After some divine _Italian_ weather, we are now enjoying some fine English weather; _cioe_, it does not rain, but not a ray can pierce the web aloft.--Most truly yours,
MARY W. S.
MARY Sh.e.l.lEY TO MRS. HUNT.
_5th March 1822._
MY DEAREST MARIANNE--I hope that this letter will find you quite well, recovering from your severe attack, and looking towards your haven Italy with best hopes. I do indeed believe that you will find a relief here from your many English cares, and that the winds which waft you will sing the requiem to all your ills. It was indeed unfortunate that you encountered such weather on the very threshold of your journey, and as the wind howled through the long night, how often did I think of you! At length it seemed as if we should never, never meet; but I will not give way to such a presentiment. We enjoy here divine weather. The sun hot, too hot, with a freshness and clearness in the breeze that bears with it all the delights of spring. The hedges are budding, and you should see me and my friend Mrs. Williams poking about for violets by the sides of dry ditches; she being herself--
A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye.
Yesterday a countryman seeing our dilemma, since the ditch was not quite dry, insisted on gathering them for us, and when we resisted, saying that we had no _quattrini_ (_i.e._ farthings, being the generic name for all money), he indignantly exclaimed, _Oh! se lo faccio per interesse!_ How I wish you were with us in our rambles! Our good cavaliers flock together, and as they do not like _fetching a walk with the absurd womankind_, Jane (_i.e._ Mrs. Williams) and I are off together, and talk morality and pluck violets by the way. I look forward to many duets with this lady and Hunt. She has a very pretty voice, and a taste and ear for music which is almost miraculous. The harp is her favourite instrument; but we have none, and a very bad piano; however, as it is, we pa.s.s very pleasant evenings, though I can hardly bear to hear her sing "Donne l"amore"; it transports me so entirely back to your little parlour at Hampstead--and I see the piano, the bookcase, the prints, the casts--and hear Mary"s _far-ha-ha-a_!
We are in great uncertainty as to where we shall spend the summer.
There is a beautiful bay about fifty miles off, and as we have resolved on the sea, Sh.e.l.ley bought a boat. We wished very much to go there; perhaps we shall still, but as yet we can find but one house; but as we are a colony "which moves altogether or not at all," we have not yet made up our minds. The apartments which we have prepared for you in Lord Byron"s house will be very warm for the summer; and indeed for the two hottest months I should think that you had better go into the country. Villas about here are tolerably cheap, and they are perfect paradises. Perhaps, as it was with me, Italy will not strike you as so divine at first; but each day it becomes dearer and more delightful; the sun, the flowers, the air, all is more sweet and more balmy than in the _Ultima Thule_ that you inhabit.
M. W. S.
The journal for the next few weeks has nothing eventful to record. The preceding letter to Mrs. Hunt gives a simple and pleasing picture of their daily life. Perhaps Mary had never been quite so happy before; she wrote to the Hunts that she thought she grew younger. Both she and Sh.e.l.ley were occasionally ailing, and Sh.e.l.ley"s letters show that his spirits suffered depression at times, still, in this respect as well as in health, he was better than he had been in any former spring. The proximity of Byron and his circle was not, however, favourable to inspiration or to literary composition. Byron"s temperament acted as a damper to enthusiasm in others, and Sh.e.l.ley, though his estimate of Byron"s genius was very high, was perpetually jarred and crossed by his worldliness and his moral shallowness and vulgarity. He invariably, acted, however, as Byron"s true and disinterested friend; and Byron was fully aware of the value of his friendship and of his literary help and criticism.
Trelawny, to whom Byron had taken kindly enough, estimated the difference in the moral worth of the two poets with singular justice.
"I believed in many things then, and believe in some now," he wrote, more than five and thirty years afterwards: "I could not sympathise with Byron, who believed in nothing."
His friendship for Byron, nevertheless, was to be loyal and lasting. But his favourite resort in these Pisan days was the "hospitable and cheerful abode of the Sh.e.l.leys."
"There," he says, "I found those sympathies and sentiments which the Pilgrim denounced as illusions, believed in as the only realities."
