera House. The play-bill amused + me extremely, for, in the list of _dramatis personae_, came "----, by + Mr. T. Cooke." This nameless mode of naming the unnameable is rather + good. + + On Friday, 29th August, Jane, my Father, William, and I went to the + theatre to see it. Wallack looked very well as Frankenstein. He is at + the beginning full of hope and expectation. At the end of the first + act the stage represents a room with a staircase leading to + Frankenstein's workshop; he goes to it, and you see his light at a + small window, through which a frightened servant peeps, who runs off + in terror when Frankenstein exclaims "It lives!" Presently + Frankenstein himself rushes in horror and trepidation from the room, + and, while still expressing his agony and terror, "----" throws down + the door of the laboratory, leaps the staircase, and presents his + unearthly and monstrous person on the stage. The story is not well + managed, but Cooke played ----'s part extremely well; his seeking, as + it were, for support; his trying to grasp at the sounds he heard; all, + indeed, he does was well imagined and executed. I was much amused, and + it appeared to excite a breathless eagerness in the audience. It was a + third piece, a scanty pit filled at half-price, and all stayed till it + was over. They continue to play it even now. + + On Saturday, 30th August, I went with Jane to the Gisbornes. I know + not why, but seeing them seemed more than anything else to remind me + of Italy. Evening came on drearily, the rain splashed on the pavement, + nor star nor moon deigned to appear. I looked upward to seek an image + of Italy, but a blotted sky told me only of my change. I tried to + collect my thoughts, and then, again, dared not think, for I am a ruin + where owls and bats live only, and I lost my last _singing bird_ when + I left Albaro. It was my birthday, and it pleased me to tell the + people so; to recollect and feel that time flies, and what is to + arrive is nearer, and my home not so far off as it was a year ago. + This same evening, on my return to the Strand, I saw Lamb, who was + very entertaining and amiable, though a little deaf. One of the first + questions he asked me was, whether they made puns in Italy: I said, + "Yes, now Hunt is there." He said that Burney made a pun in Otaheite, + the first that was ever made in that country. At first the natives + could not make out what he meant, but all at once they discovered the + _pun_, and danced round him in transports of joy.... + + ... On the strength of the drama, my Father had published for my + benefit a new edition of _Frankenstein_, for he despaired utterly of + my doing anything with Sir Timothy Shelley. I wrote to him, however, + to tell him of my arrival, and on the following Wednesday had a note + from Whitton, where he invited me, if I wished for an explanation of + Sir T. Shelley's intentions concerning my boy, to call on him. I went + with my Father. Whitton was very polite, though long-winded: his great + wish seemed to be to prevent my applying again to Sir T. Shelley, whom + he represented as old, infirm, and irritable. However, he advanced me + L100 for my immediate expenses, told me that he could not speak + positively until he had seen Sir T. Shelley, but that he doubted not + but that I should receive the same annually for my child, and, with a + little time and patience, I should get an allowance for myself. This, + you see, relieved me from a load of anxieties. + + Having secured neat cheap lodgings, we removed hither last night. + Such, dear Hunt, is the outline of your poor exile's history. After + two days of rain, the weather has been _uncommonly_ fine, _cioe_, + without rain, and cloudless, I believe, though I trusted to other eyes + for that fact, since the white-washed sky is anything but blue to any + but the perceptions of the natives themselves. It is so cold, however, + that the fire I am now sitting by is not the first that has been + lighted, for my Father had one two days ago. The wind is east and + piercing, but I comfort myself with the hope that softer gales are now + fanning your _not_ throbbing temples, that the climate of Florence + will prove kindly to you, and that your health and spirits will return + to you. Why am I not there? This is quite a foreign country to me, + the names of the places sound strangely, the voices of the people are + new and grating, the vulgar English they speak particularly + displeasing. But for my Father, I should be with you next spring, but + his heart and soul are set on my stay, and in this world it always + seems one's duty to sacrifice one's own desires, and that claim ever + appears the strongest which claims such a sacrifice. + + * * * * * + +It is difficult to imagine _Frankenstein_ on the stage; it must, at least, +lose very much in dramatic representation. Like its modern successor, _Dr. +Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_,--that remarkable story which bears a certain +affinity to _Frankenstein_,--its subtle allegorical significance would be +overweighted, if not lost, by the effect of the grosser and more material +incidents which are all that could be _played_, and which, as described, +must have bordered on the ludicrous. Still the charm of life imparted by a +human impersonation to any portion, even, of one's own idea, is singularly +powerful; and so Mary felt it. She would have liked to repeat the +experience. Her situation, looked at in the face, was unenviable. She was +unprovided for, young, delicate, and with a child dependent on her. Her +rich connections would have nothing to do with her, and her boy did not +possess in their eyes the importance which would have attached to him had +he been heir to the baronetcy. She had talent, and it had been cultivated, +but with her sorely-tried health and spirits, the prospect of +self-support by the compulsory production of imaginative work must, at the +time, have seemed unpromising enough. + +Two sheet-anchors of hope she had, and by these she lived. They were, her +child--so friendless but for her--and the thought of Shelley's fame. The +collecting and editing of his MSS., this was her work; no one else should +do it. It seemed as though her brief life with him had had for its purpose +to educate her for this one object. + +Those who now, in naming Shelley, feel they name a part of everything +beautiful, ethereal, and spiritual--that his words are so inextricably +interwoven with certain phases of love and beauty as to be +indistinguishable from the very thing itself--may well find it hard to +realise how little he was known at the time when he died. + +With other poets their work is the blossom and fruit of their lives, but +Shelley's poetry resembles rather the perfume of the flower, that subtle +quality pertaining to the bloom which can be neither described, nor +pourtrayed, nor transmitted; an essence of immortality. + +Not many months after this the news of Byron's early death struck a kind +of remorseful grief into the hearts of his countrymen. A letter of Miss +Welsh's (Mrs. Carlyle) gives an idea of the general feeling-- + + "I was told it," she says, "in a room full of people. Had I heard that + the sun and moon had fallen out of their spheres it could not have + conveyed to me the feeling of a more awful blank than did the simple + words, 'Byron is dead.'" + +How many, it may be asked, were conscious of any blank when the news +reached them that Shelley had been "accidentally drowned"? Their numbers +might be counted by tens. + + The sale, in every instance, of Mr. Shelley's works has been very + confined, + +was his publishers' report to his widow. One newspaper dismissed his +memory by the passing remark, "He will now find out whether there is a +Hell or not." + +The small number of those who recognised his genius did not even include +all his personal friends. + + "Mine is a life of failures;" so he summed it up to Trelawny and + Edward Williams. "Peacock says my poetry is composed of day-dreams and + nightmares, and Leigh Hunt does not think it good enough for the + _Examiner_. Jefferson Hogg says all poetry is inverted sense, and + consequently nonsense.... + + "I wrote, and the critics denounced me as a mischievous visionary, and + my friends said that I had mistaken my vocation, that my poetry was + mere rhapsody of words...." + +Leigh Hunt, indeed, thought his own poetry more than equal to Shelley's or +Byron's. Byron knew Shelley's power well enough, but cared little for the +subjects of his sympathy. Trelawny was more appreciative, but his +admiration for the poetry was quite secondary to his enthusiasm for the +man. In Hogg's case, affection for the man may be said to have _excused_ +the poetry. All this Mary knew, but she knew too--what she was soon to +find out by experience--that among his immediate associates he had created +too warm an interest for him to escape posthumous discussion and +criticism. And he had been familiar with some of those regarding whom the +world's curiosity was insatiable, concerning whom any shred of +information, true or false, was eagerly snapped up. His name would +inevitably figure in anecdotes and gossip. His fame was Mary's to guard. +During the years she lived at Albaro she had been employed in collecting +and transcribing his scattered MSS., and at the end of this year, 1823, +the volume of Posthumous Poems came out. + +One would imagine that publishers would have bid against each other for +the possession of such a treasure. Far from it. Among the little band of +"true believers" three came forward to guarantee the expenses of +publication. They were, the poet Thomas Lovell Beddoes, Procter, and T. F. +Kelsall. + +The appearance of this book was a melancholy satisfaction to Mary, though, +as will soon be seen, she was not long allowed to enjoy it. + + MRS. SHELLEY TO MRS. HUNT. + + LONDON, _27th November 1823_. + + MY DEAREST POLLY--Are you not a naughty girl? How could you copy a + letter to that "agreeable, unaffected woman, Mrs. Shelley," without + saying a word from yourself to your loving...? My dear Polly, a line + from you forms a better picture for me of what you are about + than--alas! I was going to say three pages, but I check myself--the + rare one page of Hunt. Do not think that I forget you--even Percy does + not, and he often tells me to bid the Signor Enrico and you to get in + a carriage and then into a boat, and to come to _questo paese_ with + _Baby nuovo_, Henry, Swinburne, _e tutti_. But that will not be, nor + shall I see you at Mariano; this is a dreary exile for me. During a + long month of cloud and fog, how often have I sighed for my beloved + Italy, and more than ever this day when I have come to a conclusion + with Sir Timothy Shelley as to my affairs, and I find the miserable + pittance I am to have. Nearly sufficient in Italy, here it will not go + half-way. It is L100 per annum. Nor is this all, for I foresee a + thousand troubles; yet, in truth, as far as regards mere money matters + and worldly prospects, I keep up my philosophy with excellent success. + Others wonder at this, but I do not, nor is there any philosophy in + it. After having witnessed the mortal agonies of my two darling + children, after that journey from and to Lerici, I feel all these as + pictures and trifles as long as I am kept out of contact with the + unholy. I was upset to-day by being obliged to see Whitton, and the + prospect of seeing others of his tribe. I can earn a sufficiency, I + doubt not. In Italy I should be content: here I will not bemoan. + Indeed I never do, and Mrs. Godwin makes _large eyes_ at the quiet way + in which I take it all. It is England alone that annoys me, yet + sometimes I get among friends and almost forget its fogs. I go to + Shacklewell rarely, and sometimes see the Novellos elsewhere. He is my + especial favourite, and his music always transports me to the seventh + heaven.... I see the Lambs rather often, she ever amiable, and Lamb + witty and delightful. I must tell you one thing and make Hunt laugh. + Lamb's new house at Islington is close to the New River, and George + Dyer, after having paid them a visit, on going away at 12 at noonday, + walked deliberately into the water, taking it for the high road. + "But," as he said afterwards to Procter, "I soon found that I was in + the water, sir." So Miss Lamb and the servant had to fish him out.... + I must tell Hunt also a good saying of Lamb's,--talking of some one, + he said, "Now some men who are very veracious are called + matter-of-fact men, but such a one I should call a matter-of-lie man." + + I have seen also Procter, with his "beautifully formed head" (it is + beautifully formed), several times, and I like him. He is an + enthusiastic admirer of Shelley, and most zealous in bringing out the + volume of his poems; this alone would please me; and he is, moreover, + gentle and gentlemanly, and apparently endued with a true poetic + feeling. Besides, he is an invalid, and some time ago I told you, in a + letter, that I have always a sneaking (for sneaking read open) + kindness for men of literary and particularly poetic habits, who have + delicate health. I cannot help revering the mind delicately attuned + that shatters the material frame, and whose thoughts are strong enough + to throw down and dilapidate the walls of sense and dikes of flesh + that the unimaginative contrive to keep in such good repair.... + + After all, I spend a great deal of my time in solitude. I have been + hitherto too fully occupied in preparing Shelley's MSS. It is now + complete, and the poetry alone will make a large volume. Will you tell + Hunt that he need not send any of the MSS. that he has (except the + Essay on Devils, and some lines addressed to himself on his arrival in + Italy, if he should choose them to be inserted), as I have recopied + all the rest? We should be very glad, however, of his notice as + quickly as possible, as we wish the book to be out in a month at + furthest, and that will not be possible unless he sends it + immediately. It would break my heart if the book should appear without + it.[6] When he does send a packet over (let it be directed to his + brother), will he also be so good as to send me a copy of my "Choice," + beginning after the line + + Entrenched sad lines, or blotted with its might? + + Perhaps, dear Marianne, you would have the kindness to copy them for + me, and send them soon. I have another favour to ask of you. Miss + Curran has a portrait of Shelley, in many things very like, and she + has so much talent that I entertain great hopes that she will be able + to make a good one; for this purpose I wish her to have all the aids + possible, and among the rest a profile from you.[7] If you could not + cut another, perhaps you would send her one already cut, and if you + sent it with a note requesting her to return it when she had done with + it, I will engage that it will be most faithfully returned. At present + I am not quite sure where she is, but if she should be there, and you + can find her and send her this, I need not tell you how you would + oblige me. + + I heard from Bessy that Hunt is writing something for the _Examiner_ + for me. I _conjecture_ that this may be concerning _Valperga_. I shall + be glad, indeed, when that comes, or in lieu of it, anything else. + John Hunt begins to despair. + + * * * * * + + And now, dear Polly, I think I have done with gossip and business: + with words of affection and kindness I should never have done. I am + inexpressibly anxious about you all. Percy has had a similar though + shorter attack to that at Albaro, but he is now recovered. I have a + cold in my head, occasioned, I suppose, by the weather. Ah, Polly! if + all the beauties of England were to have only the mirror that Richard + III desires, a very short time would be spent at the looking-glass! + + What of Florence and the gallery? I saw the Elgin marbles to-day; + to-morrow I am to go to the Museum to look over the prints: that will + be a great treat. The Theseus is a divinity, but how very few statues + they have! Kiss the children. Ask Thornton for his forgotten and + promised P.S., give my love to Hunt, and believe me, my dear + Marianne, the exiled, but ever, most affectionately yours, + + MARY W. SHELLEY. + + + _Journal, January 18_ (1824).--I have now been nearly four months in + England, and if I am to judge of the future by the past and the + present, I have small delight in looking forward. I even regret those + days and weeks of intense melancholy that composed my life at Genoa. + Yes, solitary and unbeloved as I was there, I enjoyed a more + pleasurable state of being than I do here. I was still in Italy, and + my heart and imagination were both gratified by that circumstance. I + awoke with the light and beheld the theatre of nature from my window; + the trees spread their green beauty before me, the resplendent sky was + above me, the mountains were invested with enchanting colours. I had + even begun to contemplate painlessly the blue expanse of the tranquil + sea, speckled by the snow-white sails, gazed upon by the unclouded + stars. There was morning and its balmy air, noon and its exhilarating + heat, evening and its wondrous sunset, night and its starry pageant. + Then, my studies; my drawing, which soothed me; my Greek, which I + studied with greater complacency as I stole every now and then a look + on the scene near me; my metaphysics, that strengthened and elevated + my mind. Then my solitary walks and my reveries; they were + magnificent, deep, pathetic, wild, and exalted. I sounded the depths + of my own nature; I appealed to the nature around me to corroborate + the testimony that my own heart bore to its purity. I thought of _him_ + with hope; my grief was active, striving, expectant. I was worth + something then in the catalogue of beings. I could have written + something, been something. Now I am exiled from these beloved scenes; + its language is becoming a stranger to mine ears; my child is + forgetting it. I am imprisoned in a dreary town; I see neither fields, + nor hills, nor trees, nor sky; the exhilaration of enwrapt + contemplation is no more felt by me; aspirations agonising, yet grand, + from which the soul reposed in peace, have ceased to ascend from the + quenched altar of my mind. Writing has become a task; my studies + irksome; my life dreary. In this prison it is only in human + intercourse that I can pretend to find consolation; and woe, woe, and + triple woe to whoever seeks pleasure in human intercourse when that + pleasure is not founded on deep and intense affection; as for the + rest-- + + The bubble floats before, + The shadow stalks behind. + + My Father's situation, his cares and debts, prevent my enjoying his + society. + + I love Jane better than any other human being, but I am pressed upon + by the knowledge that she but slightly returns this affection. I love + her, and my purest pleasure is derived from that source--a capacious + basin, and but a rill flows into it. I love some one or two more, + "with a degree of love," but I see them seldom. I am excited while + with them, but the reaction of this feeling is dreadfully painful, but + while in London I cannot forego this excitement. I know some clever + men, in whose conversation I delight, but this is rare, like angels' + visits. Alas! having lived day by day with one of the wisest, best, + and most affectionate of spirits, how void, bare, and drear is the + scene of life! + + Oh, Shelley, dear, lamented, beloved! help me, raise me, support me; + let me not feel ever thus fallen and degraded! my imagination is dead, + my genius lost, my energies sleep. Why am I not beneath that + weed-grown tower? Seeing Coleridge last night reminded me forcibly of + past times; his beautiful descriptions reminded me of Shelley's + conversations. Such was the intercourse I once daily enjoyed, added to + supreme and active goodness, sympathy, and affection, and a wild, + picturesque mode of living that suited my active spirit and satisfied + its craving for novelty of impression. + + I will go into the country and philosophise; some gleams of past + entrancement may visit me there. + +Lonely, poor, and dull as she was, these first months were a dreadful +trial. She was writing, or trying to write, another novel, _The Last +Man_, but it hung heavy; it did not satisfy her. Shrinking from company, +yet recoiling still more from the monotony of her own thoughts, she was +possessed by the restless wish to write a drama, perhaps with the idea +that out of dramatic creations she might (Frankenstein-like) manufacture +for herself companions more living than the characters of a novel. It may +have been fortunate for her that she did not persevere in the attempt. Her +special gifts were hardly of a dramatic order, and she had not the +necessary experience for a successful playwright. She consulted her +father, however, sending him at the same time some specimens of her work, +and got some sound advice from him in return. + + GODWIN TO MARY. + + NO. 195 STRAND, _27th February 1824_. + + MY DEAR MARY--Your appeal to me is a painful one, and the account you + give of your spirits and tone of mind is more painful. Your appeal to + me is painful, because I by no means regard myself as an infallible + judge, and have been myself an unsuccessful adventurer in the same + field toward which, in this instance, you have turned your regards. As + to what you say of your spirits and tone of mind, your plans, and your + views, would not that much more profitably and agreeably be made the + subject of a conversation between us? You are aware that such a + conversation must be begun by you. So begun, it would be quite a + different thing than begun by me. In the former case I should be + called in as a friend and adviser, from whom some advantage was hoped + for; in the latter I should be an intruder, forcing in free speeches + and unwelcome truths, and should appear as if I wanted to dictate to + you and direct you, who are well capable of directing yourself. You + have able critics within your command--Mr. Procter and Mr. Lamb. You + have, however, one advantage in me; I feel a deeper interest in you + than they do, and would not mislead you for the world. + + As to the specimens you have sent me, it is easy for me to give my + opinion. There is one good scene--Manfred and the Two Strangers in the + Cottage; and one that has some slight hints in it--the scene where + Manfred attempts to stab the Duke. The rest are neither good nor bad; + they might be endured, in the character of cement, to fasten good + things together, but no more. Am I right? Perhaps not. I state things + as they appear to my organs. Thus far, therefore, you afford an + example, to be added to Barry Cornwall, how much easier it is to write + a detached dramatic scene than to write a tragedy. + + Is it not strange that so many people admire and relish Shakespeare, + and that nobody writes or even attempts to write like him? To read + your specimens, I should suppose that you had read no tragedies but + such as have been written since the date of your birth. Your + personages are mere abstractions--the lines and points of a + mathematical diagram--and not men and women. If A crosses B, and C + falls upon D, who can weep for that? Your talent is something like + mine--it cannot unfold itself without elbow-room. As Gray sings, "Give + ample room and verge enough the characters of hell to trace." I can do + tolerably well if you will allow me to explain as much as I like--if, + in the margin of what my personage says, I am permitted to set down + and anatomise all that he feels. Dramatic dialogue, in reference to + any talent I possess, is the devil. To write nothing more than the + very words spoken by the character is a course that withers all the + powers of my soul. Even Shakespeare, the greatest dramatist that ever + existed, often gives us riddles to guess and enigmas to puzzle over. + Many of his best characters and situations require a volume of + commentary to make them perspicuous. And why is this? Because the law + of his composition confines him to set down barely words that are to + be delivered. + + For myself, I am almost glad that you have not (if you have not) a + dramatic talent. How many mortifications and heart-aches would that + entail on you. Managers are to be consulted; players to be humoured; + the best pieces that were ever written negatived, and returned on the + author's hands. If these are all got over, then you have to encounter + the caprice of a noisy, insolent, and vulgar-minded audience, whose + senseless _non fiat_ shall turn the labour of a year in a moment into + nothing. + + Full little knowest thou, that hast not tried, + What hell it is---- + To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares, + To eat thy heart through comfortless despairs; + To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to run, + To spend, to give, to want, to be undone. + + It is laziness, my dear Mary, that makes you wish to be a dramatist. + It seems in prospect a short labour to write a play, and a long one to + write a work consisting of volumes; and as much may be gained by the + one as by the other. But as there is no royal road to geometry, so + there is no idle and self-indulgent activity that leads to literary + eminence. + + As to the idea that you have no literary talent, for God's sake, do + not give way to such diseased imaginations. You have, fortunately, + ascertained that at a very early period. What would you have done if + you had passed through my ordeal? I did not venture to face the public + till I was seven and twenty, and for ten years after that period could + not contrive to write anything that anybody would read; yet even I + have not wholly miscarried. + +Much of this was shrewd, and undeniable, but the _wish_ to write for the +stage continued to haunt Mary, and recurred two years later when she saw +Kean play _Othello_. To the end of her life she expressed regret that she +had not tried her hand at a tragedy. + +Meanwhile, besides her own novel, she was at no loss for literary jobs and +literary occupation; her friends took care of that. Her pen and her powers +were for ever at their service, and they never showed any scruple in +working the willing horse. Her disinterested integrity made her an +invaluable representative in business transactions. The affairs of the +_Examiner_ newspaper, edited in England by Leigh Hunt's brother John, were +in an unsatisfactory condition; and there was much disagreement between +the two brothers as to both pecuniary and literary arrangements. Mary had +to act as arbiter between the two, softening the harsh and ungracious +expressions which, in his annoyance, were used by John; looking after +Leigh Hunt's interests, and doing all she could to make clear to him the +complicated details of the concern. In this she was aided by Vincent +Novello, the eminent musician, and intimate friend of the Hunts, to whom +she had had a letter of introduction on arriving in Italy. The Novellos +had a large, old-fashioned house on Shacklewell Green; they were the very +soul of hospitality and kindness, and the centre of a large circle of +literary and artistic friends, they had made Shelley's acquaintance in the +days when the Leigh Hunts lived at the Vale of Health in Hampstead, and +they now welcomed his widow, as well as Mrs. Williams, doing all in their +power to shed a little cheerfulness over these two broken and melancholy +lives. + +"Very, very fair both ladies were," writes Mrs. Cowden Clarke, then Mary +Victoria Novello, who in her charming _Recollections of Writers_ has given +us a pretty sketch of Mary Shelley as she then appeared to a "damsel +approaching towards the age of 'sweet sixteen,' privileged to consider +herself one of the grown-up people." + + "Always observant as a child," she writes, "I had now become a greater + observer than ever; and large and varied was the pleasure I derived + from my observation of the interesting men and women around me at this + time of my life. Certainly Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin Shelley was the + central figure of attraction then to my young-girl sight; and I looked + upon her with ceaseless admiration,--for her personal graces, as well + as for her literary distinction. + + "The daughter of William Godwin and Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, the + wife of Shelley, the authoress of _Frankenstein_, had for me a + concentration of charm and interest that perpetually excited and + engrossed me while she continued a visitor at my parents' house." + +Elsewhere she describes + + ... "Her well-shaped, golden-haired head, almost always a little bent + and drooping; her marble-white shoulders and arms statuesquely visible + in the perfectly plain black velvet dress, which the customs of that + time allowed to be cut low, and which her own taste adopted (for + neither she nor her sister-in-sorrow ever wore the conventional + 'widow's weeds' and 'widow's cap'); her thoughtful, earnest eyes; her + short upper lip and intellectually curved mouth, with a certain + close-compressed and decisive expression while she listened, and a + relaxation into fuller redness and mobility when speaking; her + exquisitely formed, white, dimpled, small hands, with rosy palms, and + plumply commencing fingers, that tapered into tips as slender and + delicate as those in a Vandyke portrait." + +And though it was not in the power of these kind genial people to change +Mary's destiny, or even to modify very sensibly the tenour of her inner +life and thought, still their friendship was a solace to her; she was +grateful for it, and did her utmost to respond with cheerfulness to their +kindly efforts on her behalf. To Leigh Hunt (from whom depression, when it +passed into querulousness, met with almost as little quarter as it did +from Godwin) she wrote-- + + I am not always in spirits, but if my friends say that I am good, + contrive to fancy that I am so, and so continue to love yours most + truly, + + MARY SHELLEY. + +The news of Lord Byron's death in Greece, which in May of this year +created so profound a sensation in England, fell on Mary's heart as a +fresh calamity. She had small reason, personally, to esteem or regret him. +Circumstances had made her only too painfully familiar with his worst +side, and she might well have borne him more than one serious grudge. But +he was associated in her mind with Shelley, and with early, happy days, +and now he, like Shelley, was dead and gone, and his faults faded into +distance, while all that was great and might have been noble in him--the +hero that should have been rather than the man that was--survived, and +stood out in greater clearness and beauty, surrounded by the tearful halo +of memory. The tidings reached her at a time of unusual--it afterwards +seemed of prophetic--dejection. + + _Journal, May 14._--This, then, is my English life; and thus I am to + drag on existence; confined in my small room, friendless. Each day I + string me to the task. I endeavour to read and write, my ideas + stagnate and my understanding refuses to follow the words I read; day + after day passes while torrents fall from the dark clouds, and my mind + is as gloomy as this odious sky. Without human friends I must attach + myself to natural objects; but though I talk of the country, what + difference shall I find in this miserable climate. Italy, dear Italy, + murderess of those I love and of all my happiness, one word of your + soft language coming unawares upon me, has made me shed bitter tears. + When shall I hear it again spoken, when see your skies, your trees, + your streams? The imprisonment attendant on a succession of rainy days + has quite overcome me. God knows I strive to be content, but in vain. + Amidst all the depressing circumstances that weigh on me, none sinks + deeper than the failure of my intellectual powers; nothing I write + pleases me. Whether I am just in this, or whether the want of + Shelley's (oh, my loved Shelley, it is some alleviation only to write + your name!) encouragement I can hardly tell, but it seems to me as if + the lovely and sublime objects of nature had been my best inspirers, + and, wanting them, I am lost. Although so utterly miserable at Genoa, + yet what reveries were mine as I looked on the aspect of the ravine, + the sunny deep and its boats, the promontories clothed in purple + light, the starry heavens, the fireflies, the uprising of spring. Then + I could think, and my imagination could invent and combine, and self + became absorbed in the grandeur of the universe I created. Now my mind + is a blank, a gulf filled with formless mist. + + The Last Man! Yes, I may well describe that solitary being's + feelings: I feel myself as the last relic of a beloved race, my + companions extinct before me. + + And thus has the accumulating sorrow of days and weeks been forced to + find a voice, because the word _lucena_ met my eyes, and the idea of + lost Italy sprang in my mind. What graceful lamps those are, though of + base construction and vulgar use; I thought of bringing one with me; I + am glad I did not. I will go back only to have a _lucena_. + + If I told people so they would think me mad, and yet not madder than + they seem to be now, when I say that the blue skies and verdure-clad + earth of that dear land are necessary to my existence. + + If there be a kind spirit attendant on me in compensation for these + miserable days, let me only dream to-night that I am in Italy! Mine + own Shelley, what a horror you had (fully sympathised in by me) of + returning to this miserable country! To be here without you is to be + doubly exiled, to be away from Italy is to lose you twice. Dearest, + why is my spirit thus losing all energy? Indeed, indeed, I must go + back, or your poor utterly lost Mary will never dare think herself + worthy to visit you beyond the grave. + + _May 15._--This then was the coming event that cast its shadow on my + last night's miserable thoughts. Byron had become one of the people of + the grave--that miserable conclave to which the beings I best loved + belong. I knew him in the bright days of youth, when neither care nor + fear had visited me--before death had made me feel my mortality, and + the earth was the scene of my hopes. Can I forget our evening visits + to Diodati? our excursions on the lake, when he sang the Tyrolese + Hymn, and his voice was harmonised with winds and waves. Can I forget + his attentions and consolations to me during my deepest + misery?--Never. + + Beauty sat on his countenance and power beamed from his eye. His + faults being, for the most part, weaknesses, induced one readily to + pardon them. + + Albe--the dear, capricious, fascinating Albe--has left this desert + world! God grant I may die young! A new race is springing about me. At + the age of twenty-six I am in the condition of an aged person. All my + old friends are gone, I have no wish to form new. I cling to the few + remaining; but they slide away, and my heart fails when I think by how + few ties I hold to the world. "Life is the desert and the + solitude--how populous the grave"--and that region--to the dearer and + best beloved beings which it has torn from me, now adds that + resplendent spirit whose departure leaves the dull earth dark as + midnight. + + _June 18._--What a divine night it is! I have just returned from + Kentish Town; a calm twilight pervades the clear sky; the lamp-like + moon is hung out in heaven, and the bright west retains the dye of + sunset. If such weather would continue, I should write again; the lamp + of thought is again illumined in my heart, and the fire descends from + heaven that kindles it. Such, my loved Shelley, now ten years ago, at + this season, did we first meet, and these were the very scenes--that + churchyard, with its sacred tomb, was the spot where first love shone + in your dear eyes. The stars of heaven are now your country, and your + spirit drinks beauty and wisdom in those spheres, and I, beloved, + shall one day join you. Nature speaks to me of you. In towns and + society I do not feel your presence; but there you are with me, my + own, my unalienable! + + I feel my powers again, and this is, of itself, happiness; the eclipse + of winter is passing from my mind. I shall again feel the enthusiastic + glow of composition, again, as I pour forth my soul upon paper, feel + the winged ideas arise, and enjoy the delight of expressing them. + Study and occupation will be a pleasure, and not a task, and this I + shall owe to sight and companionship of trees and meadows, flowers and + sunshine. + + England, I charge thee, dress thyself in smiles for my sake! I will + celebrate thee, O England! and cast a glory on thy name, if thou wilt + for me remove thy veil of clouds, and let me contemplate the country + of my Shelley and feel in communion with him! + + I have been gay in company before, but the inspiriting sentiment of + the heart's peace I have not felt before to-night; and yet, my own, + never was I so entirely yours. In sorrow and grief I wish sometimes + (how vainly!) for earthly consolation. At a period of pleasing + excitement I cling to your memory alone, and you alone receive the + overflowing of my heart. + + Beloved Shelley, good-night. One pang will seize me when I think, but + I will only think, that thou art where I shall be, and conclude with + my usual prayer,--from the depth of my soul I make it,--May I die + young! + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + MISSOLONGHI, _30th April 1824_. + + MY DEAR MARY--My brain is already dizzy with business and writing. I + am transformed from the listless being you knew me to one of all + energy and fire. Not content with the Camp, I must needs be a great + diplomatist, I am again, dear Mary, in my _element_, and playing no + _second_ part in Greece. If I live, the outcast Reginald will cut his + name out on the Grecian hills, or set on its plains. I have had the + merit of discovering and bringing out a noble fellow, a gallant + _soldier_, and a man of most wonderful mind, with as little bigotry as + Shelley, and nearly as much imagination; he is a glorious being. I + have lived with him--he calls me brother--wants to connect me with his + family. We have been inseparable now for eight months--fought side by + side. But I am sick at heart with losing my friend,[8]--for still I + call him so, you know, with all his weakness, you know I loved him. I + cannot live with men for years without feeling--it is weak, it is want + of judgment, of philosophy,--but this is my weakness. Dear Mary, if + you love me,--_write_--write--write, for my heart yearns after you. I + certainly must have you and Jane out. I am serious. + + This is the place after my own heart, and I am certain of our good + cause triumphing. Believe nothing you hear; Gamba will tell you + everything about me--about Lord Byron, but he knows nothing of + Greece--nothing; nor does it appear any one else does by what I see + published. Colonel Stanhope is here; he is a good fellow, and does + much good. The loan is achieved, and that sets the business at rest, + but it is badly done--the Commissioners are bad. A word as to your + wooden god, Mavrocordato. He is a miserable Jew, and I hope, ere long, + to see his head removed from his worthless and heartless body. He is a + mere shuffling soldier, an aristocratic brute--wants Kings and + Congresses; a poor, weak, shuffling, intriguing, cowardly fellow; so + no more about him. Dear Mary, dear Jane, I am serious, turn you + thoughts this way. No more a nameless being, I am now a Greek + Chieftain, willing and able to shelter and protect you; and thus I + will continue, or follow our friends to wander over some other planet, + for I have nearly exhausted this.--Your attached + + TRELAWNY. + + Care of John Hunt, Esq., _Examiner_ Office, + Catherine Street, London. + + Tell me of Clare, do write me of her! This is written with the other + in desperate haste. I have received a letter from you, one from Jane, + and none from Hunt. + +This letter reached Mary at about the same time as the fatal news. +Trelawny also sent her his narrative of the facts (now so well known to +every one) of Byron's death. It had been intended for Hobhouse, but the +writer changed his mind and entrusted it to Mrs. Shelley instead, adding, +"Hunt may pick something at it if he please." + +Trelawny had been Byron's friend, and clearly as he saw the Pilgrim's +faults and deficiencies, there would seem no doubt that he genuinely +admired him, in spite of all. But his mercurial, impulsive temperament, +ever in extremes, was liable to the most sudden revulsions of feeling, +and retrospect hardened his feeling as much as it softened Mary Shelley's +towards the great man who was gone. Only four months later he was writing +again, from Livadia-- + + I have much to say to you, Mary, both as regards myself and the part I + am enacting here. I would give much that I could, as in times dead, + look in on you in the evening of every day and consult with you on its + occurrences, as I used to do in Italy. It is curious, but, considering + our characters, natural enough, that Byron and I took the + diametrically opposite roads in Greece--I in Eastern, he in Western. + He took part with, and became the paltry tool of the weak, imbecile, + cowardly being calling himself Prince Mavrocordato. Five months he + dozed away. By the gods! the lies that are said in his praise urge one + to speak the truth. It is well for his name, and better for Greece, + that he is dead. With the aid of his name, his fame, his talents, and + his fortune, he might have been a tower of strength to Greece, instead + of which the little he did was in favour of the aristocrats, to + destroy the republic, and smooth the road for a foreign King. But he + is dead, and I now feel my face burn with shame that so weak and + ignoble a soul could so long have influenced me. It is a degrading + reflection, and ever will be. I wish he had lived a little longer, + that he might have witnessed how I would have soared above him here, + how I would have triumphed over his mean spirit. I would do much to + see and talk to you, but as I am now too much irritated to disclose + the real state of things, I will not mislead you by false statements. + +With this fine flourish was enclosed a "Description of the Cavern Fortress +of Mount Parnassus," which he was commanding (and of which a full account +is given in his _Recollections_), and then followed a P.S. to this +effect-- + + DEAR MARY--Will you make an article of this, as Leigh Hunt calls it, + and request his brother to publish it in the _Examiner_, which will + very much oblige me. + + + FROM MARY SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + 28th July 1824. + + So, dear Trelawny, you remember still poor Mary Shelley; thank you for + your remembrance, and a thousand times for your kind letter. It is + delightful to feel that absence does not diminish your affection, + excellent, warm-hearted friend, remnant of our happy days, of my + vagabond life in beloved Italy, our companion in prosperity, our + comforter in sorrow. You will not wonder that the late loss of Lord + Byron makes me cling with greater zeal to those dear friends who + remain to me. He could hardly be called a friend, but, connected with + him in a thousand ways, admiring his talents, and (with all his + faults) feeling affection for him, it went to my heart when, the other + day, the hearse that contained his lifeless form--a form of beauty + which in life I often delighted to behold--passed my windows going up + Highgate Hill on his last journey to the last seat of his ancestors. + Your account of his last moments was infinitely interesting to me. + Going about a fortnight ago to the house where his remains lay, I + found there Fletcher and Lega--Lega looking a most preposterous + rogue,--Fletcher I expect to call on me when he returns from + Nottingham. From a few words he imprudently let fall, it would seem + that his Lord spoke of Clare in his last moments, and of his wish to + do something for her, at a time when his mind, vacillating between + consciousness and delirium, would not permit him to do anything. Did + Fletcher mention this to you? It seems that this doughty Leporello + speaks of his Lord to strangers with the highest respect; more than he + did a year ago,--the best, the most generous, the most wronged of + peers,--the notion of his leading an irregular life,--quite a false + one. Lady B. sent for Fletcher; he found her in a fit of passionate + grief, but perfectly implacable, and as much resolved never to have + united herself again to him as she was when she first signed their + separation. Mrs. Claremont (the governess) was with her. + + His death, as you may guess, made a great sensation here, which was + not diminished by the destruction of his Memoirs, which he wrote and + gave to Moore, and which were burned by Mrs. Leigh and Hobhouse. There + was not much in them, I know, for I read them some years ago at + Venice, but the world fancied it was to have a confession of the + hidden feelings of one concerning whom they were always passionately + curious. Moore was by no means pleased: he is now writing a life of + him himself, but it is conjectured that, notwithstanding he had the + MS. so long in his possession, he never found time to read it. I + breakfasted with him about a week ago, and he is anxious to get + materials for his work. I showed him your letter on the subject of + Lord Byron's death, and he wishes very much to obtain from you any + anecdote or account you would like to send. If you know anything that + ought to be known, or feel inclined to detail anything that you may + remember worthy of record concerning him, perhaps you will communicate + with Moore. You have often said that you wished to keep up our + friend's name in the world, and if you still entertain the same + feeling, no way is more obvious than to assist Moore, who asked me to + make this request. You can write to him through me or addressed to + Longmans.... + + * * * * * + + Here then we are, Jane and I, in Kentish Town.... We live near each + other now, and, seeing each other almost daily, for ever dwell on one + subject.... The country about here is really pretty; lawny uplands, + wooded parks, green lanes, and gentle hills form agreeable and varying + combinations. If we had orange sunsets, cloudless noons, fireflies, + large halls, etc. etc., I should not find the scenery amiss, and yet I + can attach myself to nothing here; neither among the people, though + some are good and clever, nor to the places, though they be pretty. + Jane is my chosen companion and only friend. I am under a cloud, and + cannot form near acquaintances among that class whose manners and + modes of life are agreeable to me, and I think myself fortunate in + having one or two pleasing acquaintances among literary people, whose + society I enjoy without dreaming of friendship. My child is in + excellent health; a fine, tall, handsome boy. + + And then for money and the rest of those necessary annoyances, the + means of getting at the necessaries of life; Jane's affairs are yet + unsettled.... + + My prospects are somewhat brighter than they were. I have little doubt + but that in the course of a few months I shall have an independent + income of L300 or L400 per annum during Sir Timothy's life, and that + with small sacrifice on my part. After his death Shelley's will + secures me an income more than sufficient for my simple habits. + + One of my first wishes in obtaining the independence I mention, will + be to assist in freeing Clare from her present painful mode of life. + She is now at Moscow; sufficiently uncomfortable, poor girl, unless + some change has taken place: I think it probable that she will soon + return to England. Her spirits will have been improved by the + information I sent her that his family consider Shelley's will valid, + and that she may rely upon receiving the legacy.... + +But Mary's hopes of better fortune were again and again deferred, and she +now found that any concession on the part of her husband's family must be +purchased by the suppression of his later poems. She was too poor to do +other than submit. + + MARY SHELLEY TO LEIGH HUNT. + + KENTISH TOWN, _22d August 1824_. + + ... A negotiation has begun between Sir Timothy Shelley and myself, by + which, on sacrificing a small part of my future expectations on the + will, I shall ensure myself a sufficiency for the present, and not + only that, but be able, I hope, to relieve Clare from her + disagreeable situation at Moscow. I have been obliged, however, as an + indispensable preliminary, to suppress the posthumous poems. More than + 300 copies had been sold, so this is the less provoking, and I have + been obliged to promise not to bring dear Shelley's name before the + public again during Sir Timothy's life. There is no great harm in + this, since he is above seventy; and, from choice, I should not think + of writing memoirs now, and the materials for a volume of more works + are so scant that I doubted before whether I could publish it. Such is + the folly of the world, and so do things seem different from what they + are; since, from Whitton's account, Sir Timothy writhes under the fame + of his incomparable son, as if it were the most grievous injury done + to him; and so, perhaps, after all it will prove. + + All this was pending when I wrote last, but until I was certain I did + not think it worth while to mention it. The affair is arranged by + Peacock, who, though I seldom see him, seems anxious to do me all + these kind of services in the best manner that he can. + + It is long since I saw your brother, nor had he any news for me. I + lead a most quiet life, and see hardly any one. The Gliddons are gone + to Hastings for a few weeks. Hogg is on Circuit. Now that he is rich + he is so very queer, so unamiable, and so strange, that I look forward + to his return without any desire of shortening the term of absence. + + Poor Pierino is now in London, _Non fosse male questo paese_, he says, + _se vi vedesse mai il sole_. He is full of Greece, to which he is + going, and gave us an account of our good friend, Trelawny, which was + that he was not at all changed. Trelawny has made a hero of the Greek + chief, Ulysses, and declares that there is a great cavern in Attica + which he and Ulysses have provisioned for seven years, and to which, + if the cause fails, he and this chieftain are to retire; but if the + cause is triumphant, he is to build a city in the Negropont, colonise + it, and Jane and I are to go out to be queens and chieftainesses of + the island. When he first came to Athens he took to a Turkish life, + bought twelve or fifteen women, _brutti mostri_, Pierino says, one a + Moor, of all things, and there he lay on his sofa, smoking, these + gentle creatures about him, till he got heartily sick of idleness, + shut them up in his harem, and joined and combated with Ulysses.... + + * * * * * + + One of my principal reasons for writing just now is that I have just + heard Miss Curran's address (64 Via Sistina, Roma), and I am anxious + that Marianne should (if she will be so very good) send one of the + profiles already cut to her, of Shelley, since I think that, by the + help of that, Miss Curran will be able to correct her portrait of + Shelley, and make for us what we so much desire--a good likeness. I am + convinced that Miss Curran will return the profile immediately that + she has done with it, so that you will not sacrifice it, though you + may be the means of our obtaining a good likeness. + + + _Journal, September 3._--With what hopes did I come to England? I + pictured little of what was pleasurable, the feeling I had could not + be called hope; it was expectation. Yet at that time, now a year ago, + what should I have said if a prophet had told me that, after the whole + revolution of the year, I should be as poor in all estimable treasures + as when I arrived. + + I have only seen two persons from whom I have hoped or wished for + friendly feeling. One, a poet, who sought me first, whose voice, laden + with sentiment, passed as Shelley's, and who read with the same deep + feeling as he; whose gentle manners were pleasing, and who seemed to a + degree pleased; who once or twice listened to my sad plaints, and bent + his dark blue eyes upon me. Association, gratitude, esteem, made me + take interest in his long, though rare, visits. + + The other was kind; sought me, was pleased with me. I could talk to + him; that was much. He was attached to another, so that I felt at my + ease with him. They have disappeared from my horizon. Jane alone + remains; if she loved me as well as I do her it would be much; she is + all gentleness, and she is my only consolation, yet she does not + console me. + + I have just completed my twenty-seventh year; at such a time hope and + youth are still in their prime, and the pains I feel, therefore, are + ever alive and vivid within me. What shall I do? Nothing. I study, + that passes the time. I write; at times that pleases me, though double + sorrow comes when I feel that Shelley no longer reads and approves of + what I write; besides, I have no great faith in my success. + Composition is delightful; but if you do not expect the sympathy of + your fellow-creatures in what you write, the pleasure of writing is