CHAPTER IV.

HEN Shelley and Mary Godwin left London on

WH

the morning of the 28th of July (1814), they were accompanied by the latter's half-sister, or half-sister by courtesy. Miss Clara Mary Jane Clairmont - by her relatives called Jane, but to the Shelleys and their friends known as Clare or Claire- was the daughter, by a former marriage, of Godwin's second wife. She was like Mary Godwin in certain of her tastes, but intellectually she was her inferior. Mary was fair and suave, Claire was dark and extremely vivacious. Both were at this time young girls, and were affectionate companions if not friends. They had an elder half-sister, Fanny Imlay, the daughter of Godwin's first wife, Mary Wollstonecraft, who had lived in unlegalized marriage with a Mr. Imlay. Miss Imlay was of a less ardent and more timid disposition than either of her half-sisters, and would probably, had she been at home in this eventful July, have dissuaded Mary from elopement with Shelley. Before readers wonder why Shelley, holding the principles he did, did not openly ask Mary Godwin (with similar principles) to accompany him from the house of her father (who, again, held principles identical), it must

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be borne in mind (1) that Shelley had a wife living; (2) that his means were very limited, and would speedily be more so, as Mr. Westbrook would at once cease the annual allowance he made to his daughter Harriet and her husband, a course, moreover, which Mr. Timothy Shelley might also adopt; and (3) that Godwin's daughter was considerably under age.

There are all the elements of a tragi-comedy in this episode. Not very many months previously Shelley had written to Godwin a letter of boyish enthusiasm, more ambitious, apparently, of the master's reception of him as a worshipping disciple than of any other honour or glory the world could bestow. And now he elopes with the philosopher's young daughter, and, moreover, includes another of his mentor's children in the party. Yet, all the time, Shelley never seems to have realized that Godwin had any just cause of complaint against him. As a matter of fact, the blow was not one entirely without compensation. The author of the "Political Justice" was familiar with the unpleasantnesses of poverty, and there was balm to his wounded spirit in the knowledge that, for the time being at any rate, he would not need to provide for either Mary or Claire. And he foresaw, what actually occurred, ultimate valuable monetary assistance from Shelley.

There is some uncertainty as to whether or not Miss Clairmont left Godwin's house with Mary with knowledge of what was about to take place. Her own account (but she was by no means always a reliable authority concerning herself) was, that she left the house in the silent summer morning, believing that she and Mary were only going to

indulge in an exceptionally early walk; and that when they encountered Shelley at the corner of Hatton Garden he begged her to accompany him and Mary to France, as she was a good French linguist, and they were unfamiliar with the language. However, it is a matter of little importance.

The three journeyed to Paris, and thence with little delay to Switzerland, by way of the Jura. It had been their intention to perform the journey across France on foot, and to this end they had hired a donkey for the conveyance of their luggage. Mainly, however, on account of Mary's indifferent health, a mule-drawn vehicle was engaged, which carried them across plain and hill till they passed the Jura, beheld the heights beyond Neufchatel, and finally reached Brunnen on the lake of Lucerne. Here Shelley began the last (unless we consider the fragment styled "The Coliseum," composed in 1819), and what promised to be much the best, of his prose tales-the romance entitled "The Assassins." There is nothing of the "Zastrozzi" style about this well-written though occasionally somewhat stilted narrative. The finest portion of it describes the beautiful valley of Bethzatanai.

Want of money caused an abrupt return to be necessary, and the homeward journey was made by way of the Reuss and the Rhine. This trip was greatly enjoyed by Shelley, and gave him the main part of the material wherefrom he extracted the glorious lines of "Alastor." It came to a close at Gravesend on the 13th of September, and is faithfully recorded in Mary Godwin Shelley's "History of a Six Weeks' Tour."

Monetary troubles, disagreeables of various kinds, in

cluding visits to Harriet, occupied the autumnal and early winter months. Early in January of 1815, Shelley's prospects very materially improved, owing to the death of his grandfather, Sir Bysshe. By an arrangement with his father, now Sir Timothy, he found himself in the possession of a yearly income of £1,000. Of this allowance a fifth part went to the sustenance of Harriet and the children, and no inconsiderable portion of the remainder was charitably and generously expended.

The months went past very happily so far as Shelley and Mary were concerned. More and more each realized that they had not been blinded by passion, but that each was genuinely suited to the other. Many hours weekly were spent by Shelley in assisting the necessitous, and it is said (though on extremely dubious authority), that he even walked a hospital, in order that he might acquire sufficient medical knowledge to be of real service to the poor whom it was his wont to visit. Perhaps these experiences insensibly increased his morbid fears concerning his own health; at any rate, at this period he became convinced that he had but a short time to live. Undoubtedly he was fragile in body and frail in constitution, but neither then nor later does he seem to have suffered from any organic complaint, although, in the spring of 1815, a transient abscess (the origin of much pain and alarm) had formed upon one of his lungs. Probably it was nephritis that attacked him at intervals; to this affection could be attributed most of his symptoms, along with the nervous disorder which had naturally ensued from his habits of fasting, from insufficient sustenance, and excessive mental excitation.

At all times, from his boyhood onward, he consciously dwelt in the shadow of early death; a fact which must be borne in mind when we come to consider his poetic development, powers, and achievement.

On or about the 20th of February, Mary gave birth to a seven-months' girl-babe, a delicate infant, but for whom the father and mother hoped all things. Some ten or twelve days elapsed, and Mary awoke to find her little one dead. The grief experienced by both parents was poignant. There is a touching pathos in the entries of Mary's diary about this time

"Sunday, March 19th.-Dream that my little baby came to life again; that it had only been cold, and that we rubbed it before the fire, and it lived. Awake and find no baby. I think about the little thing all day.

"Monday, March 20th.-Dream again about my baby."

In mid-May, Claire Clairmont left her friends for a time, greatly to Mary's relief, who had tired of her constant companionship and her somewhat capricious temper. Soon after this Shelley found London again. becoming intolerable, for was not "sumer y-comin in"? Therefore he hasted away to seek refuge in Devon. A little later, however, he and Mary found a suitable cottage at Bishopsgate, on the eastern borders of Windsor Park. Here Shelley was close to the lovely woodlands and the river, far from noise and disturbance, and in