At Byron"s social gatherings--riding-parties or dinner-parties--he made a point of getting Sh.e.l.ley if he could; and Sh.e.l.ley was very compliant, although the society of which Byron was the nucleus was neither congenial nor interesting to him, and he always took the first good opportunity of escaping. Daily intercourse of this kind tended gradually to estrange rather than unite the two poets: by accentuating differences it brought into evidence that gulf between their natures which, in spite of the one touch of kinship that certainly existed, was equally impa.s.sable by one and by the other. Besides, the subject of Clare and Allegra, never far below the surface, would occasionally come up, and this was a sore point on both sides. As has already been said, Byron appreciated Sh.e.l.ley, though he did not sympathise with him. In after days he bore public testimony to the purity and unselfishness of Sh.e.l.ley"s character and to the upright and disinterested motives which actuated him in all he did. But his respect for Sh.e.l.ley was not so strong as his antipathy to Clare, and Sh.e.l.ley"s feeling towards her was regarded by him with a cynical sneer which he had no care to hide, and of which its object could not always be unconscious.
It is not wonderful that at times there swept across Sh.e.l.ley"s mind, like a black cloud, the conviction that neither a sense of honour nor justice restrained Byron from the basest insinuations. And then again this suspicion would pa.s.s away as too dreadful to be entertained.
Meanwhile Clare, in the pursuit of her newly-adopted profession, was thinking of going to Vienna, and she longed for a sight of her child first. She had been unusually long, or she fancied so, without news of Allegra, and she was growing desperately anxious,--with only too good cause, as the event showed. She wrote to Byron, entreating him to arrange for a visit or an interview. Byron took no notice of her letters. The Sh.e.l.leys dared not annoy him unnecessarily on the subject, as he had been heard to threaten if they did so to immure Allegra in some secret convent where no one could get at her or even hear of her. Clare, working herself up into a state of half-frenzied excitement, sent them letter after letter, suggesting and urging wild plans (which Sh.e.l.ley was to realise) for carrying off the child by armed force; indeed, one of her schemes seems to have been to take advantage of the projected interview, if granted, for putting this design into execution. Some such proposed breach of faith must have been the occasion of Sh.e.l.ley"s answering her--
I know not what to think of the state of your mind, or what to fear for you. Your late plan about Allegra seems to me in its present form pregnant with irremediable infamy to all the actors in it except yourself.
He did not think that in her present excited mental condition she was fit to go to Vienna, and he entreated her to postpone the idea. His advice, often repeated in different words, was, that she should not lose herself in distant and uncertain plans, but "systematise and simplify" her motions, at least for the present, and, if she felt in the least disposed, that she should come and stay with them--
If you like, come and look for houses with me in our boat; it might distract your mind.
He and Mary had resolved to quit Pisa as soon as the weather made it desirable to do so; but their plans and their anxieties were alike suspended by a temporary excitement of which Mary"s account is given in the following letter--
MRS. Sh.e.l.lEY TO MRS. GISBORNE.
PISA, _6th April 1822_.
MY DEAR MRS. GISBORNE--Not many days after I had written to you concerning the fate which ever pursues us at spring-tide, a circ.u.mstance happened which showed that we were not forgotten this year. Although, indeed, now that it is all over, I begin to fear that the King of G.o.ds and men will not consider it a sufficiently heavy visitation, although for a time it threatened to be frightful enough.
Two Sundays ago, Lord Byron, Sh.e.l.ley, Trelawny, Captain Hay, Count Gamba, and Taafe were returning from their usual evening ride, when, near the Porta della Piazza, they were pa.s.sed by a soldier who galloped through the midst of them knocking up against Taafe. This nice little gentleman exclaimed, "Shall we endure this man"s insolence?" Lord Byron replied, "No! we will bring him to an account,"
and Sh.e.l.ley (whose blood always boils at any insolence offered by a soldier) added, "As you please!" so they put spurs to their horses (_i.e._ all but Taafe, who remained quietly behind), followed and stopped the man, and, fancying that he was an officer, demanded his name and address, and gave their cards. The man who, I believe, was half drunk, replied only by all the oaths and abuse in which the Italian language is so rich. He ended by saying, "If I liked I could draw my sabre and cut you all to pieces, but as it is, I only arrest you," and he called out to the guards at the gate _arrestategli_. Lord Byron laughed at this, and saying _arrestateci pure_, gave spurs to his horse and rode towards the gate, followed by the rest. Lord Byron and Gamba pa.s.sed, but before the others could, the soldier got under the gateway, called on the guard to stop them, and drawing his sabre, began to cut at them. It