occurrences in Shelley's life; it may be presumed that he had heard them
from the poet in the course of this same evening. "A friend of his
liking his wife, he tried all he could to induce her to love him in
turn." Nothing of this sort appears in the authenticated facts of
Shelley's life. It is certain that, very soon after he had married
Harriet Westbrook in 1811, he saw reason for thinking that his friend
Hogg "liked his wife," both of them being then in York; but, so far from
"trying all he could to induce her to love him in turn," he at once took
her away from York to Keswick, and he addressed letters of grave
remonstrance and sad reproach to Hogg, and then for a time broke off all
intercourse with him. The only other matter one knows of at all relevant
to this issue is that Shelley alleged that afterwards a certain Major
Ryan carried on an intrigue with Harriet. He blamed and resented her
imputed frailty, and put it forward as a principal motive for his
separating from her. It is certainly possible that, after the
separation, he told Harriet that she might as well "make the best of a
bad job," and adhere to Ryan, since she would not adhere to her wedded
husband: but no indication of any such advice on his part appears
anywhere else. Be it understood that I do not at all affirm that this
suspicion or statement of Shelley's about Harriet and Ryan was correct.
I doubt it extremely, though not venturing summarily to reject it. The
next point is that Shelley was "surrounded by friends who feed upon him,
and draw upon him as their banker." This probably glances at Godwin, and
perhaps also at Charles Clairmont, the brother of Clare. Thomas Love
Peacock may likewise be in question: not Leigh Hunt, for, though the cap
might have fitted him in and after the year 1817, it did not so in the
present year 1816, since Hunt was as yet all but unknown to our poet.
Last comes the funny statement about a hectoring landlord who twice
knocked down the non-duelling author of _Queen Mab_. It is difficult to
guess what this allegation may refer to. Shelley had by this time had
several landlords in different parts of the United Kingdom; and quite
possibly some of them thought his rent unduly low, or more especially
his quarterly or other instalments irregularly paid, but who can have
been the landlord who took the law so decisively into his own hands, and
found so meekly unresisting a tenant, I have no idea. There was an odd
incident on January 19, 1812, when Shelley, then living at Keswick, was
(or was said to have been) struck down senseless on the threshold of his
door—seemingly by a couple of robbers. On that occasion, however, his
landlord, Mr. Dare, appeared in the character of a guardian angel: so we
must dismiss any notion that this incident, the one which in some of its
features seems to come nearest the mark, is that which Shelley so
ingenuously imparted to Polidori.]
_June 19._—Leg worse; began my ghost-story. Mr. S[helley?] etc. forth
here. Bonstetten and Rossi called. B[onstetten] told me a story of the
religious feuds in Appenzel; a civil war between Catholics and
Protestants. Battle arranged; chief advances; calls the other. Calls
himself and other fools, for battles will not persuade of his being
wrong. Other agreed, and persuaded them to take the boundary rivulet;
they did. Bed at 3 as usual.
_June 20._—My leg kept me at home. Shelley etc. here.
_June 21._—Same.
_June 22._—L[ord] B[yron] and Shelley went to Vevay; Mrs. S[helley] and
Miss Clare Clairmont to town. Went to Rossi's—had tired his patience.
Called on Odier; Miss reading Byron.
[The expedition of Byron and Shelley to Vevay was that same Lake-voyage
which forms so prominent an incident in their Swiss experiences. Their
starting upon this expedition had hitherto been dated June 23. Professor
Dowden has expressed a doubt whether June 22 would not be the correct
date, and here we find that so it is.]
_June 23._—Went to town; apologized to Rossi. Called on Dr. Slaney etc.
Walked to Mrs. Shelley. Pictet, Odier, Slaney, dined with me. Went down
to Mrs. S[helley?] for the evening. Odier mentioned the cases of two
gentlemen who, on taking the nitrate of silver, some time after had a
blacker face. Pictet confirmed it.
_June 24._—Up at 12. Dined down with Mrs. S[helley] and Miss C[lare]
C[lairmont].