of + short duration. + + I have my lovely Boy, without him I could not live. I have Jane; in + her society I forget time; but the idea of it does not cheer me in my + griefful moods. It is strange that the religious feeling that exalted + my emotions in happiness, deserts me in my misery. I have little + enjoyment, no hope. I have given myself ten years more of life. God + grant that they may not be augmented. I should be glad that they were + curtailed. Loveless beings surround me; they talk of my personal + attractions, of my talents, my manners. + + The wisest and best have loved me. The beautiful, and glorious, and + noble, have looked on me with the divine expression of love, till + death, the reaper, carried to his overstocked barns my lamented + harvest. + + But now I am not loved! Never, oh, never more shall I love. Synonymous + to such words are, never more shall I be happy, never more feel life + sit triumphant in my frame. I am a wreck. By what do the fragments + cling together? Why do they not part, to be borne away by the tide to + the boundless ocean, where those are whom day and night I pray that I + may rejoin. + + I shall be happier, perhaps, in Italy; yet, when I sometimes think + that she is the murderess, I tremble for my boy. We shall see; if no + change comes, I shall be unable to support the burthen of time, and no + change, if it hurt not his dear head, can be for the worse. + +In the month of July Mary had received another request for literary help; +this time from Medwin, who wanted her aid in eking out and correcting his +notes of conversations with Lord Byron, shortly to be published. + + "You must have been, as I was, very much affected with poor Lord + Byron's death," he wrote to Mary. "All parties seem now writing in his + favour, and the papers are full of his praise.... + + "How do you think I have been employing myself? With writing; and the + subject I have chosen has been Memoirs of Lord Byron. Every one here + has been disappointed in the extreme by the destruction of his private + biography, and have urged me to give the world the little I know of + him. I wish I was better qualified for the task. When I was at Pisa I + made very copious notes of his conversations, for private reference + only, and was surprised to find on reading them (which I have never + done till his death, and hearing that his life had been burnt) that + they contained so many anecdotes of his life. During many nights that + we sat up together he was very confidential, and entered into his + history and opinions on most subjects, and from them I have compiled a + volume which is, I am told, highly entertaining. Shelley I have made a + very prominent feature in the work, and I think you will be pleased + with that part, at least, of the Memoir, and all the favourable + sentiments of Lord Byron concerning him. But I shall certainly not + publish the work till you have seen it, and would give the world to + consult you in person about the whole; you might be of the greatest + possible use to me, and prevent many errors from creeping in. I have + been told it cannot fail of having the greatest success, and have been + offered L500 for it--a large and tempting sum--in consequence of what + has been said in its praise by Grattan.... + + "Before deciding finally on the publication there are many things to + be thought of. Lady Byron will not be pleased with my account of the + marriage and separation; in fact, I shall be assailed on all sides. + Now, my dear friend, what do you advise? Let me have your full + opinion, for I mean to be guided by it. I hear to-day that Moore is + manufacturing five or six volumes out of the _burnt materials_, for + which Longman advanced L2000, and is to pay L2000 more; _they_ will be + in a great rage. If I publish, promptitude is everything, so that I + know you will answer this soon." + +The idea of entertaining the world, however highly, at whatever price, +with "tit-bits" from the private life and after-dinner talk of her late +intimate friends, almost before those friends were cold in their graves, +did not find favour with Mrs. Shelley. As an excuse for declining to have +any hand in this work, she gave her own desire to avoid publicity or +notice. In a later letter Medwin assured her that her name was not even +mentioned in the book. He frankly owned that most of his knowledge of +Byron had been derived from her and Shelley, but added, by way of excuse-- + + They tell me it is highly interesting, and there is at this moment a + longing after and impatience to know something about the most + extraordinary man of the age that must give my book a considerable + success. + +What Mary felt about this publication can be gathered from her allusion to +it in the following letter-- + + MRS. SHELLEY TO MRS. HUNT. + + KENTISH TOWN, _10th October 1824_. + + ... I write to you on the most dismal of all days, a rainy Sunday, + when dreary church-going faces look still more drearily from under + dripping umbrellas, and the poor plebeian dame looks reproachfully at + her splashed white stockings,--not her gown,--that has been warily + held high up, and the to-be-concealed petticoat has borne all the + ill-usage of the mud. Dismal though it is, dismal though I am, I do + not wish to write a discontented letter, but in a few words to + describe things as they are with me. A weekly visit to the Strand, a + monthly visit to Shacklewell (when we are sure to be caught in the + rain) forms my catalogue of visits. I have no visitors; if it were not + for Jane I should be quite alone. The eternal rain imprisons one in + one's little room, and one's spirits flag without one exhilarating + circumstance. In some things, however, I am better off than last year, + for I do not doubt but that in the course of a few months I shall have + an independence; and I no longer balance, as I did last winter, + between Italy and England. My Father wished me to stay, and, old as he + is, and wishing as one does to be of some use somewhere, I thought + that I would make the trial, and stay if I could. But the joke has + become too serious. I look forward to the coming winter with horror, + but it _shall be_ the last. I have not yet made up my mind to the + where in Italy. I shall, if possible, immediately on arriving, push on + to Rome. Then we shall see. I read, study, and write; sometimes that + takes me out of myself; but to live for no one, to be necessary to + none, to know that "Where is now my hope? for my hope, who shall see + it? They shall go down to the base of the pit, when our rest together + is in the dust." But change of scene and the sun of Italy will restore + my energy; the very thought of it smooths my brow. Perhaps I shall + seek the heats of Naples, if they do not hurt my darling Percy. And + now, what news?... + + * * * * * + + Hazlitt is abroad; he will be in Italy in the winter; he wrote an + article in the _Edinburgh Review_ on the volume of poems I published. + I do not know whether he meant it to be favourable or not; I do not + like it at all; but when I saw him I could not be angry. I never was + so shocked in my life, he has become so thin, his hair scattered, his + cheek-bones projecting; but for his voice and smile I should not have + known him; his smile brought tears into my eyes, it was like a sunbeam + illuminating the most melancholy of ruins, lightning that assured you + in a dark night of the identity of a friend's ruined and deserted + abode.... + + Have you, my Polly, sent a profile to Miss Curran in Rome? Now pray + do, and pray write; do, my dear girl. Next year by this time I shall, + perhaps, be on my way to you; it will go hard but that I contrive to + spend a week (that is, if you wish) at Florence, on my way to the + Eternal City. God send that this prove not an airy castle; but I own + that I put faith in my having money before that; and I know that I + could not, if I would, endure the torture of my English life longer + than is absolutely necessary. By the bye, I heard that you are keeping + your promise to Trelawny, and that in due time he will be blessed with + a namesake. How is _Occhi Turchini_, Thornton the reformed, Johnny + the--what Johnny? the good boy? Mary the merry, Irving the sober, + Percy the martyr, and dear Sylvan the good? + + Percy is quite well; tell his friend he goes to school and learns to + read and write, being very handy with his hands, perhaps having a pure + anticipated cognition of the art of painting in his tiny fingers. Mrs. + Williams' little girl, who calls herself Dina, is his wife. Poor + Clare, at Moscow! at least she will be independent one day, and if I + am so soon, her situation will be quickly ameliorated. + + Have you heard of Medwin's book? Notes of conversations which he had + with Lord Byron (when tipsy); every one is to be in it; every one will + be angry. He wanted me to have a hand in it, but I declined. Years + ago, when a man died, the worms ate him; now a new set of worms feed + on the carcase of the scandal he leaves behind him, and grow fat upon + the world's love of tittle-tattle. I will not be numbered among them. + Have you received the volume of poems? Give my love to "Very," and so, + dear, very patient, Adieu.--Yours affectionately, + + MARY SHELLEY. + + + _Journal, October 26._--Time rolls on, and what does it bring? What + can I do? How change my destiny? Months change their names, years + their cyphers. My brow is sadly trenched, the blossom of youth faded. + My mind gathers wrinkles. What will become of me? + + How long it is since an emotion of joy filled my once exulting heart, + or beamed from my once bright eyes. I am young still, though age + creeps on apace; but I may not love any but the dead. I think that an + emotion of joy would destroy me, so strange would it be to my withered + heart. Shelley had said-- + + Lift not the painted veil which men call life. + + Mine is not painted; dark and enshadowed, it curtains out all + happiness, all hope. Tears fill my eyes; well may I weep, solitary + girl! The dead know you not; the living heed you not. You sit in your + lone room, and the howling wind, gloomy prognostic of winter, gives + not forth so despairing a tone as the unheard sighs your ill-fated + heart breathes. + + I was loved once! still let me cling to the memory; but to live for + oneself alone, to read, and communicate your reflections to none; to + write, and be cheered by none; to weep, and in no bosom; no more on + thy bosom, my Shelley, to spend my tears--this is misery! + + Such is the Alpha and Omega of my tale. I can speak to none. Writing + this is useless; it does not even soothe me; on the contrary, it + irritates me by showing the pitiful expedient to which I am reduced. + + I have been a year in England, and, ungentle England, for what have I + to thank you? For disappointment, melancholy, and tears; for + unkindness, a bleeding heart, and despairing thoughts. I wish, + England, to associate but one idea with thee--immeasurable distance + and insurmountable barriers, so that I never, never might breathe + thine air more. + + Beloved Italy! you are my country, my hope, my heaven! + + _December 3._--I endeavour to rouse my fortitude and calm my mind by + high and philosophic thoughts, and my studies aid this endeavour. I + have pondered for hours on Cicero's description of that power of + virtue in the human mind which render's man's frail being superior to + fortune. + + "Eadem ratio habet in re quiddam amplum at que magnificum ad + imperandum magis quam ad parendum accommodatum; omnia humana non + tolerabilia solum sed etiam levia ducens; altum quiddam et excelsum, + nihil temens, nemini cedens, semper invictum." + + What should I fear? To whom cede? By whom be conquered? + + Little truly have I to fear. One only misfortune can touch me. That + must be the last, for I should sink under it. At the age of seven and + twenty, in the busy metropolis of native England, I find myself alone. + The struggle is hard that can give rise to misanthropy in one, like + me, attached to my fellow-creatures. Yet now, did not the memory of + those matchless lost ones redeem their race, I should learn to hate + men, who are strong only to oppress, moral only to insult. Oh ye + winged hours that fly fast, that, having first destroyed my happiness, + now bear my swift-departing youth with you, bring patience, wisdom, + and content! I will not stoop to the world, or become like those who + compose it, and be actuated by mean pursuits and petty ends. I will + endeavour to remain unconquered by hard and bitter fortune; yet the + tears that start in my eyes show pangs she inflicts upon me. + + So much for philosophising. Shall I ever be a philosopher? + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +JANUARY 1825-JULY 1827 + + +At the beginning of 1825 Mrs. Shelley's worldly affairs were looking +somewhat more hopeful. The following extract is from a letter to Miss +Curran, dated 2d January-- + + ... I have now better prospects than I had, or rather, a better + reality, for my prospects are sufficiently misty. I receive now L200 a + year from my Father-in-law, but this in so strange and embarrassed a + manner that, as yet, I hardly know what to make of it. I do not + believe, however, that he would object to my going abroad, as I + daresay he considers that the first step towards kingdom come, + whither, doubtless, he prays that an interloper like me may speedily + be removed. I talk, therefore, of going next autumn, and shall be + grateful to any power, divine or human, that assists me to leave this + desert country. Mine I cannot call it; it is too unkind to me. + + What you say of my Shelley's picture is beyond words interesting to + me. How good you are! Send it, I pray you, for perhaps I cannot come, + and, at least, it would be a blessing to receive it a few months + earlier. I am afraid you can do nothing about the cameo. As you say, + it were worth nothing, unless like; but I fancied that it might be + accomplished under your directions. Would it be asking too much to + lend me the copy you took of my darling William's portrait, since + mine is somewhat injured? But from both together I could get a nice + copy made. + + You may imagine that I see few people, so far from the centre of + bustling London; but, in truth, I found that even in town, poor, + undinner-giving as I was, I could not dream of society. It was a great + confinement for Percy, and I could not write in the midst of smoke, + noise, and streets. I live here very quietly, going once a week to the + Strand. My chief dependence for society is on Mrs. Williams, who lives + at no great distance. As to theatres, etc., how can a "lone woman" + think of such things? No; the pleasures and luxuries of life await me + in divine Italy; but here, privation, solitude, and desertion are my + portion. What a change for me! But I must not think of that. I + contrive to live on as I am; but to recur to the past and compare it + with the present is to deluge me in grief and tears. + + My Boy is well; a fine tall fellow, and as good as I can possibly + expect; he is improved in looks since he came here. Clare is in Moscow + still, not very pleasantly situated; but she is in a situation, and + being now well in health, waits with more patience for better times. + The Godwins go on as usual. My Father, though harassed, is in good + health, and is employed in the second volume of the _Commonwealth_. + + The weather here is astonishingly mild, but the rain continual; half + England is under water, and the damage done at seaports from storms + incalculable. In Rome, doubtless, it has been different. Rome, dear + name! I cannot tell why, but to me there is something enchanting in + that spot. I have another friend there, the Countess Guiccioli, now + unhappy and mournful from the death of Lord Byron. Poor girl! I + sincerely pity her, for she truly loved him, and I cannot think that + she can endure an Italian after him. You have there also a Mr. Taaffe, + a countryman of yours, who translates Dante, and rides fine horses + that perpetually throw him. He knew us all very well. + + The English have had many a dose of scandal. First poor dear Lord + Byron, from whom, now gone, many a poor devil of an author is now + fearless of punishment, then Mr. Fauntleroy, then Miss Foote; these + are now dying away. The fame of Mr. Fauntleroy, indeed, has not + survived him; that of Lord Byron bursts forth every now and then + afresh; whilst Miss Foote smokes most dismally still. Then we have had + our quantum of fires and misery, and the poor exiled Italians and + Spaniards have added famine to the list of evils. A subscription, + highly honourable to the poor and middle classes who subscribed their + mite, has relieved them. + + Will you write soon? How much delight I anticipate this spring on the + arrival of the picture! In all thankfulness, faithfully yours, + + MARY W. SHELLEY. + +The increase of allowance, from L100 to L200, had not been actually +granted at the beginning of the year, but it appeared so probable an event +that, thanks partly to the good offices of Mr. Peacock, Sir Timothy's +lawyers agreed, while the matter was pending, to advance Mrs. Shelley the +extra L100 on their own responsibility. The concession was not so great as +it looks, for all money allowed to her was only advanced subject to an +agreement that every penny was to be repaid, with interest, to Sir +Timothy's executors at the time when, according to Percy Bysshe Shelley's +will, she should come into the property; and every cheque was endorsed by +her to this effect. But her immediate anxieties were in some measure +relieved by this addition to her income. Not, indeed, that it set her free +from pressing money cares, for the ensuing letter to Leigh Hunt +incidentally shows that her father was a perpetual drain on her +resources, that there was every probability of her having to support him +partly--at times entirely--in the future, and that she was endeavouring, +with Peacock's help, to raise a large sum, on loan, to meet these possible +emergencies. + +The main subject of the letter is an article of Hunt's about Shelley, the +proof of which had been sent to Mary to read. It contained, in an extended +form, the substance of that biographical notice, originally intended for a +preface to the volume of Posthumous Poems. + + MRS. SHELLEY TO LEIGH HUNT. + + _8th April 1825._ + + MY DEAR HUNT--I have just finished reading your article upon Shelley. + It is with great diffidence that I write to thank you for it, because + perceiving plainly that you think that I have forfeited all claim on + your affection, you may deem my thanks an impertinent intrusion. But + from my heart I thank you. You may imagine that it has moved me + deeply. Of course this very article shows how entirely you have cast + me out from any corner in your affections. And from various + causes--none dishonourable to me--I cannot help wishing that I could + have received your goodwill and kindness, which I prize, and have ever + prized; but you have a feeling, I had almost said a prejudice, against + me, which makes you construe foreign matter into detractation against + me (I allude to the, to me, deeply afflicting idea you got upon some + vague expression communicated to you by your brother), and insensible + to any circumstances that might be pleaded for me. But I will not + dwell on this. The sun shines, and I am striving so hard for a + continuation of the gleams of pleasure that visit my intolerable state + of regret for the loss of beloved companionship during cloudless + days, that I will dash away the springing tears and make one or two + necessary observations on your article. + + I have often heard our Shelley relate the story of stabbing an upper + boy with a fork, but never as you relate it. He always described it, + in my hearing, as being an almost involuntary act, done on the spur of + anguish, and that he made the stab as the boy was going out of the + room. Shelley did not allow Harriet half his income. She received L200 + a year. Mr. Westbrook had always made his daughter an allowance, even + while she lived with Shelley, which of course was continued to her + after their separation. I think if I were near you, I could readily + persuade you to omit all allusion to Clare. After the death of Lord + Byron, in the thick of memoirs, scandal, and turning up of old + stories, she has never been alluded to, at least in any work I have + seen. You mention (having been obliged to return your MS. to Bowring, + I quote from memory) an article in _Blackwood_, but I hardly think + that this is of date subsequent to our miserable loss. In fact, poor + Clare has been buried in entire oblivion, and to bring her from this, + even for the sake of defending her, would, I am sure, pain her + greatly, and do her mischief. Would you permit this part to be erased? + I have, without waiting to ask your leave, requested Messrs. Bowring + to leave out your mention that the remains of dearest Edward were + brought to England. Jane still possesses this treasure, and has once + or twice been asked by his mother-in-law about it,--once an urn was + sent. Consequently she is very anxious that her secret should be kept, + and has allowed it to be believed that the ashes were deposited with + Shelley's at Rome. Such, my dear Hunt, are all the alterations I have + to suggest, and I lose no time in communicating them to you. They are + too trivial for me to apologise for the liberty, and I hope that you + will agree with me in what I say about Clare--Allegra no more--she at + present absent and forgotten. On Sir Timothy's death she will come in + for a legacy which may enable her to enter into society,--perhaps to + marry, if she wishes it, if the past be forgotten. + + I forget whether such things are recorded by "Galignani," or, if + recorded, whether you would have noticed it. My Father's complicated + annoyances, brought to their height by the failure of a very promising + speculation and the loss of an impossible-to-be-lost law-suit, have + ended in a bankruptcy, the various acts of which drama are now in + progress; that over, nothing will be left to him but his pen and me. + He is so full of his _Commonwealth_ that in the midst of every anxiety + he writes every day now, and in a month or two will have completed the + second volume, and I am employed in raising money necessary for my + maintenance, and in which he must participate. This will drain me + pretty dry for the present, but (as the old women say) if I live, I + shall have more than enough for him and me, and recur, at least to + some part of my ancient style of life, and feel of some value to + others. Do not, however, mistake my phraseology; I shall not live with + my Father, but return to Italy and economise, the moment God and Mr. + Whitton will permit. My Percy is quite well, and has exchanged his + constant winter occupation of drawing for playing in the fields (which + are now useful as well as ornamental), flying kites, gardening, etc. I + bask in the sun on the grass reading Virgil, that is, my beloved + _Georgics_ and Lord Shaftesbury's _Characteristics_. I begin to live + again, and as the maids of Greece sang joyous hymns on the revival of + Adonis, does my spirit lift itself in delightful thanksgiving on the + awakening of nature. + + Lamb is superannuated--do you understand? as Madame says. He has left + the India House on two-thirds of his income, and become a gentleman at + large--a delightful consummation. What a strange taste it is that + confines him to a view of the New River, with houses opposite, in + Islington! I saw the Novellos the other day. Mary and her new babe are + well; he, Vincent all over, fat and flourishing moreover, and she + dolorous that it should be her fate to add more than her share to the + population of the world. How are all yours--Henry and the rest? Percy + still remembers him, though occupied by new friendships and the + feelings incident to his state of matrimony, having taken for better + and worse to wife Mrs. Williams' little girl. + + I suppose you will receive with these letters Bessy's new book, which + she has done very well indeed, and forms with the other a delightful + prize for plant and flower worshippers, those favourites of God, which + enjoy beauty unequalled and the tranquil pleasures of growth and life, + bestowing incalculable pleasure, and never giving or receiving pain. + Have you seen Hazlitt's notes of his travels? He is going over the + same road that I have travelled twice. He surprised me by calling the + road from Susa to Turin dull; there, where the Alps sink into low + mountains and romantic hills, topped by ruined castles, watered by + brawling streams, clothed by magnificent walnut trees; there, where I + wrote to you in a fit of enchantment, exalted by the splendid scene; + but I remembered, first, that he travelled in winter, when snow covers + all; and, besides, he went from what I approached, and looked at the + plain of Lombardy with the back of the diligence between him and the + loveliest scene in nature; so much can _relation_ alter circumstances. + + Clare is still, I believe, at Moscow. When I return to Italy I shall + endeavour to enable her to go thither also. I shall not come without + my Jane, who is now necessary to my existence almost. She has recourse + to the cultivation of her mind, and amiable and dear as she ever was, + she is in every way improved and become more valuable. + + Trelawny is in the cave with Ulysses, not in Polypheme's cave, but in + a vast cavern of Parnassus; inaccessible and healthy and safe, but cut + off from the rest of the world. Trelawny has attached himself to the + part of Ulysses, a savage chieftain, without any plan but personal + independence and opposition to the Government. Trelawny calls him a + hero. Ulysses speaks a word or two of French; Trelawny, no Greek! + Pierino has returned to Greece. + + Horace Smith has returned with his diminished family (little Horace is + dead). He already finds London too expensive, and they are about to + migrate to Tunbridge Wells. He is very kind to me. + + I long to hear from you, and I am more tenderly attached to you and + yours than you imagine; love me a little, and make Marianne love me, + as truly I think she does. Am I mistaken, Polly?--Your affectionate + and obliged, + + MARY W. SHELLEY. + +Outwardly, this year was uneventful. Mary was busily working at her novel, +_The Last Man_. The occupation was good for her, and perhaps it was no bad +thing that Necessity should stand at her elbow to stimulate her to +exertion when her interest and energy flagged. For, in spite of her utmost +efforts to the contrary, her heart and spirit were often faint at the +prospect of an arduous and lonely life. And when, in early autumn, +Shelley's portrait was at last sent to her by Miss Curran, the sight of it +brought back the sense of what she had lost, and revived in all its +irrecoverable bitterness that past happy time, than to remember which in +misery there is no greater sorrow. + + _Journal, September 17_ (1825).--Thy picture is come, my only one! + Thine those speaking eyes, that animated look; unlike aught earthly + wert thou ever, and art now! + + If thou hadst still lived, how different had been my life and + feelings! + + Thou art near to guard and save me, angelic one! Thy divine glance + will be my protection and defence. I was not worthy of thee, and thou + hast left me; yet that dear look assures me that thou wert mine, and + recalls and narrates to my backward-looking mind a long tale of love + and happiness. + + My head aches. My heart--my hapless heart--is deluged in bitterness. + Great God! if there be any pity for human suffering, tell me what I am + to do. I strive to study, I strive to write, but I cannot live + without loving and being loved, without sympathy; if this is denied to + me I must die. Would that the hour were come! + +On the same day when Mary penned these melancholy lines, Trelawny was +writing to her from Cephalonia. + +He had been treacherously shot by an inmate of his mountain fortress, an +Englishman newly arrived, whom he had welcomed as a guest. The true +instigator of the crime was one Fenton, a Scotchman, who in the guise of a +volunteer had ostensibly served under Trelawny for a twelvemonth past, and +who by his capability and apparent zeal had so won his confidence as to be +entrusted with secret missions. He was, in fact, an emissary of the Greek +Government, foisted on Trelawny at Missolonghi to act as a spy on +Odysseus, the insurgent Greek chieftain. + +Through his machinations Odysseus was betrayed and murdered, and Trelawny +narrowly escaped death. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + CEPHALONIA, _17th September 1825_. + + DEAR MARY--I have just escaped from Greece and landed here, in the + hopes of patching up my broken frame and shattered constitution. Two + musket balls, fired at the distance of two paces, struck me and passed + through my framework, which damn'd near finished me; but 'tis a long + story, and my writing arm is rendered unfit for service, and I am yet + unpractised with the left. But a friend of mine here, a Major Bacon, + is on his way to England, and will enlighten you as to me. I shall be + confined here some time. Write to me then at this place. I need rest + and quiet, for I am shook to the foundation. Love to Jane and Clare, + and believe me still your devoted friend, + + EDWARD TRELAWNY. + +It would seem that this letter was many months in reaching Mary, for in +February 1826 she was writing to him in these terms-- + + I hear at last that Mr. Hodges has letters for me, and that prevents a + thousand things I was about to say concerning the pain your very long + silence had occasioned me. Consider, dear friend, that your last was + in April, so that nearly a year has gone by, and not only did I not + hear _from_ you, but until the arrival of Mr. Hodges, many months had + elapsed since I had heard of you. + + Sometimes I flattered myself that the foundations of my little + habitation would have been shaken by a "ship Shelley ahoy" that even + Jane, distant a mile, would have heard. That dear hope lost, I feared + a thousand things. + + Hamilton Browne's illness, the death of many English, the return of + every other from Greece, filled me with gloomy apprehensions. + + But you live,--what kind of life your letters will, I trust, inform + me,--what possible kind of life in a cavern surrounded by + precipices,--inaccessible! All this will satisfy your craving + imagination. The friendship you have for Odysseus, does that satisfy + your warm heart?... I gather from your last letter and other + intelligence that you think of marrying the daughter of your favourite + chief, and thus will renounce England and even the English for ever. + And yet,--no! you love some of us, I am sure, too much to forget us, + even if you neglect us for a while; but truly, I long for your + letters, which will tell all. And remember, dear friend, it is about + yourself I am anxious. Of Greece I read in the papers. I see many + informants, but I can learn your actions, hopes, and, above all + valuable to me, the continuation of your affection for me, from your + letters only. + + * * * * * + + + _27th February._ + + I now close my letter--I have not yet received yours. + + Last night Jane and I went with Gamba and my Father to see Kean in + _Othello_. This play, as you may guess, reminded us of you. Do you + remember, when delivering the killing news, you awoke Jane, as Othello + awakens Desdemona from her sleep on the sofa? Kean, abominably + supported, acted divinely; put as he is on his mettle by recent events + and a full house and applause, which he deserved, his farewell is the + most pathetic piece of acting to be imagined. Yet, my dear friend, I + wish we had seen it represented as was talked of at Pisa. Iago would + never have found a better representative than that strange and + wondrous creature whom one regrets daily more,--for who here can equal + him? Adieu, dear Trelawny, take care of yourself, and come and visit + us as soon as you can escape from the sorceries of Ulysses.--In all + truth, yours affectionately, + + M. W. S. + + At Pisa, 1822, Lord Byron talked vehemently of our getting up a play + in his great hall at the Lanfranchi; it was to be _Othello_. He cast + the characters thus: Byron, Iago; Trelawny, Othello; Williams, Cassio; + Medwin, Roderigo; Mrs. Shelley, Desdemona; Mrs. Williams, Emilia. "Who + is to be our audience?" I asked. "All Pisa," he rejoined. He recited a + great portion of his part with great gusto; it exactly suited him,--he + looked it, too. + +All this time Miss Clairmont was pursuing her vocation as a governess in +Russia, and many interesting glimpses into Russian family and social life +are afforded by her letters to Mrs. Shelley and Mrs. Williams. She was a +voluminous letter-writer, and in these characteristic epistles she +unconsciously paints, as no other hand could have done, a vivid portrait +of herself. We can see her, with all her vivacity, versatility, and +resource, her great cleverness,--never at a loss for a word, an excuse, or +a good story,--her indefatigable energy, her shifting moods and wild +caprices, the bewildering activity of her restless brain, and the +astonishing facility with which she transferred to paper all her passing +impressions. In narration, in description, in panegyric, and in complaint +she is equally fluent. Unimpeachably correct as her conduct always was +after her one miserable adventure, she had, from first to last, an innate +affinity for anything in the shape of social gossip and scandal; her +really generous impulses were combined with the worldliest of worldly +wisdom, and the whole tinctured with the highest of high-flown sentiment. + +Fill in the few details wanting, the flat, sleek, black hair,--eyes so +black that the pupil was hardly to be distinguished from the iris (eyes +which seemed unmistakably to indicate an admixture of Portuguese, if not +of African, blood in her descent),--a complexion which may in girlhood +have been olive, but in later life was sallow,--features not beautiful, +and depending on expression for any charm they might have,--and she stands +before the reader, the unmanageable, amusing, runaway schoolgirl; a +stumbling-block first, then a bugbear, to Byron; a curse, which he +persistently treated as a blessing, to Shelley; a thorn in the side of +Mary and of every one who ever was responsible for her; yet liked by her +acquaintance, admired in society, commiserated by her early friends, and +regarded with well-deserved affection and gratitude by many of her pupils +and _proteges_. + + CLARE TO JANE. + + MOSCOW, _27th October 1825_. + + MY DEAREST JANE--It is now so long since I heard from you that I begin + to think you have quite forgotten me. I wrote twice to you during the + summer; both letters went by private hand, and to neither of which + have I received your answer. I enclosed also a letter or letters for + Trelawny, and I hope very much you have received them. Whenever some + time elapses without hearing from England, then I begin to grow + miserable with fear. In a letter I received from Mary in the autumn, + she mentions the approaching return of the Hunts from Italy, and I + console myself with believing that you are both so much taken up with + them that you have delayed from day to day to write to me. Be that as + it may, I have never been in greater need of your letters than for + these last two months, for I have been truly wretched. To convince you + that I am not given to fret for trifles, I will tell you how they have + been passed. I spent a very quiet time, if not a very agreeable one, + until the 12th of August; then a French newspaper fell into my hands, + in which it mentioned that Trelawny had been dangerously wounded in a + duel on the 13th of June. You who have known the misery of anxiety for + the safety and wellbeing of those dear to us may imagine what I + suffered. At last a letter from Mary came, under date of 26th of July, + not mentioning a word of this, and I allowed myself to hope that it + was not true, because certainly she would have heard of it by the time + she wrote. Then, a week after, another newspaper mentioned his being + recovered. This was scarcely passed when our two children fell ill; + one got better, but the other, my pupil, a little girl of six years + and a half old, died. I was truly wretched at her loss, and our whole + house was a scene of sorrow and confusion, that can only happen in a + savage country, where a disciplined temper is utterly unknown. We came + to town, and directly the little boy fell sick again of a putrid + fever, from which he was in imminent danger for some time. At last + after nights and days of breathless anxiety he did recover. By the + death of the little girl, I became of little or no use in the house, + and the thought of again entering a new house, and having to learn new + dispositions, was quite abhorrent to me. Nothing is so cruel as to + change from house to house and be perpetually surrounded by strangers; + one feels so forlorn, so utterly alone, that I could not have the + courage to begin the career over again; so I settled to remain in the + same house, to continue the boy's English, and to give lessons + out-of-doors. I do not know whether my plan will succeed yet, but, at + any rate, I am bent upon trying it. It is not very agreeable to walk + about in the snow and in a cold of twenty, sometimes thirty degrees; + but anything is better than being a governess in the common run of + Moscow houses. But you have not yet heard my greatest sorrow, and + which I think might well have been spared. I had one Englishwoman + here, to whom I was attached--a woman of the most generous heart, and + whom misfortune, perhaps imprudence, had driven to Russia. She thought + with me that nothing can equal the misery of our situation, and + accordingly she went last spring to Odessa, hoping to find some means + of establishing a boarding-house in order to have a home. If it + succeeded, she was to have sent for me; but, however, she wrote to me + that, after well considering everything, she found such a plan would + not succeed, and that I might expect her shortly in Moscow, to resume + her old manner of life. I expected her arrival daily, and began to + grow uneasy, and at length some one wrote to another acquaintance of + hers here that she had destroyed herself. I, who knew her thoughts, + have no doubt the horror of entering again as governess made her + resolve upon this as the only means to escape it. You see, dearest + Jane, whether these last two months have been fruitful in woes. I + cannot tell you what a consolation it would have been to have received + a letter from you whilst I have been suffering under such extreme + melancholy. The only amelioration in my present situation is that I + can withdraw to my room and be much more alone than I could formerly, + and this solitude is so friendly to my nature that it has been my only + comfort. I have heard all about the change in my mother's situation, + and am truly glad of it. I am sure she will be much better off than + she was before. As for Mary, her affairs seem inexplicable. Nothing + can ever persuade me that a will can dispose of estates which the + maker of it never possessed. Do clear up this mystery to me. What a + strange way of thinking must that be which can rely on such a hope! + Yet my brother, my mother, and Mary never cease telling me that one + day I shall be free, and the state of doubt, the contradiction between + their assertions and my intimate persuasion of the contrary, that + awakens in my mind, is very painful. You are almost quite silent upon + the subject, but I wish, my dear Jane, that you would answer me the + following questions. Has any professional man ever been consulted on + the subject? What is Hogg's opinion? Why in this particular case + should the law be set aside, which says that no man can dispose of + what he has never possessed? Do have the goodness to ask these + questions very clearly and to give me the answers, which no one has + ever done yet. They simply tell me, "Whitton has come forward," + "Whitton thinks the will valid," etc. etc., all of which cannot prove + to me that it is so. I know you will excuse my giving you so much + trouble, but really when you consider the painful uncertainty which + hangs on my mind, you will think it very natural that I should wish to + know the reasons of what is asserted to me. To say the truth, I daily + grow more indifferent about the issue of the affair. The time is past + when independence would have been an object of my desires, and I am + now old enough to know that misery is the universal malady of the + human race, and that there is no escaping from it, except by a + philosophic indifference to all external circumstances, and by a + disciplined mind completely absorbed in intellectual subjects. I + fashion my life accordingly to this, and I often enjoy moments of + serenest calm, which I owe to this way of thinking. Do not mistake and + think that I am indifferent to seeing you again; so far from this, I + dream of this as one dreams of Paradise after death, as a thing of + another world, and not to be obtained here. It would be too much + happiness for me to venture to hope it. I endeavour often to imagine + the circle in which you live, but it is impossible, and I think it + would be equally difficult for you to picture to yourself my mode of + life. I often think what in the world Mary or Jane would do in the + dull routine I tread; no talk of public affairs, no talk of books, no + subject do I ever hear of except cards, eating, and the different + manner of managing slaves. Now and then some heroic young man devotes + himself like a second Marcus Curtius to the public good, and, in order + to give the good ladies of Moscow something new to talk of, rouses + them from their lethargic gossipings by getting himself shot in a + duel; or some governess disputes with the mother of her pupils, and + what they both said goes over the town. Mary mentioned in her last + that she thought it very likely you might both go to Paris. I hope you + may be there, for I am sure you would find the mode of life more + cheerful than London. As I have told you so many of my sorrows, I must + tell you the only good piece of news I have to communicate. I have + lately made acquaintance with a German gentleman, who is a great + resource to me. In such a country as Russia, where nothing but + ignorant people are to be met, a cultivated mind is the greatest + treasure. His society recalls our former circle, for he is well versed + in ancient and modern literature, and has the same noble, enlarged + way of thinking. You may imagine how delighted he was to find me so + different from everything around him, and capable of understanding + what has been so long sealed up in his mind as treasures too precious + to be wasted on the coarse Russian soil. I talk to you thus freely + about him, because I know you will not believe that I am in love, or + that I have any other feeling than a most sincere and steady + friendship for him. What you felt for Shelley I feel for him. I feel + it also my duty to tell you I have a real friend, because, in case of + sickness or death happening to me, you would at least feel the + consolation of knowing that I had not died in the hands of strangers. + I talk to him very often of you and Mary, until his desire to see you + becomes quite a passion. He is, like all Germans, very sentimental, a + very sweet temper, and uncommonly generous. His attachment to me is + extreme, but I have taken the very greatest care to explain to him + that I cannot return it in the same degree. This does not make him + unhappy, and therefore our friendship is of the utmost importance to + both. I hope, my dear Jane, that you will one day see him, and that + both you and Mary may find such an agreeable friend in him as I have + had. I must now turn from this subject to speak of Trelawny, which + comes naturally into my mind with the idea of friendship; you cannot + think how uneasy I am at not hearing from him. I am not afraid of his + friendship growing cold for me, for I am sure he is unchangeable on + that point, but I am afraid for his happiness and safety. Is it true + that his friend Ulysses is dead? and if so, do pray write to him and + prevail upon him to return. I should be at ease if I were to know him + near you and Mary. Do think if you can do anything to draw him to you, + my dearest Jane. It would render me the happiest of human beings to + know him in the hands of two such friends. If this could be, how hard + I should work to gain a little independence here, and return perhaps + in ten years and live with you. As yet I have done nothing, + notwithstanding my utmost exertions, towards such a plan, but I am + turning over every possible means in my brain for devising some + scheme to get money, and perhaps I may. That is my reason for staying + in Russia, because there is no country so favourable to foreigners. + Pray, my dear Jane, do write to me the moment you receive this, and + answer very particularly the questions I have asked you. I have filled + this whole letter, do you the same in your answer, and tell me every + particular about Percy, Neddy, and Dina; they little guess how warm a + friend they have in this distant land, who thinks perpetually of them, + and wishes for nothing so much as to see them and to play with them. + Give my love to Mary. I will write soon again to her. In the meantime + do some of you pray write. These horrid long winters, and the sky, + which is from month to month of the darkest dun colour, need some news + from you to render life supportable. Kiss all the dear children for + me, and tell me everything about them.--Ever your affectionate friend, + + CLARE. + + Pray beg Mary to tell my mother that I wrote to her on or about the + 22d of August; has she had this letter? and do tell me in yours what + you know of her. I have just received your letter of the 3d of + September, for which I thank you most cordially. Thank heaven, you are + all well! What you say of Trelawny distresses me, as it seems to me + that you are unwilling to say what you have heard, as it is of a + disagreeable nature. You could do me a great benefit if you could make + yourself mistress of the Logier's system of teaching music, and + communicate it to me in its smallest details. I am sure it would take + here. Do, pray, make serious inquiries of some one who has been taught + by him. If any one would undertake to write me a very circumstantial + account of his method, I would cheerfully pay them. It might be the + means of my making a small independence here, and then I could join + you soon in Italy without fear for the future. Do think seriously of + this, my dear Jane, and do not take it into your head that it is an + idle project, for it would be of the greatest use to me. As to your + admirer, I think he is mad, and his society, which would otherwise be + a relief, must now be a burthen. You are very right in saying you + only find solace in mental occupation; it is the only thing that saves + me from such a depression of spirits taking hold of me when I have an + instant to reflect upon the past that I am ready for any rash act; but + I am occupied from 6 in the morning until 10 at night, and then am so + worn out I have no time for thinking. Once more farewell. My address + is--Chez Monsieur Lenhold, Marchand de Musique, a Moscow. + +_The Last Man_, Mrs. Shelley's third novel, was published early in 1826. +It differed widely from its predecessors. _Frankenstein_ was an +allegorical romance; _Valperga_ a historical novel, Italian, of the +fifteenth century; the plot of the one depends for its interest chiefly on +incident, that of the other on the development of character, but both have +a definite purpose in the inculcation of certain moral or philosophical +truths. The story of _The Last Man_ is purely romantic and imaginary, +probabilities and possibilities being entirely discarded. Its supposed +events take place in the twenty-first century of our era, when a devouring +plague depopulates by degrees the whole world, until the narrator remains, +to his own belief, the only surviving soul. At the book's conclusion he is +left, in a little boat, coasting around the shores of the sea-washed +countries of the Mediterranean, with the forlorn hope of finding a +companion solitary. He writes the history of his fate and that of his race +on the leaves of trees,--supposed to be discovered and deciphered long +afterwards in the Sibyl's Cave at Baiae,--the world having been (as we +must infer) repeopled by that time. It is not difficult to understand the +kind of fascination this curious, mournful fancy had for Mary in her +solitude. Much other matter is, of course, interwoven with the leading +idea. The characteristics of the hero, Adrian, his benevolence of heart, +his winning aspect, his passion of justice and self-devotion, and his +fervent faith in the possibilities of human nature and the future of the +human race, are unmistakably sketched from Shelley, and the portrait was +at once recognised by Shelley's earliest friend, the value of whose +appreciation was, if anything, enhanced by the fact of the great +unlikeness between his temperament and Shelley's. + + T. J. HOGG TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + YORK, _22d March 1826_. + + MY DEAR MARY--As I am about to send a frank to dearest Jane, I enclose + a note to you to thank you for the pleasure you have given me. I read + your _Last Man_ with an intense interest and not without tears. I + began it at Stamford yesterday morning as soon as it was light; I read + on all day, even during the short time that was allowed us for dinner, + and, if I had not finished it before it was dark, I verily believe + that I should have bought a candle and held it in my hand in the mail. + I think that it is a decided improvement, and that the character of + Adrian is most happy and most just.--I am, dear Mary, yours ever + faithfully, + + T. J. HOGG. + +The appearance of Mary's novel had for its practical consequence the +stoppage of her supplies. The book was published anonymously, as "by the +author of _Frankenstein_," but Mrs. Shelley's name found its way into some +newspaper notices, and this misdemeanour (for which she was not +responsible) was promptly punished by the suspension of her allowance. +Peacock's good offices were again in request, to try and avert this +misfortune, but it was not at once that he prevailed. He impressed on +Whitton (the solicitor) that the name did not appear in the title-page, +and that its being brought forward at all was the fault of the publisher +and quite contrary to the wishes of the writer, who, solitary and +despondent, could not be reasonably condemned for employing her time +according to her tastes and talents, with a view to bettering her +condition. This Whitton acknowledged, but said, "the name was the matter; +it annoyed Sir Timothy." He would promise nothing, and Peacock could only +assure Mary that he felt little doubt of her getting the money at last, +though she might be punished by a short delay. + +It may be assumed that this turned out so. Late in the year, however, +another turn was given to Mary's affairs by the death of Shelley's eldest +boy. + + _Journal, September 1826._--Charles Shelley died during this month. + Percy is now Shelley's only son. + +Mary's son being now direct heir to the estates, and her own prospects +being materially improved by this fact, she at once thought of others +whom Shelley had meant to benefit by his will, and who, she was resolved, +should not be losers by his early death, if she lived to carry out for him +his unwritten intentions. She did not think, when she wrote to Leigh Hunt +the letter which follows, that nearly twenty years more would elapse +before the will could take effect. + + MARY SHELLEY TO LEIGH HUNT. + + 5 BARTHOLOMEW PLACE, KENTISH TOWN, + _30th October 1826_. + + MY DEAR HUNT--Is it, or is it not, right that these few lines should + be addressed to you now? Yet if the subject be one that you may judge + better to have been deferred, set my _delay_ down to the account of + over-zeal in writing to relieve you from a part of the care which I + know is just now oppressing you; too happy I shall be if you permit + any act of mine to have that effect. + + I told you long ago that our dear Shelley intended on rewriting his + will to have left you a legacy. I think the sum mentioned was L2000. I + trust that hereafter you will not refuse to consider me your debtor + for this sum merely because I shall be bound to pay it you by the laws + of honour instead of a legal obligation. You would, of course, have + been better pleased to have received it immediately from dear + Shelley's bequest; but as it is well known that he intended to make + such an one, it is in fact the same thing, and so I hope by you to be + considered; besides, your kind heart will receive pleasure from the + knowledge that you are bestowing on me the greatest pleasure I am + capable of receiving. This is no resolution of to-day, but formed from + the moment I knew my situation to be such as it is. I did not mention + it, because it seemed almost like an empty vaunt to talk and resolve + on things so far off. But futurity approaches, and a feeling haunts me + as if this futurity were not far distant. I have spoken vaguely to + you on this subject before, but now, you having had a recent + disappointment, I have thought it as well to inform you in express + terms of the meaning I attached to my expressions. I have as yet made + no will, but in the meantime, if I should chance to die, this present + writing may serve as a legal document to prove that I give and + bequeath to you the sum of L2000 sterling. But I hope we shall both + live, I to acknowledge dear Shelley's intentions, you to honour me so + far as to permit me to be their executor. + + I have mentioned this subject to no one, and do not intend; an act is + not aided by words, especially an act unfulfilled, nor does this + letter, methinks, require any answer, at least not till after the + death of Sir Timothy Shelley, when perhaps this explanation would have + come with better grace; but I trust to your kindness to put my writing + now to a good motive.