happened that I and the Countess Guiccioli were in a carriage close behind and saw it all, and you may guess how frightened we were when we saw our cavaliers cut at, they being totally unarmed. Their only safety was, that the field of battle being so confined, they got close under the man, and were able to arrest his arm. Captain Hay was, however, wounded in his face, and Sh.e.l.ley thrown from his horse. I cannot tell you how it all ended, but after cutting and slashing a little, the man sheathed his sword and rode on, while the others got from their horses to a.s.sist poor Hay, who was faint from loss of blood. Lord Byron, when he had pa.s.sed the gate, rode to his own house, got a sword-stick from one of his servants, and was returning to the gate, Lung" Arno, when he met this man, who held out his hand saying, _Siete contento?_ Lord Byron replied, "No! I must know your name, that I may require satisfaction of you." The soldier said, _Il mio nome e Masi, sono sargente maggiore_, etc. etc. While they were talking, a servant of Lord Byron"s came and took hold of the bridle of the sergeant"s horse. Lord Byron ordered him to let it go, and immediately the man put his horse to a gallop, but, pa.s.sing Casa Lanfranchi, one of Lord Byron"s servants thought that he had killed his master and was running away; determining that he should not go scot-free, he ran at him with a pitchfork and wounded him. The man rode on a few paces, cried out, _Sono ammazzato_, and fell, was carried to the hospital, the Misericordia bell ringing. We were all a.s.sembled at Casa Lanfranchi, nursing our wounded man, and poor Teresa, from the excess of her fright, was worse than any, when what was our consternation when we heard that the man"s wound was considered mortal! Luckily none but ourselves knew who had given the wound; it was said by the wise Pisani, to have been one of Lord Byron"s servants, set on by his padrone, and they pitched upon a poor fellow merely because _aveva lo sguardo fiero, quanto un a.s.sa.s.sino_.
For some days Masi continued in great danger, but he is now recovering. As long as it was thought he would die, the Government did nothing; but now that he is nearly well, they have imprisoned two men, one of Lord Byron"s servants (the one with the _sguardo fiero_), and the other a servant of Teresa"s, who was behind our carriage, both perfectly innocent, but they have been kept _in segreto_ these ten days, and G.o.d knows when they will be let out. What think you of this?
Will it serve for our spring adventure? It is blown over now, it is true, but our fate has, in general, been in common with Dame Nature, and March winds and April showers have brought forth May flowers.
You have no notion what a ridiculous figure Taafe cut in all this--he kept far behind during the danger, but the next day he wished to take all the honour to himself, vowed that all Pisa talked of him alone, and coming to Lord Byron said, "My Lord, if you do not dare ride out to-day, I will alone." But the next day he again changed, he was afraid of being turned out of Tuscany, or of being obliged to fight with one of the officers of the sergeant"s regiment, of neither of which things there was the slightest danger, so he wrote a declaration to the Governor to say that he had nothing to do with it; so embroiling himself with Lord Byron, he got between Scylla and Charybdis, from which he has not yet extricated himself; for ourselves, we do not fear any ulterior consequences.
_10th April._
We received _h.e.l.las_ to-day, and the bill of lading. Sh.e.l.ley is well pleased with the former, though there are some mistakes. The only danger would arise from the vengeance of Masi, but the moment he is able to move, he is to be removed to another town; he is a _pessimo soggetto_, being the crony of Soldaini, Rosselmini, and Augustini, Pisan names of evil fame, which, perhaps, you may remember. There is only one consolation in all this, that if it be our fate to suffer, it is more agreeable, and more safe to suffer in company with five or six than alone. Well! after telling you this long story, I must relate our other news. And first, the Greek Ali Pashaw is dead, and his head sent to Constantinople; the reception of it was celebrated there by the ma.s.sacre of four thousand Greeks. The latter, however, get on. The Turkish fleet of 25 sail of the line-of-war vessels, and 40 transports, endeavoured to surprise the Greek fleet in its winter quarters; finding them prepared, they bore away for Lante, and pursued by the Greeks, took refuge in the bay of Naupacto. Here they first blockaded them, and obtained a complete victory. All the soldiers on board the transports, in endeavouring to land, were cut to pieces, and the fleet taken or destroyed. I heard something about h.e.l.lenists which greatly pleased me. When any one asks of the peasants of the Morea what news there is, and if they have had any victory, they reply: "I do not know, but for us it is [Greek: e tan, e epi tas]," being their Doric p.r.o.nunciation of [Greek: e tan, e epi tes], the speech of the Spartan mother, on presenting his shield to her son; "With this or on this."
I wish, my dear Mrs. Gisborne, that you would send the first part of this letter, addressed to Mr. W. G.o.dwin at Nash"s, Esq., Dover Street.