[The dates hereabouts become somewhat embarrassing. For the day which I
am calling June 24 Polidori repeats June 23; and he continues with the
like sequence of days up to June 29, when, as he notes, he "found Lord
Byron and Shelley returned." It seems to be an established fact that the
day when Shelley got back to Montalègre was July 1: he has stated so,
and a note to the _Letters of Lord Byron_ states the same. Thus Polidori
seems to have dropped two days. One is accounted for by substituting
June 24 for June 23; and I shall call the next day June 26, though
uncertain as to where the second error occurs.]
_June 26._—Up. Mounted on horseback: went to town. Saw Mrs. Shelley:
dined. To Dr. Rossi's party of physicians: after at Mrs. S[helley's?].
_June 27._—Up at Mrs. Shelley's: dined. No calèche arrived: walked to
G[eneva]. No horses: ordered saddle-horse. Walked to Rossi's—gone. Went
to the gate: found him. Obliged to break off the appointment. Went to
Odier's. Met with Mr. ——, a friend of Lord Byron's father. Invited me to
his house: been a long time on the Continent. Music, ranz des vaches,
beautiful. Rode two hours; went to Mrs. S[helley]; Miss C[lairmont]
talked of a soliloquy.
[This last phrase is not clear: does it mean that Miss Clairmont talked
_in_ a soliloquy—talked to herself, in such a way as to excite
observation?]
_June 28._—All day at Mrs. S[helley's].
_June 29._—Up at 1; studied; down at Mrs. S[helley's].
_June 30._—Same.
_July 1._—Went in calèche to town with Mrs. S[helley] and C[lare] for a
ride, and to mass (which we did not go to, being begun). Dined at 1.
Went to town to Rossi. Introduced to Marchese Saporati; together to Mr.
Saladin of Vaugeron, Countess Breuss, Calpnafur; and then to a party of
ladies.
[The word which I give as Calpnafur is dubious in Charlotte Polidori's
transcript: it is evidently one of those words as to which she felt
uncertain, and she wrote it as near to Dr. Polidori's script as she
could manage. The other three names—Saporati, Saladin, and Breuss—are
not elucidated in any book I have consulted. Perhaps Saporati ought to
be Saporiti—see p. 149. There were two Saladins of some note in France
in the days of the Revolution and Empire—one of them lived on to 1832;
but I can scarcely think that this Saladin in Geneva was of the same
race. He may be the "Syndic Saladin" mentioned farther on.]
Found Lord Byron and Shelley returned.
_July 2._—Rain all day. In the evening to Mrs. S[helley].
_September 5._—Not written my Journal till now through neglect and
dissipation. Had a long explanation with S[helley] and L[ord] B[yron]
about my conduct to L[ord] B[yron]; threatened to shoot S[helley] one
day on the water. Horses been a subject of quarrel twice, Berger having
accused me of laming one.
[Before this date, September 5, Shelley, with Mary and Miss Clairmont,
had finally left the neighbourhood of Geneva; they started on August 29
upon their return journey to England. The statement that Polidori
"threatened to shoot Shelley one day on the water" brings us back again
to that question, of which I spoke under the date of June 4, about some
hare-brained quarrel with Shelley leading to a challenge for a duel. The
natural inference from the position which this entry occupies in
Polidori's Diary certainly is that the threat to Shelley occurred at
some date between July 2 and August 28—not at the earlier date of June
4; and so I presume it more probably did. We find also that Polidori's
conduct in relation to Byron was considered not to be correct; and this
formed the subject of "a long explanation" not only with Byron himself
but likewise with Shelley.]
L[ord] B[yron] went to town in pursuit of thieves who came to steal the
anchors after having stolen my sail. Was refused permission to go out. I
went to the Syndic Saladin, and told him I begged his pardon for our
servants, who must have said something insulting, or else he could not
have refused permission to leave the port. Thieves attempted to break
into the house.
An apothecary sold some bad magnesia to L[ord] B[yron]. Found it bad by
experiment of sulphuric acid colouring it red rose-colour. Servants
spoke about it. Appointed Castan to see experiment; came; impudent;
refused to go out; collared him, sent him out, broke spectacles. Laid
himself on a wall for three hours; refused to see experiments. Saw
L[ord] B[yron], told him his tale before two physicians. Brought me to
trial before five judges; had an advocate to plead. I pleaded for
myself; laughed at the advocate. Lost his cause on the plea of calumny;
made me pay 12 florins for the broken spectacles and costs. Magnesia
chiefly alumina, as proved by succenate[11] and carbonate of ammonia.