--I am, my dear Hunt, yours affectionately and + obliged, + + MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT SHELLEY. + +It was admitted by the Shelley family that, Percy being now the heir, some +sort of settlement should be made for his mother, yet for some months +longer nothing was done or arranged. Apparently Mary wrote to Trelawny in +low spirits, and to judge from his reply, her letter found him in little +better plight than herself. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + ZANTE, _16th December 1826_. + + DEAR MARY--I received your letter the other day, and nothing gives me + greater pleasure than to hear from you, for however assured we are of + a friend's durability of affection, it is soothing to be occasionally + reassured of it. I sympathise in your distresses. I have mine, too, on + the same score--a bountiful will and confined means are a curse, and + often have I execrated my fortunes so ill corresponding with my + wishes. But who can control his fate? Old age and poverty is a + frightful prospect; it makes the heart sick to contemplate, even in + the mind's eye the reality would wring a generous nature till the + heart burst. Poverty is the vampyre which lives on human blood, and + haunts its victims to destruction. Hell can fable no torment exceeding + it, and all the other calamities of human life--wars, pestilence, + fire--cannot compete with it. It is the climax of human ill. You may + be certain that I could not write thus on what I did not feel. I am + glad you say you have better hopes; when things are at the worst, they + say, there is hope. So do I hope. Lord Cochrane and his naval + expedition having so long and unaccountably been kept back, delayed me + here from month to month till the winter has definitively set in, and + I am in no state for a winter's voyage; my body is no longer + weatherproof. But I must as soon as possible get to England, though my + residence there will be transitory. I shall then most probably hurry + on to Italy. + + The frigate from America is at last arrived in Greece, but whether + Cochrane is on board of her I know not. With the loss of my friend + Odysseus, my enthusiasm has somewhat abated; besides that I could no + longer act with the prospect of doing service, and toiling in vain is + heartless work. But have I not done so all my life? The affairs of + Greece are so bad that little can be done to make them worse. If + Cochrane comes, and is supported with means sufficient, there is still + room for hope. I am in too melancholy a mood to say more than that, + whatever becomes of me.--I am always your true and affectionate + + E. TRELAWNY. + +Mary answered him at once, doing and saying, to console him, all that +friendship could. + + KENTISH TOWN, _4th March 1827_. + + [Direct me at W. Godwin, Esq., 44 Gower Place, Gower Street, London.] + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--Your long silence had instilled into me the delusive + hope that I should hear you sooner than from you. I have been silly + enough sometimes to start at a knock,--at length your letter is come. + [By] that indeed I entertain more reasonable hopes of seeing you. You + will come--Ah, indeed you must; if you are ever the kind-hearted being + you were--you must come to be consoled by my sympathy, exhilarated by + my encouragements, and made happy by my friendship. You are not happy! + Alas! who is that has a noble and generous nature? It is not only, my + noble-hearted friend, that your will is bountiful and your means + small,--were you richer you would still be tormented by ingratitude, + caprice, and change. Yet I say Amen to all your anathema against + poverty, it is beyond measure a torment and despair. I am poor, having + once been richer; I live among the needy, and see only poverty around. + I happen, as has always been my fate, to have formed intimate + friendships with those who are great of soul, generous, and incapable + of valuing money except for the good it may do--and these very people + are all even poorer than myself, is it not hard? But turning to you + who are dearest to me, who of all beings are most liberal, it makes me + truly unhappy to find that you are hard pressed: do not talk of old + age and poverty, both the one and the other are in truth far from + you,--for the one it will be a miracle if you live to grow old,--this + would appear a strange compliment if addressed to another, but you and + I have too much of the pure spirit of fire in our souls to wish to + live till the flickering beam waxes dim;--think then of the few + present years only. I have no doubt you will do your fortunes great + good by coming to this country. A too long absence destroys the + interest that friends take, if they are only friends in the common + acceptation of the word; and your relations ought to be reminded of + you. The great fault to us in this country is its expensiveness, and + the dreadful ills attendant here on poverty; elsewhere, though poor, + you may live--here you are actually driven from life, and though a few + might pity, none would help you were you absolutely starving. You say + you shall stay here but a short time and then go to Italy--alas! alas! + + It is impossible in a letter to communicate the exact state of one's + feelings and affairs here--but there is a change at hand--I cannot + guess whether for good or bad as far as regards me. This winter, whose + extreme severity has carried off many old people, confined Sir Tim. + for ten weeks by the gout--but he is recovered. All that time a + settlement for me was delayed, although it was acknowledged that Percy + now being the heir, one ought to be made; at length after much + parading, they have notified to me that I shall receive a magnificent + L250 a year, to be increased next year to L300. But then I am not + permitted to leave this cloudy nook. My desire to get away is + unchanged, and I used to look forward to your return as a period when + I might contrive--but I fear there is no hope for me during Sir T.'s + life. He and his family are now at Brighton. John Shelley, dear S.'s + brother, is about to marry, and talks of calling upon me. I am often + led to reflect in life how people situated in a certain manner with + regard to me might make my life less drear than it is--but it is + always the case that the people that might--won't, and it is a very + great mistake to fancy that they will. Such thoughts make me anxious + to draw tighter the cords of sympathy and friendship which are so much + more real than those of the world's forming in the way of relationship + or connection. + + From the ends of the world we were brought together to be friends till + death; separated as we are, this tie still subsists. I do not wonder + that you are out of heart concerning Greece; the mismanagement here is + not less than the misgovernment there, the discord the same, save that + here ink is spilt instead of blood. Lord Cochrane alone can assist + them--but without vessels or money how can he acquire sufficient + power? at any rate except as the Captain of a vessel I do not see what + good you can do them. But the mischief is this,--that while some cold, + unimpressive natures can go to a new country, reside among a few + friends, enter into the interests of an intimate and live as a brother + among them for a time, and then depart, leaving small trace, retaining + none,--as if they had ascended from a bath, they change their garments + and pass on;--while others of subtler nature receive into their very + essences a part of those with whom they associate, and after a while + they become enchained, either for better or worse, and during a series + of years they bear the marks of change and attachment. These natures + indeed are the purest and best, and of such are you, dear friend; + having you once, I ever have you; losing you once, I have lost you for + ever; a riddle this, but true. And so life passes, year is added to + year, the word youth is becoming obsolete, while years bring me no + change for the better. Yet I said, change is at hand--I know it, + though as yet I do not feel it--you will come, in the spring you will + come and add fresh delight for me to the happy change from winter to + summer. I cannot tell what else material is to change, but I feel sure + the year will end differently from its beginning. Jane is quite well, + we talk continually of you, and expect you anxiously. Her fortunes + have been more shifting than mine, and they are about to + conclude,--differently from mine,--but I leave her to say what she + thinks best concerning herself, though probably she will defer the + explanation until your arrival. She is my joy and consolation. I could + never have survived my exile here but for her. Her amiable temper, + cheerfulness, and never ceasing sympathy are all so much necessary + value for one wounded and lost as I. + + Come, dear friend, again I read your melancholy sentences and I say, + come! let us try if we can work out good from ill; if I may not be + able to throw a ray of sunshine on your path, at least I will lead you + as best I may through the gloom. Believe me that all that belongs to + you must be dear to me, and that I shall never forget all I owe to + you. + + Do you remember those pretty lines of Burns?-- + + A monarch may forget his crown + That on his head an hour hath been, + A bridegroom may forget his bride + Who was his wedded wife yest'reen, + A mother may forget her child + That smiles so sweetly on her knee, + But I'll remember thee, dear friend, + And all that thou hast done for me. + + Such feelings are not the growth of the moment. They must have lived + for years--have flourished in smiles, and retained their freshness + watered by tears; to feel them one must have sailed much of life's + voyage together--have undergone the same perils, and sympathised in + the same fears and griefs; such is our situation; and the heartfelt + and deep-rooted sentiments fill my eyes with tears as I think of you, + dear friend, we shall meet soon. Adieu, + + M. S. + + ... I cannot close this letter without saying a word about dear + Hunt--yet that must be melancholy. To feed nine children is no small + thing. His health has borne up pretty well hitherto, though his + spirits sink. What is it in the soil of this green earth that is so + ill adapted to the best of its sons? He speaks often of you with + affection. + + To Edward Trelawny, Esq., + To the care of Samuel Barff, Esq., + Zante, The Ionian Isles. + + Seal--Judgment of Paris. + Endorsed--Received 10th April 1827. + +Change was indeed at hand, though not of a kind that Mary could have +anticipated. The only event in prospect likely to affect her much was a +step shortly to be taken by Mrs. Williams. That intended step, vaguely +foreshadowed in Jane's correspondence, aroused the liveliest curiosity in +Clare Clairmont, as was natural. + + MISS CLAIRMONT TO MRS. WILLIAMS. + + MY DEAREST JANE--If I have not written to you before, it is owing to + low spirits. I have not been able to take the pen, because it would + have been dipped in too black a melancholy. I am tired of being in + trouble, particularly as it goes on augmenting every day. I have had a + hard struggle with myself lately to get over the temptation I had to + lay down the burthen at once, and be free as spirits are, and leave + this horrid world behind me. In order to let you understand what now + oppresses me, I must tell you my history since I came to Moscow. I + came here quite unknown. I was at first ill treated on that account, + but I soon acquired a great reputation, because all my pupils made + much more progress in whatever they undertook than those of other + people. I had few acquaintances among the English; to these I had + never mentioned a single circumstance of myself or fortunes, but took + care, on the contrary, to appear content and happy, as if I had never + known or seen any other society all my days. I sent you a letter by + Miss F., because I knew your name would excite no suspicions; but it + seems my mother got hold of Miss F., sought her out, and has thereby + done me a most incalculable mischief. Miss F. came back full of my + story here, and though she is very friendly to me, yet others who are + not so have already done me injury. The Professor at the University + here is a man of a good deal of talent, and was in close connection + with Lockhart, the son-in-law of Sir Walter Scott, and all that party; + he has a great deal of friendship for me, because, as he says, very + truly, I am the only person here besides himself who knows how to + speak English. He professes the most rigid principles, and is come to + that age when it is useless to endeavour to change them. I, however, + took care not to get upon the subject of principles, and so he was of + infinite use to me both by counselling and by protecting me with the + weight of his high approbation. You may imagine this man's horror when + he heard who I was; that the charming Miss Clairmont, the model of + good sense, accomplishments, and good taste, was brought, issued from + the very den of freethinkers. I see that he is in a complete puzzle on + my account; he cannot explain to himself how I can be so extremely + delightful, and yet so detestable. The inveteracy of his objections is + shaken. This, however, has not hindered him from doing me serious + mischief. I was to have undertaken this winter the education of an + only daughter, the child of a very rich family where the Professor + reigns despotic, because he always settles every little dispute with + some unintelligible quotation or reference to a Latin or Greek author. + I am extremely interested in the child, he used to say, and no one can + give her the education she ought to have but Miss Clairmont. The + father and the mother have been running after me these years to + persuade me to enter when the child should be old enough. I consented, + when now, all is broken off, because the scruples of my professor do + not allow of it. God knows, he says, what Godwinish principles she + might not instil. You may, therefore, think how teased I have been; + more so from the uncertainty of my position, as I do not know how far + this may extend. If this is only the beginning, what may be the end? I + am not angry with this man, he only acts according to his conscience; + nor am I surprised. I shall never cease feeling and thinking that if I + had my choice, I had rather a thousand times have a child of mine + resigned to an early grave, and lost for ever to me, than have it + brought up in principles I abhor. If you ask me what I shall do, I can + only answer you as did the Princess Mentimiletto, when buried under + the ruins of her villa by an earthquake, "I await my fate in silence." + In the meantime, while the page of fate is unrolling, I feel a secret + agitation which consumes me, the more so for being repressed. I am + fallen again into a bad state of health, but this is habitual to me + upon the recurrence of winter. What torments me the most is the + restraint I am under of always appearing gay in society, which I am + obliged to do to avoid their odious curiosity. Farewell awhile dismay + and terror, and let us turn to love and happiness. Never was + astonishment greater than mine on receiving your letter. I had somehow + imagined to myself that you never would love again, and you may say + what you like, dearest Jane, you won't drive that out of my head. + "Blue Bag" may be a friend to you, but he never can be a lover. A + happy attachment that has seen its end leaves a void that nothing can + fill up; therefore I counsel the timorous and the prudent to take the + greatest care always to have an unhappy attachment, because with it + you can veer about like a weathercock to every point of life. What + would I not give to have an unhappy passion, for then one has full + permission and a perfect excuse to fall into a happy one; one has + something to expect, but a _happy passion_, like death, has _finis_ + written in such large characters in its face there is no hoping for + any possibility of a change. You will allow me to talk upon this + subject, for I am unhappily the victim of a _happy passion_. I had + one; like all things perfect in its kind, it was fleeting, and mine + only lasted ten minutes, but these ten minutes have discomposed the + rest of my life. The passion, God knows for what cause, from no faults + of mine, however, disappeared, leaving no trace whatever behind it + except my heart wasted and ruined as if it had been scorched by a + thousand lightnings. You will therefore, I hope, excuse my not + following the advice you give me in your last letter, of falling in + love, and you will readily believe me when I tell you that I am not in + love, as you suspected, with my German friend Hermann. He went away + last spring for five years to the country. I have a great friendship + for him, because he has the most ardent love of all that is good and + beautiful of any one I know. I feel interested for his happiness and + welfare, but he is not the being who could make life feel less a + burthen to me than it does. It would, however, seem that you are a + little happier than you were, therefore I congratulate you on this + change of life. I am delighted that you have some one to watch over + you and guard you from the storms of life. Do pray tell me Blue Bag's + name, (for what is a man without a name?), or else I shall get into + the habit of thinking of him as Blue Bag, and never be able to divest + myself of this disagreeable association all my life. You say Trelawny + is coming home, but you have said so so long, I begin to doubt it. If + he does come, how happy you will be to see him. Happy girl! you have a + great many happinesses. I have written to him many times, but he never + answers my letters; I suppose he does not wish to keep up the + correspondence, and so I have left off. If he comes home I am sure he + will fall ill, because the change of climate is most pernicious to the + health. The first winter I passed in Russia I thought I should have + died, but then a good deal was caused by extreme anxiety. So take care + of Trelawny, and do not let him get his feet wet. You ask me to tell + you every particular of my way of life. For these last six months I + have been tormented to death; I am shut up with five hateful children; + they keep me in a fever from morning till night. If they fall into + their father's or mother's way, and are troublesome, they are whipped; + but the instant they are with me, which is pretty nearly all the day, + they give way to all their violence and love of mischief, because they + are not afraid of my mild disposition. They go on just like people in + a public-house, abusing one another with the most horrid names and + fighting; if I separate them, then they roll on the ground, shrieking + that I have broken their arm, or pretend to fall into convulsions, and + I am such a fool I am frightened. In short, I never saw the evil + spirit so plainly developed. What is worse, I cannot seriously be + angry with them, for I do not know how they can be otherwise with the + education they receive. Everything is a crime; they may neither jump, + nor run, nor laugh. It is now two months they have never been out of + the house, and the only thing they are indulged in is in eating, + drinking, and sleeping, so that I look upon their defects as + proceeding entirely from the pernicious lives they lead. This is a + pretty just picture of all Russian children, because the Russians are + as yet totally ignorant of anything like real education. You may, + therefore, imagine what a life I have been leading. In the summer, and + we had an Italian one, I bore up very well, because we were often in + the garden, but since the return of winter, which always makes me ill, + and their added tiresomeness, I am quite overpowered. The whole winter + long I have a fever, which comes on every evening, and prevents my + sleeping the whole night; sometimes it leaves me for a fortnight, but + then it begins again, but in summer I am as strong and healthy as + possible. The approach of winter fills me with horror, because I know + I have eight long months of suffering and sickness. The only amusement + I have is Sunday evening, to see Miss F. and some others like her, and + the only subject of conversation is to laugh at the Russians, or + dress. My God, what a life! But complaint is useless, and therefore I + shall not indulge in it. I have said, so as those I love live, I will + bear all without a murmur. If ever I am independent, I will instantly + retire to some solitude; I will see no one, not even you nor Mary, and + there I will live until the horrible disgust I feel at all that is + human be somewhat removed by quiet and retirement. My heart is too + full of hatred to be fit for society in its present mood. I am very + sorry for the death of little Charles. The chances for succession are + now so equally balanced--the life of an old man and the life of _one_ + young child--that I confess I see less hope than ever of the will's + taking effect. It is frightful for the despairing to have their hopes + suspended thus upon a single hair. Pray do not forget to write to me + when Trelawny is come. How glad I shall be to know he is in England, + and yet how frightened for fear he should catch cold. I wish you would + tell me how you occupy your days; at what hour you do this, and at + what hour that. From 11 till 4 I teach my children, then we dine; at 5 + we rise from the table. They have half an hour's dawdling, for play it + cannot be called, as they are in the drawing-room, and then they learn + two hours more. At 8 we drink tea, and then they go to bed, which is + never over till 11, because all must have their hair curled, which + takes up an enormous time. + + Since I have written the first part of my letter I have thought over + my affairs. I must go to Petersburgh, because it is quite another town + from Moscow, and being so much more foreign in their manners and ways + of thinking, I shall be less tormented. I have decided to go, + therefore I wish you very much to endeavour to procure me letters of + introduction. If Trelawny comes home, beg him to do so for me, + because, as he will be much in fashion, some of the numerous dear + female friends he will instantly have will do it for him. If I could + have a letter of recommendation, not a letter of introduction, to the + English ambassador or his wife, I should be able to get over the + difficulties which now beset my passage. Do think of this, Jane. My + head is so completely giddy from worry and torment, that I am unable + to think upon my own affairs; only this I know, that I am in a + tottering situation. It is absolutely necessary that I should have + letters of recommendation, and to people high in the world at + Petersburgh, because it is very common in Russia for adventurers, such + as opera dancers too old to dance any more, and milliners, and that + class of women to come here. They are received with open arms by the + Russians, who are very hospitable, and then naturally they betray + themselves by their atrocious conduct, and are thrown off; and I have + known since I have been here several lamentable instances of this, and + I shall be classed with these people if I cannot procure letters to + people whose countenance and protection must refute the possibility of + such a supposition. I must confess to you that my pride never could + stand this, for these adventurers are such detestable people that I + have the utmost horror of them. What a miserable imposture is life, + that such as follow philosophy, nature and truth, should be classed + with the very refuse of mankind; that people who ought to be cited as + models of virtue and self-sacrifice should be trampled under foot with + the dregs of vice. It was not thus in the time of the Greeks; and this + reflection makes me tired of life, for I might have been understood in + the time of Socrates, but never shall be by the moderns. For this + reason I do not wish to live, as I cannot be understood; in order, + therefore, not to be despised, I must renounce all worldly concerns + whatever. I have long done so, and therefore you will not wonder that + I have long since given my parting look to life. Do not be surprised I + am so dull; I am surrounded by difficulties which I am afraid I never + shall get out of, and after so many years of trouble and anguish it is + natural I should wish it were over. Do not, my dearest Jane, mention + to my mother the harm her indiscretion has done, for though I shall + frankly tell her of it, yet it would wound her if she were to know I + had told you, and there is already so much pain in the world it is + frightful to add ever so little to the stock. You can merely say I + have asked for letters of introduction at Petersburgh. + +From the time of her first arrival in England after Edward's death, Hogg +had been Jane Williams' persistent, devoted, and long-suffering admirer. +Not many months after receiving Clare's letter, she changed her name and +her abode, and was thenceforward known as Mrs. Hogg. Mary's familiar +intercourse with her might, in any case, have been somewhat checked by +this event, but such a change would have been a small matter compared to +the bitter discovery she was soon to make, that, while accepting her +affection, Jane had never really cared for her; that her feeling had been +of the most superficial sort. Once independent of Mary, and under other +protection, she talked away for the benefit and amusement of other +people,--talked of their past life, prating of her power over Shelley and +his devotion to her,--of Mary's gloom during those sad first weeks at +Lerici,--intimating that jealousy of herself was the cause. Stories which +lost nothing in the telling, wherein Jane Williams figured as a good +angel, while Mary Shelley was made to appear in an unfavourable or even an +absurd light. + +Mary had no suspicion, no foreboding of the mine that was preparing to +explode under her feet. She sympathised in her friend's happiness, for +she could not regard it but as happiness for one in Jane's circumstances +to be able to accept the love and protection of a devoted man. She herself +could not do it, but she often felt a wish that she were differently +constituted. She knew it was impossible; but no tinge of envy or +bitterness coloured her words to Trelawny when she wrote to tell him of +Jane's resolution. + + ... This is to be an eventful summer to us. Janey is writing to you + and will tell her own tale best. The person to whom she unites herself + is one of my oldest friends, the early friend of my own Shelley. It + was he who chose to share the honour, as he generously termed it, of + Shelley's expulsion from Oxford. (And yet he is unlike what you may + conceive to be the ideal of the best friend of Shelley.) He is a man + of talent,--of wit,--he has sensibility and even romance in his + disposition, but his exterior is composed and, at a superficial + glance, cold. He has loved Jane devotedly and ardently since she first + arrived in England, almost five years ago. At first she was too + faithfully attached to the memory of Edward, nor was he exactly the + being to satisfy her imagination; but his sincere and long-tried love + has at last gained the day. + + ... Nor will I fear for her in the risk she must run when she confides + her future happiness to another's constancy and good principles. He is + a man of honour, he longs for home, for domestic life, and he well + knows that none could make such so happy as Jane. He is liberal in his + opinions, constant in his attachments, if she is happy with him now + she will be always.... Of course after all that has passed it is our + wish that all this shall be as little talked of as possible, the + obscurity in which we have lived favours this. We shall remove hence + during the summer, for of course we shall still continue near each + other. I, as ever, must derive my only pleasure and solace from her + society. + +Before the summer of 1827 was over the cloud burst. + +Mary's journal in June is less mournful than usual. Congenial society +always had the power of cheering her and making her forget herself. And in +her acquaintance with Thomas Moore she found a novelty which yet was akin +to past enjoyment. + + _Journal, June 26_ (1827).--I have just made acquaintance with Tom + Moore. He reminds me delightfully of the past, and I like him much. + There is something warm and genuine in his feelings and manner which + is very attractive, and redeems him from the sin of worldliness with + which he has been charged. + + _July 2._--Moore breakfasted with me on Sunday. We talked of past + times,--of Shelley and Lord Byron. He was very agreeable, and I never + felt myself so perfectly at my ease with any one. I do not know why + this is; he seems to understand and to like me. This is a new and + unexpected pleasure. I have been so long exiled from the style of + society in which I spent the better part of my life; it is an + evanescent pleasure, but I will enjoy it while I can. + + _July 11._--Moore has left town; his singing is something new and + strange and beautiful. I have enjoyed his visits, and spent several + happy hours in his society. That is much. + + _July 13._--My friend has proved false and treacherous! Miserable + discovery. For four years I was devoted to her, and earned only + ingratitude. Not for worlds would I attempt to transfer the deathly + blackness of my meditations to these pages. Let no trace remain save + the deep, bleeding, hidden wound of my lost heart of such a tale of + horror and despair. Writing, study, quiet, such remedies I must seek. + What deadly cold flows through my veins! My head weighed down; my + limbs sink under me. I start at every sound as the messenger of fresh + misery, and despair invests my soul with trembling horror. + + _October 9._--Quanto bene mi rammento sette anni fa, in questa + medesima stagione i pensieri, I sentimenti del mio cuore! Allora + cominciai Valperga--allora sola col mio Bene fui felice. Allora le + nuvole furono spinte dal furioso vento davanti alla luna, nuvole + magnifiche, che in forme grandiose e bianche parevano stabili quanto + le montagne e sotto la tirannia del vento si mostravano piu fragili + che un velo di seta minutissima, scendeva allor la pioggia, gli albori + si spogliavano. Autunno bello fosti allora, ed ora bello terribile, + malinconico ci sei, ed io, dove sono? + +By those who hold their hearts safe at home in their own keeping, these +little breezes are called "storms in tea-cups." The matter was of no +importance to any one but Mary. The aspect of her outward life was +unchanged by this heart-shipwreck over which the world's waves closed and +left no sign. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +JULY 1827-AUGUST 1830 + + +Many weary months passed away. Mary said nothing to the shallow-hearted +woman who had so grievously injured her. Jane had been so dear to her, and +was so inextricably bound up with a beloved past, that she shrank from +disturbing the superficial friendship which she nevertheless knew to be +hollow. + +To one of Mary's temperament there was actual danger in living alone with +such a sorrow, and it was a happy thing when, in August, an unforeseen +distraction occurred to compel her thoughts into a new channel. She +received from an unknown correspondent a letter, resulting in an +acquaintance which, though it passed out of her life without leaving any +permanent mark, was, at the time, not unfruitful of interest. + +The letter was as follows-- + + FRANCES WRIGHT TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + PARIS, _22d August 1827_. + + I shall preface this letter with no apology; the motive which + dictates it will furnish, as I trust, a sufficient introduction both + for it and its writer. As the daughter of your father and mother + (known to me only by their works and opinions), as the friend and + companion of a man distinguished during life, and preserved in the + remembrance of the public as one distinguished not by genius merely, + but, as I imagine, by the strength of his opinions and his + fearlessness in their expression;--viewed only in these relations you + would be to me an object of interest and--permit the word, for I use + it in no vulgar sense--of curiosity. But I have heard (vaguely indeed, + for I have not even the advantage of knowing one who claims your + personal acquaintance, nor have I, in my active pursuits and + engagements in distant countries, had occasion to peruse your works), + yet I have heard, or read, or both, that which has fostered the belief + that you share at once the sentiments and talents of those from whom + you drew your being. If you possess the opinions of your father and + the generous feelings of your mother, I feel that I could travel far + to see you. It is rare in this world, especially in our sex, to meet + with those opinions united with those feelings, and with the manners + and disposition calculated to command respect and conciliate + affection. It is so rare, that to obtain the knowledge of such might + well authorise a more abrupt intrusion than one by letter; but, + pledged as I am to the cause of what appears to me moral truth and + moral liberty, that I (should) neglect any means for discovering a + real friend of that cause, I were almost failing to a duty. + + In thus addressing my inquiries respecting you to yourself, it were + perhaps fitting that I should enter into some explanations respecting + my own views and the objects which have fixed my attention. I + conceive, however, the very motive of this letter as herein explained, + with the printed paper I shall enclose with it, will supply a + sufficient assurance of the heterodoxy of my opinions and the nature + of my exertions for their support and furtherance. It will be + necessary to explain, however, what will strike you but indistinctly + in the deed of Nashoba, that the object of the experiment has in view + an association based on those principles of moral liberty and + equality heretofore advocated by your father. That these principles + form its base and its cement, and that while we endeavour to undermine + the slavery of colour existing in the North American Republic, we + essay equally to destroy the slavery of mind now reigning there as in + other countries. With one nation we find the aristocracy of colour, + with another that of rank, with all perhaps those of wealth, + instruction, and sex. + + Our circle already comprises a few united co-operators, whose choice + of associates will be guided by their moral fitness only; saving that, + for the protection and support of all, each must be fitted to exercise + some useful employment, or to supply 200 dollars per annum as an + equivalent for their support. The present generation will in all + probability supply but a limited number of individuals suited in + opinion and disposition to such a state of society; but that that + number, however limited, may best find their happiness and best + exercise their utility by uniting their interests, their society, and + their talents, I feel a conviction. In this conviction I have devoted + my time and fortune to laying the foundations of an establishment + where affection shall form the only marriage, kind feeling and kind + action the only religion, respect for the feelings and liberties of + others to the only restraint, and union of interest the bond of peace + and security. With the protection of the negro in view, whose cruel + sufferings and degradation had attracted my special sympathy, it was + necessary to seek the land of his bondage, to study his condition and + imagine a means for effecting his liberation; with the emancipation of + the human mind in view, from the shackles of moral and religious + superstition, it was necessary to seek a country where political + institutions should allow free scope for experiment; and with a + practice in view in opposition to all the laws of public opinion, it + was necessary to seek the seclusion of a new country, and build up a + city of refuge in the wilderness itself. Youth, a good constitution, + and a fixed purpose enabled me to surmount the fatigues, difficulties, + and privations of the necessary journeys, and the first opening of a + settlement in the American forests. Fifteen months have placed the + establishment in a fair way of progress, in the hands of united and + firm associates, comprising a family of colour from New Orleans. As + might be expected, my health gave way under the continued fatigues of + mind and body [incidental] to the first twelvemonth. A brain fever, + followed by a variety of sufferings, seemed to point to a sea-voyage + as the only chance of recovery. Accordingly I left Nashoba in May + last, was placed on board a steamboat on the Mississippi for Orleans, + then on board a vessel for Havre, and landed in fifty days almost + restored to health. I am now in an advanced state of convalescence, + but still obliged to avoid fatigue either bodily or mental. The + approaching marriage of a dear friend also retains me in Paris, and as + I shall return by way of New Orleans to my forest home in the month of + November, or December, I do not expect to visit London. The bearer of + this letter, should he, as I trust, be able to deliver it, will be + able to furnish any intelligence you may desire respecting Nashoba and + its inhabitants. In the name of Robert Dale Owen you will recognise + one of the trustees, and a son of Robert Owen of Lanark. + + Whatever be the fate of this letter, I wish to convey to Mary + Wollstonecraft Godwin Shelley my respect and admiration of those from + whom she holds those names, and my fond desire to connect her with + them in my esteem, and in the knowledge of mutual sympathy to sign + myself her friend, + + FRANCES WRIGHT. + + My address while in Europe--Aux soins du General Lafayette, Rue + d'Anjou, and 7 St. Honore, a Paris. + +The bearer of this letter would seem to have been Robert Dale Owen +himself. His name must have recalled to Mary's mind the letter she had +received at Geneva, long, long ago, from poor Fanny, describing and +commenting on the schemes for social regeneration of his father, Robert +Owen. + +Mary Shelley's feeling towards Frances Wright's schemes in 1827 may have +been accurately expressed by Fanny Godwin's words in 1816. + + ... "The outline of his plan is this: 'That no human being shall work + more than two or three hours every day; that they shall be all equal; + that no one shall dress but after the plainest and simplest manner; + that they be allowed to follow any religion, or no religion, as they + please; and that their studies shall be Mechanics and Chemistry.' I + hate and am sick at heart at the misery I see my fellow-beings + suffering, but I own I should not like to live to see the extinction + of all genius, talent, and elevated generous feeling in Great Britain, + which I conceive to be the natural consequence of Mr. Owen's plan." + +But any plan for human improvement, any unselfish effort to promote the +common weal, commanded the sure sympathy of Shelley's widow and Mary +Wollstonecraft's daughter, whether her judgment accorded perfectly or not +with that of its promoters. She responded warmly to the letter of her +correspondent, who wrote back in almost rapturous terms-- + + FRANCES WRIGHT TO MARY SHELLEY. + + PARIS, _15th September 1827_. + + My Friend, my dear Friend--How sweet are the sentiments with which I + write that sacred word--so often prostituted, so seldom bestowed with + the glow of satisfaction and delight with which I now employ it! Most + surely will I go to England, most surely to Brighton, to wheresoever + you may be. The fond belief of my heart is realised, and more than + realised. You are the daughter of your mother. I opened your letter + with some trepidation, and perused it with more emotion than now suits + my shattered nerves. I have read it again and again, and acknowledge + it before I sleep. Most fully, most deeply does my heart render back + the sympathy yours gives. It fills up the sad history you have + sketched of blighted affections and ruined hopes. I too have suffered, + and we must have done so perhaps to feel for the suffering. We must + have loved and mourned, and felt the chill of disappointment, and + sighed over the moral blank of a heartless world ere we can be moved + to sympathy for calamity, or roused to attempt its alleviation. The + curiosity you express shall be most willingly answered in (as I trust) + our approaching meeting. You will see then that I have greatly pitied + and greatly dared, only because I have greatly suffered and widely + observed. I have sometimes feared lest too early affliction and too + frequent disappointment had blunted my sensibilities, when a + _rencontre_ with some one of the rare beings dropt amid the dull + multitude, like oases in the desert, has refreshed my better feelings, + and reconciled me with others and with myself. That the child of your + parents should be one among these sweet visitants is greatly soothing + and greatly inspiring. But have we only discovered each other to + lament that we are not united? I cannot, will not think it. When we + meet,--and meet we must, and I hope soon,--how eagerly, and yet + tremblingly, shall I inquire into all the circumstances likely to + favour an approach in our destinies. I am now on the eve of separation + from a beloved friend, whom marriage is about to remove to Germany, + while I run back to my forests. And I must return without a bosom + intimate? Yes; our little circle has mind, has heart, has right + opinions, right feelings, co-operates in an experiment having in view + human happiness, yet I do want one of my own sex to commune with, and + sometimes to lean upon in all the confidence of equality of + friendship. You see I am not so disinterested as you suppose. + Delightful indeed it is to aid the progress of human improvement, and + sweet is the peace we derive from aiding the happiness of others. But + still the heart craves something more ere it can say--I am satisfied. + + I must tell, not write, of the hopes of Nashoba, and of all your + sympathising heart wishes to hear. On the 28th instant I shall be in + London, where I must pass some days with a friend about to sail for + Madeira. Then, unless you should come to London, I will seek you at + Brighton, Arundel, anywhere you may name. Let me find directions from + you. I will not say, use no ceremony with me--none can ever enter + between us. Our intercourse begins in the confidence, if not in the + fulness of friendship. I have not seen you, and yet my heart loves + you. + + I cannot take Brighton in my way; my sweet friend, Julia Garnett, + detaining me here until the latest moment, which may admit of my + reaching London on the 28th. I must not see you in passing. However + short our meeting, it must have some repose in it. The feelings which + draw me towards you have in them I know not what of respect, of + pitying sympathy, of expectation, and of tenderness. They must steal + some quiet undivided hours from the short space I have yet to pass in + Europe. Tell me when they shall be, and where. I expect to sail for + America with Mr. Owen and his family early in November, and may leave + London to visit a maternal friend in the north of England towards the + 20th of October. Direct to me to the care of Mr. Robert Bayley, 4 + Basinghall Street, London. + + Permit me the assurance of my respect and affection, and accord me the + title, as I feel the sentiments, of a friend, + + FRANCES WRIGHT. + +Circumstances conspired to postpone the desired meeting for some weeks, +but the following extract from another letter of Fanny Wright's shows how +friendly was the correspondence. + + Yes, I do "understand the happiness flowing from confidence and entire + sympathy, independent of worldly circumstances." I know the latter + compared to the former are nothing. + + A delicate nursling of European luxury and aristocracy, I thought and + felt for myself, and for martyrised humankind, and have preferred all + hazards, all privations in the forests of the New World to the + dear-bought comforts of miscalled civilisation. I have made the hard + earth my bed, the saddle of my horse my pillow, and have staked my + life and fortune on an experiment having in view moral liberty and + human improvement. Many of course think me mad, and if to be mad mean + to be one of a minority, I am so, and very mad indeed, for our + minority is very small. Should that few succeed in mastering the first + difficulties, weaker spirits, though often not less amiable, may carry + forward the good work. But the fewer we are who now think alike, the + more we are of value to each other. To know you, therefore, is a + strong desire of my heart, and all things consistent with my + engagements (which I may call duties, since they are connected with + the work I have in hand) will I do to facilitate our meeting. + +Soon after this Mary made Frances Wright's acquaintance, and heard from +herself all the story of her stirring life. She was not of American, but +of Scottish birth (Dundee), and had been very early left an orphan. Her +father had been a man of great ability and culture, of advanced liberal +opinions, and independent fortune. Fanny had been educated in England by a +maternal aunt, and in 1818, when twenty-three years of age, had gone with +her younger sister to the United States. Since that time her life had been +as adventurous as it was independent. Enthusiastic, original, and +handsome, she found friends and adherents wherever she went. Two years she +spent in the States, where she found sympathy and stimulus for her +speculative energies, and free scope for her untried powers. She had +written a tragedy, forcible and effective, which was published at +Philadelphia and acted at New York. After that she had been three years in +Paris, where she enjoyed the friendship and sympathy of Lafayette and +other liberal leaders. In 1824 she was once more in America, fired with +the idea of solving the slavery question. She purchased a tract of land on +the Nashoba river (Tennessee), and settled negroes there, assuming, in her +impetuosity, that to convert slaves into freemen it was only necessary to +remove their fetters, and that they would soon work out their liberty. She +found out her error. In Shelley's words, slightly varied, "How should +slaves produce anything but idleness, even as the seed produces the +plant?" The slaves, freed from the lash, remained slaves as before, only +they did very little work. Fanny Wright was disappointed; but, as her +letters plainly show, her schemes went much farther than negro +emancipation; she aimed at nothing short of a complete social +reconstruction, to be illustrated on a small scale at the Nashoba +settlement. + +Overwork, exposure to the sun, and continuous excitement, told, at last, +on her constitution. As she informed Mrs. Shelley in her first letter, she +had broken down with brain fever, and, when convalescent, had been ordered +to Europe. + +In Mary Wollstonecraft's daughter she found a friend, hardly an adherent. +Fundamentally, their principles were alike, but their natures were +differently attuned. Neither mentally nor physically had Mary Shelley the +temperament of a revolutionary innovator. She had plenty of moral courage, +but she was too scrupulous, too reflective, and too tender. The cause of +liberty was sacred to her, so long as it bore the fruit of justice, +self-sacrifice, fidelity to duty. Fanny Wright worshipped liberty for its +own sake, confident that every other good would follow it, with the +generous, unpractical certainty of conviction that proceeds as much from a +sanguine disposition as from a set of opinions. Experience and +disappointment have little power over these temperaments, and so they +never grow old--or prudent. It may well be that all the ideas, all the +great changes, in which is summed up the history of progress, have +originated with natures like these. They are the salt of the earth; but +man cannot live by salt alone, and their ideas are carried out for them in +detail, and the actual everyday work of the world is unconsciously +accomplished, by those who, having put their hand to the plough, do not +look back, nor yet far forward. + +Still, it was a remarkable meeting, that of these two women. Fanny Wright +was a person who, once seen, was not easily forgotten. "She was like +Minerva;" such is the recollection of Mrs. Shelley's son. Mrs. Trollope +has described her personal appearance when, three years later, she was +creating a great sensation by lecturing in the chief American cities-- + + She came on the stage surrounded by a bodyguard of Quaker ladies in + the full costume of their sect.... Her tall and majestic figure, the + deep and almost solemn expression of her eyes, the simple contour of + her finely-formed head, her garment of plain white muslin, which hung + around her in folds that recalled the drapery of a Grecian + statue,--all contributed to produce an effect unlike anything that I + had ever seen before, or ever expect to see again. + +On the other hand the following is Robert Dale Owen's sketch of Mary +Shelley. + + ... In person she was of middle height and graceful figure. Her face, + though not regularly beautiful, was comely and spiritual, of winning + expression, and with a look of inborn refinement as well as culture. + It had a touch of sadness when at rest. She impressed me as a person + of warm social feelings, dependent for happiness on living + encouragement, needing a guiding and sustaining hand. + +It is certain that Mary felt a warm interest in her new friend. She made +her acquainted with Godwin, and lost no opportunity of seeing and +communing with her during her stay in England; nor did they part till +Fanny Wright was actually on board ship. + + "Dear love," wrote Fanny, from Torbay, "how your figure lives in my + mind's eye as I saw you borne away from me till I lost sight of your + little back among the shipping!" + +From Nashoba, a few months later, she addressed another letter to Mary, +which, though slightly out of place, is given here. There had, apparently, +been some passing discord between her and the founder of the "New Harmony" +colony.