I wish him to have an account of the fray, and you will thus save me the trouble of writing it over again, for what with writing and talking about it, I am quite tired. In a late letter of mine to my father, I requested him to send you _Matilda_. I hope that he has complied with my desire, and, in that case, that you will get it copied and send it to me by the first opportunity, perhaps by Hunt, if he comes at all. I do not mention commissions to you, for although wishing much for the things about which I wrote [we have], for the present, no money to spare. We wish very much to hear from you again, and to hear if there are any hopes of your getting on in your plans, what Henry is doing, and how you continue to like England. The months of February and March were with us as hot as an English June. In the first days of April we have had some very cold weather; so that we are obliged to light fires again. Sh.e.l.ley has been much better in health this winter than any other since I have known him, Pisa certainly agrees with him exceedingly well, which is its only merit, in my eyes.
I wish fate had bound us to Naples instead. Percy is quite well; he begins to talk, Italian only now, and to call things _bello_ and _buono_, but the droll thing is, that he is right about the genders.
A silk _vest.i.to_ is _bello_, but a new _frusta_ is _bella_. He is a fine boy, full of life, and very pretty. Williams is very well, and they are getting on very well. Mrs. Williams is a miracle of economy, and, as Mrs. G.o.dwin used to call it, makes both ends meet with great comfort to herself and others. Medwin is gone to Rome; we have heaps of the gossip of a petty town this winter, being just in the _coterie_ where it was all carried on; but now _Grazie a Messer Domenedio_, the English are almost all gone, and we, being left alone, all subjects of discord and clacking cease. You may conceive what a _bisbiglio_ our adventure made. The Pisans were all enraged because the _maledetti inglesi_ were not punished; yet when the gentlemen returned from their ride the following day (busy fate) an immense crowd was a.s.sembled before Casa Lanfranchi, and they all took off their hats to them.
Adieu. _State bene e felice._ Best remembrances to Mr. Gisborne, and compliments to Henry, who will remember Hay as one of the Maremma hunters; he is a friend of Lord Byron"s.--Yours ever truly,
MARY W. S.
This affair, and the consequent inquiry and examination of witnesses in connection with it took up several days, on one of which Mary and Countess Guiccioli were under examination for five hours.
In the meantime Byron decided to go to Leghorn for his summer boating; whereupon Sh.e.l.ley wrote and definitively proposed to Clare that she should accompany his party to Spezzia, promising her quiet and privacy, and immunity from annoyance, while she bided her time with regard to Allegra.
Clare accepted the offer, and joined them at Pisa on the 15th of April in the expectation of starting very shortly. It turned out, however, that no suitable houses were, after all, to be had on the coast. This was an unexpected disappointment, and on the 23d she and the Williams" went off to Spezzia for another search. They were hardly on their way when letters were received by Sh.e.l.ley and Mary with the grievous news that Allegra had died of typhus fever in the convent of Bagnacavallo.
CHAPTER XVI
APRIL-JULY 1882
"Evil news. Not well."
These few words are Mary"s record of this frightful blow. She was again in delicate health, suffering from the same depressing symptoms as before Percy"s birth, and for a like reason.
No wonder she was made downright ill by the shock, and by the sickening apprehension of the scene to follow when Clare should hear the news.
On the next day but one--the 25th of April--the travellers returned.
Williams says, in his diary for that day--
Meet S., his face bespoke his feelings. C."s child was dead, and he had the office to break it to her, or rather not to do so; but, fearful of the news reaching her ears, to remove her instantly from this place.
Sh.e.l.ley could not tell Clare at once. Not while they were in Pisa, and with Byron close by. One, unfurnished, house was to be had, the Casa Magni, in the Bay of Lerici. Thither, on the chance of getting it, they must go, and instantly. Mary"s indisposition must be ignored; she must undertake the negotiations for the house. Within twenty-four hours she was off to Spezzia, with Clare and little Percy, escorted by Trelawny; poor Clare quite unconscious of the burden on her friends" minds. Sh.e.l.ley remained behind another day, to pack up the necessary furniture; but, on the 27th, he with the whole Williams family left Pisa for Lerici. Thence, while waiting for the furniture to arrive by sea, he wrote to Mary at Spezzia.
Sh.e.l.lEY TO MARY.
LERICI, _Sunday, 28th April 1822_.
DEAREST MARY--I am this moment arrived at Lerici, where I am necessarily detained, waiting the furniture, which left Pisa last night at midnight, and as the sea has been calm and the wind fair, I may expect them every moment. It would not do to leave affairs here in an _impiccio_, great as is my anxiety to see you. How are you, my best love? How have you sustained the trials of the journey? Answer me this question, and how my little babe and Clare are. Now to business--