Dined twice at Madame de Staël's; visited there also; met Madame de
Broglie and M[onsieur?]; Miss Randall; two Roccas; Schlegel; Monsignor
Brema; Dumont; Bonstetten; Madame Bottini; Madame Mongelas; young de
Staël.
[It will be observed that Dr. Polidori, although he details these
various circumstances likely to create some soreness between Lord Byron
and himself, does not here state in express terms that the poet had
parted with him. At the end of this entry for September 5 he does,
however, give a few words to the subject, confirmatory of Lord Byron's
ensuing remarks. Byron, in a good-humoured spirit, gave a general
explanation in a letter addressed to John Murray on January 24, 1817. He
understood that Polidori was "about to return to England, to go to the
Brazils on a medical speculation with the Danish Consul" (which,
however, he did not actually do); and Byron asked Murray to get the
Doctor any letters of recommendation. Then he adds: "He understands his
profession well, and has no want of general talent: his faults are the
faults of a pardonable vanity and youth. His remaining with me was out
of the question. I have enough to do to manage my own scrapes; and, as
precepts without example are not the most gracious homilies, I thought
it better to give him his _congé_: but I know no great harm of him, and
some good. He is clever and accomplished; knows his profession, by all
accounts, well; and is honourable in his dealings, and not at all
malevolent." In March 1820 Byron made a few other observations
applicable to his intercourse with Polidori: "The sole companion of my
journey was a young physician who had to make his way in the world, and,
having seen very little of it, was naturally and laudably desirous of
seeing more society than suited my present habits or my past experience.
I therefore presented him to those gentlemen of Geneva for whom I had
letters of introduction; and, having thus seen him in a situation to
make his own way, retired for my own part entirely from society, with
the exception of one English family"—_i.e._ Shelley and his two ladies.
At times, however, Byron was less lenient to the Doctor. On June 17,
1817, he wrote to Murray: "I never was much more disgusted with any
human production than with the eternal nonsense and _tracasseries_ and
emptiness and ill-humour and vanity of that young person: but he has
some talent, and is a man of honour, and has dispositions of amendment
in which he has been aided by a little subsequent experience, and may
turn out well."
It may be hardly needful to state that "Madame de Broglie and Monsieur"
(_i.e._ the Duc Victor de Broglie) were the daughter and son-in-law of
Madame de Staël: they were now but very recently wedded, February 20,
1816. Byron thought the youthful wife devoted to her husband, and said
"Nothing was more pleasing than to see the development of the domestic
affections in a very young woman." Of the two Roccas, one is remembered
as Madame de Staël's second husband. He was a very handsome officer of
Swiss origin. They married privately in 1811, she being then aged about
forty-five, and he twenty-two. He only survived his wife about six
months, dying in 1818. August Wilhelm von Schlegel was at this date
about forty-nine years old, celebrated as a translator of Shakespear and
Calderon, and as a scholar of extensive range. He had travelled much
with Madame de Staël, who drew on him for some of the ideas set forth in
her book _De l'Allemagne_. Monsignor Brema is a good deal mentioned
farther on: he was a son of the Marchese di Brema (or Brême), who had
been a valuable Minister of the Interior under the Napoleonic _régime_
in Italy. Dumont, who has been previously named by Polidori as the
translator of Bentham, was also closely associated with the great
Mirabeau.]
At Vaugeron, the Saladins, Auguste Mathould, Rossi, Jacques Naple [?],
Brelaz, Clemann, Countess Mouskinpouskin, Breuss, Abate Gatelier,
Toffettheim e figlio, Foncet, Saussure, Lord Breadalbane and family, a
ball; Saladin of Maligny, Slaneys, two balls; Dr. and Mrs. Freckton
White, Galstons (Miss etc. sisters), a ball; Lord Bingham, Lord F.
Cunningham, Lord Belgray, a ball; Mr. Tillotson St. Aubyn, Mrs.