[9] + + FRANCES WRIGHT TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + NASHOBA, _20th March 1828_. + + Very, very welcome was your letter of the 16th November, which awaited + my return from a little excursion down the Mississippi, undertaken + soon after my arrival. Bless your sweet kind heart, my sweet Mary! + Your little enclosure, together with a little billet brought me by + Dale, and which came to the address of Mr. Trollope's chambers just as + he left London, is all the news I have yet received of or from our + knight-errant. Once among Greeks and Turks, correspondence must be + pretty much out of the question, so unless he address to you some more + French compliments from Toulon, I shall not look to hear of him for + some months. Ay, truly, they are incomprehensible animals, these same + _soi-disant_ lords of this poor planet! Like their old progenitor, + Father Adam, they walk about boasting of their wisdom, strength, and + sovereignty, while they have not sense so much as to swallow an apple + without the aid of an Eve to put it down their throats. I thank thee + for thine attempt to cram caution and wisdom into the cranium of my + wandering friend. Thy good offices may afford a chance for his + bringing his head on his shoulders to these forests, which otherwise + would certainly be left on the shores of the Euxine, on the top of + Caucasus, or at the sources of the Nile. + + I wrote thee hastily of my arrival and all our wellbeing in my last, + and of Dale's _amende honorable_, and of Fanny's departure up the + Western waters, nor have I now leisure for details too tedious for the + pen, though so short to give by the tongue. Dale arrived, his sweet + kind heart all unthawed, and truly when he left us for Harmony I think + the very last thin flake of Scotch ice had melted from him. Camilla + and Whitby leave me also in a few days for Harmony, from whence the + latter will probably travel back with Dale, and Whitby go up the Ohio + to engage a mechanic for the building of our houses. I hoped to have + sent you, with this, the last communication of our little knot of + trustees, in which we have stated the modification of our plan which + we have found it advisable to adopt, with the reasons of the same. We + have not been able to get it printed at Memphis, so Dale is to have it + thrown off at Harmony, from whence you will receive it. The substance + of it is, that we have reduced our co-operation to a simple + association, each throwing in from our private funds 100 dollars per + annum for the expenses of the table, including those of the cook, whom + we hire from the Institution, she being one of the slaves gifted to + it. All other expenses regard us individually, and need not amount to + 100 dollars more. Also, each of us builds his house or room, the cost + of which, simple furniture included, does not surpass 500 dollars. The + property of the trust will stand thus free of all burden whatsoever, + to be devoted to the foundation of a school, in which we would fain + attempt a thorough co-operative education, looking only to the next + generation to effect what we in vain attempted ourselves. You see that + the change consists in demanding as a requisite for admission an + independent income of 200 dollars, instead of receiving labour as an + equivalent. + + Yes, dear Mary, I do find the quiet of these forests and our + ill-fenced cabins of rough logs more soothing to the spirit, and now + no less suited to the body than the warm luxurious houses of European + society. Yet that it would be so with you, or to any less broken in by + enthusiastic devotion to human reform and mental liberty than our + little knot of associates, I cannot judge. I now almost forget the + extent of the change made in the last few years in my habits, yet more + than in my views and feelings; but when I recall it, I sometimes doubt + if many could imitate it without feeling the sacrifices almost equal + to the gains; to me sacrifices are nothing. I have not felt them as + such, and now forget that there were any made. + + Farewell, dear Mary. Recall me affectionately and respectfully to the + memory of your Father. You will wear me in your own, I know. Camilla + sends her affectionate wishes.--Yours fondly, + + F. WRIGHT. + +It was probably in connection with Fanny Wright's visit that Mrs. Shelley +had, in October of 1827, contemplated the possibility of a flying trip to +the Continent; an idea which alarmed her father (for his own sake) not a +little, although she had taken care to assure him of her intended speedy +return. He was in as bad a way, financially, and as dependent as ever, but +proud of the fact that he kept up his good spirits through it all, and +sorry for Mary that she could not say as much. + + GODWIN TO MARY. + + GOWER PLACE, _9th October 1827_. + + DEAR MARY--We received your letter yesterday, and I sent you the + _Examiner_. + + Nothing on earth, as you may perceive, could have induced me to break + silence respecting my circumstances, short of your letter of the 1st + instant, announcing a trip to the Continent, without the least hint + when you should return. It seems to me so contrary to the course of + nature that a father should look for supplies to his daughter, that it + is painful to me at any time to think of it. + + You say that [as] you had announced some time ago that you must be in + town in November, I should have inferred that that was irreversible. + All I can answer is, that I did not so infer. + + I called yesterday, agreeably to your suggestion, upon young Evans; + but all I got from him was, that the thing was quite out of his way; + to which he added (and I reproved him for it accordingly) that we had + better go to the Jews. I called on Hodgetts on the 7th of September, + and asked him to lend me L20 or L30. He said, "Would a month hence do? + he could then furnish L20." Last Saturday he supped here, and brought + me L10, adding that was all he could do. I have heard nothing either + from Peacock or from your anonymous friend. I wrote to you, of course, + at Brighton on Saturday (before supper-time), which letter I suppose + you have received. + + How differently you and I are organised. In my seventy-second year I + am all cheerfulness, and never anticipate the evil day (with + distressing feelings) till to do so is absolutely unavoidable. Would + to God you were my daughter in all but my poverty! But I am afraid you + are a Wollstonecraft. We are so curiously made that one atom put in + the wrong place in our original structure will often make us unhappy + for life. But my present cheerfulness is greatly owing to _Cromwell_, + and the nature of my occupation, which gives me an object _omnium + horarum_--a stream for ever running, and for ever new. Do you remember + Denham's verses on the Thames at Cooper's Hill?-- + + Oh! could I flow like thee, and make thy stream + My great example, as it is my theme! + Though deep, yet clear, though gentle, yet not dull; + Strong, without rage; without o'erflowing, full. + + Though I cannot attain this in my _Commonwealth_, you, perhaps, may in + your _Warbeck_. + + May blessings shower on you as fast as the perpendicular rain at this + moment falls by my window! prays your affectionate Father, + + WILLIAM GODWIN. + +During most of this autumn Mrs. Shelley and her boy were staying at +Arundel, in Sussex, with, or in the near neighbourhood of her friends, the +Miss Robinsons. There were several sisters, to one of whom, Julia, Mrs. +Shelley was much attached. + +While at Arundel another letter reached her from Trelawny, who was +contemplating the possibility of a return to England. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + ZANTE, IONIAN ISLANDS, _24th October 1827_. + + DEAREST MARY--I received your letter dated July, and replied to both + you and Hunt; but I was then at Cerigo, and as the communication of + the islands is carried on by a succession of boats, letters are + sometimes lost. I have now your letter from Arundel, 9th September. It + gives me pleasure to hear your anxieties as to money matters are at an + end; it is one weighty misery off your heart. You err most + egregiously if you think I am occupied with women or intrigues, or + that my time passes pleasantly. The reverse of all this is the case; + neither women nor amusements of any sort occupy my time, and a sadder + or more accursed kind of existence I never in all my experience of + life endured, or, I think, fell to the lot of human being. I have been + detained here for these last ten months by a villainous law-suit, + which may yet endure some months longer, and then I shall return to + you as the same unconnected, lone, and wandering vagabond you first + knew me. I have suffered a continual succession of fevers during the + summer; at present they have discontinued their attack; but they have, + added to what I suffered in Greece, cut me damnably, and I fancy now I + must look like an old patriarch who has outlived his generation. I + cannot tell whether to congratulate Jane or not; the foundation she + has built on for happiness implies neither stability nor permanent + security; for a summer bower 'tis well enough to beguile away the + summer months, but for the winter of life I, for my part, should like + something more durable than a fabric made up of vows and promises. Nor + can I say whether it would be wise or beneficial to either should + Clare consent to reside with you in England; in any other country it + might be desirable, but in England it is questionable. + + The only motive which has deterred me from writing to Jane and Clare + is that I have been long sick and ill at ease, daily anticipating my + return to the Continent, and concocting plans whereby I might meet you + all, for one hour after long absence is worth a thousand letters. And + as to my heart, it is pretty much as you left it; no new impressions + have been made on it or earlier affections erased. As we advance in + the stage of life we look back with deeper recollections from where we + first started; at least, I find it so. Since the death of Odysseus, + for whom I had the sincerest friendship, I have felt no private + interest for any individual in this country. The Egyptian fleet, and + part of the Turkish, amounting to some hundred sail, including + transports, have been totally destroyed by the united squadron of + England, France, and Russia in the harbour of Navarino; so we soon + expect to see a portion of Greece wrested from the Turks, and + something definitely arranged for the benefit of the Greeks.--Dearest + Mary, I am ever your + + EDWARD TRELAWNY. + + To Jane and Clare say all that is affectionate from me, and forget not + Leigh Hunt and his Mary Ann. _I_ would write them all, but I am sick + at heart. + +All these months the gnawing sorrow of her friend's faithlessness lay like +an ambush at Mary's heart. In responding to Fanny Wright's overtures of +friendship she had sought a distraction from the bitter thoughts and deep +dejection which had been mainly instrumental in driving her from town. But +in vain, like the hunted hare, she buried her head and hoped to be +forgotten. Slanderous gossip advances like a prairie-fire, laying +everything waste, and defying all attempts to stop or extinguish it. Jane +Williams' stories were repeated, and, very likely, improved upon. They got +known in a certain set. Mary Shelley might still have chosen not to hear +or not to notice, had she been allowed. But who may ignore such things in +peace? As the French dramatist says in _Nos Intimes_, "_Les amis sont +toujours la_." _Les amis_ are there to enlighten you--if you are +ignorant--as to your enemies in disguise, to save you from illusions, and +to point out to you--should you forget it--the duty of upholding, at any +sacrifice, your own interests and your own dignity. + + _Journal, February 12, 1828._--Moore is in town. By his advice I + disclosed my discoveries to Jane. How strangely are we made! She is + horror-struck and miserable at losing my friendship; and yet how + unpardonably she trifled with my feelings, and made me all falsely a + fable to others. + + The visit of Moore has been an agreeable variety to my monotonous + life. I see few people--Lord Dillon, G. Paul, the Robinsons, _voila + tout_. + + + MRS. SHELLEY TO MRS. HOGG. + + Since Monday I have been ceaselessly occupied by the scene begun and + interrupted, which filled me with a pain that now thrills me as I + revert to it. I then strove to speak, but your tears overcame me, + whilst the struggle gave me an appearance of coldness. + + If I revert to my devotion to you, it is to prove that no worldly + motives could estrange me from the partner of my miseries. Often, + having you at Kentish Town, I have wept from the overflow of + affection; often thanked God who had given you to me. Could any but + yourself have destroyed such engrossing and passionate love? And what + are the consequences of the change? + + When first I heard that you did not love me, every hope of my life + deserted me. The depression I sank under, and to which I am now a + prey, undermines my health. How many hours this dreary winter I have + paced my solitary room, driven nearly to madness, and I could not + expel from my mind the memories of harrowing import that one after + another intruded themselves! It was not long ago that, eagerly + desiring death, though death should only be oblivion, I thought that + how to purchase oblivion of what was revealed to me last July, a + tortuous death would be a bed of roses. + + * * * * * + + Do not ask me, I beseech you, a detail of the revelations made to + me. Some of those most painful you made to several; others, of less + import, but which tended more, perhaps, than the more important to + show that you loved me not, were made only to two. + + I could not write of these, far less speak of them. If any doubt + remain on your mind as to what I know, write to Isabel,[10] and she + will inform you of the extent of her communication to me. I have been + an altered being since then; long I thought that almost a deathblow + was given, so heavily and unremittingly did the thought press on and + sting me; but one lives on through all to be a wreck. + + Though I was conscious that, having spoken of me as you did, you could + not love me, I could not easily detach myself from the atmosphere of + light and beauty that ever surrounded you. Now I tried to keep you, + feeling the while that I had lost you; but you penetrated the change, + and I owe it to you not to disguise the cause. What will become of us, + my poor girl? + + * * * * * + + This explains my estrangement. While with you I was solely occupied by + endeavouring not to think or feel, for had I done either I should not + have been so calm as I daresay I appeared.... Nothing but my Father + could have drawn me to town again; his claims only prevent me now from + burying myself in the country. I have known no peace since July. I + never expect to know it again. Is it not best, then, that you forget + the unhappy + + M. W. S.? + +We hear no more of this painful episode. It did not put a stop to Jane's +intercourse with Mary. Friendship, in the old sense, could never be. But, +to the end of Mary's life, her letters show the tenderness, the +half-maternal solicitude she ever felt for the companion and sharer of her +deepest affliction. + +Another distraction came to her now in the shape of an invitation to +Paris, which she accepted, although she was feeling far from well, a fact +which she attributed to depression of spirits, but which proved to have +quite another cause. + + _Journal, April 11_ (1828).--I depart for Paris, sick at heart, yet + pining to see my friend (Julia Robinson). + +A lady, an intimate friend of hers at this time, who, in a little book +called _Traits of Character_, has given a very interesting (though, in +some details, inaccurate) sketch of Mary Shelley, says that her visit to +Paris was eagerly looked forward to by many. "Honour to the authoress and +admiration for the woman awaited her." But, directly after her arrival, +she was prostrated on a sick--it was feared, death-bed. Her journal, three +months later, tells the sequel. + + _Journal, July 8, Hastings._--There was a reason for my depression: I + was sickening of the small-pox. I was confined to my bed the moment I + arrived in Paris. The nature of my disorder was concealed from me till + my convalescence, and I am so easily duped. Health, buoyant and + bright, succeeded to my illness. The Parisians were very amiable, and, + a monster to look at as I was, I tried to be agreeable, to compensate + to them. + +The same authoress asserts that neither when she recovered nor ever after +was she in appearance the Mary Shelley of the past. She was not scarred by +the disease ("which in its natural form she had had in childhood"), but +the pearly delicacy and transparency of her skin and the brightness and +luxuriance of her soft hair were grievously dimmed. + + She bore this trial to womanly vanity well and bravely, for she had + that within which passeth show--high intellectual endowments, and, + better still, a true, loving, faithful heart. + +The external effects of her illness must, to a great degree, have +disappeared in course of time, for those who never knew her till some +twenty years later than this revert to their first impression of her in +words almost identical with those used by Christy Baxter when, at ninety +years of age, she described Mary Godwin at fifteen as "white, bright, and +clear." + +If, however, she had any womanly vanity at all, it must have been a trial +to her that, just now, her old friend Trelawny should return for a few +months to England. She did not see him till November, when Clare also +arrived, on a flying visit to her native land. But, before their meeting, +she had received some characteristic letters from Trelawny. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + SOUTHAMPTON, _8th July 1828_. + + DEAR MARY--My moving about and having had much to do must be my excuse + for not writing as often as I should do. That it is but an excuse I + allow; the truth would be better, but who nowadays ever thinks of + speaking truth? The true reason, then, is that I am getting old, and + writing has become irksome. You cannot plead either, so write on, dear + Mary. I love you sincerely, no one better. Time has not quenched the + fire of my nature; my feelings and passions burn fierce as ever, and + will till they have consumed me. I wear the burnished livery of the + sun. + + To whom am I a neighbour? and near whom? I dwell amongst tame and + civilised human beings, with somewhat the same feelings as we may + guess the lion feels when, torn from his native wilderness, he is + tortured into domestic intercourse with what Shakespeare calls "forked + animals," the most abhorrent to his nature. + + You see by this how little my real nature is altered, but now to reply + to yours. I cannot decidedly say or fix a period of our meeting. It + shall be soon, if you stay there, at Hastings; but I have business on + hand I wish to conclude, and now that I can see you when I determine + to do so, I, as you see, postpone the engagement because it is within + my grasp. Such is the perverseness of human nature! Nevertheless, I + will write, and I pray you to do so likewise. You are my dear and long + true friend, and as such I love you.--Yours, dear, + + TRELAWNY. + + I shall remain ten or twelve days here, so address Southampton; it is + enough. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + TREWITHEN, _September 1828_. + + DEAR MARY--I really do not know why I am everlastingly boring you with + letters. Perhaps it is to prevent you forgetting me; or to prove to + you that I do not forget you; or I like it, which is a woman's + reason.... + + How is Jane (Hogg)? Do remember me kindly to her. I hope you are + friends, and that I shall see her in town. I have no right to be + discontented or fastidious when she is not. I trust she is contented + with her lot; if she is, she has an advantage over most of us. Death + and Time have made sad havoc amongst my old friends here; they are + never idle, and yet we go on as if they concerned us not, and thus + dream our lives away till we wake no more, and then our bodies are + thrown into a hole in the earth, like a dead dog's, that infects the + atmosphere, and the void is filled up, and we are forgotten. + + Can such things be, and overcome us like a summer cloud, without our + special wonder?... + +Trelawny's visit to England was of short duration. Before the end of the +next February (1829) he was in Florence, overflowing with new plans, and, +as usual, imparting them eagerly, certain of sympathy, to Mrs. Shelley. +His renewed intercourse with her had led to no diminution of friendship. +He may have found her even more attractive than when she was younger; more +equable in spirits, more lenient in her judgments, her whole disposition +mellowed and ripened in the stern school of adversity. + +Their correspondence, which for two or three years was very frequent, +opened, however, with a difference of opinion. Trelawny was ambitious of +writing Shelley's biography, and wanted Mary to help him by giving him the +facts for it. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + POSTE RESTANTE, FLORENCE, _11th March 1829_. + + DEAR MARY--I arrived here some sixteen or seventeen days back. I + travelled in a very leisurely way; whilst on the road I used + expedition, but I stayed at Lyons, Turin, Genoa, and Leghorn. I have + taken up my quarters with Brown. I thought I should get a letter here + from you or Clare, but was disappointed. The letter you addressed to + Paris I received; tell Clare I was pained at her silence, yet though + she neglects to write to me, I shall not follow her example, but will + write her in a few days. + + My principal object in writing to you now is to tell you that I am + actually writing my own life. Brown and Landor are spurring me on, and + are to review it sheet by sheet, as it is written; moreover, I am + commencing as a tribute of my great love for the memory of Shelley his + life and moral character. Landor and Brown are in this to have a hand, + therefore I am collecting every information regarding him. I always + wished you to do this, Mary; if you will not, as of the living I love + him and you best, incompetent as I am, I must do my best to show him + to the world as I found him. Do you approve of this? Will you aid in + it? without which it cannot be done. Will you give documents? Will you + write anecdotes? or--be explicit on this, dear--give me your opinion; + if you in the least dislike it, say so, and there is an end of it; if + on the contrary, set about doing it without loss of time. Both this + and my life will be sent you to peruse and approve or alter before + publication, and I need not say that you will have free scope to + expunge all you disapprove of. + + I shall say no more till I get your reply to this. + + The winter here, if ten or twelve days somewhat cold can be called + winter, has been clear, dry, and sunny; ever since my arrival in Italy + I have been sitting without fire, and with open windows. Come away, + dear Mary, from the horrible climate you are in; life is not endurable + where you are. + + Florence is very gay, and a weight was taken from my mind, and body + too, in getting on this side of the Alps. Heaven and hell cannot be + very much more dissimilar.... + + You may suppose I have now writing enough without scrawling long + letters, so pardon this short one, dear Mary, from your affectionate + + E. J. TRELAWNY. + + _P.S._--Love to Clare. + + + MRS. SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + _April 1829._ + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--Your letter reminded me of my misdeeds of omission, + and of not writing to you as I ought, and it assured me of your kind + thoughts in that happy land where as angels in heaven you can afford + pity to us Arctic islanders. It is too bad, is it not, that when such + a Paradise does exist as fair Italy, one should be chained here, + without the infliction of such absolutely cold weather? I have never + suffered a more ungenial winter. Winter it is still; a cold east wind + has prevailed the last six weeks, making exercise in the open air a + positive punishment. This is truly English; half a page about the + weather, but here this subject has every importance; is it fine? you + guess I am happy and enjoying myself; is it as it always is? you know + that one is fighting against a domestic enemy which saps at the very + foundations of pleasure. + + I am glad that you are occupying yourself, and I hope that your two + friends will not cease urging you till you really put to paper the + strange wild adventures you recount so well. With regard to the other + subject, you may guess, my dear Friend, that I have often thought, + often done more than think on the subject. There is nothing I shrink + from more fearfully than publicity. I have too much of it, and, what + is worse, I am forced by my hard situation to meet it in a thousand + ways. Could you write my husband's life without naming me, it would be + something; but even then I should be terrified at the rousing the + slumbering voice of the public;--each critique, each mention of your + work might drag me forward. Nor indeed is it possible to write + Shelley's life in that way. Many men have his opinions,--none heartily + and conscientiously act on them as he did,--it is his act that marks + him. + + You know me, or you do not--in which case I will tell you what I am--a + silly goose, who, far from wishing to stand forward to assert myself + in any way, now that I am alone in the world, have but the time to + wrap night and the obscurity of insignificance around me. This is + weakness, but I cannot help it; to be in print, the subject of men's + observations, of the bitter hard world's commentaries, to be attacked + or defended, this ill becomes one who knows how little she possesses + worthy to attract attention, and whose chief merit--if it be one--is + a love of that privacy which no woman can emerge from without regret. + + Shelley's life must be written. I hope one day to do it myself, but it + must not be published now. There are too many concerned to speak + against him; it is still too sore a subject. Your tribute of praise, + in a way that cannot do harm, can be introduced into your own life. + But remember, I pray for omission, for it is not that you will not be + too kind, too eager to do me more than justice. But I only seek to be + forgotten. + + Clare has written to you she is about to return to Germany. She will, + I suppose, explain to you the circumstances that make her return to + the lady she was before with desirable. She will go to Carlsbad, and + the baths will be of great service to her. Her health is improved, + though very far from restored. For myself, I am as usual well in + health and longing for summer, when I may enjoy the peace that alone + is left me. I am another person under the genial influence of the sun; + I can live unrepining with no other enjoyment but the country made + bright and cheerful by its beams; till then I languish. Percy is quite + well; he grows very fast and looks very healthy. + + It gives me great pleasure to hear from you, dear friend, so write + often. I have now answered your letter, though I can hardly call this + one. So you may very soon expect another. How are your dogs? and where + is Roberts? Have you given up all idea of shooting? I hear Medwin is a + great man at Florence, so Pisa and economy are at an end. + Adieu.--Yours, + + M. S. + +The fiery "Pirate" was much disappointed at Mary's refusal to collaborate +with him, and quite unable to understand her unwillingness to be the +instrument of making the facts of her own and Shelley's life the subject +of public discussion. His resentment soon passed away, but his first wrath +was evidently expressed with characteristic vigour. + + MARY SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + _15th December 1829._ + + ... Your last letter was not at all kind. You are angry with me, but + what do you ask, and what do I refuse? You talk of writing Shelley's + life, and ask me for materials. Shelley's life, as far as the public + have to do with it, consisted of few events, and these are publicly + known; the private events were sad and tragical. How would you relate + them? As Hunt has, slurring over the real truth? Wherefore write + fiction? and the truth, any part of it, is hardly for the rude cold + world to handle. His merits are acknowledged, his virtues;--to bring + forward actions which, right or wrong (and that would be a matter of + dispute), were in their results tremendous, would be to awaken + calumnies and give his enemies a voice. + + * * * * * + + As to giving Moore materials for Lord Byron's life, I thought--I + think--I did right. I think I have achieved a great good by it. I wish + it to be kept secret--decidedly I am averse to its being published, + for it would destroy me to be brought forward in print. I commit + myself on this point to your generosity. I confided the fact to you as + I would anything I did, being my dearest friend, and had no idea that + I was to find in you a harsh censor and public denouncer.... + + Did I uphold Medwin? I thought that I had always disliked him. I am + sure I thought him a great annoyance, and he was always borrowing + crowns which he never meant to pay and we could ill spare. He was + Jane's friend more than any one's. + + To be sure, we did not desire a duel, nor a horsewhipping, and Lord + Byron and Mrs. B. ... worked hard to promote peace.--Affectionately + yours, + + M. W. S. + +During this year Mrs. Shelley was busily employed on her own novel, +_Perkin Warbeck_, the subject of which may have occurred to her in +connection with the historic associations of Arundel Castle. It is a work +of great ingenuity and research, though hardly so spontaneous in +conception as her earlier books. In spite of her retired life she had come +to be looked on as a celebrity, and many distinguished literary people +sought her acquaintance. Among these was Lord Dillon, conspicuous by his +good looks, his conversational powers, his many rare qualities of head and +heart, and his numerous oddities. Between him and Mrs. Shelley a strong +mutual regard existed, and the following letter is of sufficient interest +to be inserted here. The writer had desired Mary's opinion on the subject +of one of his poems. + + LORD DILLON TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + DITCHLEY, _18th March 1829_. + + MY DEAR MRS. SHELLEY--I return you many thanks for your letter and + your favourable opinion. It is singular that you should have hit upon + the two parts that I almost think the best of all my poem. I fear that + my delineations of women do not please you, or persons who think as + you do. I have a classic feeling about your sex--that is to say, I + prefer nature to what is called delicacy.... I must be excused, + however; I have never loved or much liked women of refined sentiment, + but those of strong and blunt feelings and passions.... Pray tell me + candidly, for I believe you to be sincere, though at first I doubted + it, for your manner is reserved, and that put me on my guard; but now + I admit you to my full confidence, which I seldom give. Is not + Eccelino considered as too free? Tell me then truly--I never quote + whenever I write to a person. You may trust me. You might tell me all + the secrets in the world; they would never be breathed. I shall see + you in May, and then we may converse more freely, but I own you look + more sly than I think you are, and therefore I never was so candid + with you as I think I ought to be. Have not people who did not know + you taken you for a cunning person? You have puzzled me very much. + Women always feel flattered when they are told they have puzzled + people. I will tell you what has puzzled me. Your writings and your + manner are not in accordance. I should have thought of you--if I had + only read you--that you were a sort of my Sybil, outpouringly + enthusiastic, rather indiscreet, and even extravagant; but you are + cool, quiet, and feminine to the last degree--I mean in delicacy of + manner and expression. Explain this to me. Shall I desire my brother + to call on you with respect to Mr. Peter in the Tower? He is his + friend, not mine. He is very clever, and I think you would like him. + Pray tell Miss G. to write to me.--Yours most truly, + + DILLON. + + + _Journal, October 8_ (1829).--I was at Sir Thomas Lawrence's to-day + whilst Moore was sitting, and passed a delightful morning. We then + went to the Charter House, and I saw his son, a beautiful boy. + + _January 9_ (1830).--Poor Lawrence is dead. + + Having seen him so lately, the suddenness of this event affects me + deeply. His death opens all wounds. I see all those I love die around + me, while I lament. + + _January 22._--I have begun a new kind of life somewhat, going a + little into society and forming a variety of acquaintances. People + like me, and flatter and follow me, and then I am left alone again, + poverty being a barrier I cannot pass. Still I am often amused and + sometimes interested. + + _March 23._--I gave a _soiree_, which succeeded very well. Mrs. Hare + is going, and I am very sorry. She likes me, and she is gentle and + good. Her husband is clever and her set very agreeable, rendered so by + the reunion of some of the best people about town. + +Mrs. Shelley now resided in Somerset Street, Portman Square. Her +occasional "at homes," though of necessity simple in character, were not +on that account the less frequented. Here might be met many of the most +famous and most charming men and women of their day, and here Moore would +thrill all hearts and bring tears to all eyes by his exquisitely pathetic +singing of his own melodies. + +The hostess herself, gentle and winning, was an object of more admiration +than would ever be suspected from the simple, almost deprecatory tone of +her scraps of journal. Among her MSS. are numerous anonymous poems +addressed to her, some sentimental, others high-flown in compliment, +though none, unfortunately, of sufficient literary merit to be, in +themselves, worth preserving. But, whether they afforded her amusement or +gratification, it is probable that she had to work too hard and too +continuously to give more than a passing thought to such things. From the +following letter of Clare's it may be inferred that _Perkin Warbeck_, +which appeared in 1830, was, in a pecuniary sense, something of a +disappointment, and that this was the more vexatious as Mary had lent +Clare money during her visit to England, and would have been glad, now, to +be repaid, not, however, on her own account, but that of Marshall, +Godwin's former amanuensis and her kind friend in her childhood, whom, it +is evident, she was helping to support in his old age. + + CLARE TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + DRESDEN, _28th March 1830_. + + MY DEAR MARY--At last I take up the pen to write to you. At least thus + much can I affirm, that I take it up, but whether I shall ever get to + the end of my task and complete this letter is beyond me to decide. + One of the causes of my long delay has been the hope of being able to + send you the money for Marshall. I was to have been paid in February, + but as yet have received neither money nor notice from Mrs. K. ... By + this I am led to think she does not intend to do so until her return + here in May. I am vexed, for I have been reproaching myself the whole + winter with this debt. Of this be sure, the instant I am paid I will + despatch what I owe you to London.... Here I was interrupted, and for + two days have been unable to continue. How delighted I was with the + news of Percy's health, as also with his letter, though I am afraid it + was written unwillingly and cost him a world of pains. Poor child! he + little thinks how much I am attached to him! When I first saw him I + thought him cold, but afterwards he discovered so much intellect in + all his speeches, and so much originality in his doings, that I + willingly pardoned him for not being interested in anything but + himself. In some weeks he will again be at home for Easter. But what + is this to me, since I shall not see him, nor perhaps even ever again. + It seems settled that my destination is Vienna. The negotiation with + Mrs. K. ... has been broken off on my showing great unwillingness to + go to Italy; that it may not be renewed I will not say. She now talks + of going to Nice, to which place I have no objection in the world to + accompany her. But nothing of this can be settled till she comes, for + as neither of us can speak frankly in our letters, owing to their + being subject to her husband's inspection, we have as yet done nothing + but mutually misinterpret the circumspect and circuitous phraseology + in which our real meaning was wrapped. Nothing can equal the letters + she has written to me; they were detached pieces of agony. How she + lived at all after bringing such productions into the world I cannot + guess. Instruments of torture are nothing to them. She favoured me + with one every week, which was a very clever contrivance on her part + to keep us in an agitation equal to the one she suffered at Moghileff. + Thanks to her and Natalie's perpetual indisposition, I have passed a + tolerably disagreeable winter. At home I was employed in rubbings, + stretchings, putting on trusses, dressing ulcers, applying leeches, + and bandaging swollen glands. Out-of-doors our recreations were [all] + baths, baths of bullock's blood, mud baths, steam baths, soap baths, + and electricity. If I had served in a hospital I should not have been + more constantly employed with sickness and its appendages. I could + understand this order of things pretty well, and even perhaps from + custom find some beauty in their deformity if the sky were pitch black + and the stars red; but when I see them so beautiful I cannot help + imagining that they were made to look down upon a life more consonant + with their own natures than the one I lead, and I am filled with the + most bitter dislike of it. I ought to confess, however, that it is a + great mitigation of my disagreeable life to live in Dresden; such is + the structure of existence here that a thousand alleviations to misery + are offered. Here, as in Italy, you cannot walk the streets without + meeting with some object which affords ready and agreeable occupation + to the mind. I never yet was in a place where I met so much to please + and so little to shock me. In vain I endeavour to recollect anything I + could wish otherwise; not a fault presents itself. The more I become + acquainted with the town and see its smallness, the more I am struck + with the uncommon resources in literature _e le belle arti_ it + possesses. With what regret shall I leave it for Vienna. Farewell, + then, a long farewell to Mount Olympus and its treasures of wisdom, + science, poetry, and skill; the vales may be green and many rills + trill through them, and many flocks pasture there, but the inhabitants + will be as vile and miserable to me as were the shepherds of Admetus + to Apollo when he kept their company. At any rate Vienna is better + than Russia. I trust and hope when I am there you will make some + little effort to procure the newspapers and reviews and new works; + this alone can soften the mortification I shall feel in being obliged + to live in that city. Already I have lost the little I had gained in + my English, and I can only write with an effort that is painful to me; + it precludes the possibility of my finding any pleasure in + composition. I pause a hundred times and lean upon my hand to + endeavour to find words to express the idea that is in my mind. It is + a vain endeavour; the idea is there, but no words, and I leave my task + unfinished. Another favour I have to ask you, which is, if I should + require your mediation to get a book published at Paris, you will + write to your friends there, and otherwise interest yourself as warmly + as you can about it. Promise me this, and give me an answer upon it as + quick as you can. I have had many letters from Charles. His affairs + have taken the most favourable turn at Vienna. Everything is _couleur + de rose_. More employment than he can accept seems likely to be + offered to him; this is consolatory. He talks with rapture of his + future plans, has taken a charming house, painted and furnished a + pretty room for me, and will send Antonia and the babes to the lovely + hills at some miles from the town so soon as they arrive. + + Mamma has written to me everything concerning Colburn; this is indeed + a disappointment, and the more galling because odiously unjust. Let me + hear if your plan of writing the _Memoirs of Josephine_ is likely to + be put into execution. This perhaps would pay you better. I tremble + for the anxiety of mind you suffer about Papa and your own pecuniary + resources. + + * * * * * + + What says the world to Moore's _Lord Byron_? I saw some extracts in a + review, and cannot express the pleasure I experienced in finding it + was sad stuff. It was the journal of the Noble Lord, and I should say + contained as fine a picture of indigestion as one could expect to meet + with in Dr. Paris, Graham, or Johnson. Of Trelawny I know little. He + wrote to me, describing where he was living and what kind of life he + was leading. I have not yet answered him, although I make a sacred + promise every day not to let it go over my head without so doing. But + there is a certain want of sympathy between us which makes writing to + him extremely disagreeable to me. I admire, esteem, and love him; some + excellent qualities he possesses in a degree that is unsurpassed, but + then it is exactly in another direction from my centre and my impetus. + He likes a turbid and troubled life, I a quiet one; he is full of fine + feelings and has no principles, I am full of fine principles but never + had a feeling; he receives all his impressions through his heart, I + through my head. _Que voulez vous? Le moyen de se recontrer_ when one + is bound for the North Pole and the other for the South? + + What a terrible description you give of your winter. Ours, though + severe, was an exceedingly fine one. From the time I arrived here + until now there has not been a day that was not perfectly dry and + clear. Within this last week we have had a great deal of rain. I well + understand how much your spirits must have been affected by three + months' incessant foggy raw weather. In my mind nothing can compensate + for a bad climate. How I wish I could draw you to Dresden. You would + go into society and would see a quantity of things which, treated by + your pen, would bring you in a good profit. Life is very cheap here, + and in the summer you might take a course of Josephlitz or Carlsbad, + which would set up your health and enable you to bear the winter of + London with tolerable philosophy. Forgive me if I don't write + descriptions. It is impossible, situated as I am. I have not one + moment free from annoyance from morning till night. This state of + things depresses my mind terribly. When I have a moment of leisure it + is breathed in a prayer for death. You will not wonder, therefore, + that I think the Miss Booths right in their manner of acting; what is + the use of trifling or mincing the matter with so despotic a ruler as + the Disposer of the Universe? The one who is left is much to be + pitied, for now she must die by herself, and that I think is as + disagreeable as to live by oneself. In your next pray mention + something about politics and how the London University is getting on. + The accounts here of the distress in England are awful. Foreigners + talk of that country as they would of Torre del Greco or Torre dell' + Annunciata at the announcement of an eruption of Vesuvius. I should + think my mother must be delighted to be no more plagued with us; it + was really a great bother and no pleasure for her. She writes me a + delightful account of Papa's health and spirits. Heaven grant it may + continue. I am reading _Political Justice_, and am filled with + admiration at the vastness of the plan, and the clearness and skill, + nothing less than immortal, with which it is executed. + + Farewell! write to me about your novel and particularly the opinion it + creates in society. Pray write. The letters of my acquaintances + (friends I have none) are my only pleasure. Natalie is pretty well; + the knee is better, inasmuch as the swelling is smaller, but the + weakness is as great as ever. We sit opposite to one another in + perfect wretchedness; I because I am obliged to entreat her all day to + do what she does not like, and she because she is entreated. + + C. C. + + My love to William. + +During the next five years the "Author of _Frankenstein_" wrote several +short tales (some of which were published in the _Keepsake_, an annual +periodical, the precursor of the _Book of Beauty_), but no new novel. She +was to have abundant employment in furthering the work of another. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +AUGUST 1830-OCTOBER 1831 + + +To all who know Trelawny's curious book, the following correspondence, +which tells the story of its publication and preparation for the press, +will in itself be interesting. To readers of Mary Shelley's life it has a +strong additional interest as illustrating, better than any second-hand +narrative can do, the unique kind of friendship subsisting between her and +Trelawny, and which, based on genuine mutual regard and admiration, and a +common devotion to the memory of Shelley and of a golden age which ended +at his death, proved stronger than all obstacles, and, in spite of +occasional eclipses through hasty words and misunderstandings, in spite of +wide differences in temperament, in habits, in opinions, and morals, yet +survived with a kind of dogged vitality for years. + +Shelley said of _Epipsychidion_ that it was "an idealised history of his +life and feelings." _The Adventures of a Younger Son_ is an idealised +history of Trelawny's youth and exploits, and very amusing it is, though +rather gruesome in some of its details; a romance of adventures, of +hair-breadth escapes by flood and field. As will be seen, the original MS. +had to be somewhat toned down before it was presented to the public, but +it is, as it stands, quite sufficiently forcible, as well as +blood-curdling, for most readers. + +The letters may now be left to tell their own tale. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + _16th August 1830._ + + MY DEAR MARY--That my letter may not be detained, I shall say nothing + about Continental politics. + + My principal motive in writing is to inform you that I have nearly + completed the first portion of _my History_, enough for three ordinary + volumes, which I wish published forthwith. The Johnsons, as I told you + before, are totally ruined by an Indian bankruptcy; the smallness of + my income prevents my supporting them. Mr. Johnson is gone to India to + see if he can save aught from the ruin of his large fortune. In the + meantime his wife is almost destitute; this spurs me on. Brown, who is + experienced in these matters, declares I shall have no difficulty in + getting a very considerable sum for the MS. now. I shall want some + friend to dispose of it for me. My name is not to appear or to be + disclosed to the bookseller or any other person. The publisher who may + purchase it is to be articled down to publish the work without + omitting or altering a single word, there being nothing actionable, + though a great deal objectionable, inasmuch as it is tinctured with + the prejudices and passions of the author's mind. However, there is + nothing to prevent women reading it but its general want of merit. The + opinion of the two or three who have read it is that it will be very + successful, but I know how little value can be attached to such + critics. I'll tell you what I think--that it is good, and might have + been better; it is [filled] with events that, if not marred by my + manner of narrating, must be interesting. I therefore plainly foresee + it will be generally read or not at all. Who will undertake to, in the + first place, dispose of it, and, in the second, watch its progress + through the press? I care not who publishes it: the highest bidder + shall have it. Murray would not like it, it is too violent; parsons + and _Scots_, and, in short, also others are spoken of irreverently, if + not profanely. But when I have your reply I shall send the MS. to + England, and your eyes will be the judge, so tell me precisely your + movements.--Your attached + + E. J. T. + + Poste Restante, Florence. + + When does Moore conclude his _Life of Byron_? If I knew his address I + could give him a useful hint that would be of service to the fame of + the Poet. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + FLORENCE, _28th October 1830_. + + DEAREST MARY--My friend Baring left Florence on the 25th to proceed + directly to London, so that he will be there as soon as you can get + this letter. He took charge of my MSS., and promised to leave them at + Hookham's, Bond Street, addressed to you. I therefore pray you lose no + time in inquiring about them; they are divided into chapters and + volumes, copied out in a plain hand, and all ready to go to press. + They have been corrected with the greatest care, and I do not think + you will have any trouble with them on that score. All I want you to + do is to read them attentively, and then show them to Murray and + Colburn, or any other publisher, and to hear if they will publish them + and what they will give. You may say the author cannot at present be + _named_, but that, when the work goes forth in the world, there are + many who will recognise it. Besides the second series, which treats of + Byron, Shelley, Greece, etc., will at once remove the veil, and the + publisher who has the first shall have that. Yet at present I wish the + first series to go forth strictly anonymous, and therefore you must + on no account trust the publisher with my name. Surely there is matter + enough in the book to make it interesting, if only viewed in the light + of a _romance_. You will see that I have divided it into very short + chapters, in the style of Fielding, and that I have selected mottoes + from the only three poets who were the staunch advocates of liberty, + and my contemporaries. I have left eight or nine blanks in the mottoes + for you to fill up from the work of one of those poets. Brown, who was + very anxious about the fame of Keats, has given many of his MSS. for + the purpose. Now, if you could find any from the MSS. of Shelley or + Byron, they would excite much interest, and their being strictly + applicable is not of much importance. If you cannot, why, fill them up + from the published works of Byron, Shelley, or Keats, but no others + are to be admitted. When you have read the work and heard the opinion + of the booksellers, write to me before you settle anything; only + remember I am very anxious that no alterations or omissions should be + made, and that the mottoes, whether long or short, double or treble, + should not be curtailed. Will not Hogg assist you? I might get other + people, but there is no person I have such confidence in as you, and + the affair is one of confidence and trust, and are we not bound and + united together by ties stronger than those which earth has to impose? + Dearest friend, I am obliged hastily to conclude.--Yours + affectionately, + + E. J. TRELAWNY. + + George Baring, Esq., who takes my book, is the brother of the banker; + he has read it, and is in my confidence, and will be very ready to see + and confer with you and do anything. He is an excellent person. I + shall be very anxious till I hear from you. + + + MRS. SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + 33 SOMERSET STREET, + _27th December 1830_. + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--At present I can only satisfy your impatience with + the information that I have received your MS. and read the greater + part of it. Soon I hope to say more. George Baring did not come to + England, but after considerable delay forwarded it to me from Cologne. + + I am delighted with your work; it is full of passion, energy, and + novelty; it concerns the sea, and that is a subject of the greatest + interest to me. I should imagine that it must command success. + + But, my dear friend, allow me to persuade you to permit certain + omissions. In one of your letters to me you say that "there is nothing + in it that a woman could not read." You are correct for the most part, + and yet without the omission of a few words here and there--the scene + before you go to school with the mate of your ship--and above all the + scene of the burning of the house, following your scene with your + Scotch enemy--I am sure that yours will be a book interdicted to + women. Certain words and phrases, pardoned in the days of Fielding, + are now justly interdicted, and any gross piece of ill taste will make + your booksellers draw back. + + I have named all the objectionable passages, and I beseech you to let + me deal with them as I would with Lord Byron's _Don Juan_, when I + omitted all that hurt my taste. Without this yielding on your part I + shall experience great difficulty in disposing of your work; besides + that I, your partial friend, strongly object to coarseness, now wholly + out of date, and beg you for my sake to make the omissions necessary + for your obtaining feminine readers. Amidst so much that is beautiful + and imaginative and exalting, why leave spots which, believe me, are + blemishes? I hope soon to write to you again on the subject. + + The burnings, the alarms, the absorbing politics of the day render + booksellers almost averse to publishing at all. God knows how it will + all end, but it looks as if the autocrats would have the good sense to + make the necessary sacrifices to a starving people. + + I heard from Clare to-day; she is well and still at Nice. I suppose + there is no hope of seeing you here. As for me, I of course still + continue a prisoner. Percy is quite well, and is growing more and more + like Shelley. Since it is necessary to live, it is a great good to + have this tie to life, but it is a wearisome affair. I hope you are + happy.--Yours, my dearest friend, ever, + + MARY SHELLEY. