This picture passed from Godwin's hands on his death to his grandson, Sir
Percy Florence Shelley. It was afterwards bequeathed to the nation by his
widow, Lady Shelley. It was engraved by Heath (Jan. 1, 1798) for Godwin's
memoir of his wife. An engraving of it also appeared in the _Lady's
Magazine_, from which the frontispiece to this book was made, and a
mezzotint by W. T. Annis was published in 1802. Mrs. Merritt also made an
etching of the picture for Mr. Paul's edition of the "Letters to Imlay."
_To face p. xxvi_]
On August 30, Mary's child was born, not the William so much desired by
them both but Mary, who afterwards became Mrs. Shelley. All seemed well
with the mother until September 3, when alarming symptoms appeared. The
best medical advice was obtained, but after a week's illness, on Sunday
morning, the 10th, at twenty minutes to eight, she sank and died. During
her illness, when in great agony, an anodyne was administered, which gave
Mary some relief, when she exclaimed, "Oh, Godwin, I am in heaven." But,
as Mr. Kegan Paul says, "even at that moment Godwin declined to be
entrapped into the admission that heaven existed," and his instant reply
was: "You mean, my dear, that your physical sensations are somewhat
easier." Mary Godwin, however, did not share her husband's religious
doubts. Her sufferings had been great, but her death was a peaceful one.
Godwin's grief was very deep, as the letters that he wrote immediately
after her death, and his tribute to her memory in the "Memoirs" testify.
Mary Godwin was buried in Old St. Pancras churchyard on September 15, in
the presence of most of her friends. Godwin lived till 1836, when he was
laid beside her. Many years afterwards, at the same graveside, Shelley is
said to have plighted his troth to Mary Godwin's daughter. In 1851, when
the Metropolitan and Midland Railways were constructed at St. Pancras,
the graveyard was destroyed, but the bodies of Mary and William Godwin
were removed by their grandson, Sir Percy Shelley, to Bournemouth, where
they now rest with his remains, and those of his mother, Mrs. Shelley.
In the year following Mary's death (1798) Godwin edited his wife's
"Posthumous Works," in four volumes, in which appeared the letters to
Imlay, and her incomplete novel "The Wrongs of Woman." His tribute to Mary
Godwin's memory was also published in 1798, under the title of "Memoirs of
the Author of _A Vindication of the Rights of Woman_." Godwin's novel,
"St. Leon" came out in 1799; his tragedy "Antonio" was produced only to
fail, in 1800, and in 1801, he was wooed and won by Mrs. Clairmont, a
widow. The Godwin household was a somewhat mixed one, consisting, as it
did, of Fanny Imlay, Mary Godwin, Mrs. Godwin's two children, Charles and
Claire Clairmont, and also of William, the only child born of her marriage
with Godwin. In 1812 Shelley began a correspondence with Godwin, which
ultimately led to Mary Godwin's elopement with the poet. Poor Fanny Imlay,
or Godwin, as she was called after her mother's death, died at the age of
nineteen by her own hand, in October 1816. Her life had been far from
happy in this strange household. She had grown to love Shelley, but his
choice had fallen on her half-sister, so she bravely kept her secret to
herself. One day she suddenly left home and travelled to Swansea, where
she was found lying dead the morning after her arrival, in the inn where
she had taken a room, "her long brown hair about her face; a bottle of
laudanum upon the table, and a note which ran thus: 'I have long
determined that the best thing I could do was to put an end to the
existence of a being whose birth was unfortunate, and whose life has only
been a series of pain to those persons who have hurt their health in
endeavouring to promote her welfare.' She had with her the little Genevan
watch, a gift of travel from Mary and Shelley: and in her purse were a few
shillings."[1]
Shelley, afterwards recalling his last interview with Fanny in London,
wrote this stanza:
"Her voice did quiver as we parted;
Yet knew I not that heart was broken
From whence it came, and I departed
Heeding not the words then spoken.
Misery--O Misery,
This world is all too wide for thee!"