Trevanion, Valence Meers, R. Simmons, Lloyd, Princess Jablonski, Lady
Hamilton Dalrymple, Odiers, Lord Kinnoul, Somers, Lord Glenorchy, Mr.
Evans, Coda (songstress), M. G. Lewis, Mrs. Davies, Mr. Pictet, Mr.
Hobhouse, Dr. Gardner, Caravella, Shelleys, Sir John St. Aubyn.
[Most of these numerous names must be left to themselves: several of
them are hereafter commented, often caustically, by Polidori himself.
Saussure is not the more celebrated naturalist and traveller, Horace
Benedict, who died in 1799; but is his son, Nicolas Théodore, who
coöperated largely with the father, and produced an important book of
his own, _Recherches sur la Végétation_. Born in 1767, he lived on to
1845. Mrs. Trevanion may be supposed to have belonged to the same family
as a certain Mr. Trevanion who figured very discreditably in the history
of that Medora Leigh who was the daughter of the Honourable Mrs. Leigh
(Byron's half sister) and ostensibly of her husband, but who is now said
to have been in fact the daughter of Byron himself. Lady Hamilton
Dalrymple ought seemingly to be Lady Dalrymple Hamilton: she was a
daughter of Viscount Duncan, and wife of Sir Hew D. Hamilton. Somers is
mentioned on p. 150: this is probably the correct spelling, not (as
here) Summers. Matthew Gregory Lewis (whom I had occasion to name
before) was the author of _The Monk_, which he wrote at the early age of
nineteen, of the musical drama _The Castle Spectre_, and of other works
whose celebrity has not survived into the present day. He was now near
the end of his brief career, for he died in 1818, aged forty-two.]
The society I have been in may be divided into three sets: the canton of
Genthoud, Coppet, and Geneva. The canton is an assemblage of a
neighbourhood of about seven or eight families, meeting alternately on
Sundays at each other's houses, and every Thursday at the Countess
Breuss's. The Countess Breuss lives at Genthoud in a villa she has
bought. She has two husbands, one in Russia, one at Venice; she acted
plays at the Hermitage under Catherine. Not being able to get a divorce,
she left Russia, went to Venice for six days, stayed as many years,
married (it is said), bought villas etc. in the Venetian's name, and
separated. Her family consists of Madame Gatelier, a humble friend, a
great lover of medicaments etc., Abate ——, her Almoner, an excellent
Brescian, great lover of religionists. A mania in the family for
building summer-houses, porticoes, and baths; neatly planned; an island
with a ditch round it; a Tower of Babel round the trunk of a chestnut; a
summer-house by the roadside of a Moorish construction. The Countess is
very good-natured, laughs where others calumniate and talk scandal with
prudish airs, kind to all. The society is extremely pleasant; generally
dancing or music. It was the birthday of Charles Saladin, who, having
been four years in Nap[oleon]'s army, knew nothing of the matter. She
asked to have the fêting of him. They acted first a charade on the
canton of Genthoud. She acted with Mr. Massey junior, with others, and
myself as a woman—the words to blind.[12] Then came a kind of farce, in
which Charles was dressed as the C. B. [Countess Breuss?], Gatelier as
the Abbé, and Miss Saladin as Gatelier: each took one another off.
Written by C. B. When at last another of the society brought a letter
announcing it to be Charles' birthday. Then they, while he was in his
amazement, sang a song to him, presented him with a bouquet and purse.
Then an elegant supper, and afterwards a ball on the arrival of Madame
Toffettheim with her son. A great party was invited; and after tea two
plays were acted—_Le Pachà de_ _Suresne_ and _Les Ricochets_. There was
an immense number of spectators. The actors were, in _Le Pachà de
Suresne_, Madame Dorsan, la Comtesse Breuss; Laure, Madlle. Brelaz;
Aglaé, Clemann; Nathalie, M.; Madlle. Remy, Madame Gatelier; Perceval,
Alexis Saladin; Flicflac, Polidori; Joseph, C. Saladin.—_Les
Ricochets_—I do not remember the characters. The actors were Alexis,
Charles, Auguste Saladin, Massey le jeune, La Comtesse Breuss, Madame
Mathilde Saladin. The rehearsals before were frequent.