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + FIRENZE, _19th January 1831_. + + MY DEAREST MARY--For, notwithstanding what you may think of me, you + every day become dearer to me. The men I have linked myself to in my + wild career through life have almost all been prematurely cut off, and + the only friends which are left me are women, and they are strange + beings. I have lost them all by some means or other; they are dead to + me in being married, or (for you are all slaves) separated by + obstacles which are insurmountable, and as Lord Chatham observes, + "Friendship is a weed of slow growth in aged bosoms." But now to your + letter. I to-day received yours of the 27th of December; you say you + have received my MS. It has been a painful and arduous undertaking + narrating my life. I have omitted a great deal, and avoided being a + pander to the public taste for the sake of novelty or effect. Landor, + a man of superior literary acquirements; Kirkup, an artist of superior + taste; Baring, a man of the world and very religious; Mrs. Baring, + moral and squeamish; Lady Burghersh, aristocratic and proud as a + queen; and lastly, Charles Brown, a plain downright Cockney critic, + learned in the trade of authorship, and has served his time as a + literary scribe. All these male and female critics have read and + passed their opinions on my narrative, and therefore you must excuse + my apparent presumption in answering your objections to my book with + an appearance of presumptuous dictation. Your objections to the + coarseness of those scenes you have mentioned have been foreseen, and, + without further preface or apology, I shall briefly state my wishes on + the subject. Let Hogg or Horace Smith read it, and, without your + _giving any_ opinion, hear theirs; then let the booksellers, Colburn + or others, see it, and then if it is their general opinion that there + are _words_ which are better omitted, why I must submit to their + being omitted; but do not prompt them by prematurely giving your + opinion. My life, though I have sent it you, as the dearest friend I + have, is not written for the amusement of women; it is not a novel. If + you begin clipping the wings of my true story, if you begin erasing + words, you must then omit sentences, then chapters; it will be pruning + an Indian jungle down to a clipped French garden. I shall be so + appalled at my MS. in its printed form, that I shall have no heart to + go on with it. Dear Mary, I love women, and you know it, but my life + is not dedicated to them; it is to men I write, and my first three + volumes are principally adapted to sailors. England is a nautical + nation, and, if they like it, the book will amply repay the publisher, + and I predict it will be popular with sailors, for it is true to its + text. By the time you get this letter the time of publishing is come, + and we are too far apart to continue corresponding on the subject. Let + Hogg, Horace Smith, or any one you like, read the MS.; or the + booksellers; if they absolutely object to any particular words or + short passages, why let them be omitted by leaving blanks; but I + should prefer a first edition as it now stands, and then a second as + the bookseller thought best. In the same way that _Anastasius_ was + published, the suppression of the first edition of that work did not + prevent its success. All men lament that _Don Juan_ was not published + as it was written, as under any form it would have been interdicted to + women, and yet under any form they would have unavoidably read it. + + Brown, who is learned in the bookselling trade, says I should get L200 + per volume. Do not dispose of it under any circumstances for less than + L500 the three volumes. Have you seen a book written by a man named + Millingen? He has written an article on me, and I am answering it. My + reply to it I shall send you. The _Literary Gazette_, which published + the extract regarding me, I have replied to, and to them I send my + reply; the book I have not seen. If they refuse, as the article I + write is amusing, you will have no difficulty in getting it admitted + in some of the London magazines. It will be forwarded to you in a few + days, so you see I am now fairly coming forward in a new character. I + have laid down the sword for the pen. Brown has just called with the + article in question copied, and I send it together. + + I have spoken to you about filling up the mottoes; the title of my + book I wish to be simply thus--_The Life of a Man_, and not _The + Discarded Son_, which looks too much like romance or a common + novel.... + + Florence is very gay, and there are many pretty girls here, and balls + every night. Tell Mrs. Paul not to be angry at my calling her and her + sisters by their Christian names, for I am very lawless, as you know, + in that particular, and not very particular on other things. + + Brown talks of writing to you about the mottoes to my book, as he is + very anxious about those of his friend Keats. Have you any MS. of + Shelley's or Byron's to fill up the eight or ten I left blank? + Remember the short chapters are to be adhered to in its printed form. + I shall have no excitement to go on writing till I see what I have + already written in print. By the bye, my next volumes will to general + readers be far more interesting, and published with my name, or at + least called Treloen, which is our original family name. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + POSTE RESTANTE, FIRENZE, + _5th April 1831_. + + MY DEAR MARY--Since your letter, dated December 1830, I have not had a + single line from you, yet in that you promised to write in a few days. + Why is this? or have you written, and has your letter miscarried, or + have not my letters reached you? I was anxious to have published the + first part of my life this year, and if it had succeeded in + interesting general readers, it would have induced me to have + proceeded to its completion, for I cannot doubt that if the first + part, published anonymously, and treating of people, countries, and + things little known, should suit the public palate, that the latter, + treating of people that everybody knows, and of things generally + interesting, must be successful. But till I see the effect of the + first part, I cannot possibly proceed to the second, and time is + fleeting, and I am lost in idleness. I cannot write a line, and thus + six months, in which I had leisure to have finished my narrative, are + lost, and I am now deeply engaged in a wild scheme which will lead me + to the East, and it is firmly my belief that when I again leave Europe + it will be for ever. I have had too many hair-breadth escapes to hope + that fortune will bear me up. My present Quixotic expedition is to be + in the region wherein is still standing the column erected by + Sardanapalus, and on it by him inscribed words to the effect: _Il faut + jouir des plaisirs de la vie; tout le reste n'est rien_. + + At present I can only say, if nothing materially intervenes to prevent + me, that in the autumn of this year I shall bend my steps towards the + above-mentioned column, and try the effect of it. + + I am sick to death of the pleasureless life I lead here, and I should + rather the tinkling of the little bell, which I hear summoning the + dead to its last resting-place, was ringing for my body than endure + the petty vexations of what is called civilised life, and see what I + saw a few days back, the Austrian tyrants trampling on their helot + Italians; but letters are not safe.--Your affectionate friend, + + E. J. T. + + + MRS. SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + SOMERSET STREET, _22d March 1831_. + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--What can you think of me and of my silence? I can + guess by the contents of your letters and your not having yet received + answers. Believe me that if I am at all to blame in this it arises + from an error in judgment, not from want of zeal. Every post-day I + have waited for the next, expecting to be able to communicate + something definitive, and now still I am waiting; however, I trust + that this letter will contain some certain intelligence before I send + it. After all, I have done no more than send your manuscripts to + Colburn, and I am still in expectation of his answer. In the first + place, they insist on certain parts being expunged,--parts of which I + alone had the courage to speak to you, but which had before been + remarked upon as inadmissible. These, however (with trifling + exceptions), occur only in the first volume. The task of deciding upon + them may very properly be left to Horace Smith, if he will undertake + it--we shall see. Meanwhile, Colburn has not made up his mind as to + the price. He will not give L500. The terms he will offer I shall hope + to send before I close this letter, so I will say no more except to + excuse my having conceded so much time to his dilatoriness. In all I + have done I may be wrong; I commonly act from my own judgment; but + alas! I have great experience. I _believe_ that, if I sent your work + to Murray, he would return it in two months unread; simply saying that + he does not print novels. Your end part would be a temptation, did not + your intention to be severe on Moore make it improbable that he would + like to engage in it; and he would keep me as long as Colburn in + uncertainty; still this may be right to do, and I shall expect your + further instructions by return of post. However, in one way you may + help yourself. You know Lockhart. He reads and judges for Murray; + write to him; your letter shall accompany the MS. to him. Still, this + thing must not be done hastily, for if I take the MS. out of Colburn's + hands, and, failing to dispose of it elsewhere, I come back to him, he + will doubtless retreat from his original proposal. There are other + booksellers in the world, doubtless, than these two, but, occupied as + England is by political questions, and impoverished miserably, there + are few who have enterprise at this juncture to offer a price. I quote + examples. My father and myself would find it impossible to make any + tolerable arrangement with any one except Colburn. He at least may be + some guide as to what you may expect. Mr. Brown remembers the golden + days of authors. When I first returned to England I found no + difficulty in making agreements with publishers; they came to seek me; + now money is scarce, and readers fewer than ever. I leave the rest of + this page blank. I shall fill it up before it goes on Friday. + + + _Friday, 25th March._ + + At length, my dear friend, I have received the ultimatum of these + great people. They offer you L300, and another L100 on a second + edition; as this was sent me in writing, and there is no time for + further communication before post-hour, I cannot _officially_ state + the number of the edition. I should think 1000. I think that perhaps + they may be brought to say L400 at once, or L300 at once and L200 on + the second edition. There can be no time for parleying, and therefore + you must make up your mind whether after doing good battle, if + necessary, I shall accept their terms. Believe _my experience_ and + that of those about me; you will not get a better offer from others, + because money is not to be had, and Bulwer and other fashionable and + selling authors are now obliged to content themselves with half of + what they got before. If you decline this offer, I will, if you + please, try Murray; he will keep me two months at least, and the worst + is, if he won't do anything, Colburn will diminish his bargain, and we + shall be in a greater mess than ever. I know that, as a woman, I am + timid, and therefore a bad negotiator, except that I have perseverance + and zeal, and, I repeat, experience of things as they are. Mr. Brown + knows what they were, but they are sadly changed. The omissions + mentioned must be made, but I will watch over them, and the mottoes + and all that shall be most carefully attended to, depend on me. + + Do not be displeased, my dear friend, that I take advantage of this + enormous sheet of paper to save postage, and ask you to tear off one + half sheet, and to send it to Mrs. Hare. You talk of my visiting + Italy. It is impossible for me to tell you how much I repine at my + imprisonment here, but I dare not anticipate a change to take me there + for a long time. England, its ungenial clime, its difficult society, + and the annoyances to which I am subjected in it weigh on my spirits + more than ever, for every step I take only shows me how impossible + [it is], situated as I am, that I should be otherwise than wretched. + My sanguine disposition and capacity to endure have borne me up + hitherto, but I am sinking at last; but to quit so stupid a topic and + to tell you news, did you hear that Medwin contrived to get himself + gazetted for full pay in the Guards? I fancy that he employed his + connection with the Shelleys, who are connected with the King through + the Fitz Clarences. However, a week after he was gazetted as retiring. + I suppose the officers cut him at mess; his poor wife and children! + how I pity them! Jane is quite well, living in tranquillity. Hogg + continues all that she can desire.... + + She lives where she did; her children are well, and so is my Percy, + who grows more like Shelley. I hear that your old favourite, Margaret + Shelley, is prettier than ever; your Miss Burdett is married. I have + been having lithographed your letter to me about Caroline. I wish to + disperse about 100 copies among the many hapless fair who imagine + themselves to have been the sole object of your tenderness. Clare is + to have a first copy. Have you heard from poor dear Clare? She + announced a little time ago that she was to visit Italy with the + Kaisaroff to see you. I envied her, but I hear from her brother + Charles that she has now quarrelled with Madame K., and that she will + go to Vienna. God grant that her sufferings end soon. I begin to + anticipate it, for I hear that Sir Tim is in a bad way. I shall hear + more certain intelligence after Easter. Mrs. P. spends her Easter with + Caroline, who lives in the neighbourhood, and will dine at Field + Place. I have not seen Mrs. Aldridge since her marriage; she has + scarcely been in town, but I shall see her this spring, when she comes + up as she intends. You know, of course, that Elizabeth St. Aubyn is + married, so you know that your ladies desert you sadly. If Clare and I + were either to die or marry you would be left without a Dulcinea at + all, with the exception of the sixscore new objects for idolatry you + may have found among the pretty girls in Florence. Take courage, + however; I am scarcely a Dulcinea, being your friend and not the Lady + of your love, but such as I am, I do not think that I shall either + die or marry this year, whatever may happen the next; as it is only + spring you have some time before you. + + We are all here on the _qui vive_ about the Reform Bill; if it pass, + and Tories and all expect it, well,--if not, Parliament is dissolved + immediately, and they say that the new writs are in preparation. The + Whigs triumphed gloriously in the boldness of their measure. England + will be free if it is carried. I have had very bad accounts from Rome, + but you are quiet as usual in Florence. I am scarcely wicked enough to + desire that you should be driven home, nor do I expect it, and yet how + glad I should be to see you. You never mention Zella. Adieu, my dear + Trelawny.--I am always affectionately yours, + + MARY W. SHELLEY. + + Hunt has set up a little 2d. paper, the _Tatler_, which is succeeding; + this keeps him above water. I have not seen him very lately. He lives + a long way off. He is the same as ever, a person whom all must love + and regret. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + POSTE RESTANTE, FIRENZE, + _8th April 1831_. + + DEAR MARY--The day after I had despatched a scolding letter to you, I + received your Titanic letter, and sent Mrs. Hare her fathom of it.... + + Now, let's to business. I thank you for the trouble you have taken + about the MS. Let Colburn have it, and try to get L400 down, for as to + what may be promised on a second edition, I am told is mere humbug. + When my work is completed I have no doubt the first part will be + reprinted, but get what you can paid down at once; as to the rest, I + have only to say that I consent to Horace Smith being the sole + arbitrator of what is necessary to be omitted, but do not let him be + prompted, and tell him only to omit what is _absolutely + indispensable_. Say to him that it is a friend of Shelley's who asks + him this favour, but do not let him or any other individual know that + I am the author. If my name is known, and the work can be brought home + to me, the consequences will be most disastrous. I beseech you bear + this in mind. Let all the mottoes appear in their respective chapters + without any omission, regardless of their number to each chapter, for + they are all good, and fill up the eight or ten I left blank from + Byron and Shelley; if from MS. so much the better. The changes in the + opinions of all mankind on political and other topics are favourable + to such writers as I and the Poets of Liberty whom I have selected. We + shall no longer be hooted at; it is our turn to triumph now. Would + those glorious spirits, to whose genius the present age owes so much, + could witness the triumphant success of these opinions. I think I see + Shelley's fine eyes glisten, and faded cheek glow with fire unearthly. + England, France, and Belgium free, the rest of Europe must follow; the + theories of tyrants all over the world are shaken as by an earthquake; + they may be propped up for a time, but their fall is inevitable. I am + forgetting the main business of my letter. I hope, Mary, that you have + not told Colburn or any one else that I am the author of the book. + Remember that I must have the title simply _A Man's Life_, and that I + should like to have as many copies for my friends as you can get from + Colburn--ten, I hope--and that you will continue to report progress, + and tell me when it is come out. You must have a copy, Horace Smith + one, and Jane and Lady Burghersh; she is to be heard of at Apsley + House--Duke of Wellington's--and then I have some friends here; you + must send me a parcel by sea. If the time is unfavourable for + publication, from men's minds being engrossed with politics, yet it is + so far an advantage that my politics go with the times, and not as + they would have been some years back, obnoxious and premature. I + decide on Colburn as publisher, not from liberality of his terms, but + his courage, and trusting that as little as possible will be omitted; + and, by the bye, I wish you to keep copies, for I have none, of those + parts which are omitted. Enough of this. Of Clare I have seen nothing. + Do not you, dear Mary, abandon me by following the evil examples of + my other ladies. I should not wonder if fate, without our choice, + united us; and who can control his fate? I blindly follow his decrees, + dear Mary.--Your + + E. J. T. + + + MRS. SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + SOMERSET STREET, _14th June 1831_. + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--Your work is in progress at last, and is being + printed with great rapidity. Horace Smith undertook the revision, and + sent a very favourable report of it to the publishers; to me he says: + "Having written to you a few days ago, I have only to annex a copy of + my letter to Colburn and Bentley, whence you will gather my opinion of + the MS.; it is a most powerful, but rather perilous work, which will + be much praised and much abused by the liberal and bigoted. I have + read it with great pleasure and think it admirable, in everything but + the conclusion;" by this he means, as he says to Colburn and Bentley, + "The conclusion is abrupt and disappointing, especially as previous + allusions have been made to his later life which is not given. + Probably it is meant to be continued, and if so it would be better to + state it, for I have no doubt that his first part will create a + sufficient sensation to ensure the sale of a second." + + In his former letter to me H. S. says: "Any one who has proved himself + the friend of yourself and of him whom we all deplore I consider to + have strong claims on my regard, and I therefore willingly undertake + the revision of the MS. Pray assure the author that I feel flattered + by this little mark of his confidence in my judgment, and that it will + always give me pleasure to render him these or any other services." + And now, my dear Trelawny, I hope you will not be angry at the title + given to your book; the responsibility of doing anything for any one + so far away as you is painful, and I have had many qualms, but what + could I do? The publishers strongly objected to the _History of a Man_ + as being no title at all, or rather one to lead astray. The one + adopted is taken from the first words of your MS., where you declare + yourself a younger son--words pregnant of meaning in this country, + where to be the younger son of a man of property is to be virtually + discarded,--and they will speak volumes to the English reader; it is + called, therefore, _The Adventures of a Younger Son_. If you are angry + with me for this I shall be sorry, but I knew not what to do. Your MS. + will be preserved for you; and remember, also, that it is pretty well + known whom it is by. I suppose the persons who read the MS. in Italy + have talked, and, as I told you, your mother speaks openly about it. + Still it will not appear in print, in no newspaper accounts over which + I have any control as emanating from the publisher. Let me know + immediately how I am to dispose of the dozen copies I shall receive on + your account. One must go to H. Smith, another to me, and to whom + else? The rest I will send to you in Italy. + + There is another thing that annoys me especially. You will be paid in + bills dating from the day of publication, now not far distant; three + of various dates. To what man of business of yours can I consign + these? the first I should think I could get discounted at once, and + send you the cash; but tell me what I am to do. I know that all these + hitches and drawbacks will make you vituperate womankind, and had I + ever set myself up for a woman of business, or known how to manage my + own affairs, I might be hurt; but you know my irremediable + deficiencies on those subjects, and I represented them strongly to you + before I undertook my task; and all I can say in addition is, that as + far as I have seen, both have been obliged to make the same + concessions, so be as forgiving and indulgent as you can. + + We are full here of reform or revolution, whichever it is to be; I + should think something approaching the latter, though the first may be + included in the last. Will you come over and sit for the new + parliament? what are you doing? Have you seen Clare? how is she? She + never writes except on special occasions, when she wants anything. + Tell her that Percy is quite well. + + You tell me not to marry,--but I will,--any one who will take me out + of my present desolate and uncomfortable position. Any one,--and with + all this do you think that I shall marry? Never,--neither you nor + anybody else. Mary Shelley shall be written on my tomb,--and why? I + cannot tell, except that it is so pretty a name that though I were to + preach to myself for years, I never should have the heart to get rid + of it. + + Adieu, my dear friend. I shall be very anxious to hear from you; to + hear that you are not angry about all the _contretemps_ attendant on + your publication, and to receive your further directions.--Yours very + truly, + + M. W. SHELLEY. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + POSTE RESTANTE, FIRENZE, + _29th June 1831_. + + DEAR MARY--Your letter, dated 14th June, I have received, after a long + interval, and your letter before that is dated 22d March. It would + appear by your last that you must have written another letter between + March and June, by allusions in this last respecting my Mother. If so, + it has never reached me, so that if it contained anything which is + necessary for me to know, I pray you let me have a transcript, so far + as your memory will serve to give it me. I am altogether ignorant of + what arrangements you have made with Colburn; and am only in + possession of the facts contained in the second, to wit, that Horace + Smith is revising the work for publication. I trust he will not be too + liberal with the pruning-knife. When will the cant and humbug of these + costermonger times be reformed? Nevertheless tell H. Smith that the + author is fully sensible of his kindness and (for once, at least, in + his life) with all his heart joins his voice to that of the world in + paying tribute to the sterling ability of Mr. Horace Smith; and I + remember Shelley and others speaking of him as one often essayed on + the touchstone of proof, and never found wanting. Horace Smith's + criticism on the _Life_ is flattering, and as regards the perilous + part--why I never have, and never shall, crouch to those I utterly + despise, to wit, the bigoted. The Roman Pontiff might as well have + threatened me with excommunication when on board the _Grub_, if I + failed to strike my top-sails, and lower my proud flag to the lubberly + craft which bore his silly banner, bedaubed with mitres, crosses, and + St. Peter's Keys. + + I did not mean to call my book _The History of a Man_, but simply + thus, _A Man's Life_; "Adventures" and "Younger Son" are commonplace, + and I don't like it; but if it is to be so, why, I shall not waste + words in idle complaints: would it were as I had written it. By the + bye, you say justly the MS. ends abruptly; the truth is, as you know, + it is only the first part of my life, and to conclude it will fill + three more volumes: that it is to be concluded, I thought I had stated + in a paragraph annexed to the last chapter of that which is now in the + press, which should run thus-- + + "I am, or rather have, continued this history of my life, and it will + prove I have not been a passive instrument of despotism, nor shall I + be found consorting with those base, sycophantic, and mercenary + wretches who crouch and crawl and fawn on kings, and priests, and + lords, and all in authority under them. On my return to Europe, its + tyrants had gathered together all their helots and gladiators to + restore the cursed dynasty of the Bourbons, and thousands of slaves + went forth to extinguish and exterminate liberty, truth, and justice. + I went forth, too, my hand ever against them, and when tyranny had + triumphed, I wandered an exile in the world and leagued myself with + men worthy to be called so, for they, inspired by wisdom, uncoiled the + frauds contained in lying legends, which had so long fatally deluded + the majority of mankind. Alas! those apostles have not lived to see + the tree they planted fructify; would they had tarried a little while + to behold this new era of 1830-31, how they would have rejoiced to + behold the leagued conspiracy of kings broken, and their bloodhound + priests and nobles muzzled, their impious confederacy to enslave and + rob the people paralysed by a blow that has shaken their usurpation to + the base, and must inevitably be followed by their final overthrow. + Yes, the sun of freedom is dawning on the pallid slaves of Europe," + etc. + + The conclusion of this diatribe I am certain you have, and if you have + not the beginning, why put it in beginning with the words: "I have + continued the history of my life." + + If I thought there was a probability that I could get a seat in the + reformed House of Commons, I would go to England, or if there was a + probability of revolution. I was more delighted with your resolve not + to change your name than with any other portion of your letter. + Trelawny, too, is a good name, and sounds as well as Shelley; it fills + the mouth as well and will as soon raise a spirit. By the bye, when + you send my books, send me also Mary Wollstonecraft's _Rights of + Women_, and Godwin's new work on _Man_, and tell me what you are now + writing. The Hares are at Lucca Baths. Never omit to tell me what you + know of Caroline. Do you think there is any opening among the + demagogues for me? It is a bustling world at present, and likely so to + continue. I must play a part. Write, Mary mine, speedily. + + Is my book advertised? If so, the motto from Byron should accompany + it. + + Clare only remained in Florence about ten days; some sudden death of a + relative of the family she resides with recalled them to Russia. I saw + her three or four times. She was very miserable, and looked so pale, + thin, and haggard. The people she lived with were bigots, and treated + her very badly. I wished to serve her, but had no means. Poor lady, I + pity her; her life has been one of continued misery. I hope on Sir + Timothy's death it will be bettered; her spirits are broken, and she + looks fifty; I have not heard of her since her departure. Mrs. Hare + once saw her, but she was so prejudiced against her, from stories she + had heard against her from the Beauclercs, that she could hardly be + induced to notice her. You are aware that I do not wish my book to + appear as if written for publication, and therefore have avoided all + allusions which might induce people to think otherwise. I wish all the + mottoes to be inserted, as they are a selection of beautiful poetry, + and many of them not published. + + The bills, you say, Colburn and Bentley are to give you; perhaps + Horace Smith may further favour me by getting them negotiated. I am + too much indebted to him to act so scurvily as not to treat him with + entire confidence, so with the injunction of secrecy you may tell him + my name. If he dislikes the affair of the bills, as I cannot employ + any of my people of business, why give the bills, or rather place them + in the hands of a man who keeps a glover's shop (I know him well). His + name is Moon, and his shop is corner one in Orange Street, Bloomsbury + Square. When I get your reply, I will, if necessary, write to him on + the subject. I pray you write me on receipt of this. My child Zella is + growing up very pretty, and with a soul of fire. She is living with + friends of mine near Lucca. + + The only copies of the book I wish you to give away are to Horace + Smith, Mary Shelley, Lady Burghersh, No. 1 Hyde Park Terrace, Oxford + Road, and Jane Williams, to remind her that she is not forgotten. + Shelley's tomb and mine in Rome, is, I am told, in a very dilapidated + state. I will see to its repair. Send me out six copies by sea; one if + you can sooner. Address them to Henry Dunn, Leghorn. + + E. J. TRELAWNY. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + POSTE RESTANTE, FIRENZE, + _19th July 1831_. + + * * * * * + + By the bye, Mary, if it is not too late, I should wish the name of + Zella to be spelt in the correct Arabic, thus, _Zella_, in my book. I + changed it in common with several others of the names to prevent my + own being too generally recognised; with regard to hers, if not too + late, I should now wish it to appear in its proper form, besides + which, in the chapter towards the conclusion, wherein I narrate an + account of a pestilence which was raging in the town of Batavia, I + wish the word Java fever to be erased, and cholera morbus substituted. + For we alone had the former malady on board the schooner, having + brought it into the Batavia Roads with us, but on our arrival there + we found the cholera raging with virulence, most of those attacked + expiring in the interval of the setting and rising of the sun. Luis, + our steward, I thought died from fever, as we had had it previously on + board, but the medicals pronounced it or denounced it cholera. If the + alteration can be made, it will be interesting, as in the history of + the cholera I see published, they only traced the origin to 1816, when + the fact is, it was in 1811 that I am speaking of, and no doubt it has + existed for thousands of years before, but it is only of late, like + the natives of Hindoostan, it has visited Europe. It is sent by + Nemesis, a fitting retribution for the gold and spices we have robbed + them of. The malediction of my Malayan friends has come to pass, for I + have no doubt the Russian caravans which supply that empire with tea, + silks, and spices introduced the cholera, or gave it into the bargain, + or as _bona mano_. I wish you would write, for I am principally + detained here by wishing to get a letter from you ere I go to some + other place.--Yours, and truly, + + E. T. + + + MRS. SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + SOMERSET STREET, _26th July 1831_. + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--Your third volume is now printing, so I should + imagine that it will very soon be published; everything shall be + attended to as you wish. The letter to which I alluded in my former + one was a tiny one enclosed to Clare, which perhaps you have received + by this time. It mentioned the time of the agreement; L300 in bills of + three, six, and eight months, dated from the day of publication, and + L100 more on a second edition. The mention I made of your mother was, + that she speaks openly in society of your forthcoming memoirs, so that + I should imagine very little real secrecy will attend them. However, + you will but gain reputation and admiration through them. + + I hope you are going on, for your continuation will, I am sure, be + ardently looked for. I am so sorry for the delay of all last winter, + yet I did my best to conclude the affair; but the state of the nation + has so paralysed bookselling that publishers were very backward, + though Colburn was in his heart eager to get at your book. As to the + price, I have taken pains to ascertain; and you receive as much as is + given to the best novelists at this juncture, which may console your + vanity if it does not fill your pocket. + + The Reform Bill will pass, and a considerable revolution in the + government of the country will, I imagine, be the consequence. + + You have talents of a high order. You have powers; these, with + industry and discretion, would advance you in any career. You ought + not, indeed you ought not to throw away yourself as you do. Still, I + would not advise your return on the speculation, because England is so + sad a place that the mere absence from it I consider a peculiar + blessing. + + My name will _never_ be Trelawny. I am not so young as I was when you + first knew me, but I am as proud. I must have the entire affection, + devotion, and, above all, the solicitous protection of any one who + would win me. You belong to womenkind in general, and Mary Shelley + will _never_ be yours. + + I write in haste, but I will write soon again, more at length. You + shall have your copies the moment I receive them. Believe me, with all + gratitude and affection, yours, + + M. W. SHELLEY. + + Jane thanks you for the book promised. I am infinitely chagrined at + what you tell me concerning Clare. If the B.'s spoke against her, that + means Mrs. B. and her stories were gathered from Lord Byron, who + feared Clare and did not spare her; and the stories he told were such + as to excuse the prejudice of any one. + + + THE SAME TO THE SAME. + + SOMERSET STREET, _2d October 1831_. + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--I suppose that I have now some certain intelligence + to send you, though I fear that it will both disappoint and annoy + you. I am indeed ashamed that I have not been able to keep these + people in better order, but I trusted to honesty, when I ought to have + ensured it; however, thus it stands: your book is to be published in + the course of the month, and then your bills are to be dated. As soon + as I get them I will dispose of them as you direct, and you will + receive notice on the subject without delay. I cannot procure for you + a copy until then; they pretend that it is not all printed. If I can + get an opportunity I will send you one by private hand, at any rate I + shall send them by sea without delay. I will write to Smith about + negotiating your bills, and I have no doubt that I shall be able + somehow or other to get you money on them. I will go myself to the + City to pay Barr's correspondent as soon as I get the cash. Thus your + _pretty dear_ (how fascinating is flattery) will do her best, as soon + as these tiresome people fulfil their engagements. In some degree they + have the right on their side, as the day of publication is a usual + time from which to date the bills, and that was the time which I + acceded to; but they talked of such hurry and speed that I expected + that that day was nearer at hand than it now appears to be. November + _is_ the publishing month, and no new things are coming out now. In + fact, the Reform Bill swallows up every other thought. You have heard + of the Lords' majority against it, much longer than was expected, + because it was not imagined that so many bishops would vote against + Government.... + + Do whenever you write send me news of Clare. She never writes herself, + and we are all excessively anxious about her. I hope she is better. + God knows when fate will do anything for us. I despair. Percy is well, + I fancy that he will go to Harrow in the spring; it is not yet finally + arranged, but this is what I wish, and therefore I suppose it will be, + as they have promised to increase my allowance for him, and leave me + pretty nearly free, only with Eton prohibited; but Harrow is now in + high reputation under a new head-master. I am delighted to hear that + Zella is in such good hands, it is so necessary in this world of woe + that children should learn betimes to yield to necessity; a girl + allowed to run wild makes an unhappy woman. + + Hunt has set up a penny daily paper, literary and theatrical; it is + succeeding very well, but his health is wretched, and when you + consider that his sons, now young men, do not contribute a penny + towards their own support, you may guess that the burthen on him is + very heavy. I see them very seldom, for they live a good way off, and + when I go he is out, she busy, and I am entertained by the children, + who do not edify me. Jane has just moved into a house about half a + mile further from town, on the same road; they have furnished it + themselves. Dina improves, or rather she always was, and continues to + be, a very nice child. + + * * * * * + +The _Adventures_ did not reach a second edition in their original form; +the first edition failed, indeed, to repay its expenses; but they were +afterwards republished in _Colburn's Family Library_. The second part of +Trelawny's Autobiography took the chatty and discursive form, so popular +at the present day, of "Reminiscences." It is universally known as +_Recollections[11] of Shelley, Byron, and the Author_. + +So long as Shelley and Byron survive as objects of interest in this world, +so long must this fascinating book share their existence. As originally +published, it has not a dull page. Life-like as if written at the moment +it all happened, it yet has the pictorial sense of proportion which can +rarely exist till a writer stands at such a distance (of time) from the +scenes he describes that he can estimate them, not only as they are, but +in their relation to surrounding objects. It would seem as if, for the +conversations at least, Trelawny must sometimes have drawn on his +imagination as well as his memory; if so, it can only be replied that, by +his success, he has triumphantly vindicated his artistic right to do so. +Terse, original, and characteristic, each speech paints its speaker in +colours which we know and feel to be true. Nothing seems set down for +effect; it is spontaneous, unstudied, everyday reality. And if the history +of Trelawny's own exploits in Greece somewhat recall the "tarasconnades" +of his early adventures, it at least puts a thrilling finish to a book it +was hard to conclude without falling into bathos. As a writer on Shelley, +Trelawny surely stands alone. Many authors have praised Shelley, others +have condemned and decried him, others again have tried to pity and +"excuse" him. No one has apprehended as happily as Trelawny the peculiar +_timbre_, if it may be so described, of his nature, or has brought out so +vividly, and with so few happy touches, his moral and social +characteristics. Saint or sinner, the Shelley of Trelawny is no lay +figure, no statue even, no hero of romance; it is _Shelley_, the man, the +boy, the poet. Trelawny assures us that Hogg's picture of Shelley as a +youth is absolutely faithful. But Hogg's picture only shows us Shelley in +his "salad days," and even that we are never allowed to contemplate +without the companion-portrait of the biographer, smiling with cynical +amusement while he yields his tribute of heartfelt, but patronising +praise. + +The conclusions to which Hogg had come by observation Trelawny arrived at +by intuition. Fiery and imaginative, his nature was by far the more +sympathetic of the two; though it may be that, in virtue of very +unlikeness, Hogg would have proved, in the long run, the fitter companion +for Shelley. + +Between Trelawny and Mary there existed the same kind of adjustable +difference. His descriptions of her have been largely drawn upon in +earlier chapters of the present work, and need not be reverted to here. +She had been seven years dead when the _Recollections_ were published. +Twenty years later, when Mary Shelley had been twenty-seven years in her +grave, there appeared a second edition of the book. In those twenty years, +what change had come over the spirit of its pages? An undefinable +difference, like that which comes over the face of Nature when the wind +changes from west to east,--and yet not so undefinable either, for it had +power to reverse some very definite facts. Byron's feet, for instance, +which--as the result of an investigation after death--were described, in +1858, as having, both, been "clubbed and withered to the knee," "the feet +and legs of a sylvan satyr," are, in 1878, pronounced to have been +_faultless_, but for the contraction of the back sinews (the "Tendon +Achilles"), which prevented his heels from resting on the ground. +"Unfortunately," to quote Mr. Garnett's comment on this discrepancy, in +his article on _Shelley's Last Days_, "as in the natural world the same +agencies that are elevating one portion of the earth's surface are at the +same time depressing another, so, in the microcosm of Mr. Trelawny's +memory and judgment, the embellishment of Lord Byron's feet has been +accompanied by a corresponding deterioration of Mrs. Shelley's heart and +head." + +Yes; the Mary Shelley with whom, in early days, even Trelawny could find +no fault, save perhaps for a tendency to mournfulness in solitude and an +occasional fit of literary abstraction when she might have been looking +after the commissariat--who in later years was his trusty friend, his sole +correspondent, his literary editor, his man of business--and withal his +"pretty dear" "every day dearer" to him, "Mary--my Mary"--superior surely +to the rest of her sex, with whom at one time it seems plain enough that +he would have been nothing loth to enter into an alliance, offensive and +defensive, for life, would she but have preferred the name of Trelawny to +that of Shelley,--this Mary whose voice had been silent for seven and +twenty years, and to whom he himself had raised a monument of praise, +rises from her tomb as conventional and commonplace, unsympathetic and +jealous, narrow, orthodox, and worldly. + +Yet she had borne with his exactions and scoldings and humours for +friendship's sake, and with full faith in the loyalty and generosity of +his heart. A pure and delicate-minded woman, she had not been scandalised +by his lawless morals. She had had the courage to withstand him when he +was wrong, working for him the while like a devoted slave. Never was a +more true and disinterested friendship than hers for him; and he, who knew +her better than most people did, was well aware of it. + +Where then was the change? Alas! It was in himself. In this revolving +world, where "Time that gave doth now his gift confound," and where +"nought may endure but mutability," the "flourish set on youth" is soon +transfixed. + +Greek fevers and gunshot wounds told on the "Pirate's" disposition as well +as on his constitution. The habits of mind he had cultivated and been +proud of,--combativeness, opposition to all authority as such--finally +became his masters; he could not even acquiesce in his own experience. Age +and the ravages of Time were to blame for his morbid censoriousness; +Time--that "feeds on the rarities of Nature's truth." These later +recollections are but the distorted images of a blurred mirror. But, none +the less, the tale is a sad one. We can but echo Trelawny's own words to +Mary[12]--"Can such things be, and overcome us like a summer cloud, +without our especial wonder?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +OCTOBER 1831-OCTOBER 1839 + + +Trelawny's book was only one among many things which claimed Mrs. +Shelley's attention during these three years. + +In 1830 Godwin published his _Thoughts on Man_. The relative positions of +father and daughter had come to be reversed, and Mary now negotiated with +the publishers for the sale of his work, as he had formerly done for her. +Godwin himself set a high value, even for him, on this book, and +anticipated for it a future and an influence which were not to be +realised. + + GODWIN TO MARY. + + _15th April 1830._ + + DEAR MARY--If you do me the favour to see Murray, I know not how far + you can utter the following things; or if you do, how far they will + have any weight with his highness; yet I cannot but wish you should + have them in your mind. + + The book I offer is a collection of ten new and interesting truths, + illustrated in no unpopular style. They are the fruit of thirty years' + meditation (it being so long since I wrote the _Enquirer_), in the + full maturity of my understanding. + + The book, therefore, will be very far from being merely one book more + added to the number of books already existing in English literature. + It must, as I conceive, when published make a deep impression, and + cause the thinking part of the public to perceive--There are here laid + before us ten interesting truths never before delivered. + + Whether it is published during my life or after my death it is a light + that cannot be extinguished--"the precious life-blood of a discerning + spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life." + +In the following amusing letter Clare gives Mary a few commissions. She +was to interest her literary acquaintance in Paris in the publication and +success of a French poem by a friend of Clare's at Moscow, the greatest +wish of whose heart was to appear in print. She was also to find a means +of preventing the French translatress of Moore's _Life of Byron_ from +introducing Clare's name into her elucidatory footnotes. This was indeed +all-important to Clare, as any revival of scandal about her might have +robbed her of the means of subsistence, but it was also an extremely +difficult and delicate task for Mary. But no one ever hesitated to make +her of use. Her friends estimated her power by her goodwill, and her +goodwill by their own need of her services; and they were generally right, +for the will never failed, and the way was generally found. + + CLARE TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + NICE, _11th December 1830_. + + MY DEAR MARY--Your last letter, although so melancholy, gave me much + pleasure, merely, therefore, because it came from you. + + I intended to have written to all and each of you, but until now have + not been able to put my resolution into execution. It must seem to you + that I am strangely neglectful of my friends, or perhaps you think + since I am so near Trelawny that I have been taking a lesson from him + in the art of cultivating one's friendships; but neither of these is + the case, my silence is quite on another principle than this. + + I am not desperately in love, nor just risen from my bed at four in + the afternoon in order to write my millionth love letter, nor am I + indifferent to those whom time and the malice of fortune have yet + spared to me, but simply I have been too busy. + + Since I have been at Nice I have had to change lodgings four times; + besides this, we were a long time without a maid, and received and + paid innumerable visits. My whole day was spent in shifting my + character. In the morning I arose a waiting-maid, and, having attended + to the toilette of Natalie, sank into a house-maid, a laundry-maid, + and, after noon, I fear me, a cook, having to look to the cleaning of + the rooms, the getting up of linen, and the preparation of various + pottages fit for the patient near me. At mid-day I turned into a + governess, gave my lessons, and at four or five became a fine lady for + the rest of the day, and paid visits or received them, for at Nice it + is the custom, so soon as a stranger arrives, that everybody _comme il + faut_ in the place comes to call upon you; nor can you shut your doors + against them even if you were dying, for as Nice is the resort of the + sick, and as everybody either is sick or has been sick, nursing has + become the common business. + + So we went on day after day. We had _dejeuners dansants_, _soirees + dansantes_ (_diners dansants_ are considered as _de trop_ by order of + the physicians), _bals pares_, _theatres_, _operas_, _grands diners_, + _petits soupers_, _concerts_, _visites de matin_, _promenades a ane_, + _parties de campagne_, _reunions litteraires_, _grands cercles_, + _promenades en bateau_, _coteries choisies_, _thunder-storms_ from + the sea, and _political storms_ from France; in short, if we had only + had an earthquake, or the shock of one, we should have run through the + whole series of modifications of which human existence is susceptible. + _Voila Paris, Voila Paris_, as the song says. + + You may perhaps expect that the novelty of society should have + suggested to me remarks and observations as multifarious as the forms + under which I observed it. Sorry I am to say that either from its + poverty, or from my own poverty of intellect, I have not gathered from + it anything beyond the following couple of conclusions, that people of + the world, disguise themselves as they may, possess but two qualities, + a great want of understanding, and a vast pretension to sentiment. + From this duplexity arises the duplicity with which they are so often + charged, and no wonder, for with hearts so heavy, and heads so light, + how is it possible to keep anything like a straightforward course? In + alleviation of this, I must confess that wherever I went I carried + about with me my own identity (that unhappy identity which has cost me + so dear, and of which, with all my pains, I have never been able to + lose a particle), and contemplated the people I judge through the + medium of its rusty atoms. + + I must speak to you of an affair that interests me deeply. M. Gambs + has informed me that he has sent to Paris a poem of his in manuscript + called _Moeise_. He gave it to the Prince Nicolas Scherbatoff at + Moscow, just upon his setting out for Paris; this is many months ago. + Whether the Prince gave any promise to endeavour to get it published I + do not know; but if he did, he is such a very indolent and selfish man + that his efforts would never get the thing done. M. Gambs has written + to me to ask if you have any literary friends in Paris who would be + kind enough to interest themselves about it. The address of the Prince + is as follows: Son Excellence Le Prince Nicolas Scherbatoff, Rue St. + Lazare, No. 17, a Paris. Can you not get some one to call upon him to + ask about the manuscript, and to propose it to some bookseller? + + This some one may enter into a direct correspondence with M. Gambs by + addressing him Chez M. Lenhold, Marchand de Musique, a Moscow. I + should be highly delighted if you could settle things in this way, as + I know my friend has nothing more at heart than to appear in print, + and that I should be glad to be the means of communicating some + pleasure to an existence which I know is almost utterly without it, + and of showing my gratitude for the kindness and goodness he has + showered upon me; nor, as far as my poor judgment goes, is the work + unworthy of inspiring interest, and of being saved from oblivion. It + pleased me much when it was read to me; but then it is true I was in a + desert, and there a drop of water will often seem to us more precious + than the finest jewel. + + Another subject connected with Paris also presses itself on my mind. + In Moore's _Life of Lord Byron_ only the most distant allusion was + made to Lady Caroline Lamb; yet, in the French translation, its + performer, Madame Sophie Bellay (or some such name) had the indelicacy + to unveil the mystery in a note, and to expose it in distinct and + staring characters to the public. This piece of impudence was harmless + to Lady Caroline, since her independence of others was assured beyond + a doubt; but to any one whose bread depends upon the public a printed + exposure of their conduct will infallibly bring on destitution, and + reduce them to the necessity of weighing upon their relations for + support. + + I know the subject is a disagreeable one, and that you do not like + disagreeable subjects. I know nothing of business or whether there + exists any means of averting this blow; perhaps a representation to + the translator of the evils that would follow would be sufficient; but + as I have no means of trying this, I am reduced to suggest the subject + to your attention, with the firm hope that you will find some method + of warding off the threatened mischief. + + What you tell me of the state of family resources has naturally + depressed my spirits. Will the future never cease unrolling new shapes + of misery? Stair above stair of wretchedness is all we know; the + present, bad as it is, is always better than what comes after. Of all + the crowd of eager inquirers at the Delphic shrine was there ever + found one who thanked, or had any reason to thank, the Pythia for what + she disclosed to him? For me, I have long abandoned hope and the + future, and am now diligently pursuing and retracing the past, going + the back way as it were to eternity in order to avoid the + disappointments and perplexities of an unknown course. But I must beg + pardon for my cowardice and disagreeableness, and leave it, or else I + shall be recollected with as much reluctance as the Pythia. + + I wish I could give you any idea of the beauty of Nice. So long as I + can walk about beside the sounding sea, beneath its ambient heaven, + and gaze upon the far hills enshrined in purple light, I catch such + pleasure from their loveliness that I am happy without happiness; but + when I come home, then it seems to me as if all the phantasmagoria of + hell danced before my eyes. + + Mrs. K. has arrived and in no very amiable humour. The only + conversation I hear is, first, the numberless perfections of herself, + husband, and child; this, as it is true, would be well enough, but + still upon repetition it tires; second, the infinite superiority of + Russia over all other countries, since it is an established truth that + liberty and civilisation are the most dreadful of all evils. I, to + avoid ill-temper, assent to all they say; then in company, when + opposed in their doctrines, they drag me forward, and the tacit + consent I have given, as an argument in favour of their way of + thinking, and I am at once set down by everybody either as a fawning + creature or an utter fool. However, I am glad she has come, as the + responsibility of Natalie's health was too much. For heaven's sake + excuse me to dear Jane that I have not written. My first moment shall + be given to do so. + + I think of England and my friends all day long. Entreat everybody to + write to me. Do pray do so yourself. My love to my Mother and Papa, + and William and everybody. How happy was I that Percy was well.