It was late in the autumn of 1820, when, at Shelley’s invitation to pass the winter with him, I
reached Pisa. I was not aware that he had gone to the Baths of St. Julian, and on enquiring
for him, was referred for information to Lady
Mount-Cashel, a lady whose retirement from the world was not unprofitable,
for perhaps it was devoted to one of the best works on the Education of Children which we possess. She was one of the few
persons with whom the Shelleys were intimate. She had been in early
life the friend of Mary Wolstone-
2 | LIFE OF SHELLEY. |
It was nearly seven years since we had parted, but I should immediately
have recognised him in a crowd. His figure was emaciated, and somewhat bent, owing to
near-sightedness, and his being forced to lean over his books, with his eyes almost
touching them; his hair, still profuse, and curling naturally, was partially interspersed
with grey; but his appearance was youthful, and his countenance, whether grave or animated,
strikingly intellectual. There was also a freshness and purity in his complexion that he
never lost. I accompanied him to the baths, then, owing to the lateness of the season, (it
was November,) quite deserted,—for they are completely a summer resort; and there I
had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Mrs.
Shelley, and saw Percy, their little
son, then an
LIFE OF SHELLEY. | 3 |
4 | LIFE OF SHELLEY. |
We here fixed ourselves for the winter, if such an expression be applicable
to the divine climate of that gifted city, “where autumn
LIFE OF SHELLEY. | 5 |
I was suffering from the effects of my abode in the East, and placed myself under the hands of the celebrated Vacca, of whom Shelley and Lord Byron both speak with deserved praise.
During a long and severe attack of illness, aggravated by the fatigues of my journey from Geneva, Shelley tended me like a brother. He applied my leeches, administered my medicines, and during six weeks that I was confined to my room, was assiduous and unintermitting in his affectionate care of me,—care I shall never forget; most ungrateful should I indeed be, were it not indelibly stamped on my memory.
During this imprisonment, it was, that I first had an opportunity of
reading his works, with many of which I was unacquainted. The delight they afforded me
often disarmed pain. I loved to trace in them, from our crude attempts at rhyme, his
earliest thoughts, associated as they were with the recollections of our boy-
6 | LIFE OF SHELLEY. |
At other times perhaps, however, his features, that bore the impress of
suffering, might have been false interpreters of the state of his mind, and his spirit
might be lost in reverie, of which state it has been well said, that those subject to
LIFE OF SHELLEY. | 7 |
Other feelings, besides those of disappointment, had tended at this time to
wound his
8 | LIFE OF SHELLEY. |
To show what the feeling of the English abroad was against him, in
consequence of this vile attack, I will here repeat an anecdote, which I have already given
to the world, and which must have highly gratified the re-
LIFE OF SHELLEY. | 9 |
Raving with the insult, he immediately sought his friend, Mr. Tighe, the son of the renowned Psyche Tighe, who lost no time in taking measures to
obtain satisfaction. Mr. Tighe was some time in discovering where the
cowardly aggressor had put up; but at length tracked him to the Trè Donzelle. There were
but few travellers then in the city, and the description of the man tallied exactly with
that of an officer in
10 | LIFE OF SHELLEY. |
This anecdote may suggest to the reader the fanaticism which nearly proved fatal to Spinosa, who has been branded everywhere but in Germany as an Atheist and Epicurean, but whom Novalis calls a god-intoxicated man, and whose epicureanism is best disproved by his spending only twopence halfpenny a day on his food.
One evening as Spinosa was coming out of the theatre, where he had been relaxing his overtasked mind, he was startled by the fierce expression of a dark face thrust eagerly before his. The glare of blood-thirsty fanaticism arrested him; a knife gleamed in the air, and he had barely time to parry the blow. It fell upon his chest, but fortunately deadened in its force, only tore his coat. The assassin escaped—Spinosa walked home thoughtful.
LIFE OF SHELLEY. | 11 |
The author of the Biography of Philosophy, one of the
most acute and candid works I ever met with, compares Shelley and Spinosa together, and
does ample justice to their characters. Speaking of Shelley’s
ostracism, he says,—“Like the young and energetic
Shelley, who afterwards imitated him, he found himself an
outcast in the busy world, with no other guides through its perplexing labyrinths than
sincerity and self-dependence. Two or three new friends soon presented themselves, men
who warred against their religion, as he had warred against his own; and a bond of
sympathy was forged out of the common injustice. Here again we trace a resemblance to
Shelley, who, discountenanced by his relations, sought among a
few sceptical friends, to supply the affection he was thus deprived of. Like
Spinosa, he too had only sisters with whom he had been brought
up. No doubt, in both cases, the consciousness of sincerity, and the pride of
martyrdom, were great shields in the combat with society. They are
12 | LIFE OF SHELLEY. |
This anecdote (to return to it) will show what animosity the malice of Shelley’s enemies had roused against him in the hearts of his compatriots; but the time is happily past, when Quarterlies can deal forth damnation, and point out as a mad dog, to be knocked on the head, every one who does not subscribe to the Thirty-nine Articles.
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