I got a discretion from the Countess, which I took in the shape of a
Swiss,[13] in consequence of a wager that I could not go straight home.
La Toffettheim is a nice, unpretending, lady-like woman, pleasing and
affectionate. Her son full of liberty-ideas. It was here, in consequence
of Massey junior dancing extremely well, that, being defied, I danced a
pantaloon-dance, by which I made enemies; for, upon my refusing it at
the Saladins', they thought it was a personal refusal. Saladins of
Vaugeron, father and mother. Father deaf, good-natured: said to me upon
reading my thesis, "Mais, Monsieur, il n'y a pas de paradoxe." The
mother pretended to play shy on account of Madame B.
[By Madame B. it would appear, from a statement farther on, that
Polidori means Madame Brelaz.]
The daughter—because, the first night I saw her, knowing her by
particular introduction, I stuck to her—thought me in love, and said
so,—fool! Madame Mathilde [Saladin] pretended prude in mine and Madame
B.'s case, while she herself has got Mr. Massey junior dangling, not
unheard, after her. Charles a good boisterous soldier, at Leipzig,
Nassau, and 13 ingwen [?][14] Waterloo business. Makes up for wit by
noise, for affection by slaps on the back. On his birthday I addressed
him with (after supper)—
"Jeune guerrier dans l'armée du premier des héros,
Dans la cause de la France dédaignant le repos,
Que la chute de vos ans soit tranquille et heureuse,
Comme fut l'aube de vos jours éclatante et glorieuse."
[This little specimen suffices to show that Polidori had no true idea of
French versification: he was evidently unaware that a final _e_ mute
coming before a consonant counts as a syllable.]
Auguste, a simple neat fool, despising learning because he is noble and
has enough to live upon; content to dangle, with a compliment and a
sentiment, after a woman's tail. Alexis, so so, good-naturedly ignorant
husband to Mathilde. Massey senior, active pleasant man, excellent
fencer and dancer—been secretary to Bertrand. Massey junior, confident,
impudent, insolent, ignorant puppy. Saladins of Maligny, neither good
nor bad, rich: to gain a little more, let their villa to Lord
Breadalbane, and retired to a cottage, though both old and only one ugly
vain daughter. Lord Breadalbane, an excellent, good-sensed though not
quick man: answered—when the Duke of Bedford said to him, "What would
you give to have the Breadalbane estate in Bedfordshire?"—"Why, your
Grace, I should be sorry if my estate would go in Bedfordshire." Gave a
very good ball at which I was. His son Lord Glenorchy, good, shy, not
brilliant young man. His lady not spoken to. His daughter excellent
dancer, rather haughty. Mr. Evans, a good sensible man, biassed in his
thoughts by his cassock. At the society he took up the immortality: Lord
Glenorchy gave a positive No. Saussure, Mrs., a wax talkative figure.
Mr., a would-be scientific gentleman: thought me a fool because I danced
pantaloon, and himself a wise man because he knows the names of his
father's stones. Jacquet, Madlle., got half in love with her,—no, her
8000 a year: her face and bad-singing exposures cured me. Foncet,
officer of the Piedmontese troops, jealous of him.
Brelaz, Portuguese lady,—in love with her; I think fond of me too;
imprudent; her daughter also against me on account of it; shows it too
much publicly; very jealous; her daughters, sprightly good-looking
girls. Clemann—got half in love with her; nice daughter. The Cavalier
pleasing. Had a dispute in a public ball with her two fools. One of the
Saladins, Auguste, courts her, and she laughs; she excites love in every
young man's breast. Miss Harriet is rather too serious for her age,
pretty and well-informed in novels and romances, and rather too
sentimental. Cavalier's Marianne is a fine hoydenish creature: applies
when studying, and romps when playing.
Madame de Staël I have dined with three times; she is better, those who
know her say, at home than abroad. She has married poor Rocca. She talks
much; would not believe me to be a physician; presented her my thesis,
which she told me she had read with pleasure. Talked about religion, and
puts down every [?] of Rocca. Ugly; good eyes. Writing on the French
Revolution; polite, affable; lectures, and tells all to L[ord] B[yron].