--In + haste, ever yours, + + C. CLAIRMONT. + +Mrs. Shelley's mind was much occupied during 1831 by the serious question +of sending her son to a public school. She wished to give him the best +possible education, and she wished, too, to give it him in such a form as +would place him at no disadvantage among other young men when he took his +place in English society. + +Shelley (she mentions in one of her letters) had expressed himself in +favour of a public school, but Shelley's family had also to be consulted, +and she seems to have had reason to hope they would help in the matter. + +They quite concurred in her views for Percy, only putting a veto on Eton, +where legends of his father's school-days might still be lingering about. +Nothing was better than that she should send him to a public school--_if +she could_. These last words were implied, not expressed. But a public +school education in England is not to be given on a very limited income. +Funds had to be found; and Mrs. Shelley made, through the lawyer, a direct +request to Sir Timothy for assistance. + +She received the following answer-- + + MR. WHITTON TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + STONE HALL, _6th November 1831_. + + DEAR MADAM--I have been, from the time I received your last favour to + the present, in correspondence with Sir Timothy Shelley as to your + wishes of an advance upon the L300 per annum he now makes to you, and + I recommended him to consult his friend and solicitor, Mr. Steadman, + of Horsham, thereon, and which he did. + + You have not perhaps well put together and estimated on the great + amount of the charges upon the estate by the late Mr. Shelley, and on + the legacies given by his will; but looking at all these, and the very + limited interest of the estate now vested in you, Sir Timothy has + paused in his consideration thereof, and in the result has brought his + mind, that, having regard to the other provisions he is bound to make + for his other children, he ought not to increase the allowance to you, + and upon that ground he declines so doing; and therefore feels the + necessity of your making such arrangements as you may find necessary + to make the L300 per annum answer the purposes for yourself and for + your son, and he has this morning stated to me his fixed determination + to abide thereby; and I lose not a moment, after I receive this + communication from him, to make it known to you, and I trust and hope + you will find it practicable to give him a good education out of the + L300 a year.--I remain, Madam, your very obedient servant, + + WM. WHITTON. + +The seeming brutality of the concluding sentence must in fairness be +ascribed to the writer and not to those he represented. + +To Mrs. Shelley, knowing the impossibility of carrying out the public +school plan on her own income, the wishes and hopes must have sounded a +mockery. It had to be done, however, if it was the best thing for the boy. +The money must be earned, and she worked on. + +One day she received from her father a new kind of petition, which, +showing the effect on him of advancing years, must have struck a pang to +her heart. She was accustomed to his requests for money, but now he wrote +to her for _an idea_. + + GODWIN TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + _13th April 1832._ + + MY DEAR MARY--You desire me to write to you, if I have anything + particular to say. + + I write, then, to say that I am still in the same dismaying + predicament in which I have been for weeks past--at a loss for + materials to make up my third volume. This is by no means what I + expected. + + I knew, and I know, that incidents of hair-breadth escapes and + adventures are innumerable, and that without having fixed on any one + of them, I took for granted they would come when I called for them. + Such is the mischievous effect, the anxious expectation, that is + produced by past success. + + I believe that when I came to push with all my force against the + barriers that seemed to shut me in they would give way, and place all + the treasures of invention before me. + + Meanwhile, it unfortunately happens that I cannot lay my present + disappointment to the charge of advancing age. + + I find all my faculties and all my strength in full bloom about me. My + disappointment has put that to a sharp trial. I thought that the + severe stretch of my faculties would cause them to yield, and subside + into feebleness and torpor. No such thing. Day after day, week after + week, I apply to this one question, without remission and with + discernment. But I cannot please myself. If I make the round of all my + thoughts, and come home empty-handed, it would seem that in the flower + and vigour of my youth I should have done the same. + + Meanwhile, my situation is deplorable. I am not free to choose the + thing I would do. I have written two volumes and a quarter, and have + received five-sixths of the price of my work. + + I am afraid you will think I am useless, by teasing you with + "conceptions only proper to myself." But it is not altogether so. A + bystander may see a point of game which a player overlooks. Though I + cannot furnish myself with satisfactory incidents I have disciplined + my mind into a tone that would enable me to improve them, if offered + to me. + + My mind is like a train of gunpowder, and a single spark, now happily + communicated, might set the whole in motion and activity. + + Do not tease yourself about my calamity; but give it one serious + thought. Who knows what such a thought may produce?--Your affectionate + Father, + + WILLIAM GODWIN. + +In the spring of 1832 the cholera appeared in London. Clare, at a +distance, was torn to pieces between real apprehension for the safety of +her friends, and distracting fears lest the disease should select among +them for its victim some one on whose life depended the realisation of +Shelley's will. For Percy especially she was solicitous. Mary must take +him away at once, to the seaside--anywhere: if money was an obstacle she, +Clare, was ready to help to defray the cost out of her salary. + +Mrs. Shelley did leave London, although, it may safely be asserted, at no +one's expense but her own. She stayed for a month at Southend, and +afterwards for a longer time at Sandgate. + +Besides contributing tales and occasionally verses to the _Keepsake_, she +was employed now and during the next two or three years in preparing and +writing the Italian and Spanish Lives of Literary Men for Lardner's +_Cabinet Cyclopaedia_. These included, among the Italians--Petrarch, +Boccaccio, Bojardo, Macchiavelli, Metastasio, Goldoni, Alfieri, Ugo +Foscolo, etc.; among the Spanish and Portuguese--Cervantes, Lope de Vega, +Calderon, Camoens, and a host of others, besides notices of the +Troubadours, the "Romances Moriscos," and the early poets of Portugal. + +Clare, too, tried her hand at a story, to which she begged Mary to be a +kind of godmother. + + I have written a tale, which I think will do for the _Keepsake_. I + shall send it home for your perusal. Will you correct it? Do write and + let me know where I may send it, so as to be sure to find you. Will + you be angry with me if I beg you to write the last scene of it? I am + now so unwell I can't. + + My only time for writing is after 10 at night; the rest of the tale + was composed at that hour, after having been scolding and talking and + giving lessons from 7 in the morning. + + It was very near its end when I got so ill, I gave it up. If you + cannot do anything with it you can at least make curl-papers of it, + and that is always something. Do not mention it to anybody; should it + be printed one can speak of it, and if you judge it not worthy, then + it is no use mortifying my vanity. + + The truth, is I should never think of writing, knowing well my + incapacity for it, but I want to gain money. What would one not do for + that, since it is the only key of freedom? One is even impudent enough + to ask a great authoress to finish one's tale for one. I think, in + your hands, it might get into the _Keepsake_, for it is about a Pole, + and that is the topic of the day. + + If it should get any money, half will naturally belong to you. Should + you have the kindness to arrange it, Julia would perhaps also be so + kind as to copy it out for me, that the alterations in your hand may + not be seen. I wish it to be signed "Mont Obscur."... + +Mary did what was asked of her. Trelawny, now in England again, had +influence in some literary quarters, and, at her request, willingly +consented to exert it on Clare's behalf. + +Meanwhile he requested her to receive his eldest daughter on a visit of +considerable length. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + _17th July 1832._ + + MY DEAR MARY--I am awaiting an occasion of sending ---- to Italy, my + friend, Lady D., undertaking the charge of her. + + It may be a month before she leaves England. At the end of this month + Mrs. B. leaves London, and you will do me a great service if you will + permit my daughter to reside with you till I can make the necessary + arrangements for going abroad; she has been reared in a rough school, + like her father. I wish her to live and do as you do, and that you + will not put yourself to the slightest inconvenience on her account. + + As we are poor, the rich are our inheritance, and we are justified on + all and every occasion to rob and use them. + + But we must be honest and just amongst ourselves, therefore ---- must + to the last fraction pay her own expenses, and neither put you to + expense nor inconvenience. For the rest, I should like ---- to learn + to lean upon herself alone--to see the practical part of life: to + learn housekeeping on trifling means, and to benefit by her + intercourse with a woman like you; but I am ill at compliments. + + If you will permit ---- to come to you, I will send or bring her to + you about the 25th of this month. I should like you and ---- to know + each other before she leaves England, and thus I have selected you to + take charge of her in preference to any other person; but say if it + chimes in with your wishes. + + Adieu, dear Mary.--Your attached friend, + + EDWARD TRELAWNY. + + By the bye, tell me where the Sandgate coach starts from, its time of + leaving London, and its time of arrival at Sandgate, and where you + are, and if they will give you another bedroom in the house you are + lodging in; and if you have any intention of leaving Sandgate soon. + + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + _27th July 1832._ + + MY DEAR MARY--You told me in your letter that it would be more + convenient for you to receive ---- on the last of the month, so I made + my arrangements accordingly. I now find it will suit me better to come + to you on Wednesday, so that you may expect ---- on the evening of + that day by the coach you mention. I shall of course put up at the + inn. + + As to your style of lodging or living, ---- is not such a fool as to + let that have any weight with her; if you were in a cobbler's stall + she would be satisfied; and as to the dulness of the place, why, that + must mainly depend on ourselves. Brompton is not so very gay, and the + reason of my removing ---- to Italy is that Mrs. B. was about sending + her to reside with strangers at Lincoln; besides ---- is acting + entirely by her own free choice, and she gladly preferred Sandgate to + Lincoln. At all events, come we shall; and if you, by barricading or + otherwise, oppose our entrance, why I shall do to you, not as I would + have others do unto me, but as I do unto others,--make an onslaught on + your dwelling, carry your tenement by assault, and give the place up + to plunder. + + So on Wednesday evening (at 5, by your account) you must be prepared + to quietly yield up possession or take the consequences. So as you + shall deport yourself, you will find me your friend or foe, + + TRELAWNY. + +Mary's guest stayed with her over a month. During this time she was +saddened by the sudden death of her friendly acquaintance, Lord Dillon. +She was anxious, too, about her father, whose equable spirits had failed +him this year. No assistance seemed to avail much to ease his +circumstances; he was not far from his eightieth year, and still his hopes +were anchored in a yet-to-be-written novel. + + "I feel myself able and willing to do everything, and to do it well," + so he wrote, "and nobody disposed to give me the requisite + encouragement. If I can agree with these tyrants" (his publishers) + "for L300, L400, or L500 for a novel, and to be subsisted by them + while I write it, I probably shall not starve for a twelvemonth to + come ... but this dancing attendance wears my spirits and destroys my + tranquillity. 'Hands have I, but I handle not; I have feet, but I walk + not; neither is there any breath in my nostrils.' + + "Meanwhile my life wears away, and 'there is no work, nor device, nor + knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave whither I go.' But, indeed, I am + wrong in talking of that, for I write now, not for marble to be placed + over my remains, but for bread to put into my mouth." + +Mary tried in the summer to tempt him down to Sandgate for a change. But +the weather was very cold, and he declined. + + _28th August 1832._ + + DEAR MARY-- + + See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year, + Sullen and sad, with all his rising train-- + Vapours, and clouds, and storms. + + I am shivering over a little fire at the bottom of my grate, and have + small inclination to tempt the sea-breezes and the waves; we must + therefore defer our meeting till it comes within the walls of London. + + * * * * * + + _Au revoir!_ To what am I reserved? I know not. + + The wide (no not) the unbounded prospect lies before me, + But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. + +A new shadow was now to fall upon the poor old man, in the death from +cholera of his only son, Mary's half-brother, William. This son in his +early youth had given some trouble and caused some anxiety, but his +character, as he grew up, had become steadier and more settled. He was +happily married, and seemed likely to be a source of real comfort and +satisfaction to his parents in their old age. By profession he was a +reporter, but he had his hereditary share of literary ability and of +talent "turned for the relation of fictitious adventures," and left in MS. +a novel called _Transfusion_, published by his father after his death, +with the motto-- + + Some noble spirits, judging by themselves, + May yet conjecture what I might have been. + +Although inevitably somewhat hardened against misfortune of the heart by +his self-centred habits of mind and anxiety about money, Godwin was much +saddened by this loss, and to Mrs. Godwin it was a very great and bitter +grief indeed. + +Clare saw at once in this the beginning of fresh troubles; the realisation +of all the gloomy forebodings in which she had indulged. She wrote to Jane +Hogg-- + + That nasty year, 1832, could not go over without imitating in some + respects 1822, and bringing death and misfortune to us. From the time + it came in till it went out I trembled, expecting at every moment to + hear the most gloomy tidings. + + William's death came, and fulfilled my anticipations; misfortune as it + was, it was not such a heavy one to me as the loss of others might + have been. I, however, was fond of him, because I did not view his + faults in that desponding light which his other relations did. I have + seen more of the world, and, comparing him with other young men, his + frugality, his industry, his attachment to his wife, and his talents, + raised him, in my opinion, considerably above the common par. + + But in our family, if you cannot write an epic poem or novel that by + its originality knocks all other novels on the head, you are a + despicable creature, not worth acknowledging. What would they have + done or said had their children been fond of dress, fond of cards, + drunken, profligate, as most people's children are? + +To Mary she wrote in a somewhat different tone, assuming that she, Clare, +was the victim on whom all misfortune really fell, and wondering at Mary's +incredible temerity in allowing her boy, that all-important heir-apparent, +to face the perils of a public school. + +And then, losing sight for a moment of her own feverish anxiety, she +gives a vivid sketch of Mrs. Mason's family. + + MISS CLAIRMONT TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + PISA, _26th October 1832_. + + MY DEAR MARY--Though your last letter was on so melancholy a subject, + yet I am so destitute of all happiness that to receive it was one to + me. + + I have not yet got over the shock of William's death; from the moment + I heard of it until now I have been in a complete state of + annihilation. How long it will last I am sure I cannot tell; I hope + not much longer, or perhaps I shall go mad. + + A horrible and most inevitable future is the image that torments me, + just as it did ten years ago, in this very city. But I won't torment + you, who have a thousand enjoyments that veil it from you, and need + not feel the blow till it comes. Our fates were always different; mine + is to feel the shadow of coming misfortunes, and to sicken beneath it. + There seems to have been great imprudence on William's part: my Mother + says he went to Bartholomew Fair the day before he was taken ill; then + he did not have medical assistance so soon as ill, which they say is + of the highest importance in the cholera, so altogether I suppose his + life was thrown away--a most lucky circumstance for himself, but God + knows what it will be for the Godwins. + + His death changed my plans. I had settled to go to Vienna, but as the + cholera is still there, I no longer considered myself free to offer + another of my Mother's children to be its victim. Mrs. Mason + represented the imprudence of it, considering my weak health, the + depressed state of my spirits for the last twelve years, the fatigue + of the long journey, and the chilliness of the season of the year, + which are all things that predispose excessively to the disease, and I + yielded out of regard to my Mother. I thought she would prefer + anything to my dying, or else at Vienna, Charles tells me, I could + earn more than I am likely to earn here. For the same reason Paris + was abandoned. I beg you will tell her this, and hope she will think I + have done well. + + In the meantime I stay with Mrs. Mason, and have got an engagement as + day governess with an English family, which will supply me with money + for my own expenses, but nothing more. In the spring they wish to take + me entirely, but the pay is not brilliant. When I know more about them + I will tell you. Nothing can equal Mrs. Mason's kindness to me. Hers + is the only house, except my Mother's, in which all my life I have + always felt at home. With her, I am as her child; from the merest + trifle to the greatest object, she treats me as if her happiness + depended on mine. Then she understands me so completely. I have no + need to disguise my sentiments; to barricade myself up in silence, as + I do almost with everybody, for fear they should see what passes in my + mind, and hate me for it, because it does not resemble what passes in + theirs. This ought to be a great happiness to me, and would, did not + her unhappiness and her precarious state of health darken it with the + torture of fear. It is too bitter, after a long life passed in + unbroken misery, to find a good only that you may lose it. + + Laurette's marriage is to take place at the end of November. Mrs. + Mason having tried every means to hinder it, and seeing that she + cannot, is now impatient it should be over. Their present state is too + painful. She cannot disguise her dislike of Galloni; he having nearly + killed her with his scenes, and Laurette cannot sympathise with her; + being on the point of marrying him, and feeling grateful for his + excessive attachment, she wishes to think as well of him as she can. + It is the first time the mother and daughter have ever divided in + opinion, and galls both in a way that seems unreasonable to those who + live in the world, and are accustomed to meet rebuffs in their dearest + feelings at every moment. But our friends live in solitude, and have + nursed themselves into a height of romance about everything. They both + think their destinies annihilated, because the union of their minds + has suffered this interruption. However, no violence mingles with + this sentiment and excites displeasure; on the contrary, I wish it + did, for it would be easier to heal than the tragic immutable sorrow + with which they take it. + + While these two dissolve in quiet grief, Nerina, the Italian, agitates + herself on the question; she forgets all her own love affairs, and all + the sabre slashes and dagger stabs of her own poor heart, to fall into + fainting fits and convulsions every time she sees Laurette and her + mother fix their eyes mournfully upon each other; then she talks and + writes upon the subject incessantly, even till 3 o'clock in the + morning. She has a band of young friends of both sexes, and with them, + either by word of mouth or by letter, she _sfogares_ herself of her + hatred of Galloni, of the unparalleled cruelty of Laurette's fate, and + of the terrific grave that is yawning for her mother; her mind is + discursive, and she introduces into her lamentations observations upon + the faulty manner in which she and her sister have been educated, + strictures upon the nature of love, objurgations against the whole + race of man, and eloquent appeals to the female sex to prefer + patriotism to matrimony. + + All the life that is left in the house is now concentrated in Nerina, + and I am sure she cannot complain of a dearth of sensations, for she + takes good care to feel with everything around her, for if the chair + does but knock the table, she shudders and quakes for both, and runs + into her own study to write it down in her journal. Into this small + study she always hurries me, and pours out her soul, and I am well + pleased to listen, for she is full of genius; when the tide has flowed + so long, it has spent itself, we generally pause, and then begin to + laugh at the ridiculous figures human beings cut in struggling all + their might and main against a destiny which forces millions and + millions of enormous planets on their way, and against which all + struggling is useless. + + + _8th November._ + + My letter has been lying by all this time, I not having time to write. + I am afraid this winter I shall scarcely be able to keep up a + correspondence at all. I must be out at 9 in the morning, and am not + home before 10 at night. I inhabit at Mrs. Mason's a room without a + fire, so that when I get home there is no sitting in it without + perishing with cold. I cannot sit with the Masons, because they have a + set of young men every night to see them, and I do not wish to make + their acquaintance. I walk straight into my own room on my return. + Writing either letters or articles will be a matter of great + difficulty. The season is very cold here. My health always diminishes + in proportion to the cold. + + I am very glad to hear that Percy likes Harrow, but I shudder from + head to foot when I think of your boldness in sending him there. I + think in certain things you are the most daring woman I ever knew. + There are few mothers who, having suffered the misfortunes you have, + and having such advantages depending upon the life of an only son, + would venture to expose that life to the dangers of a public school. + + As for me, it is not for nothing that my fate has been taken out of my + own hands and put into those of people who have wantonly torn it into + miserable shreds and remnants; having once endured to have my whole + happiness sacrificed to the gratification of some of their foolish + whims, why I can endure it again, and so my mind is made up and my + resolution taken. I confess, I could wish there were another world in + which people were to answer for what they do in this! I wish this, + because without it I am afraid it will become a law that those who + inflict must always go on inflicting, and those who have once suffered + must always go on suffering. + + I hope nothing will happen to Percy; but the year, the school itself + that you have chosen, and the ashes[13] that lie near it, and the + hauntings of my own mind, all seem to announce the approach of that + consummation which I dread. + + I am very glad you are delighted with Trelawny. My affections are + entirely without jealousy; the more those I love love others, and are + loved by them, the better pleased am I. I am in a vile humour for + writing a letter; you would not wonder at it if you knew how I am + plagued. I can say from experience that the wonderful variety there is + of miseries in this world is truly astonishing; if some Linnaeus would + class them as he did flowers, the number of their kinds would far + surpass the boasted infinitude of the vegetable creation. Not a day + nor hour passes but introduces me to some new pain, and each one + contains within itself swarms of smaller ones--animalculae pains which + float up and down in it, and compose its existence and their own. What + Mademoiselle de L'Espinasse was for love, I am for pain,--all my + letters are on the same subject, and yet I hope I do not repeat + myself, for truly, with such diversity of experience, I ought not. + + Our friends here send their best love to you, and are interested in + your perilous destiny. I have just received a letter from my Mother, + and in obedience to her representations draw my breath as peacefully + as I can till the month of January. Will you explain to me one phrase + of her letter? Talking of the chances of their getting money, she + says: "Then Miss Northcote is not expected to live over the winter," + and not a word beside. Who in the world is Miss Northcote? and what + influence can her death have in bettering their prospects? + + Notwithstanding my writing such a beastly letter as this to you, pray + do write. I work myself into the most dreadful state of irritation + when I am long without letters from some of you. Tell Jane I entreat + her to write, and tell my Mother that the bill of lading of the parcel + for me is come, but Mrs. Mason sent it off to Leghorn without my + seeing it, and was too ill herself to look at the date, so I know not + when it was shipped, but as Mr. Routh has the bill, I suppose I shall + hear when it has arrived and performed quarantine. + + Thank Trelawny for me for his kindness about the article. Pisa is very + dull yet. I am told there are seven or eight English families arrived, + but I have not seen them. + + Farewell, my dear Mary. Be well and happy, and excuse my + dulness.--Yours ever affectionately, + + C. CLAIRMONT. + +One term's experience was enough to convince Mrs. Shelley that she could +only afford to continue her son's school education by leaving London +herself and settling with him at Harrow for some years. + +In January 1833 she wrote an account of her affairs to her old friend, +Mrs. Gisborne-- + + Never was poor body so worried as I have been ever since I last wrote, + I think; worries which plague and press on one, and keep one fretting. + Money, of course, is the Alpha and Omega of my tale. Harrow proves so + fearfully expensive that I have been sadly put to it to pay Percy's + bill for one quarter (L60, _soltanto_), and, to achieve it, am + hampered for the whole year. My only resource is to live at Harrow, + for in every other respect I like the school, and would not take him + from it. He will become a home boarder, and school expenses will be + very light. I shall take a house, being promised many facilities for + furnishing it by a kind friend. + + To go and live at pretty Harrow, with my boy, who improves each day + and is everything I could wish, is no bad prospect, but I have much to + go through, and am so poor that I can hardly turn myself. It is hard + on my poor dear Father, and I sometimes think it hard on myself to + leave a knot of acquaintances I like; but that is a fiction, for half + the times I am asked out I cannot go because of the expense, and I am + suffering now for the times when I do go, and so incur debt. + + No, Maria mine, God never intended me to do other than struggle + through life, supported by such blessings as make existence more than + tolerable, and yet surrounded by such difficulties as make fortitude a + necessary virtue, and destroy all idea of great and good luck. I might + have been much worse off, and I repeat this to myself ten thousand + times a day to console myself for not being better. + + My Father's novel is printed, and, I suppose, will come out soon. Poor + dear fellow! It is hard work for him. + + I am in all the tremor of fearing what I shall get for my novel, which + is nearly finished. His and my comfort depend on it. I do not know + whether you will like it. I cannot guess whether it will succeed. + There is no writhing interest; nothing wonderful nor tragic--will it + be dull? _Chi lo sa?_ We shall see. I shall, of course, be very glad + if it succeeds. + + Percy went back to Harrow to-day. He likes his school much. Have I any + other news for you? Trelawny is gone to America; he is about to cross + to Charlestown directly there is a prospect of war--war in America. I + am truly sorry. Brothers should not fight for the different and + various portions of their inheritance. What is the use of republican + principles and liberty if peace is not the offspring? War is the + companion and friend of monarchy; if it be the same of freedom, the + gain is not much to mankind between a sovereign and president. + + * * * * * + +Not long after taking up her residence at Harrow, which she did in April +1833, Mrs. Shelley was attacked by influenza, then prevailing in a +virulent form. She did not wholly recover from its effects till after the +Midsummer holidays, which she spent at Putney for change of air. She found +the solitude of her new abode very trying. Her boy had, of course, his +school pursuits and interests to occupy him, and, though her literary work +served while it lasted to ward off depression, the constant mental strain +was attended with an inevitable degree of reaction for which a little +genial and sympathetic human intercourse would have been the best--indeed, +the only--cure. + +As for her father, now she had gone he missed her sadly. + + GODWIN TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + _July 1833._ + + DEAR MARY--I shall certainly not come to you on Monday. It would do + neither of us good. I am a good deal of a spoiled child. And were I + not so, and could rouse myself, like Diogenes, to be independent of + all outward comforts, you would treat me as if I could not, so that it + would come to the same thing. + + What a while it is since I saw you! The last time was the 10th of + May,--towards two months,--we who used to see each other two or three + times a week! But for the scale of miles at the bottom of the map, you + might as well be at Timbuctoo or in the deserts of Arabia. + + Oh, this vile Harrow! Your illness, for its commencement or duration, + is owing to that place. At one time I was seriously alarmed for you. + + And now that I hope you are better, with what tenaciousness does it + cling to you! If I ever see you again I wonder whether I shall know + you. I am much tormented by my place, by my book, and hardly suppose I + shall ever be tranquil again. + + I am disposed to adopt the song of Simeon, and to say, "Lord, now + lettest thou thy servant depart in peace!" At seventy years of age, + what is there worth living for? I have enjoyed existence, been active, + strenuous, proud, but my eyes are dim, and my energies forsake + me.--Your affectionate Father, + + WILLIAM GODWIN. + +The next letter is addressed to Trelawny, now in America, + + MRS. SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + HARROW, _7th May 1834_. + + DEAR TRELAWNY--I confess I have been sadly remiss in not writing to + you. I have written once, however, as you have written once (but + once) to me. I wrote in answer to your letter. I am sorry you did not + get it, as it contained a great deal of gossip. It was misdirected by + a mistake of Jane's.... It was sent at the end of last September to + New York. I told you in it of the infidelity of several of your + womankind,--how Mrs. R. S. was flirting with Bulwer, to the infinite + jealousy of Mrs. Bulwer, and making themselves the talk of the + town.... Such and much tittle-tattle was in that letter, all old news + now.... The S.'s (Captain Robert and wife, I mean) went to Paris and + were ruined, and are returned under a cloud to rusticate in the + country in England. + + Bulwer is making the amiable to his own wife, who is worth in beauty + all the Mrs. R. S.'s in the world.... + + Jane has been a good deal indisposed, and has grown very thin. Jeff + had an appointment which took him away for several months, and she + pined and grew ill on his absence; she is now reviving under the + beneficent influence of his presence. + + I called on your mother a week or two ago; she always asks after you + with _empressement_, and is very civil indeed to me. She was looking + well, but ---- tells me, in her note enclosing your letter, that she + is ill of the same illness as she had two years ago, but not so bad. I + think she lives too well. + + ---- is expecting to be confined in a very few weeks, or even days. + She is very happy with B.... He is a thoroughly good-natured and + estimable man; it is a pity he is not younger and handsomer; however, + she is a good girl, and contented with her lot; we are very good + friends.... I should like much to see your friend, Lady Dorothea, but, + though in Europe, I am very far from her. I live on my hill, + descending to town now and then. I should go oftener if I were richer. + Percy continues quite well, and enjoys my living at Harrow, which is + more than I do, I am sorry to say, but there is no help. + + My Father is in good health. Mrs. Godwin has been very ill lately, but + is now better. + + I thought Fanny Kemble was to marry and settle in America: what a + singular likeness you have discovered! I never saw her, except on the + stage. + + So much for news. They say it is a long lane that has no turning. I + have travelled the same road for nearly twelve years; adversity, + poverty, and loneliness being my companions. I suppose it will change + at last, but I have nothing to tell of myself except that Percy is + well, which is the beginning and end of my existence. + + I am glad you are beginning to respect women's feelings.... You have + heard of Sir H.'s death. Mrs. B. (who is great friends with S., now + Sir William, an M.P.) says that it is believed that he has left all he + could to the Catholic members of his family. Why not come over and + marry Letitia, who in consequence will be rich? and, I daresay, still + beautiful in your eyes, though thirty-four. + + We have had a mild, fine winter, and the weather now is as warm, + sunny, and cheering as an Italian May. We have thousands of birds and + flowers innumerable, and the trees of spring in the fields. + + Jane's children are well. The time will come, I suppose, when we may + meet again more (richly) provided by fortune, but youth will have + flown, and that in a woman is something.... + + I have always felt certain that I should never again change my name, + and that is a comfort, it is a pretty and a dear one. Adieu, write to + me often, and I will behave better, and as soon as I have accumulated + a little news, write again.--Ever yours, + + M. W. S. + + + MRS. SHELLEY TO MRS. GISBORNE. + + _17th July 1834._ + + I am satisfied with my plan as regards him (Percy). I like the school, + and the affection thus cultivated for me will, I trust, be the + blessing of my life. + + Still there are many drawbacks; this is a dull, inhospitable place. I + came counting on the kindness of a friend who lived here, but she + died of the influenza, and I live in a silence and loneliness not + possible anywhere except in England, where people are so _islanded_ + individually in habits; I often languish for sympathy, and pine for + social festivity. + + Percy is much, but I think of you and Henry, and shrink from binding + up my life in a child who may hereafter divide his fate from mine. But + I have no resource; everything earthly fails me but him; except on his + account I live but to suffer. Those I loved are false or dead; those I + love, absent and suffering; and I, absent and poor, can be of no use + to them. Of course, in this picture, I subtract the enjoyment of good + health and usually good spirits,--these are blessings; but when driven + to think, I feel so desolate, so unprotected, so oppressed and + injured, that my heart is ready to break with despair. I came here, as + I said, in April 1833, and 9th June was attacked by the influenza, so + as to be confined to my bed; nor did I recover the effects for several + months. + + In September, during Percy's holidays, I went to Putney, and recovered + youth and health; Julia Robinson was with me, and we spent days in + Richmond Park and on Putney Heath, often walking twelve or fourteen + miles, which I did without any sense of fatigue. I sorely regretted + returning here. I am too poor to furnish. I have lodgings in the + town,--disagreeable ones,--yet often, in spite of care and sorrow, I + feel wholly compensated by my boy.... God help me if anything was to + happen to him--I should not survive it a week. Besides his society I + have also a good deal of occupation. + + I have finished a novel, which, if you meet with, read, as I think + there are parts which will please you. I am engaged writing the lives + of some of the Italian _literati_ for Dr. Lardner's _Cyclopaedia_. I + have written those of Petrarch, Boccaccio, etc., and am now engaged on + Macchiavelli; this takes up my time, and is a source of interest and + pleasure. + + My Father, I suppose you know, has a tiny, shabby place under + Government. The retrenchments of Parliament endanger and render us + anxious. He is quite well, but old age takes from his enjoyments. Mrs. + Godwin, after influenza, has been suffering from the tic-doloreux in + her arm most dreadfully; they are trying all sorts of poisons on her + with little effect. Their discomfort and low spirits will force me to + spend Percy's holidays in town, to be near them. Jane and Jeff are + well; he was sent last autumn and winter by Lord Brougham as one of + the Corporation Commissioners; he was away for months, and Jane took + the opportunity to fall desperately in love with him--she pined and + grew ill, and wasted away for him. The children are quite well. Dina + spent a week here lately; she is a sweet girl. Edward improves daily + under the excellent care taken of his education. I leave Jane to + inform you of their progress in Greek. Dina plays wonderfully well, + and has shown great taste for drawing, but this last is not + cultivated. + + I did not go to the Abbey, nor the Opera, nor hear Grisi; I am shut + out from all things--like you--by poverty and loneliness. Percy's + pleasures are not mine; I have no other companion. + + What effect Paganini would have had on you, I cannot tell; he threw me + into hysterics. I delight in him more than I can express. His wild, + ethereal figure, rapt look, and the sounds he draws from his violin + are all superhuman--of human expression. It is interesting to see the + astonishment and admiration of Spagnoletti and Nervi as they watch his + evolutions. + + Bulwer is a man of extraordinary and delightful talent. He went to + Italy and Sicily last winter, and, I hear, disliked the inhabitants. + Yet, notwithstanding, I am sure he will spread inexpressible and + graceful interest over the _Last Days of Pompeii_, the subject of his + new novel. Trelawny is in America, and not likely to return. Hunt + lives at Chelsea, and thrives, I hear, by his London pursuit. I have + not seen him for more than a year, for reasons I will not here + detail--they concern his family, not him. + + Clare is in a situation in Pisa, near Mrs. Mason. Laurette and Nerina + are married; the elder badly, to one who won her at the dagger's + point--a sad unintelligible story; Nerina, to the best and most + delightful Pistoiese, by name Bartolomeo Cini--both to Italians. + Laurette lives at Genoa, Nerina at Livorno; the latter is only newly a + bride, and happier than words can express. My Italian maid, Maria, + says to Clare, _Non vedro ora mai la mia Padrona ed il mio Bimbo?_ her + Bimbo--as tall as I am and large in proportion--has good health + withal.... + + Pray write one word of information concerning your health before I + attribute your silence to forgetfulness; but you must not trifle now + with the anxiety you have awakened. I will write again soon. With + kindest regards to your poor, good husband, the fondest hopes that + your health is improved, and anxious expectation of a letter, believe + me, ever affectionately yours, + + M. W. SHELLEY. + + + MRS. SHELLEY TO MRS. GISBORNE. + + HARROW, _30th October 1834_. + + MY DEAREST MARIA--Thank you many times for your kind dear letter. God + grant that your constitution may yet bear up a long time, and that you + may continue impressed with the idea of your happiness. To be loved is + indeed necessary. Sympathy and companionship are the only sweets to + make the nauseous draught of life go down; and I, who feel this, live + in a solitude such as, since the days of hermits in the desert, no one + was ever before condemned to! I see no one, speak to no one--except + perhaps for a chance half-hour in the course of a fortnight. I never + walk beyond my garden, because I cannot walk alone. You will say I + ought to force myself; so I thought once, and tried, but it would not + do. The sense of desolation was too oppressive. I only find relief + from the sadness of my position by living a dreamy existence from + which realities are excluded; but going out disturbed this; I wept; my + heart beat with a sense of injury and wrong; I was better shut up. + Poverty prevents me from visiting town; I am too far for visitors to + reach me; I must bear to the end. Twelve years have I spent, the + currents of life benumbed by poverty; life and hope are over for me, + but I think of Percy! + + Yet for the present something more is needed--something not so + _unnatural_ as my present life. Not that I often feel _ennui_--I am + too much employed--but it hurts me, it destroys the spring of my mind, + and makes me at once over-sensitive with my fellow-creatures, and yet + their victim and their dupe. It takes all strength from my character, + and makes me--who by nature am too much so--timid. I used to have one + resource, a belief in my _good fortune_; this is exchanged after + twelve years--one adversity, blotted and sprinkled with many + adversities; a dark ground, with sad figures painted on it--to a + belief in my ill fortune. + + Percy is spared to me, because I am to live. He is a blessing; my + heart acknowledges that perhaps he is as great an one as any human + being possesses; and indeed, my dear friend, while I suffer, I do not + repine while he remains. He is not all you say; he has no ambition, + and his talents are not so transcendent as you appear to imagine; but + he is a fine, spirited, clever boy, and I think promises good things; + if hereafter I have reason to be proud of him, these melancholy days + and weeks at Harrow will brighten in my imagination--and they are not + melancholy. I am seldom so, but they are not right, and it will be a + good thing if they terminate happily soon. + + At the same time, I cannot in the least regret having come here: it + was the only way I had of educating Percy at a public school, of which + institution, at least here at Harrow, the more I see the more I like; + besides that, it was Shelley's wish that his son should be brought up + at one. It is, indeed, peculiarly suited to Percy; and whatever he may + be, he will be twice as much as if he had been brought up in the + narrow confinement of a private school. + + The boys here have liberty to the verge of licence; yet of the latter, + save the breaking of a few windows now and then, there is none. His + life is not quite what it would be if he did not live with me, but + the greater scope given to the cultivation of the affections is surely + an advantage. + + * * * * * + + You heard of the dreadful fire at the Houses of Parliament. We saw it + here from the commencement, raging like a volcano; it was dreadful to + see, but, fortunately, I was not aware of the site. Papa lives close + to the Speaker's, so you may imagine my alarm when the news reached + me, fortunately without foundation, as the fire did not gain that part + of the Speaker's house near them, so they were not even + inconvenienced. The poor dear Speaker has lost dreadfully; what was + not burnt is broken, soaked, and drenched--all their pretty things; + and imagine the furniture and princely chambers--the house was a + palace. For the sake of convenience to the Commons, they are to take + up their abode in the ruins. With kindest wishes for you and S. G., + ever dearest friend, your affectionate + + MARY W. SHELLEY. + + + THE SAME TO THE SAME. + + _February 1835._ + + ... I must tell you that I have had the offer of L600 for an edition + of Shelley's works, with _Life and Notes_. I am afraid it cannot be + arranged, yet at least, and the _Life_ is out of the question; but in + talking over it the question of letters comes up. You know how I + shrink from all private detail for the public; but Shelley's letters + are beautifully written, and everything private might be omitted. + + Would you allow the publisher to treat with you for their being added + to my edition? If I could arrange all as I wish, they might be an + acquisition to the books, and being transacted through me, you could + not see any inconvenience in receiving the price they would be worth + to the bookseller. This is all _in aria_ as yet, but I should like to + know what you think about it. I write all this, yet am very anxious to + hear from you; never mind postage, but do write. + + Percy is reading the _Antigone_; he has begun mathematics. Mrs. + Cleveland[14] and Jane dined with me the other day. Mrs. Cleveland + thought Percy wonderfully improved. + + The volume of Lardner's _Cyclopaedia_, with my _Lives_, was published + on the first of this month; it is called _Lives of Eminent Literary + Men_, vol. i. The lives of Dante and Ariosto are by Mr. Montgomery, + the rest are mine. + + Do write, my dearest Maria, and believe me ever and ever, + affectionately yours, + + M. W. SHELLEY. + +_Lodore_, Mrs. Shelley's fifth novel, came out in 1835. It differs from +the others in being a novel of society, and has been stigmatised, rather +unjustly, as weak and colourless, although at the time of its publication +it had a great success. It is written in a style which is now out of date, +and undoubtedly fails to fulfil the promise of power held out by +_Frankenstein_ and to some extent by _Valperga_, but it bears on every +page the impress of the refinement and sensibility of the author, and has, +moreover, a special interest of its own, due to the fact that some of the +incidents are taken from actual occurrences in her early life, and some of +the characters sketched from people she had known. + +Thus, in the description of Clorinda, it is impossible not to recognise +Emilia Viviani. The whole episode of Edward Villier's arrest and +imprisonment for debt, and his young wife's anxieties, is an echo of her +own experience at the time when Shelley was hiding from the bailiffs and +meeting her by stealth in St. Paul's or Holborn. Lodore himself has some +affinity to Byron, and possibly the account of his separation from his +wife and of their daughter's girlhood is a fanciful train of thought +suggested by Byron's domestic history. Most of Mary's novels present the +contrast of the Shelleyan and Byronic types. In this instance the latter +was recognised by Clare, and drew from her one of those bitter tirades +against Byron, which, natural enough in her at the outset, became in the +course of years quite morbidly venomous. Not content with laying Allegra's +death to his charge, she, in her later letters, accuses him of +treacherously plotting and conspiring, out of hatred to herself, to do +away with the child, an allegation unjust and false. In the present +instance, however, she only entered an excited protest against his +continual reappearance as the hero of a novel. + + Mrs. Hare admired _Lodore_ amazingly; so do I, or should I, if it were + not for that modification of the beastly character of Lord Byron of + which you have composed Lodore. I stick to _Frankenstein_, merely + because that vile spirit does not haunt its pages as it does in all + your other novels, now as Castruccio, now as Raymond,[15] now as + Lodore. Good God! to think a person of your genius, whose moral tact + ought to be proportionately exalted, should think it a task befitting + its powers to gild and embellish and pass off as beautiful what was + the merest compound of vanity, folly, and every miserable weakness + that ever met together in one human being! As I do not want to be + severe on the poor man, because he is dead and cannot defend himself, + I have only taken the lighter defects of his character, or else I + might say that never was a nature more profoundly corrupted than his + became, or was more radically vulgar than his was from the very + outset. Never was there an individual less adapted, except perhaps + Alcibiades, for being held up as anything but an object of + commiseration, or as an example of how contemptible is even + intellectual greatness when not joined with moral greatness. I shall + be anxious to see if the hero of your new novel will be another + beautified Byron. Thank heaven! you have not taken to drawing your + women upon the same model. Cornelia I like the least of them; she is + the most like him, because she is so heartlessly proud and selfish, + but all the others are angels of light. + + Euthanasia[16] is Shelley in female attire, and what a glorious being + she is! No author, much less the ones--French, English, or German--of + our day, can bring a woman that matches her. Shakespeare has not a + specimen so perfect of what a woman ought to be; his, for amiability, + deep feeling, wit, are as high as possible, but they want her + commanding wisdom, her profound benevolence. + + I am glad to hear you are writing again; I am always in a fright lest + you should take it into your head to do what the warriors do after + they have acquired great fame,--retire and rest upon your laurels. + That would be very comfortable for you, but very vexing to me, who am + always wanting to see women distinguishing themselves in literature, + and who believe there has not been or ever will be one so calculated + as yourself to raise our sex upon that point. If you would but know + your own value and exert your powers you could give the men a most + immense drubbing! You could write upon metaphysics, politics, + jurisprudence, astronomy, mathematics--all those highest subjects + which they taunt us with being incapable