serious annoyances, I have hardly time to attend to the petty. inconveniences to which we must be subjected by wintering here without any of our clothes, books, or comforts, all of which have been shipped to Leghorn. I think of taking a house at Versailles, but at present I am quite unsettled in everything. When I have arranged my plans, I shall write to you again; till when, and always, "I am, my dear Shelley, "Your very sincere and disappointed friend, Towards the close of December, Mrs. Shelley wrote a letter to Mrs. Gisborne, in which she says: "Since writing my last letter, we have heard of the departure of Hunt,* and now anxiously await his arrival. He will be more comfortable than he dreams of now; for Lord Byron has furnished the pian terreno of his own house for him, so that (more lucky than the rest of the economical English, who come here) he will find clean and spacious apartments, with every comfort about him, and a climate-such a climate! We dine in a room without a fire, with all the windows open; a tramontano reigns, which renders the sky clear, and the warm sun pours into our apartments. It is cold at night, but as yet not uncomfortably so; and it now verges towards Christmas-day. I am busy in arranging Hunt's rooms, since that task devolves upon me. "Lord Byron is now living very sociably, giving dinners to his male acquaintance, and writing divinely. Perhaps by this time you have seen Cain, and will agree with us in thinking it his finest production. Of some works one says-one has thought of such things, though one could not have expressed them so well. It is not thus with Cain. One has, perhaps, stood on the extreme verge of such ideas, and from the midst of the darkness which had surrounded us the voice of the poet now is heard, telling a wondrous tale. * Leigh Hunt and his family had indeed departed, but were driven back by stress of weather; so that their voyage was postponed for some months.-ED. "Our friends in Greece are getting on famously. All the Morea is subdued, and much treasure was acquired with the capture of Tripoliza. Some cruelties have ensued; but the oppressor must in the end buy tyranny with blood: such is the law of necessity. The young Greek Prince you saw at our house is made the head of the Provisional Government in Greece. He has sacrificed his whole fortune to his country; and, heart and soul, is bent upon her cause. "You will be glad to hear that Shelley's health is much improved this winter. He is not quite well, but he is much better. The air of Pisa is so mild and delightful, and the exercise on horseback agrees with him particularly. Williams, also, is quite recovered. We think that we may probably spend next summer at La Spezia-at least, I hope that we shall be near the sea. "The clock strikes twelve. I have taken to sit up rather late this last month, and, when all the world is in bed or asleep, find a little of that solitude one cannot get in a town through the day. Yet daylight brings with it all the delights of a town residence, and all the delights of friendly and social intercourse-few of the pains; for my horizon is so contracted that it shuts most of those out. "Most sincerely yours, CHAPTER XII. THE BAY O F SPEZIA. THE end now rapidly approaches. We have arrived at the year which saw the close of Shelley's short life; but a few minor incidents remain to be recorded before we stand in the presence of death. Shelley, The winter of 1822 was spent at Pisa. during part of the time, was engaged on the dramatic fragment, Charles the First-a subject which he had at one time proposed to Mrs. Shelley; but, being dissatisfied with the progress he was making, he threw aside the conception, and devoted his thoughts to a mystical poem in the terza rima, called the Triumph of Life-also left incomplete, and the last of his long productions. He likewise, about the same time, made several translations from Goethe, Calderon, Homer, &c., with a view to their publication in the Liberal. In the January of this year, or towards the end of the previous December, Shelley became acquainted with Mr. Trelawny, who called on him at Pisa, and who, in his recently published Recollections of the last Days of Shelley and Byron, has given an interesting account of his introduction. It was dusk when he arrived at the poet's residence, and through the open door of the room he observed a pair of glittering eyes. Mrs. Williams, who lived in the same house, exclaimed, "Come in, Shelley; it's only our friend Tre, just arrived." Thus encouraged, the poet glided in, in some confusion, but holding out both his hands cordially. He was habited in a jacket, which he seemed to have outgrown, and which added to his juvenile appearance. A book was in his hand, which proved to be Calderon's Magico Prodigioso; and, being asked to read some passages, he made an extempore rendering of several parts with marvellous ease and rapidity, accompanying his translation by a masterly analysis of the genius of the author, and a lucid interpretation of the story. Suddenly he disappeared; and Mrs. Williams, in answer to the astonishment of Mr. Trelawny, said, "Oh! he comes and goes like a spirit; no one knows when or where." Shelley, however, had simply gone to fetch his wife. From this time until the poet's death, Mr. Trelawny was on intimate terms with him. Mrs. Shelley's opinion of their new friend may be gathered from an entry in her journal, under date January 19th, 1822:— "Trelawny is extravagant partly natural, and partly, perhaps, put on; but it suits him well; and, if his abrupt, but not unpolished, manners be assumed, they are nevertheless in unison with his Moorish face (for he looks Oriental, though not Asiatic), his dark hair, his Herculean form. And then there is an air of extreme good-nature, which pervades his whole N countenance, especially when he smiles,-which assures me that his heart is good. He tells strange stories of himself horrific ones-so that they harrow one up; while with his emphatic, but unmodulated, voice, his simple yet strong language, he portrays the most frightful situations. Then, all these adventures took place between the ages of thirteen and twenty. I believe them now I see the man; and, tired with the every-day sleepiness of human intercourse, I am glad to meet with one who, among other valuable qualities, has the rare merit of interesting my imagination.' And, in a letter addressed to Mrs. Gisborne on the 9th of February, Mrs. Shelley says:-" Trelawny [is] a kind of half-Arab Englishman, whose life has been as changeful as that of Anastasius, and who recounts the adventures of his youth as eloquently and well as the imagined Greek. He is clever: for his moral qualities, I am yet in the dark. He is a strange web, which I am endeavouring to unravel. I would fain learn if generosity is united to impetuousness, nobility of spirit to his assumption of singularity and independence. He is six feet high; raven black hair, which curls thickly and shortly like a Moor's; dark grey expressive eyes; overhanging brows; upturned lips, and a smile which expresses good-nature and kindheartedness. His voice is monotonous, yet emphatic; and his language, as he relates the events of his life, energetic and simple. Whether the tale be one of blood and horror, or of irresistible comedy, his company is delightful, for he excites me to think, |