Madame de Broglie, her daughter, a beautiful, dirty-skinned woman;
pleasant, soft-eyed speaker; dances well, waltzes. Schlegel, a
presumptuous literato, contradicting _à outrance_; a believer in
magnetism. Rocca, a talkative, good-natured, beautiful man, with a
desire for knowledge; the author of _Walcheren_ and _Espagne_; excellent
at naïve description. Rocca, the judge, very clever and quick, rising;
know little of him. Been seven years in the courtship of Miss Saladin;
she neither refuses nor accepts him, but keeps him in her train. Miss
Randall, sister to Mrs. Norgate. Monsignor Brema, friend of Ugo Foscolo,
enthusiastic for Italy, encomiast in all, Grand Almoner of Italy, hater
of Austrians. Dumont, a thick, heavy-thoughted body, editor of Bentham.
Bonstetten, friend of Gray.
The first time L[ord] B[yron] went, there was Mrs. Hervey there;
talkative, sister and a great friend of the Noels; she thought proper to
faint out of the house, though her curiosity brought her back to speak
with him.
Bonstetten told me that, upon his saying to Gray that he must be happy,
he took and read to him the criticism of Johnson, which happens to have
been written after Gray's death; he used to go in the evening to tea,
and remain all night reading the English authors with him. Gray
introduced him to society;[15] and, one of the professors having asked
him if he understood what he said, he replied he thought so, but very
diff[idently?]—"So you think so only!" Gray, hearing this, showed
B[onstetten] some passages to ask _him_, which B[onstetten] did in a
public company, complimenting him upon [his?] known knowledge; when all
the company, one after the other, began contradicting the Professor's
opinion. Then B[onstetten], turning to him, said, "You perhaps thought
_you_ understood Shakespear." Gray told him that there was none who
could _perfectly_ understand him.
Rossi, an Italian of about thirty, pleasant, agreeable, and
good-natured, professor at Bologna, thence obliged to fly with two
others. One of his companions was beginning his lecture, when the
students called out, "No lecture, but an improvise upon the liberty of
Italy"; as he was an improvisatore. He objected, as, on account of
Murat's approach, it might be suspicious. They insisted, and the
professors at hand said, "No harm if not upon present circumstances." He
did it, and the students issued forth to join Murat; they had however
made up their minds to do so before. Rossi joined it more openly and
loudly, and was obliged to fly. He wrote a memoir to defend himself, in
which he said it was only to avoid the Roman dominion, and give it to
the Archduke; who told him that he had better write another, as Bologna
was already ceded to Pius. When he was ruined thus partially he wrote to
the father of his betrothed, to say that he must not (if he chose) think
himself bound by his promise, as he was not in the same circumstances as
when the promise was given. The father did retract. So far a man of
honour. Now how to reconcile his being with Calandion, a magistrate of
G[eneva] violent on the other side? who says he has made a good
profession to him, and at the same time professing other opinions to
others.
Gave me a letter to Milan, and by him I have been introduced to
Saporiti, a good, enthusiastic, ignorant Italian. Talked of the English
landing 100,000 soldiers here and there, as if they were so many peas.
Slaneys: the husband jealous of every one—Cambridge degree. When I
danced with his wife, he after, when walking with her, came up and gave
an arm too. The wife beautiful, but very simple. Galston, Miss, very
beautiful.
"Genevan Liberal Society" is a muster of Englishmen for debate on
speculative questions. Twice there. Immortality, accomplice's evidence.
The members whom I knew were—Lord Kinnoul, a most tiresome, long-winded,
repeating, thick-headed would-be orator, Lord Conyngham.
[The MS. gives "Cunningham," which must be a mistake. The Lord Conyngham
of this period began the year 1816 as an Earl, and ended it as a
Marquis. He was born in 1766, and lived on to 1832, and was husband of a
lady, Elizabeth Denison, whose name figures much in the gossip, not
excluding the scandal, of those years.]
Mr. Somers, good head enough. Valence, whom I cried to hear; and,
meeting me after at Chamounix, the first thing he asked me was, "Why did
you laugh at me?" St. Aubyn, Lloyd, Slaney.