of treating, and surpass + them; and what a consolation it would be, when they begin some of + their prosy, lying, but plausible attacks upon female inferiority, to + stop their mouths in a moment with your name, and then to add, "and if + women, whilst suffering the heaviest slavery, could out-do you, what + would they not achieve were they free?" + +With this manifesto on the subject of women's genius in general and of +Mary's in particular--perhaps just redeemed by its tinge of irony from the +last degree of absurdity--it is curious to contrast Mrs. Shelley's own +conclusions, drawn from weary personal experience, and expressed, towards +the end of the following letter, in a mood which permitted her no +illusions and few hopes. + + MRS. SHELLEY TO MRS. GISBORNE. + + HARROW, _11th June 1835_. + + MY DEAREST FRIEND--It is so inexpressibly warm that were not a frank + lying before me ready for you, I do not think I should have courage to + write. Do not be surprised, therefore, at stupidity and want of + connection. I cannot collect my ideas, and this is a goodwill offering + rather than a letter. + + Still I am anxious to thank S. G. for the pleasure I have received + from his tale of Italy--a tale all Italy, breathing of the land I + love. The descriptions are beautiful, and he has shed a charm round + the concentrated and undemonstrative person of his gentle heroine. I + suppose she is the reality of the story; did you know her? + + It is difficult, however, to judge how to procure for it the + publication it deserves. I have no personal acquaintance with the + editors of any of the annuals--I had with that of the _Keepsake_, but + that is now in Mrs. Norton's hands, and she has not asked me to write, + so I know nothing about it; but there arises a stronger objection from + the length of the story. As the merit lies in the beauty of the + details, I do not see how it could be cut down to _one quarter_ of its + present length, which is as long as any tale printed in an annual. + When I write for them, I am worried to death to make my things shorter + and shorter, till I fancy people think ideas can be conveyed by + intuition, and that it is a superstition to consider words necessary + for their expression. + + I was so very delighted to get your last letter, to be sure the + "Wisest of Men" said no news was good news, but I am not apt to think + so, and was uneasy. I hope this weather does not oppress you. What an + odd climate! A week ago I had a fire, and now it is warmer than Italy; + warmer at least in a box pervious to the sun than in the stone palaces + where one can breathe freely. My Father is well. He had a cough in the + winter, but after we had persuaded him to see a doctor it was easily + got rid of. He writes to me himself, "I am now well, now nervous, now + old, now young." One sign of age is, that his horror is so great of + change of place that I cannot persuade him ever to visit me here. One + would think that the sight of the fields would refresh him, but he + likes his own nest better than all, though he greatly feels the + annoyance of so seldom seeing me. + + Indeed, my kind Maria, you made me smile when you asked me to be civil + to the brother of your kind doctor. I thought I had explained my + situation to you. You must consider me as one buried alive. I hardly + ever go to town; less often I see any one here. My kind and dear young + friends, the Misses Robinson, are at Brussels. I am cut off from my + kind. What I suffer! What I have suffered! I, to whom sympathy, + companionship, the interchange of thought is more necessary than the + air I breathe, I will not say. Tears are in my eyes when I think of + days, weeks, months, even years spent alone--eternally alone. It does + me great harm, but no more of so odious a subject. Let me speak rather + of my Percy; to see him bright and good is an unspeakable blessing; + but no child can be a companion. He is very fond of me, and would be + wretched if he saw me unhappy; but he is with his boys all day long, + and I am alone, so I can weep unseen. He gets on very well, and is a + fine boy, very stout; this hot weather, though he exposes himself to + the sun, instead of making him languid, heightens the colour in his + cheeks and brightens his eyes. He is always gay and in good humour, + which is a great blessing. + + You talk about my poetry and about the encouragement I am to find from + Jane and my Father. When they read all the fine things you said they + thought it right to attack me about it, but I answered them simply, + "She exaggerates; you read the best thing I ever wrote in the + _Keepsake_ and thought nothing of it." I do not know whether you + remember the verses I mean. I will copy it in another part; it was + written for music. Poor dear Lord Dillon spoke of it as you do of the + rest; but "one swallow does not make a summer." I can never write + verses except under the influence of strong sentiment, and seldom even + then. As to a tragedy, Shelley used to urge me, which produced his + own. When I returned first to England and saw Kean, I was in a fit of + enthusiasm, and wished much to write for the stage, but my Father very + earnestly dissuaded me. I think that he was in the wrong. I think + myself that I could have written a good tragedy, but not now. My good + friend, every feeling I have is blighted, I have no ambition, no care + for fame. Loneliness has made a wreck of me. I was always a dependent + thing, wanting fosterage and support. I am left to myself, crushed by + fortune, and I am nothing. + + You speak of woman's intellect. We can scarcely do more than judge by + ourselves. I know that, however clever I may be, there is in me a + vacillation, a weakness, a want of eagle-winged resolution that + appertains to my intellect as well as to my moral character, and + renders me what I am, one of broken purposes, failing thoughts, and a + heart all wounds. My mother had more energy of character, still she + had not sufficient fire of imagination. In short, my belief is, + whether there be sex in souls or not, that the sex of our material + mechanism makes us quite different creatures, better, though weaker, + but wanting in the higher grades of intellect. + + I am almost sorry to send you this letter, it is so querulous and sad; + yet, if I write with any effusion, the truth will creep out, and my + life since you left has been so stained by sorrow and disappointments. + I have been so barbarously handled both by fortune and my + fellow-creatures, that I am no longer the same as when you knew me. I + have no hope. In a few years, when I get over my present feelings and + live wholly in Percy, I shall be happier. I have devoted myself to him + as no mother ever did, and idolise him; and the reward will come when + I can forget a thousand memories and griefs that are as yet alive and + burning, and I have nothing to do but brood. + + Percy is gone two miles off to bathe; he can swim, and I am obliged to + leave the rest to fate. It is no use coddling, yet it costs me many + pangs; but he is singularly trustworthy and careful. Do write, and + believe me ever your truly attached friend, + + M. W. S. + + A DIRGE + + I + + This morn thy gallant bark, love, + Sailed on a stormy sea; + 'Tis noon, and tempests dark, love, + Have wrecked it on the lee. + Ah woe! ah woe! ah woe! + By spirits of the deep + He's cradled on the billow + To his unwaking sleep. + + II + + Thou liest upon the shore, love, + Beside the knelling surge, + But sea-nymphs ever more, love, + Shall sadly chant thy dirge. + Oh come! oh come! oh come! + Ye spirits of the deep; + While near his seaweed pillow + My lonely watch I keep. + + III + + From far across the sea, love, + I hear a wild lament, + By Echo's voice for thee, love, + From ocean's caverns sent. + Oh list! oh list! oh list! + Ye spirits of the deep, + Loud sounds their wail of sorrow, + While I for ever weep. + + _P.S._--Do you not guess why neither these nor those I sent you could + please those you mention? Papa loves not the memory of Shelley, + because he feels that he injured him; and Jane--do you not understand + enough of her to be convinced of the thoughts that make it distasteful + to her that I should feel, and above all be thought by others to feel, + and to have a right to feel? Oh! the human heart! It is a strange + puzzle. + +The weary, baffled tone of this letter was partly due to a low state of +health, which resulted in a severe attack of illness. During her boy's +Midsummer holidays she went to Dover in search of strength, and, while +there, received a letter from Trelawny, who had returned from America, as +vivacious and irrepressible as ever. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + BEDFORD HOTEL, BRIGHTON, + _12th September 1835_. + + MARY, DEAR--Six days I rest, and do all that I have to do on the + seventh, because it is forbidden. If they would make it felony to + obey the Commandments (without benefit of clergy), don't you think the + pleasures of breaking the law would make me keep them? + + * * * * * + + I cannot surmise _one_ of the "thousand reasons" which you say are to + prevent my seeing you. On the contrary, your being "chained to your + rock" enables me to play the vulture at discretion. It is well for + you, therefore, that I am "the most prudent of men." What a host of + virtues I am gifted with! When I am dead, lady mine, build a temple + over me and make pilgrimages. Talking of tombs, let it be agreed + between you and me that whichever _first_ has _five hundred pounds_ at + his disposal shall dedicate it to the placing a fitting monument over + the ashes of Shelley. + + We will go to Rome together. The time, too, cannot be far distant, + considering all things. Remember me to Percy. I shall direct this to + Jane's, not that I think you are there. Adieu, Mary!--Your + + E. TRELAWNY. + +During the latter part of Mary's residence in London she had seen a great +deal of Mrs. Norton, who was much attracted by her and very fond of her +society, finding in her a most sympathetic friend and confidant at the +time of those domestic troubles, culminating in the separation from her +children, which afterwards obtained a melancholy publicity. Mrs. Shelley +never became wholly intimate with her brilliant contemporary. Reserve, and +a certain pride of poverty, forbade it, but she greatly admired her, and +they constantly corresponded. + + _1835._ + + ... "I do not wonder," Mary wrote to Trelawny, "at your not being able + to deny yourself the pleasure of Mrs. Norton's society. I never saw a + woman I thought so fascinating. Had I been a man I should certainly + have fallen in love with her; as a woman, ten years ago, I should have + been spellbound, and, had she taken the trouble, she might have wound + me round her finger. Ten years ago I was so ready to give myself away, + and being afraid of men, I was apt to get _tousy-mousy_ for women; + experience and suffering have altered all that. I am more wrapt up in + myself, my own feelings, disasters, and prospects for Percy. I am now + proof, as Hamlet says, both against man and woman. + + "There is something in the pretty way in which Mrs. Norton's + witticisms glide, as it were, from her lips, that is very charming; + and then her colour, which is so variable, the eloquent blood which + ebbs and flows, mounting, as she speaks, to her neck and temples, and + then receding as fast; it reminds me of the frequent quotation of + 'eloquent blood,' and gives a peculiar attraction to her + conversation--not to speak of fine eyes and open brow. + + "Now do not in your usual silly way show her what I say. She is, + despite all her talents and sweetness, a London lady. She would quiz + me--not, perhaps, to you--well do I know the London _ton_--but to + every one else--in her prettiest manner." + +The day after this she was writing again to Mrs. Gisborne. + + _13th October 1835._ + + Of myself, my dearest Maria, I can give but a bad account. Solitude, + many cares, and many deep sorrows brought on this summer an illness, + from which I am only now recovering. I can never forget, nor cease to + be grateful to Jane for her excessive kindness to me, when I needed it + most, confined, as I was, to my sofa, unable to move. I went to Dover + during Percy's holidays, and change of air and bathing made me so much + better that I thought myself well, but on my return here I had a + relapse, from which now this last week I am, I trust, fast + recovering. Bark and port wine seem the chief means of my getting + well. But in the midst of all this I had to write to meet my expenses. + I have published a second volume of Italian Lives in Lardner's + _Encyclopaedia_. All in that volume, except Galileo and Tasso, are + mine. The last is chief, I allow, and I grieve that it had been + engaged to Mr. M. before I began to write. I am now about to write a + volume of Spanish and Portuguese Lives. This is an arduous task, from + my own ignorance, and the difficulty of getting books and information. + The booksellers want me to write another novel, _Lodore_ having + succeeded so well, but I have not as yet strength for such an + undertaking. + + Then there is no Spanish circulating library. I cannot, while here, + read in the Museum if I would, and I would not if I could. I do not + like finding myself a stray bird alone among men, even if I knew + them.[17] One hears how happy people will be to lend me their books, + but when it comes to the point it is very difficult to get at them. + However, as I am rather persevering, I hope to conquer these obstacles + after all. Percy grows; he is taller than I am, and very stout. If he + does not turn out an honour to his parents, it will be through no + deficiency in virtue or in talents, but from a dislike of mingling + with his fellow-creatures, except the two or three friends he cannot + do without. He may be the happier for it; he has a good understanding, + and great integrity of character. Adieu, my dear friend.-Ever + affectionately yours, + + MARY W. SHELLEY. + +In April 1836 poor old Godwin died, and with him passed away a large part +of Mary's life. Of those in whose existence her own was summed up only her +son now remained, and even he was not more dependent on her than her +father had been. Godwin had been to his daughter one of those lifelong +cares which, when they disappear, leave a blank that nothing seems to +fill, too often because the survivor has borne the burden so long as to +exhaust the power and energy indispensable to recovery. But she had also +been attached to him all her life with an "excessive and romantic +attachment," only overcome in one instance by a stronger devotion still--a +defection she never could and never did repent of, but for which her whole +subsequent life had been passed in attempting to make up. If she confided +any of her feelings to her diary, no fragment has survived. + +She busied herself in trying to obtain from Government some assistance--an +annuity if possible--for Mrs. Godwin. It was very seldom in her life that +Mary asked anybody for anything, and the present exception was made in +favour of one whom she did not love, and who had never been a good friend +to her. But had Mrs. Godwin been her own mother instead of a disagreeable, +jealous, old stepmother, she could not have made greater exertions in her +behalf. Mrs. Norton was ready and willing to help by bringing influence to +bear in powerful quarters, and gave Mary some shrewd advice as to the +wording of her letter to Lord Melbourne. She wrote-- + + ... Press _not_ on the politics of Mr. Godwin (for God knows how much + gratitude for that ever survives), but on his _celebrity_, the widow's + _age_ and _ill health_, and (if your proud little spirit will bear it) + on your own _toils_; for, after all, the truth is that you, being + generous, will, rather than see the old creature starve, work your + brains and your pen; and you have your son and delicate health to + hinder you from having _means_ to help her. + + As to petitioning, no one dislikes begging more than I do, especially + when one begs for what seems mere justice; but I have long observed + that though people will resist _claims_ (however just), they like to + do _favours_. Therefore, when _I_ beg, I am a crawling lizard, a + humble toad, a brown snake in cold weather, or any other simile most + feebly _rampante_--the reverse of _rampant_, which would be the + natural attitude for petitioning,--but which must never be assumed + except in the poodle style, standing with one's paws bent to catch the + bits of bread on one's nose. + + Forgive my jesting; upon my honour I feel sincerely anxious for your + anxiety, and sad enough on my own affairs, but Irish blood _will_ + dance. My meaning is, that if one asks _at all_, one should rather + think of the person written to than one's own feelings. He is an + indolent man--talk of your literary labours; a kind man--speak of her + age and infirmities; a patron of all _genius_--talk of your father's + _and your own_; a prudent man--speak of the likelihood of the pension + being a short grant (as you have done); lastly, he is a _great_ + man--take it all as a personal favour. As to not apologising for the + intrusion, we ought always to kneel down and beg pardon for daring to + remind people we are not so well off as they are. + +What was asked was that Godwin's small salary, or a part of it, should be +continued to Mrs. Godwin for her life. As the nominal office Godwin had +held was abolished at his death, this could not be; but Lord Melbourne +pledged himself to do what he could to obtain assistance for the widow in +some form or other, so it is probable that Mary effected her purpose. + + TRELAWNY TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + HASTINGS, _25th September 1836_. + + MARY, DEAR--Your letter was exceedingly welcome; it was honoured + accordingly. You divine truly; I am leading a vegetable sort of a + life. They say the place is pretty, the air is good, the sea is fine. + I would willingly exchange a pretty place for a pretty girl. The air + is keen and shrewish, and as to the sea, I am satisfied with a bath of + less dimensions. Notwithstanding the want of sun, and the abundance of + cold winds, I lave my sides daily in the brine, and thus I am + gradually cooling down to the temperature--of the things round about + me--so that the thinnest skinned feminine may handle me without fear + of consequences. Possibly you may think that I am like the torpid + snake that the forester warmed by his hearth. No, I am not. I am + steeling myself with Plato and Platonics; so now farewell to love and + womankind. "Othello's occupation's gone." + + * * * * * + +From an allusion in one of Mrs. Norton's letters to Mary, it appears +likely that what follows refers to Fanny Kemble (Mrs. Butler). + + You say, "Had I seen those eyes you saw the other day." Yes, the darts + shot from those eyes are still rankling in my body; yet it is a + pleasing pain. The wound of the scorpion is healed by applying the + scorpion to the wound. Is she not a glorious being? Have you ever seen + such a presence? Is she not dazzling? There is enchantment in all her + ways. Talk of the divine power of music, why, she is all melody, and + poetry, and beauty, and harmony. How envious and malignant must the + English be not to do her homage universal. They never had, or will + have again, such a woman as that. I would rather be her slave than + king of such an island of Calibans. You have a soul, and sense, and a + deep feeling for your sex, and revere such "cunning patterns of + excelling nature," therefore--besides, I owe it you--I will transcribe + what she says of you: "I was nervous, it was my first visit to any + one, and there is a gentle frankness in her manner, and a vague + remembrance of the thought and feeling in her books which prevents my + being as with a 'visiting acquaintance.'" + + * * * * * + + Zella is doing wondrous well, and chance has placed her with a + womankind that even I (setting beauty aside) am satisfied with. By the + bye, I wish most earnestly you could get me some good _morality_ in + the shape of Italian and French. It is indispensable to the keeping + alive her remembrance of those languages, and not a book is to be had + here, nor do I know exactly how to get them by any other means, so + pray think of it. + + * * * * * + + I am inundated with letters from America, and am answering them by + Mrs. Jameson; she sailing immediately is a very heavy loss to me. She + is the friendliest-hearted woman in the world. I would rather lose + anything than her.... + + I don't think I shall stay here much longer; it is a bad holding + ground; my cable is chafing. I shall drift somewhere or other. It is + well for Mamma Percy has so much of her temperate blood. When us three + meet, we shall be able to ice the wine by placing it between us; that + will be nice, as the girls say. + + A glance from Mrs. Nesbitt has shaken my firm nerves a little. There + is a mystery--a deep well of feeling in those star-like eyes of hers. + It is strange that actresses are the only true and natural people; + they only act in the proper season and place, whilst all the rest seem + eternally playing a part, and like dilettanti acting, damn'd absurdly. + + J. TRELAWNY. + +From Brighton, at New Year, Mrs. Shelley sent Trelawny a cheery greeting. + + FROM MRS. SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + BRIGHTON, _3d January 1837_. + + MY DEAR TRELAWNY--This day will please you; it is a thaw; what snow we + had! Hundreds of people have been employed to remove it during the + last week; at first they cut down deep several feet as if it had been + clay, and piled it up in glittering pyramids and masses; then they + began to cart it on to the beach; it was a new sort of Augean stable, + a never-ending labour. Yesterday, when I was out, it was only got rid + of in a very few and very circumscribed spots. Nature is more of a + Hercules; she puts out a little finger in the shape of gentle thaw, + and it recedes and disappears. + + * * * * * + + Percy arrived yesterday, having rather whetted than satisfied his + appetite by going seven times to the play. He plays like Apollo on the + flageolet, and like Apollo is self-taught. Jane thinks him a miracle! + it is very odd. He got a frock-coat at Mettes, and, if you had not + disappointed us with your handkerchief, he would have been complete; + he is a good deal grown, though not tall enough to satisfy me; + however, there is time yet. He is quite a child still, full of + theatres and balloons and music, yet I think there is a gentleness + about him which shows the advent of the reign of petticoats--how I + dread it! + + * * * * * + + Poor Jane writes dismally. She is so weak that she has frequent + fainting fits; she went to a physician, who ordered her to wean the + child, and now she takes three glasses of wine a day, and every other + strengthening medicament, but she is very feeble, and has a cough and + tendency to inflammation on the chest. I implored her to come down + here to change the air, and Jeff gave leave, and would have given the + money; but fear lest his dinner should be overdone while she was + away, and lest the children should get a finger scratched, makes her + resolve not to come; what bad bogie is this? If she got stronger how + much better they would be in consequence! I think her in a critical + state, but she will not allow of a remedy. + + * * * * * + + Poor dear little Zella. I hope she is well and happy.... Thank you for + your offer about money. I have plenty at present, and hope to do well + hereafter. You are very thoughtful, which is a great virtue. I have + not heard from your mother or Charlotte since you left; a day or two + afterwards I saw Betsy Freeman; she was to go to her place the next + day. I paid her for her work; she looked so radiantly happy that you + would have thought she was going to be married rather than to a place + of hardship. I never saw any one look so happy. I told her to let me + know how she got on, and to apply to me if she wanted assistance.... I + am glad you are amused at your brother's. I really imagined that Fanny + Butler had been the attraction, till, sending to the Gloucester, I + found you were gone by the Southampton coach, and then I suspected + another magnet--till I find that you are in all peace, or rather war, + at Sherfield House--much better so. + + I am better a great deal; quite well, I believe I ought to call + myself, only I feel a little odd at times. I have seen nothing of the + S.'s. I have met with scarce an acquaintance here, which is odd; but + then I do not look for them. I am too lazy. I hope this letter will + catch you before you leave your present perch.--Believe me always, + yours truly, + + M. W. SHELLEY. + + Will this be a happy New Year? Tell me; the last I can't say much for, + but I always fear worse to come. Nobody's mare is dead,--if this frost + does not kill,--my own (such as it will be) is far enough off still. + +The next letter is dated only three weeks later. What happened in that +short time to account for its complete change of tone does not appear, +except that from one allusion it may be inferred that Mrs. Shelley was +overtaken by unexpected money difficulties at a moment when she had +fancied herself tolerably at ease on that score. Nothing more likely, for +in the matter of helping others she never learnt prudence or the art of +self-defence.[18] Probably, however, there was a deeper cause for her +sombre mood. She was being pressed on all sides to write the biography of +her father. The task would have been well suited to her powers; she +looked on it, moreover, in the light of a duty which she wished and +intended to perform. Fragments and sketches of hers for this book have +been published, and are among the best specimens of her writing. But +circumstances--scruples--similar to those which had hindered her from +writing Shelley's life stood between her and the present fulfilment of the +task. There were few people to whom she could bring herself to explain her +reasons, and those few need not have required, still less insisted on any +such explanation. But Trelawny, hot and vehement, could and would not see +why Mary did not rush into the field at once, to immortalise the man whose +system of philosophy, more than any other writer's, had moulded Shelley's. +He never spared words, and he probably taxed her with cowardice or +indolence, time-serving and "worldliness." + +Shaken by her father's loss, and saddened by that of her friends, Mr. and +Mrs. Gisborne, who had died within a short time of each other shortly +before this, exhausted by work, her feelings warped by solitude, struggle, +and disappointment, this challenge to explain her conduct evoked the most +mournful of all her letters, as explicit as any one could wish; true in +its bitterness, and most bitter in its truth. + + MRS. SHELLEY TO TRELAWNY. + + BRIGHTON, _Thursday, 27th January 1837_. + + DEAR TRELAWNY--I am very glad to hear that you are amused and happy; + fate seems to have turned her sunny side to you, and I hope you will + long enjoy yourself. I know of but one pleasure in the world--sympathy + with another, or others, rather; leaving out of the question the + affections, the society of agreeable, gifted, congenial-minded beings + is the only pleasure worth having in the world. My fate has debarred + me from this enjoyment, but you seem in the midst of it. + + With regard to my Father's life I certainly could not answer it to my + conscience to give it up. I shall therefore do it, but I must wait. + This year I have to fight my poor Percy's battle, to try and get him + sent to College without further dilapidation of his ruined prospects, + and he has now to enter life at College. That this should be + undertaken at a moment when a cry was raised against his mother, and + that not on the question of _politics_ but _religion_, would mar all. + I must see him fairly launched before I commit myself to the fury of + the waves. + + A sense of duty towards my Father, whose passion was posthumous fame, + makes me ready, as far as I am concerned, to meet the misery that must + be mine if I become an object of scurrility and attack; for the rest, + for my own private satisfaction, all I ask is obscurity. What can I + care for the parties that divide the world, or the opinions that + possess it? What has my life been? What is it? Since I lost Shelley I + have been alone, and worse. I had my Father's fate for many a year + pressing me to the earth; I had Percy's education and welfare to guard + over, and in all this I had no one friendly hand stretched out to + support me. Shut out from even the possibility of making such an + impression as my personal merits might occasion, without a human being + to aid or encourage, or even to advise me, I toiled on my weary + solitary way. The only persons who deigned to share those melancholy + hours, and to afford me the balm of affection, were those dear + girls[19] whom you chose so long to abuse. Do you think that I have + not felt, that I do not feel all this? If I have been able to stand up + against the breakers which have dashed against my stranded, wrecked + bark, it has been by a sort of passive, dogged resistance, which has + broken my heart, while it a little supported my spirit. My happiness, + my health, my fortunes, all are wrecked. Percy alone remains to me, + and to do him good is the sole aim of my life. One thing I will add; + if I have ever found kindness, it has not been from liberals; to + disengage myself from them was the first act of my freedom. The + consequence was that I gained peace and civil usage, which they denied + me; more I do not ask; of fate I only ask a grave. I know not what my + future life is, and shudder, but it must be borne, and for Percy's + sake I must battle on. + + If you wish for a copy of my novel[20] you shall have one, but I did + not order it to be sent to you, because, being a rover, all luggage + burthens. I have told them to send it to your mother, at which you + will scoff, but it was the only way I had to show my sense of her + kindness. You may pick and choose those from whom you deign to receive + kindness; you are a man at a feast, champagne and comfits your diet, + and you naturally scoff at me and my dry crust in a corner. Often have + you scoffed and sneered at all the aliment of kindness or society that + fate has afforded me. I have been silent, for the hungry cannot be + dainty, but it is useless to tell a pampered man this. Remember in all + this, except in one or two instances, my complaint is not against + _persons_, but _fate_. Fate has been my enemy throughout. I have no + wish to increase her animosity or her power by exposing [myself] more + than I possibly can to her venomous attacks. + + You have sent me no address, so I direct this to your Mother; give her + and Charlotte my love, and tell them I think I shall be in town at the + beginning of next month; my time in this house is up on the 3d, and I + ought to be in town with Percy to take him to Sir Tim's solicitors, + and so begin my attack. I should advise you, by the bye, not to read + my novel; you will not like it. I cannot _teach_; I can only + paint--such as my paintings are,--and you will not approve of much of + what I deem natural feeling, because it is not founded on the new + light. + + I had a long letter from Mrs. N[orton]. I admire her excessively, and + I _think_ I could love her infinitely, but I shall not be asked nor + tried, and shall take very good care not to press myself. I know what + her relations think. + + If you are still so rich, and can lend me L20 till my quarter, I shall + be glad. I do not know that I absolutely [need] it here now, but may + run short at last, so, if not inconvenient, will you send it next + week? + + I shall soon be in town, I suppose; _where_, I do not yet know. I + dread my return, for I shall have a thousand worries. + + Despite unfavourable weather, quiet and ease have much restored my + health, but mental annoyance will soon make me as ill as ever. Only + writing this letter makes me feel half dead. Still, to be thus at + peace is an expensive luxury, and I must forego it for other duties, + which I have been allowed to forget for a time, but my holiday is + past. + + Happy is Fanny Butler if she can shed tears and not be destroyed by + them; this luxury is denied me. I am obliged to guard against low + spirits as my worst disease, and I do guard, and usually I am not in + low spirits. Why then do you awaken me to thought and suffering by + forcing me to explain the motives of my conduct? Could you not trust + that I thought anxiously, decided carefully, and from disinterested + motives, not to save myself, but my child, from evil. Pray let the + stream flow quietly by, as glittering on the surface as it may, and do + not awaken the deep waters which are full of briny bitterness. I never + wish any one to dive into the secret depths; be content, if I can + render the surface safe sailing, that I do not annoy you with clouds + and tempests, but turn the silvery side outward, as I ought, for God + knows I would not render any living creature so miserable as I could + easily be; and I would also guard myself from the sense of woe which I + tie hard about, and sink low, low, out of sight and fathom line. + + Adieu. Excuse all this; it is your own fault; speak of yourself. Never + speak of me, and you will never again be annoyed with so much + stupidity.--Yours truly, + + M. S. + +The painful mood of this letter was not destined to find present relief. +From her father's death in 1836 till the year 1840 was to be perhaps the +hardest, dreariest, and most laborious time she had ever known. No chance +had she now to distract her mind or avoid the most painful themes. Her +very occupation was to tie her down to these. She was preparing her +edition of Shelley's works, with notes. The prohibition as to bringing his +name before the public seems to have been withdrawn or at any rate +slackened; it had probably become evident, even to those least disposed to +see, that the undesirable publicity, if not given by the right person, +would inevitably be given by the wrong one. Much may also have been due to +the fact that Mr. Whitton, Sir Timothy's solicitor, was dead, and had been +replaced by another gentleman who, unlike his predecessor, used his +influence to promote milder counsels and a better mutual understanding +than had prevailed hitherto. + +This task was accepted by Mary as the most sacred of duties, but it is +probable that if circumstances had permitted her to fulfil it in the years +which immediately followed Shelley's death she would have suffered from it +less than now. It might not have been so well done, she might have written +at too great length, or have indulged in too much expression of personal +feeling; and in the case of omissions from his writings, the decision +might have been even harder to make. Still it would have cost her less. +Her heart, occupied by one subject, would have found a kind of relief in +the necessity for dwelling on it. But seventeen years had elapsed, and she +was forty-two, and very tired. Seventeen years of struggle, labour, and +loneliness; even the mournful satisfaction of retrospect poisoned and +distorted by Jane Williams' duplicity. She could no longer dwell on the +thought of that affection which had consoled her in her supreme +misfortune. + +Mary had had many and bitter troubles and losses, but nothing entered +into her soul so deeply as the defection of this friend. Alienation is +worse than bereavement. Other sorrows had left her desolate; this one left +her different. + +Hence the fact that an undertaking which would once have been a painful +pleasure was too often a veritable martyrdom. Who does not remember Hans +Andersen's little princess, in his story of the _White Swans_, who freed +her eleven brothers from the evil enchantment which held them transformed, +by spinning shirts of stinging-nettles? Such nettle-shirts had Mary now to +weave and spin, to exorcise the evil spirits which had power of +misrepresenting and defaming Shelley's memory, and to save Percy for ever +from their sinister spells. + +Her health was weak, her heart was sore, her life was lonely, and, in +spite of her undaunted efforts, she was still so badly off that she was, +as the last letter shows, reduced to accepting Trelawny's offer of a loan +of money. Nor was it only her work that she had on her mind; she was also +very anxious about her son's future. He had, at this time, an idea of +entering the Diplomatic Service, and his mother overcame her diffidence so +far as to try and procure an opening for him--no easy thing to find. Among +the people she consulted and asked was Lytton Bulwer; his answer was not +encouraging. + + SIR E. L. BULWER TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + HERTFORD STREET, _17th March 1839_. + + MY DEAR MRS. SHELLEY--Many thanks for your kind congratulations. I am + delighted to find you like _Richelieu_. + + With regard to your son, with his high prospects, the diplomacy may do + very well; but of all professions it is the most difficult to rise in. + The first steps are long and tedious. An Attache at a small Court is + an exile without pay, and very little opening to talent. However, for + young men of fortune and expectations it fills up some years agreeably + enough, what with flirting, dressing, dancing, and perhaps, if one has + good luck, a harmless duel or two! + + To be serious, it is better than being idle, and one certainly learns + languages, knowledge of the world, and good manners. Perhaps I may + send my son, some seventeen years hence, if my brother is then a + minister, into that career. But it will depend on his prospects. Are + you sure that you can get an attacheship? It requires a good deal of + interest, and there are plenty of candidates among young men of rank, + and, I fear, claims more pressing and urging than the memory of + genius. I could not procure that place for a most intimate friend of + mine a little time ago. I will take my chance some evening, but I fear + not Thursday; in fact, I am so occupied just at present that till + after Easter I have scarcely a moment to myself, and at Easter I must + go to Lincoln.--Yours ever, + + E. L. BULWER. + +Mrs. Norton interested herself in the matter. She could not effect much, +but she was sympathetic and kind. + + "You have your troubles," she wrote, "struggling for one who, I trust, + will hereafter repay you for every weary hour and years of + self-denial, and I shall be glad to hear from you now and then how all + goes on with you and him, so do not forget me when you have a spare + half hour, and if ever I have any good news to send, do not doubt my + then writing by the first post, for I think my happiest moments now + are when, in the strange mixture of helplessness and power which has + made the warp and woof of my destiny, I can accidentally serve some + one who has had more of the world's buffets than its good fortune." + +Some scraps of journal belonging to 1839 afford a little insight into Mrs. +Shelley's difficulties while editing her husband's MSS. + + _Journal, February 12_ (1839).--I almost think that my present + occupation will end in a fit of illness. I am editing Shelley's Poems, + and writing notes for them. I desire to do Shelley honour in the notes + to the best of my knowledge and ability; for the rest, they are or are + not well written; it little matters to me which. Would that I had more + literary vanity, or vanity of any kind; I were happier. As it is, I am + torn to pieces by memory. Would that all were mute in the grave! + + I _much_ disliked the leaving out any of _Queen Mab_. I dislike it + still more than I can express, and I even wish I had resisted to the + last; but when I was told that certain portions would injure the + copyright of all the volumes to the publisher, I yielded. I had + consulted Hunt, Hogg, and Peacock; they all said I had a right to do + as I liked, and offered no one objection. Trelawny sent back the + volume to Moxon in a rage at seeing parts left out.... + + Hogg has written me an insulting letter because I left out the + dedication to Harriet.... + + Little does Jefferson, how little does any one, know me! When Clarke's + edition of _Queen Mab_ came to us at the Baths of Pisa, Shelley + expressed great pleasure that these verses were omitted. This + recollection caused me to do the same. It was to do him honour. What + could it be to me? There are other verses I should well like to + obliterate for ever, but they will be printed; and any to her could in + no way tend to my discomfort, or gratify one ungenerous feeling. They + shall be restored, though I do not feel easy as to the good I do + Shelley. I may have been mistaken. Jefferson might mistake me and be + angry; that were nothing. He has done far more, and done his best to + give another poke to the poisonous dagger which has long rankled in my + heart. I cannot forgive any man that insults any woman. She cannot + call him out,--she disdains words of retort; she must endure, but it + is never to be forgiven; not, "indeed, cherished as matter of + enmity"--that I never feel,--but of caution to shield oneself from the + like again. + + In so arduous a task, others might ask for encouragement and kindness + from their friends,--I know mine better. I am unstable, sometimes + melancholy, and have been called on some occasions imperious; but I + never did an ungenerous act in my life. I sympathise warmly with + others, and have wasted my heart in their love and service. + + All this together is making me feel very ill, and my holiday at + Woodlay only did me good while it lasted. + + _March._ ... Illness did ensue. What an illness! driving me to the + verge of insanity. Often I felt the cord would snap, and I should no + longer be able to rule my thoughts; with fearful struggles, miserable + relapses, after long repose I became somewhat better. + + _October 5, 1839._--Twice in my life I have believed myself to be + dying, and my soul being alive, though the bodily functions were faint + and perishing, I had opportunity to look Death in the face, and I did + not fear it--far from it. My feelings, especially in the first and + most perilous instance, was, I go to no new creation. I enter under no + new laws. The God that made this beautiful world (and I was then at + Lerici, surrounded by the most beautiful manifestation of the visible + creation) made that into which I go; as there is beauty and love here, + such is there, and I feel as if my spirit would when it left my frame + be received and sustained by a beneficent and gentle Power. + + I had no fear, rather, though I had no active wish but a passive + satisfaction in death. Whether the nature of my illness--debility from + loss of blood, without pain--caused this tranquillity of soul, I + cannot tell; but so it was, and it had this blessed effect, that I + have never since anticipated death with terror, and even if a violent + death (which is the most repugnant to human nature) menaced me, I + think I could, after the first shock, turn to the memory of that hour, + and renew its emotion of perfect resignation. + +The darkest moment is that which precedes the dawn. These unhappy years +were like the series of "clearing showers" which often concludes a stormy +day. The clouds were lifting, and though Mary Shelley could never be other +than what sorrow and endurance had made her, the remaining years of her +life were to bring alleviations to her lot,--slanting rays of afternoon +sunshine, powerless, indeed, to warm into life the tender buds of morning, +but which illumined the landscape and lightened her path, and shed over +her a mild radiance which she reflected back on others, affording to them +the brightness she herself could know no more, and diffusing around her +that sensation of peace which she was to know now, perhaps, for the first +time. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +OCTOBER 1839-FEBRUARY 1851 + + +Mrs. Shelley's annotated edition of Shelley's works was completed by the +appearance, in 1840, of the collected prose writings; along with which was +republished the _Journal of a Six Weeks' Tour_ (a joint composition) and +her own two letters from Geneva, reprinted in the present work. + +Mary's correspondence with Carlyle on the subject of a motto for her book +was the occasion of the following note-- + + 5 CHEYNE ROW, CHELSEA, + _3d December 1839_. + + DEAR MRS. SHELLEY--There does some indistinct remembrance of a + sentence like the one you mention hover in my head; but I cannot + anywhere lay hand on it. Indeed, I rather think it was to this effect: + "Treat men as what they should be, and you help to make them so." + Further, is it not rather one of Wilhelm's kind speeches than of the + Uncle's or the Fair Saint's? James Fraser shall this day send you a + copy of the work; you, with your own clear eyes, shall look for + yourself. + + I have no horse now; the mud forced me to send it into the country + till dry weather came again. Layton House is so much the farther off. + _Tant pis pour moi._--Yours always truly, + + T. CARLYLE. + +The words ultimately prefixed to the collection are the following, from +Carlyle-- + + That thou, O my Brother, impart to me truly how it stands with thee in + that inner heart of thine; what lively images of things past thy + memory has painted there; what hopes, what thoughts, affections, + knowledge, do now dwell there. For this and no other object that I can + see was the gift of hearing and speech bestowed on us two. + +The proceeds of this work were such as to set her for some time at +comparative ease on the score of money; the Godwin quicksand was no longer +there to engulf them. + + _Journal, June 1, 1840_ (Brighton).--I must mark this evening, tired + as I am, for it is one among few--soothing and balmy. Long oppressed + by care, disappointment, and ill health, which all combined to depress + and irritate me, I felt almost to have lost the spring of happy + reverie. On such a night it returns--the calm sea, the soft breeze, + the silver bow new bent in the western heaven--Nature in her sweetest + mood, raised one's thoughts to God and imparted peace. + + Indeed I have many, many blessings, and ought to be grateful, as I am, + though the poison lurks among them; for it is my strange fate that all + my friends are sufferers--ill health or adversity bears heavily on + them, and I can do little good, and lately ill health and extreme + depression have even marred the little I could do. If I could restore + health, administer balm to the wounded heart, and banish care from + those I love, I were in myself happy, while I am loved, and Percy + continues the blessing that he is. Still, who on such a night must not + feel the weight of sorrow lessened? For myself, I repose in gentle and + grateful reverie, and hope for others. I am content for myself. Years + have--how much!--cooled the ardent and swift spirit that at such hours + bore me freely along. Yet, though I no longer soar, I repose. Though + I no longer deem all things attainable, I enjoy what is; and while I + feel that whatever I have lost of youth and hope, I have acquired the + enduring affection of a noble heart, and Percy shows such excellent + dispositions that I feel that I am much the gainer in life. + + Fate does indeed visit some too heavily--poor R. for instance, God + restore him! God and good angels guard us! surely this world, stored + outwardly with shapes and influences of beauty and good, is peopled in + its intellectual life by myriads of loving spirits that mould our + thoughts to good, influence beneficially the course of events, and + minister to the destiny of man. Whether the beloved dead make a + portion of this company I dare not guess, but that such exist I + feel--far off, when we are worldly, evil, selfish; drawing near and + imparting joy and sympathy when we rise to noble thoughts and + disinterested action. Such surely gather round one on such an evening, + and make part of that atmosphere of love, so hushed, so soft, on which + the soul reposes and is blest. + +These serene lines were written by Mrs. Shelley within a few days of +leaving England on the first of those tours described by her in the series +of letters published as _Rambles in Germany and Italy_. It had been +arranged that her son and two college friends, both of whom, like him, +were studying for their degree, should go abroad for the Long Vacation, +and that Mrs. Shelley should form one of the reading party. Paris was to +be the general rendezvous. Mrs. Shelley, who was staying at Brighton, +intended travelling _via_ Dieppe, but her health was so far from strong +that she shrank from the long crossing, and started from Dover instead. +She was now accompanied by a lady's-maid, a circumstance which relieved +her from some of the fatigue incidental to a journey. They travelled by +diligence; a new experience to her, as, in her former wanderings with +Shelley, they had had their own carriage (save indeed on the first tour of +all, when they set off to walk through France with a donkey); and in more +recent years she had travelled, in England, by the newly-introduced +railroads-- + + "To which, whatever their faults may be, I feel eternally grateful," + she says; adding afterwards, "a pleasant day it will be when there is + one from Calais to Paris." + +So recent a time, and yet how remote it seems! Mary had never been a good +traveller, but she found now, to her surprise and satisfaction, that in +spite of her nervous suffering she was better able than formerly to stand +the fatigue of a journey. She had painful sensations, but + + the fatigue I endured seemed to take away weariness instead of + occasioning it. I felt light of limb and in good spirits. On the + shores of France I shook the dust of accumulated cares from off me: I + forgot disappointment and banished sorrow: weariness of body replaced + beneficially weariness of soul--so much heavier, so much harder to + bear. + +Change, in short, did her more good than travelling did her harm. + + "I feel a good deal of the gipsy coming upon me," she wrote a few days + later, "now that I am leaving Paris. I bid adieu to all + acquaintances, and set out to wander in new lands, surrounded by + companions fresh to the world, unacquainted with its sorrows, and who + enjoy with zest every passing amusement. I myself, apt to be too + serious, but easily awakened to sympathy, forget the past and the + future, and am ready to be amused by all I see as much or even more + than they." + +From Paris they journeyed to Metz and Treves, down the Moselle and the +Rhine, by Schaffhausen and Zurich, over the Splugen Pass to Cadenabbia on +the Lake of Como. Here they established themselves for two months. Mrs. +Shelley occupied herself in the study of Italian literature, while the +young men were busy with their Cambridge work. Her son's friends were +devoted to her, and no wonder. Indeed, her amiability and sweetness, her +enjoyment of travelling, her wide culture and great store of knowledge, +her acuteness of observation, and the keen interest she took in all she +saw, must have made her a most fascinating companion. On leaving Como they +visited Milan, and, on their way home, passing through Genoa, Mary looked +again on the Villa Diodati, and the little Maison Chapuis nestling below, +where she had begun to write _Frankenstein_. All unaltered; but in her, +what a change! Shelley, Byron, the blue-eyed William, where were they? +Where was Fanny, whose long letters had kept them informed of English +affairs? Mary herself, and Clare, were they the same people as the two +girls, one fair, one dark, who had excited so much idle and impertinent +speculation in the tourists from whose curiosity Byron had fled? + + But where are the snows of yester-year? + +In autumn Mrs. Shelley and her son returned to England; but the next year +they again went abroad, and this time for a longer sojourn. + +They were now better off than they had ever been, for, after Percy had +attained his majority and taken his degree, his grandfather made him an +allowance of L400 a year; a free gift, not subject to the condition of +repayment. This welcome relief from care came not a day too soon. Mrs. +Shelley's strength was much shaken, her attacks of nervous illness were +more frequent, and, had she had to resume her life of unvaried toil, the +results might have been serious. + +It is probably to this event that Mrs. Norton refers in the following note +of congratulation-- + + MRS. NORTON TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + DEAR MRS. SHELLEY--I cannot tell you how sincerely glad I was to get a + note so cheerful, and cheerful on such good grounds as your last. I + hope it is the _dawn_, that your day of struggling is over, and + nothing to come but gradually increasing comfort. With tolerable + prudence, and abroad, I should hope Percy would find his allowance + quite sufficient, and I think it will be a relief that may lift your + mind and do your health good to see him properly provided for. + + I am too ill to leave the sofa or I should (by rights) be at Lord + Palmerston's this evening, but, when I see any one likely to support + the very modest request made to Lord P., I will speak about it to + them; I have little doubt that, since they are not asked for a paid + attacheship, you will succeed. + + ... In three weeks I am to set up the magnificence of a "one 'orse + chay" myself, and then Fulham and the various streets of London where + friends and foes live will become attainable; at present I have never + stirred over the threshold since I came up from Brighton.