The Life and Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley Volume Ii Part 7

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 Sh.e.l.ley'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. Sh.e.l.ley'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 Sh.e.l.ley, but in this he was disappointed, and he was left to bear the responsibility of the partnership alone.

"The death of Sh.e.l.ley 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 h.o.a.rding 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 a.s.sistance, 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 Sh.e.l.lEY 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 Sh.e.l.ley 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 const.i.tution 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 Sh.e.l.ley "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 dest.i.tute there. But I feel above the mark of Fortune, and my heart too much wounded to feel these p.r.i.c.ks, 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. Sh.e.l.lEY.

_Sat.u.r.day._

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 Sh.e.l.lEY 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 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 fort.i.tude, 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 Sh.e.l.lEY.

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.

G.o.dWIN TO MARY.

NO. 195 STRAND, _6th May 1823_.

It certainly is, my dear Mary, with great pleasure that I antic.i.p.ate 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 antic.i.p.ated. 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 sh.o.r.es of the Mediterranean!

Your novel has sold five hundred copies--half the impression.

Peac.o.c.k 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 G.o.dWIN.

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 Sh.e.l.lEY TO JANE WILLIAMS.

ST. JEAN DE LA MAURIENNE, _30th July 1823_.