--Ever yours + very truly, + + CAR. NORTON. + +They began their second tour by a residence at Kissingen, where Mrs. +Shelley had been advised to take the waters for her health. The "Cur" over +(by which she benefited a good deal), they proceeded to Gotha, Weimar, +Leipzig, Berlin, and Dresden--all perfectly new ground to Mary. Dresden +and its treasures of art were a delight to her, only marred by the +overwhelming heat of the summer. + +Through Saxon Switzerland they travelled to Prague, and Mary was roused to +enthusiasm by the intense romantic interest of the Bohemian capital, as +she was afterwards by the magnificent scenery of the approach to Linz (of +which she gives in her letters a vivid description), and of Salzburg and +the Salzkammergut. + +Through the Tyrol, over the Brenner Pass, by the Lake of Garda, they came +to Verona, and finally to Venice--another place fraught to Mary with +associations unspeakable. + + Many a scene which I have since visited and admired has faded in my + mind, as a painting in a diorama melts away, and another struggles + into the changing canvass; but this road was as distinct in my mind as + if traversed yesterday. I will not here dwell on the sad circumstances + that clouded my first visit to Venice. Death hovered over the scene. + Gathered into myself, with my "mind's eye" I saw those before me long + departed, and I was agitated again by emotions, by passions--and those + the deepest a woman's heart can harbour--a dread to see her child even + at that instant expire, which then occupied me. It is a strange, but, + to any person who has suffered, a familiar circumstance, that those + who are enduring mental or corporeal agony are strangely alive to + immediate external objects, and their imagination even exercises its + wild power over them.... I have experienced it; and the particular + shape of a room, the progress of shadows on a wall, the peculiar + flickering of trees, the exact succession of objects on a journey, + have been indelibly engraved in my memory, as marked in and associated + with hours and minutes when the nerves were strung to their utmost + tension by endurance of pain, or the far severer infliction of mental + anguish. Thus the banks of the Brenta presented to me a moving scene; + not a palace, not a tree of which I did not recognise, as marked and + recorded, at a moment when life and death hung upon our speedy arrival + at Venice. + + And at Fusina, as then, I now beheld the domes and towers of the Queen + of Ocean arise from the waves with a majesty unrivalled upon earth. + +They spent the winter at Florence, and by April were in Rome. This indeed +was the Holy Land of Mary Shelley's pilgrimage. There was the spot where +William lay; there the tomb which held the heart of Shelley. Mary may well +have felt as if standing by her own graveside. Was not her heart of hearts +buried with them? And there, too, was the empty grave where now Trelawny +lies; the touching witness to that undying devotion of his to Shelley's +memory which Mary never forgot. + +None of this is touched upon--it could not be--in the published letters. +The Eternal City itself filled her with such emotions and interests as not +even she had ever felt before. It is curious to compare some of these with +her earlier letters from abroad, and to notice how, while her power of +observation was undiminished, the intellectual faculties of thought and +comparison had developed and widened, while her interest was as keen as in +her younger days, nay keener, for her attention now, poor thing, was +comparatively undivided. + +Scenery, art, historical associations, the political and social state of +the countries she visited, and the characteristics of the people, nothing +was lost on her, and on all she saw she brought to bear the ripened +faculties of a reflective and most appreciative mind. Some of her remarks +on Italian politics are almost prophetic in their clear-sighted +sagacity.[21] That after all she had suffered she should have retained +such keen powers of enjoyment as she did may well excite wonder. Perhaps +this enjoyment culminated at Sorrento, where she and her son positively +revelled in the luxuriant beauty and witchery of a perfect southern +summer. + +Her impressions of these two tours were published in the form of letters, +and entitled _Rambles in Germany and Italy_, and were dedicated to Samuel +Rogers in 1844. + +He thus acknowledged the copy of the work she sent him-- + + ST. JAMES'S PLACE, + _30th July 1844_. + + What can I say to you in return for the honour you have done me--an + honour so undeserved! If some feelings make us eloquent, it is not so + with others, and I can only thank you from the bottom of my heart, and + assure you how highly I shall value and how carefully I shall preserve + the two precious volumes on every account--for your sake and for their + own.--Ever yours most sincerely, + + S. ROGERS. + +In the spring of 1844 it became evident that Sir Timothy Shelley's life +was drawing to a close. In anticipation of what was soon to happen, Mary, +always mindful of her promise to Leigh Hunt, wrote to him as follows-- + + PUTNEY, _20th April 1844_. + + MY DEAR HUNT--The tidings from Field Place seem to say that ere long + there will be a change; if nothing untoward happens to us till then, + it will be for the better. Twenty years ago, in memory of what + Shelley's intentions were, I said that you should be considered one of + the legatees to the amount of L2000. I need scarcely mention that when + Shelley talked of leaving you this sum he contemplated reducing other + legacies, and that one among them is (by a mistake of the solicitor) + just double what he intended it to be. + + Twenty years have, of course, much changed my position. Twenty years + ago it was supposed that Sir Timothy would not live five years. + Meanwhile a large debt has accumulated, for I must pay back all on + which Percy and I have subsisted, as well as what I borrowed for + Percy's going to college. In fact, I scarcely know how our affairs + will be. Moreover, Percy shares now my right; that promise was made + without his concurrence, and he must concur to render it of avail. Nor + do I like to ask him to do so till our affairs are so settled that we + know what we shall have--whether Shelley's uncle may not go to law; in + short, till we see our way before us. + + It is both my and Percy's great wish to feel that you are no longer so + burdened by care and necessity; in that he is as desirous as I can be; + but the form and the degree in which we can do this must at first be + uncertain. From the time of Sir Timothy's death I shall give + directions to my banker to honour your quarterly cheques for L30 a + quarter; and I shall take steps to secure this to you, and to Marianne + if she should survive you. + + Percy has read this letter, and approves. I know your _real_ delicacy + about money matters, and that you will at once be ready to enter into + my views; and feel assured that if any present debt should press, if + we have any command of money, we will take care to free you from it. + + With love to Marianne, affectionately yours, + + MARY SHELLEY. + +Sir Timothy died in this year, and Mary's son succeeded to the baronetcy +and estates. The fortune he inherited was much encumbered, as, besides +paying Shelley's numerous legacies and the portions of several members of +the family, he had also to refund, with interest, all the money advanced +to his mother for their maintenance for the last twenty-one years, +amounting now to a large sum, which he met by means of a mortgage effected +on the estates. But all was done at last. Clare was freed from the +necessity for toil and servitude; she was, indeed, well off, as she +inherited altogether L12,000. Hers is the legacy to which Mrs. Shelley +alludes as being, by a mistake, double what had been intended. When +Shelley made his will, he bequeathed to her L6000. Not long before the end +of his life he added a codicil, to the effect that _these_ L6000 should be +invested for her benefit, intending in this way (it is supposed) to secure +to her the interest of this sum, and to protect her against recklessness +on her own part or needy rapacity on the part of others. Through the +omission in the lawyer's draft of the word "these" this codicil was +construed into a second bequest of L6000, which she received. The Hunts, +by Shelley's bounty and the generosity of his wife and son, were made +comparatively easy in their circumstances. Byron had declined to be +numbered among Shelley's legatees; not so Mr. Hogg, whose letter on the +occasion is too characteristic to omit. + + HOGG TO MRS. SHELLEY. + + DEAR MARY--I have just had an interview with Mr. Gregson. He spoke of + your affairs cheerfully, and thinks that, with prudence and economy, + you and your baronet-boy will do well; and such, I trust and earnestly + hope, will be the result of this long turmoil of worldly perplexity. + + Mr. Gregson paid me the noble tribute of the most generous and kind + and munificent affection of our incomparable friend. He not only paid + the legacy, but very obligingly offered me some interest; for which + offer, and for such prompt payment, I return my best thanks to + yourself and to Percy. + + I was glad to hear from Mr. Gregson, for the honour of poesy, that + Lord Byron had declined to receive his legacy. How much I wish that my + scanty fortunes would justify the like refusal on my part! + + I daresay you wish that you were a good deal richer--that this had + happened and not that--and that a great deal, which was quite + impossible, had been done, and so on! I should be sorry to believe + that you were quite contented; such a state of mind, so preposterous + and unnatural, especially in any person whose circumstances were + affluent, would surely portend some great calamity. + + I hope that I may venture to look forward to the time when the Baronet + will inhabit Field Place in a style not unworthy of his name. My + desire grows daily in the strength to keep up _families_, for it is + only from these that Shelleys and Byrons proceed. + + +[Illustration: THOMAS JEFFERSON HOGG, + +AS HE SAT PLAYING AT CHESS AT BOSCOMBE. + +FROM A SKETCH BY R. EASTON. + +_To face Page 305 (Vol. ii.)_] + + + If low people sometimes effect a little in some particular line, they + always show that they are poor, creeping creatures in the main and in + general. + + However this may be, and whatever you or yours may take of Shelley + property, "either by heirship or conquest," as they say in Scotland, I + hope that you may not be included in the unbroken entail of gout, + which takes so largely from the comforts, and adds so greatly to the + irritability natural to yours, dear Mary, very faithfully, + + T. J. HOGG. + +For many and good reasons there could be little real sympathy between Hogg +and Mary Shelley. In lieu of it she willingly accepted his genuine +enthusiasm for Shelley, and she was a better friend to him than he was to +her. The veiled impertinence of his tone to her must have severely tried +her patience, if not her endurance. Indeed, the mocking style of his +ironical eulogies of her talents, and her fidelity to the memory of her +husband are more offensive to those who know what she was than any +ill-humoured tirade of Trelawny's. + +The high esteem in which Mrs. Shelley was held by the eminent literary men +who were her contemporaries is pleasantly attested in a number of letters +and notes addressed to her by T. Moore, Samuel Rogers, Carlyle, Bulwer, +Prosper Merimee, and others; letters for the most part of no great +importance except in so far as they show the familiar and friendly terms +existing between the writers and Mrs. Shelley. One, however, from Walter +Savage Landor, deserves insertion here for its intrinsic interest-- + + DEAR MRS. SHELLEY--It would be very ungrateful in me to delay for a + single post an answer to your very kind letter. If only three or four + like yourself (supposing there are that number in one generation) are + gratified by my writings, I am quite content. Hardly do I know whether + in the whole course of fifty years I have been so fortunate. For one + of my earliest resolutions in life was never to read what was written + about me, favourable or unfavourable; and another was, to keep as + clear as possible of all literary men, well knowing their jealousies + and animosities, and so little did I seek celebrity, or even renown, + that on making a present of my Gebir and afterwards of my later poems + to the bookseller, I insisted that they should not even be advertised. + Whatever I have written since I have placed at the disposal and + discretion of some friend. Are not you a little too enthusiastic in + believing that writers can be much improved by studying my writings? I + mean in their style. The style is a part of the mind, just as feathers + are part of the bird. The style of Addison is admired--it is very lax + and incorrect. But in his manner there is the shyness of the Loves; + there is the graceful shyness of a beautiful girl not quite grown up! + People feel the cool current of delight, and never look for its + source. However, he wrote the Vision of Mirza, and no prose man in any + age of the world had written anything so delightful. Alas! so far from + being able to teach men how to write, it will be twenty years before I + teach them how to spell. They will write simil_e_, for_ei_gn, + sover_ei_gn, therefo_re_, imp_el_, comp_el_, reb_el_, etc. I wish they + would turn back to Hooker, not for theology--the thorns of theology + are good only to heat the oven for the reception of wholesome food. + But Hooker and Jonson and Milton spelt many words better than we do. + We need not wear their coats, but we may take the gold buttons off + them and put them on smoother stuff.--Believe me, dear Mrs. Shelley, + very truly yours, + + W. S. LANDOR. + + +[Illustration] + + +Of individuals as of nations, it may be true that those are happiest who +have no history. The later years of Mrs. Shelley, which offer no event of +public interest, were tranquil and comparatively happy. She brought out no +new work after 1844.[22] It had been her intention, now that the +prohibition which constituted the chief obstacle was removed, to undertake +the long-projected _Life of Shelley_. It seemed the more desirable as +there was no lack of attempts at biography. Chief among these was the +series of articles entitled "Shelley Papers," contributed by Mr. Hogg to +the _New Monthly_ magazine during 1832. They were afterwards incorporated +with that so-called _Life of Shelley_ which deals only with Shelley's +first youth, and which, though it consists of one halfpennyworth of +Shelley to an intolerable deal of Hogg, is yet a classic, and one of the +most amusing classics in the world; so amusing, indeed, that, for its +sake, we might address the author somewhat as Sterne is said to have +apostrophised Mrs. Cibber, after hearing her sing a pathetic air of +Handel, "Man, for this be all thy sins forgiven thee!" The second chapter +of the book includes some fragments of biography by Mary, a facsimile of +one of which, in her handwriting, is given here. + +Medwin's _Life of Shelley_, inaccurate and false in facts, distasteful in +style and manner, had caused Mrs. Shelley serious annoyance. The author, +who wrote for money chiefly, actually offered to suppress the book _for a +consideration_; a proposal which Mrs. Shelley treated with the silent +contempt it deserved. These were, however, strong arguments in favour of +her undertaking the book herself. She summoned up her resolution and began +to collect her materials. + +But it was not to be. Her powers and her health were unequal to the task. +The parallel between her and the Princess of the nettle-shirts was to be +carried out to the bitter end, for the last nettle-shirt lacked a sleeve, +and the youngest brother always retained one swan's wing instead of an +arm. The last service Mary could have rendered to Shelley was never to be +completed, and so the exact details of certain passages of Shelley's life +must remain for ever, to some extent, matters of speculation. No one but +Mary could have supplied the true history and, as she herself had said, in +the introductory note to her edition of his poems, it was not yet time to +do that. Too many were living who might have been wounded or injured; nay, +there still are too many to admit of a biographer's speaking with perfect +frankness. But, although she might have furnished to some circumstances a +key which is now for ever lost, it is equally true that there was much to +be said, which hardly could, and most certainly never would have been told +by her. Of his earliest youth and his life with Harriet she could, +herself, know nothing but by hearsay. But the chief difficulty lay in the +fact that too much of her own history was interwoven with his. How could +she, now, or at any time, have placed herself, as an observer, so far +outside the subject of her story as to speak of her married life with +Shelley, of its influence on the development of his character and genius, +of the effect of that development, and of her constant association with it +on herself? Yet any life of him which left this out of account would have +been most incomplete. More than that, no biography of such a man as +Shelley can be completely successful which is written under great +restrictions and difficulties. To paint a life-like picture of a nature +like his requires a genius akin to his, aglow with the fervour of +confident enthusiasm. + +It was, then, as well that Mary never wrote the book. The invaluable notes +which she did write to Shelley's poems have done for him all that it was +in her power to accomplish, and all that is necessary. They put the reader +in possession of the knowledge it concerns him to have; that of the scenes +or the circumstances which inspired or suggested the poems themselves. + +In 1847 she became acquainted with the lady to whom her son was afterwards +married, and who was to be to Mrs. Shelley a kind of daughter and sister +in one. No one, except her son, is living who knew Mary so well and loved +her so enthusiastically. A mutual friend had urged them to become +acquainted, assuring them both "they ought to know each other, they would +suit so perfectly." Some people think that this course is one which tends +oftener to postpone than to promote the desired intimacy. In the present +case it was justified by the result. Mrs. Shelley called. Her future +daughter-in-law, on entering the room, beheld something utterly unlike +what she had imagined or expected in the famous Mrs. Shelley,--a fair, +lovely, almost girlish-looking being, "as slight as a reed," with +beautiful clear eyes, who put out her hand as she rose, saying half +timidly, "I'm Mary Shelley." From that moment--we have her word for +it--the future wife of Sir Percy had lost her heart to his mother! Their +intercourse was frequent, and soon became necessary to both. The younger +lady had had much experience of sorrow, and this drew the bond all the +closer. + +Not for some time after this meeting did Sir Percy appear on the scene. +His engagement followed at no distant date, and after his marriage he, +with his wife and his mother, who never during her life was to be parted +from them, again went abroad. + +The cup of such happiness as in this world was possible to Mary Shelley +seemed now to be full, but the time was to be short during which she could +taste it. She only lived three years longer, years chequered by very great +anxiety (on account of illness), yet to those who now look back on them +they seem as if lived under a charm. To live with Mary Shelley was indeed +like entertaining an angel. Perfect unselfishness, _selflessness_ indeed, +characterised her at all times. + +One illustration of this is afforded by her repression of the terror she +felt when she saw Shelley's passion for the sea asserting itself in his +son. Her own nerves had been shaken and her life darkened by a +catastrophe, but not for this would she let it overshadow the lives of +others. Not even when her son, with a friend, went off to Norway in a +little yacht, and she was dependent for news of them on a three weeks' +post, would she ever let him know the mortal anxiety she endured, but +after his marriage she told it to her daughter-in-law, saying, "Now he +will never wish to go to sea." + +But of herself she never seemed to think at all; she lived in and for +others. Her gifts and attainments, far from being obtruded, were kept out +of sight; modest almost to excess as she was, she yet knew the secret of +putting others at their ease. She was ready with sympathy and help and +gentle counsel for all who needed them, and to the friends of her son she +was such a friend as they will never forget. + +The thought of Shelley, the idea of his presence, never seemed to leave +her mind for a moment. She would constantly refer to what he might think, +or do, or approve of, almost as if he had been in the next room. Of his +history, or her own, she never spoke, nor did she ever refer to other +people connected with their early life, unless there was something good to +be said of them. Of those who had behaved ill to her, no word--on the +subject of their behaviour--passed her lips. Her daughter-in-law had so +little idea of what her associations were with Clare, that on one occasion +when Miss Clairmont was coming to stay at Field Place, and Lady Shelley, +who did not like her, expressed a half-formed intention of being absent +during her visit and leaving Mrs. Shelley to entertain her, she was +completely taken aback by the exclamation which escaped Mary's lips, +"Don't go, dear! don't leave me alone with her! she has been the bane of +my life ever since I was three years old!" + +No more was ever said, but this was enough, even to those who did not know +all, to reveal a long history of endurance. + +Clare came, and more than once, to stay at Field Place, but her +excitability and eccentricity had so much increased as, at times, to be +little if at all under her own control, and after one unmistakable proof +of this, it was deemed (by those who cared for Mrs. Shelley) desirable +that she should go and return no more. + +She died at Florence in 1878. + +Mary Shelley's strength was ebbing, her nervous ailments increased, and +the result was a loss of power in one side. Life at Field Place had had to +be abandoned on grounds of health (not her own), and Sir Percy Shelley had +purchased Boscombe Manor for their country home, anticipating great +pleasure from his mother's enjoyment of the beautiful spot and fine +climate. But she became worse, and never could be moved from her house in +Chester Square till she was taken to her last resting-place. She died on +the 21st of February 1851. + +She died, "and her place among those who knew her intimately has never +been filled up. She walked beside them, like a spirit of good, to comfort +and benefit, to lighten the darkness of life, to cheer it with her +sympathy and love." + +These, her own words about Shelley, may with equal fitness be applied to +her. + +Her grave is in Bournemouth Churchyard, where, some time after, her +father and mother were laid by her side. + + * * * * * + +As an author Mary Shelley did not accomplish all that was expected of her. +Her letters from abroad, both during her earlier and later tours, the +descriptive fragments intended for her father's biography, and above all +her notes on Shelley's works, are indeed valuable and enduring +contributions to literature. But it was in imaginative work that she had +aspired to excel, and in which both Shelley and Godwin had urged her to +persevere, confident that she could achieve a brilliant success. None of +her novels, however, except _Frankenstein_, can be said to have survived +the generation for which they were written. Only in that work has she left +an abiding mark on literature. Yet her powers were very great, her culture +very extensive, her ambition very high. + +The friend whose description of her has been quoted in an earlier chapter +tries to account for this. She says-- + + I think a partial solution for the circumscribed fame of Mrs. Shelley + as a writer may be traced to her own shrinking and sensitive + retiringness of nature. If, as Thackeray, perhaps justly, observes, + "Persons, to succeed largely in this world, must assert themselves," + most assuredly Mary Shelley never tried that path to distinction.... + + I never knew, in my life, either man or woman whose whole character + was so entirely in harmony: no jarring discords--no incongruous, + anomalous, antagonistic opposites met to disturb the perfect unity, + and to counteract one day the impressions of the former. Gentleness + was ever and always her distinguishing characteristic. Many years' + friendship never showed me a deviation from it. But with this softness + there was neither irresolution nor feebleness.... + + Many have fancied and accused her of being cold and apathetic. She was + no such thing. She had warm, strong affections: as daughter, wife, and + mother she was exemplary and devoted. Besides this, she was a + faithful, unswerving friend. + + * * * * * + + She was not a mirthful--scarcely could be called a cheerful person; + and at times was subject to deep and profound fits of despondency, + when she would shut herself up, and be quite inaccessible to all. Her + undeviating love of truth was ever acted on--never swerved from. Her + worst enemy could never charge her with falsification--even + equivocation. Truth--truth--truth--was the governing principle in all + the words she uttered, the thoughts and judgments she expressed. Hence + she was most intolerant to deceit and falsehood, in any shape or + guise, and those who attempted to practise it on her aroused as much + bitter indignation as her nature was capable of.... + + It is too often the case that authors talk too much of their writings, + and all thereunto belonging. Mrs. Shelley was the extremest reverse of + this. In fact, she was almost morbidly averse to the least allusion to + herself as an authoress. To call on her and find her table covered + with all the accessories and unmistakable traces of _book-making_, + such as copy, proofs for correction, etc., made her nearly as nervous + and unselfpossessed as if she had been detected in the commission of + some offence against the conventionalities of society, or the code of + morality.... + + I really think she deemed it unwomanly to print and publish; and had + it not been for the hard cash which, like so many of her craft, she so + often stood in need of, I do not think she would ever have come + before the world as an authoress.... + + Like all raised in supremacy above their fellows, either mentally or + physically, Mrs. Shelley had her enemies and detractors. But none ever + dared to impugn the correctness of her conduct. From the hour of her + early widowhood to the period of her death, she might have married + advantageously several times. But she often said, "I know not what + temptation could make me change the name of Shelley." + +But the true cause lay deeper still, and may afford a clue to more puzzles +than this one. What Mary Godwin might have become had she remained Mary +Godwin for six or eight years longer it is impossible now to do more than +guess at. But the free growth of her own original nature was checked and a +new bent given to it by her early union with Shelley. Two original +geniuses can rarely develop side by side, certainly not in marriage, least +of all in a happy marriage. Two minds may, indeed, work consentaneously, +but one, however unconsciously, will take the lead; should the other +preserve its complete independence, angles must of necessity develop, and +the first fitness of things disappear. And in a marriage of enthusiastic +devotion and mutual admiration, the younger or the weaker mind, however +candid, will shirk or stop short of conclusions which, it instinctively +feels, may lead to collision. On the other hand, strong and pronounced +views or peculiarities on the part of one may tend to elicit their exact +opposite on the part of the other; both results being equally remote from +real independence of thought. However it may be, either in marriage or in +any intellectual partnership, it is a general truth that from the moment +one mind is penetrated by the influence of another, its own native power +over other minds has gone, and for ever. And Mary parted with this power +at sixteen, before she knew what it was to have it. When she left her +father's house with Shelley she was but a child, a thing of promise, +everything about her yet to be decided. Shelley himself was a half-formed +creature, but of infinite possibilities and extraordinary powers, and +Mary's development had not only to keep pace with his, but to keep in time +and tune with his. Sterne said of Lady Elizabeth Hastings that "to have +loved her was a liberal education." To love Shelley adequately and +worthily was that and more--it was a vocation, a career,--enough for a +life-time and an exceptional one. + +Every reader of the present biography must see too that in Mary Shelley's +case physical causes had much to do with the limit of her intellectual +achievements. Between seventeen and twenty-five she had drawn too largely +on the reserve funds of life. Weak health and illness, a roving unsettled +life, the birth and rearing, and then the loss, of children; great joys +and great griefs, all crowded into a few young years, and coinciding with +study and brain-work and the constant call on her nervous energy +necessitated by companionship with Shelley, these exhausted her; and when +he who was the beginning and end of her existence disappeared, "and the +light of her life as if gone out,"[23] she was left,--left what those +eight years had made her, to begin again from the beginning all alone. And +nobly she began, manfully she struggled, and wonderfully, considering all +things, did she succeed. No one, however, has more than a certain, +limited, amount of vitality to express in his or her life; the vital force +may take one form or another, but cannot be used twice over. The best of +Mary's power spent itself in active life, in ministering to another being, +during those eight years with Shelley. What she gained from him, and it +was much, was paid back to him a hundredfold. When he was gone, and those +calls for outward activity were over, there lay before her the life of +literary labour and thought for which nature and training had +pre-eminently fitted her. But she could not call back the freshness of her +powers nor the wholeness of her heart. She did not fully know, or realise, +then, the amount of life-capital she had run through. She did realise it +at a later time, and the very interesting entry in her journal, dated +October 21, 1838, is a kind of profession of faith; a summary of her +views of life; the result of her reflections and of her experience-- + + _Journal, October 21._--I have been so often abused by pretended + friends for my lukewarmness in "the good cause," that I disdain to + answer them. I shall put down here a few thoughts on this subject. I + am much of a self-examiner. Vanity is not my fault, I think; if it is, + it is uncomfortable vanity, for I have none that teaches me to be + satisfied with myself; far otherwise--and, if I use the word disdain, + it is that I think my qualities (such as they are) not appreciated + from unworthy causes. In the first place, with regard to "the good + cause"--the cause of the advancement of freedom and knowledge, of the + rights of women, etc.--I am not a person of opinions. I have said + elsewhere that human beings differ greatly in this. Some have a + passion for reforming the world, others do not cling to particular + opinions. That my parents and Shelley were of the former class makes + me respect it. I respect such when joined to real disinterestedness, + toleration, and a clear understanding. My accusers, after such as + these, appear to me mere drivellers. For myself, I earnestly desire + the good and enlightenment of my fellow-creatures, and see all, in the + present course, tending to the same, and rejoice; but I am not for + violent extremes, which only bring on an injurious reaction. I have + never written a word in disfavour of liberalism: that I have not + supported it openly in writing arises from the following causes, as + far as I know-- + + That I have not argumentative powers: I see things pretty clearly, but + cannot demonstrate them. Besides, I feel the counter-arguments too + strongly. I do not feel that I could say aught to support the cause + efficiently; besides that, on some topics (especially with regard to + my own sex) I am far from making up my mind. I believe we are sent + here to educate ourselves, and that self-denial, and disappointment, + and self-control are a part of our education; that it is not by + taking away all restraining law that our improvement is to be + achieved; and, though many things need great amendment, I can by no + means go so far as my friends would have me. When I feel that I can + say what will benefit my fellow-creatures, I will speak; not before. + Then, I recoil from the vulgar abuse of the inimical press. I do more + than recoil: proud and sensitive, I act on the defensive--an + inglorious position. To hang back, as I do, brings a penalty. I was + nursed and fed with a love of glory. To be something great and good + was the precept given me by my Father; Shelley reiterated it. Alone + and poor, I could only be something by joining a party; and there was + much in me--the woman's love of looking up, and being guided, and + being willing to do anything if any one supported and brought me + forward--which would have made me a good partisan. But Shelley died + and I was alone. My Father, from age and domestic circumstances, could + not _me faire valoir_. My total friendlessness, my horror of pushing, + and inability to put myself forward unless led, cherished and + supported--all this has sunk me in a state of loneliness no other + human being ever before, I believe, endured--except Robinson Crusoe. + How many tears and spasms of anguish this solitude has cost me, lies + buried in my memory. + + If I had raved and ranted about what I did not understand, had I + adopted a set of opinions, and propagated them with enthusiasm; had I + been careless of attack, and eager for notoriety; then the party to + which I belonged had gathered round me, and I had not been alone. + + It has been the fashion with these same friends to accuse me of + worldliness. There, indeed, in my own heart and conscience, I take a + high ground. I may distrust my own judgment too much--be too indolent + and too timid; but in conduct I am above merited blame. + + I like society; I believe all persons who have any talent (who are in + good health) do. The soil that gives forth nothing may lie ever + fallow; but that which produces--however humble its product--needs + cultivation, change of harvest, refreshing dews, and ripening sun. + Books do much; but the living intercourse is the vital heat. Debarred + from that, how have I pined and died! + + My early friends chose the position of enemies. When I first + discovered that a trusted friend had acted falsely by me, I was nearly + destroyed. My health was shaken. I remember thinking, with a burst of + agonising tears, that I should prefer a bed of torture to the + unutterable anguish a friend's falsehood engendered. There is no + resentment; but the world can never be to me what it was before. Trust + and confidence, and the heart's sincere devotion are gone. + + I sought at that time to make acquaintances--to divert my mind from + this anguish. I got entangled in various ways through my ready + sympathy and too eager heart; but I never crouched to society--never + sought it unworthily. If I have never written to vindicate the rights + of women, I have ever befriended women when oppressed. At every risk I + have befriended and supported victims to the social system; but I make + no boast, for in truth it is simple justice I perform; and so I am + still reviled for being worldly. + + God grant a happier and a better day is near! Percy--my + all-in-all--will, I trust, by his excellent understanding, his clear, + bright, sincere spirit and affectionate heart, repay me for sad long + years of desolation. His career may lead me into the thick of life or + only gild a quiet home. I am content with either, and, as I grow + older, I grow more fearless for myself--I become firmer in my + opinions. The experienced, the suffering, the thoughtful, may at last + speak unrebuked. If it be the will of God that I live, I may ally my + name yet to "the Good Cause," though I do not expect to please my + accusers. + + Thus have I put down my thoughts. I may have deceived myself; I may be + in the wrong; I try to examine myself; and such as I have written + appears to me the exact truth. + + Enough of this! The great work of life goes on. Death draws near. To + be better after death than in life is one's hope and endeavour--to be + so through self-schooling. If I write the above, it is that those who + love me may hereafter know that I am not all to blame, nor merit the + heavy accusations cast on me for not putting myself forward. I cannot + do that; it is against my nature. As well cast me from a precipice and + rail at me for not flying. + +The true success of Mary Shelley's life was not, therefore, the +intellectual triumph of which, during her youth, she had loved to dream, +and which at one time seemed to be actually within her grasp, but the +moral success of beauty of character. To those people--a daily increasing +number in this tired world--who erect the natural grace of animal spirits +to the rank of the highest virtue, this success may appear hardly worth +the name. Yet it was a very real victory. Her nature was not without +faults or tendencies which, if undisciplined, might have developed into +faults, but every year she lived seemed to mellow and ripen her finer +qualities, while blemishes or weaknesses were suppressed or overcome, and +finally disappeared altogether. + +As to her theological views, about which the most contradictory opinions +have been expressed, it can but be said that nothing in Mrs. Shelley's +writings gives other people the right to formulate for her any dogmatic +opinions at all. Brought up in a purely rationalistic creed, her education +had of course, no tinge of what is known as "personal religion," and it +must be repeated here that none of her acts and views were founded, or +should be judged as if they were founded on Biblical commands or +prohibitions. That the temper of her mind, so to speak, was eminently +religious there can be no doubt; that she believed in God and a future +state there are many allusions to show.[24] Perhaps no one, having lived +with the so-called atheist, Shelley, could have accepted the idea of the +limitation, or the extinction of intelligence and goodness. Her liberality +of mind, however, was rewarded by abuse from some of her acquaintance, +because her toleration was extended even to the orthodox. + +Her moral opinions, had they ever been formulated, which they never were, +would have approximated closely to those of Mary Wollstonecraft, limited, +however, by an inability, like her father's, _not_ to see both sides of a +question, and also by the severest and most elevated standard of moral +purity, of personal faith and loyalty. To be judged by such a standard she +would have regarded as a woman's highest privilege. To claim as a "woman's +right" any licence, any lowering of the standard of duty in these matters, +would have been to her incomprehensible and impossible. But, with all +this, she discriminated. Her standard was not that of the conventional +world. + +At every risk, as she says, she befriended those whom she considered +"victims to the social system." It was a difficult course; for, while her +acquaintance of the "advanced" type accused her of cowardice and +worldliness for not asserting herself as a champion of universal liberty, +there were more who were ready to decry her for her friendly relations +with Countess Guiccioli, Lady Mountcashel, and others not named here; to +say nothing of Clare, to whom much of her happiness had been sacrificed. +She refrained from pronouncing judgment, but reserved her liberty of +action, and in all doubtful cases gave others the benefit of the doubt, +and this without respect of persons. She would not excommunicate a humble +individual for what was passed over in a man or woman of genius; nor +condemn a woman for what, in a man, might be excused, or might even add to +his social reputation. Least of all would she secure her own position by +shunning those whose case had once been hers, and who in their after life +had been less fortunate than she. Pure herself, she could be charitable, +and she could be just. + +The influence of such a wife on Shelley's more vehement, visionary +temperament can hardly be over-estimated. Their moods did not always suit +or coincide; each, at times, made the other suffer. It could not be +otherwise with two natures so young, so strong, and so individual. But, if +forbearance may have been sometimes called for on the one hand, and on +the other a charity which is kind and thinks no evil, it was only a part +of that discipline from which the married life of geniuses is not exempt, +and which tests the temper and quality of the metal it tries; an ordeal +from which two noble natures come forth the purer and the stronger. + +The indirect, unconscious power of elevation of character is great, and +not even a Shelley but must be the better for association with it, not +even he but must be the nobler, "yea, three times less unworthy" through +the love of such a woman as Mary. He would not have been all he was +without her sustaining and refining influence; without the constant sense +that in loving him she loved his ideals also. We owe him, in part, to her. + +Love--the love of Love--was Shelley's life and creed. This, in Mary's +creed, was interpreted as love of Shelley. By all the rest she strove to +do her duty, but, when the end came, that survived as the one great fact +of her life--a fact she might have uttered in words like his-- + + And where is Truth? On tombs; for such to thee + Has been my heart; and thy dead memory + Has lain from (girlhood), many a changeful year, + Unchangingly preserved, and buried there. + + +_F. D. & Co._ + +_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_. + + + + +POSTSCRIPT + + +Since this book was printed, a series of letters from Harriet Shelley to +an Irish friend, Mrs. Nugent, containing references to the separation from +Shelley, has been published in the New York _Nation_. These letters, +however, add nothing to what was previously known of Harriet's history and +life with Shelley. After November 1813 the correspondence ceases. It is +resumed in August 1814, after the separation and Shelley's departure from +England. Harriet's account of these events--gathered by her at second-hand +from those who can, themselves, have had no knowledge of the facts they +professed to relate--embodies all the slanderous reports adverted to in +the seventh chapter of the present work, and all the gratuitous falsehoods +circulated by Mrs. Godwin;--falsehoods which Professor Dowden, in the +Appendix to his _Life of Shelley_, has been at the trouble directly to +disprove, statement by statement;--falsehoods of which the Author cannot +but hope that an amply sufficient, if an indirect, refutation may be found +in the present Life of Mary Shelley. + + + + +ERRATA + + +Vol. i. p. 55, footnote, _for_ "Schlabrendorf," _read_ "Schlaberndorf." + +Vol. i. p. 84, line 7, _for_ "(including his own mother, in Skinner +Street)," _read_ "(including his own mother) in Skinner Street." + +Vol. i. p. 170, line 20, _for_ "Heeding not the misery then spoken," +_read_ "Heeding not the words then spoken." + +Vol. ii. p. 200, line 7, _for_ "Moghiteff," _read_ "Moghileff." + +Vol. ii. p. 216, line 12, _for_ "Zela," _read_ "Zella." + + + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] Leigh Hunt used often to say that he was the dearest friend Shelley +had; I believe he was the most costly.--_Trelawny's Recollections._ + +[2] Mrs. Shelley's letter says twelve days, but this is an error, due, no +doubt, to her distress of mind. She gives the date of Trelawny's return to +Leghorn as the 25th of July; it should have been the 18th. + +[3] Mrs. Mason. + +[4] The Hunts. + +[5] See Godwin's letter, page 96. + +[6] So it happened, however. + +[7] Mrs. Hunt, an amateur sculptress of talent, was also skilful in +cutting out profiles in cardboard. From some of these, notably from one of +Lord Byron, successful likenesses were made. + +[8] Lord Byron. + +[9] Fanny Wright subsequently married a Frenchman, M. Phiquepal Darusmont. +Under the head of "Darusmont" a sketch of her life, by Mr. R. Garnett, +containing many highly interesting details of her career, is to be found +in the _Dictionary of National Biography_. + +[10] Miss Robinson. + +[11] "Recollections" in the original; "Records" in the later and, now, +better known edition. + +[12] Page 191. + +[13] Allegra was buried at Harrow. + +[14] Jane's mother. + +[15] In _The Last Man_. + +[16] The heroine of _Valperga_. + +[17] Things have changed at the British Museum, not a little, since these +words were written. + +[18] In a letter of Clare's, before this time, referring to the marriage +of one of the Miss Robinsons, she remarks, "I am quite glad to think that +for the future you may only have Percy and yourself to maintain." + +[19] The Miss Robinsons. + +[20] _Lodore._ + +[21] Such as the following, taken from the Preface: We have lately been +accustomed to look on Italy as a discontented province of Austria, +forgetful that her supremacy dates only from the downfall of Napoleon. +From the invasion of Charles VIII till 1815 Italy has been a battlefield, +where the Spaniard, the French, and the German have fought for mastery; +and we are blind indeed if we do not see that such will occur again, at +least among the two last. Supposing a war to arise between them, one of +the first acts of aggression on the part of France would be to try to +drive the Germans from Italy. Even if peace continue, it is felt that the +papal power is tottering to its fall,--it is only supported because the +French will not allow Austria to extend her dominions, and the Austrian is +eager to prevent any change that may afford pretence for the French to +interfere. Did the present Pope act with any degree of prudence, his +power, thus propped, might last some time longer; but as it is, who can +say how soon, for the sake of peace in the rest of Italy, it may not be +necessary to curtail his territories. + +The French feel this, and begin to dream of dominion across the Alps; the +occupation of Ancona was a feeler put out; it gained no positive object +except to check Austria; for the rest its best effect was to reiterate the +lesson they have often taught, that no faith should be given to their +promises of liberation. + +[22] She had published her last novel, _Falkner_, in 1837. + +[23] Carlyle's epitaph on his wife. + +[24] "My belief is," she says in the preface to her edition of Shelley's +prose works, "that spiritual improvement in this life prepares the way to +a higher existence." + + + + +_In 2 vols. Crown 8vo, with 2 Portraits, 24s._ + +JOHN FRANCIS AND THE 'ATHENAEUM.' + +_A LITERARY CHRONICLE OF HALF A CENTURY._ + +BY JOHN C. FRANCIS. + + +OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. + +'The career of John Francis, publisher of the _Athenaeum_, was worth +telling for the zeal with which, for more than thirty years, he pursued +the definite purpose of obtaining the abolition of the paper duty.... With +equal ardour did Mr. Francis labour for half a century in publishing the +weekly issue of the _Athenaeum_; and these two volumes, which describe its +progress from its birth in January, 1828, to the full perfection of its +powers in 1882, are a fitting record of the literary history of that +period.'--_Academy._ + +'Anybody who wants a complete summary of what the world has been thinking +and doing since Silk Buckingham, with Dr. Stebbing and Charles Knight and +Sterling and Maurice as his staff, started the _Athenaeum_ in 1828, will +find plenty to satisfy him in _John Francis, a Literary Chronicle of Half +a Century_.... Mr. Francis's autobiography is not the least valuable part +of this valuable record.'--_Graphic._ + +'As a record of the literature of fifty years, and in a less complete +degree of the progress of science and art, and as a memento of many +notable characters in various fields of intellectual culture, these +volumes are of considerable value.'--_Morning Post._ + +'The volumes abound with curious and interesting statements, and in +bringing before the public the most notable features of a distinguished +journal from its infancy almost to the present hour, Mr. Francis deserves +the thanks of all readers interested in literature.'--_Spectator._ + +'No memoir of Mr. Francis would be complete without a corresponding +history of the journal with which his name will for ever be identified.... +The extraordinary variety of subjects and persons referred to, embracing +as they do every event in literature, and referring to every person of +distinction in science or letters, is a record of such magnitude that we +can only indicate its outlines. To the literary historian the volumes will +be of incalculable service.'--_Bookseller._ + +'This literary chronicle of half a century must at once, or in course of a +short time, take a place as a permanent work of reference.'--_Publishers' +Circular._ + +'Some valuable and interesting matter has been collected chronologically +regarding the literary history of the last fifty years.'--_Murray's +Magazine._ + +'We have put before us a valuable collection of materials for the future +history of the Victorian era of English literature.'--_Standard._ + +'John Francis was a faithful servant, and also an earnest worker for the +good of his fellow-creatures. Sunday schools, charitable societies, and +mechanics' institutes found in him a patient and steady helper, and no one +laboured more persistently and unselfishly to procure the abolition of the +pernicious taxes on knowledge.'--_Daily Chronicle._ + +'Such a life interests us, and carries with it a fruitful moral.... The +history of the _Athenaeum_ also well deserved to be told.'--_Daily News._ + +'A worthy monument of the development of literature during the last fifty +years.... The volumes contain not a little specially interesting to +Scotsmen.'--_Scotsman._ + +'Rich in literary and social interest, and afford a comprehensive survey +of the intellectual progress of the nation.'--_Leeds Mercury._ + +'It is in characters so sterling and admirable as this that the real +strength of a nation lies.... The public will find in the book reading +which, if light and easy, is also full of interest and suggestion.... We +suspect that writers for the daily and weekly papers will find out that it +is convenient to keep these volumes of handy size, and each having its own +index, extending the one to 20, the other to 30 pages, at their elbow for +reference.'--_Liverpool Mercury._ + +'The book is, in fact, as it is described, a literary chronicle of the +period with which it deals, and a chronicle put together with as much +skill as taste and discrimination. The information given about notable +people of the past is always interesting and often piquant, while it +rarely fails to throw some new light on the individuality of the person to +whom it refers.'--_Liverpool Daily Post._ + +'Our survey has been unavoidably confined almost exclusively to the first +volume; indeed, anything like an adequate account of the book is +impossible, for it may be described as a history in notes of the +literature of the period with which it deals. We confess that we have been +able to find very few pages altogether barren of interest, and by far the +larger portion of the book will be found irresistibly attractive by all +who care anything for the history of literature in our own +time.'--_Manchester Examiner._ + +'It was a happy thought in this age of jubilees to associate with a +literary chronicle of the last fifty years a biographical sketch of the +life of John Francis.... As we glance through the contents there is +scarcely a page which does not induce us to stop and read about the men +and events that are summoned again before us.'--_Western Daily Mercury._ + +'A mine of information on subjects connected with literature for the last +fifty years.'--_Echo._ + +'The volumes are full of interest.... The indexes of these two volumes +show at a glance that a feast of memorabilia, of gossip, of reminiscence, +is in store for the reader.'--_Nonconformist._ + +'The thought of compiling these volumes was a happy one, and it has been +ably carried out by Mr. John C. 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