riet Shelley, Hogg's evidence is of little value. He once told Trelawny that she was innocent, and Trelawny believed him. It matters little whether, in his dotage, this garrulous personage, under the genial rays of Boscombe, changed his wavering mind.

During a conversation which I held with Trelawny in July, 1875, I happened to ask him whether he knew anything as to the character of Shelley's first wife. I give his answer in the words which I wrote down shortly afterward: "Harriet was pure, lofty, and noble. Lady Shelley wishes to glorify Shelley at the expense of Harriet, and for that reason I have preserved these papers.

While speaking he drew some documents out of a box and held them up. I asked whether it was his intention to publish them? He replied: "No. The less one has to do with the private character of a man like Shelley, the better. He should be judged by his works. Harriet was pure and good-and I love fair play. She shall not be abused. If Lady Shelley publishes anything against Harriet, I will speak.'

I asked whether he knew the immediate cause of her suicide. He turned his eagle eyes upon me, as though to find out whether I was trying to pump him," and then, after a pause, said: “She was all feeling-lofty and high toned. The accumulation of her troubles so bitterly affected her that she sought relief in death."

Our talk turned to other matters

Byron's lameness, the Bolivar, the squabble at the Pisan gateway, Leigh Hunt, etc.; and after a time Trelawny himself reverted to the subject of Harriet Shelley. These were his words:

"I hear that Lady Shelley tells her friends that she is only waiting for the death of the poet's sisters to publish a great many letters and other matters about Shelley. This is nonsense. She has got nothing at Boscombe of any value. She seeks to glorify Shelley at the expense of Harriet, but, by G-d, while I live I will defend her. I don't mean to publish anything more about Byron or Shelley unless I am driven to it. Let Lady Shelley leave the memory of Harriet Shelley alone.

If anything further was said on this subject I have no note of it. But I think the extracts given are sufficient to show

what view Trelawny took of this painful subject. Recent revelations in America seem to bear out Trelawny's statement, and go far to prove that Shelley's first wife was more sinned against than sinning. But, be the truth what it may, it is surely a monstrous perversion of the moral code to blacken the character of a deserted wife in order to justify a husband's wrongdoing. And that is the intention of Shelleyan apologists. It is now pretended by these persons that Shelley's conduct in deserting Harriet and living with Mary Godwin was the natural result of Harriet's unfaithfulness. Against that view of the case it is the duty of all right-minded persons to protest. In that one act of Shelley lies the darkest blot on his immortal fame, and no one was more sensible to the cruelty of his conduct and its direful results than Shelley himself.

Trelawny, who knew him and who loved him-Trelawny, who knew and loved Mary Shelley, was about the last man in the world to take the part of a woman who had wronged his friend, unless he had good reasons to know that she had been grossly injured. Nor can it be urged that Trelawny was ignorant of all the known circumstances, for he had certainly a fuller knowledge of Shelley's domestic concerns than any one now living. Had it not been for circumstances to which I am not at present at liberty to refer, the papers Trelawny bequeathed to his daughter would long since have been published in vindication of Harriet Shelley's fame. Meanwhile, and in the absence of proof positive against her, it would be well that her detractors should either prove their accusations against that innocent and unhappy woman, or abandon the attack. Up to the present moment there is no evidence whatever in support of the charge, and from documents which have appeared there will be found a far stronger case in favor of her innocence than against it. It was perhaps inevitable that the writer of a Life of Mary Shelley should touchb upon the various incidents connected with the poet's first marriage; but the task is surrounded by difficulties, and it would have been better had a veil been drawn over the one incident in the poet's life which his ardent admirers would most willingly forget. There is absolutely nothing to be gained by a discussion of this painful subject. Harriet's unfaith

fulness, even if proved, would not justify Shelley's conduct in living openly with Mary Godwin during his wife's lifetime and that justification seems to be the one point which Shelley's admirers have labored so hard to attain. That they should have succeeded in blackening the character of an innocent woman without rendering the smallest service to Shelley is one of those blunders which every one must deplore.

Mrs. Marshall's "Life of Mary Shelley" is in itself a noble monument to the daughter of Godwin, and I would willingly have remained silent, and have allowed the book to pass as one of the best biographies of the nineteenth century, had I not felt it to be a sacred duty to protest, in Trelawny's name, against a too ready acceptance of one of the few statements in that work which mars its impartiality. That Byron, as a man, should have suffered by the publication of Boscombe Papers might, in the nature of things, have been expected. Byron's conduct toward Clare Clairmont cannot be excused. It would be madness to attempt it. Byron's cruelty in withholding Mary Shelley's letter to Mrs. Hoppner, and thereby allowing the basest calumny to lie unanswered, is one of those acts which deserve the reprobation of mankind. We can only suppose that Byron was himself the author of the libel, and that he lacked the courage to avow it. That he cordially detested Clare Clairmont is certain, and that he wished to justify his silence to all her appeals is probable, but that he should have denied Shelley the means of repelling an accusation so foul, is a mystery indeed. Byron was terribly worried by Clare Clairmont, but there is no ground for the statement that he treated his natural daughter unkindly. If he was brusque and unmannerly toward the mother, he acted according to his lights in the interests of her child. The insinuation that Byron intended to abandon Allegra is absolute nonsense. He was devotedly attached to the child, and felt her death acutely. Although Byron has been so roughly handled by recent biographers, and though his faine has suffered considerably by the exposure of certain weaknesses, he has on the whole come out of the ordeal better than his contemporaries could have supposed possible. That he had his vices no one will deny, but he had an affectionate

disposition and a kind heart. His treatment of Mary Shelley at the time of her bereavement has been recognized by Mary herself; and if at the last moment he withheld the pecuniary assistance which he had promised her, this untoward and impetuous act was due, not to his own want of sympathy or generosity, but to the insolent demeanor of that peculiarly tactless man Leigh Hurt, who, without the shadow of justification, and by way of pleading Mary's cause, told Byron that he need not make such a fuss about lending her a little money to pay her journey to England, since he owed her one thousand pounds!

When we take Byron's temper, to say nothing of his personal antipathy to Leigh Hunt, into consideration, we cannot be surprised at the result of this strange pleading. Byron, highly indignant at Hunt's insolence, refused to hold any further conversation on the subject, and turned his back on the whole business. It cannot for one moment be contended that Byron was justified in withholding the loan. Most men would have put up with Hunt's insolence, for the sake of the helpless widow of his friend Shelley. But Byron's quick resentment was part and parcel of his character, and he was goaded into a course of conduct, of which he was subsequently ashamed, by the gratuitous insolence of a man who was largely in his debt. Much has been written about Byron's avarice, or, as Trelawny called it, a love of hoarding." I wished to gather some facts on this point, and asked Trelawny if Byron was generous.

"Certainly not. In his youth he spent more than he ought, but in latter years he was avaricious. Byron always paraded his generosity-Shelley always gave in secret. Byron confessed (and I had only £500 a year, while he had £4500) that he was in my debt and that he must settle. But I always turned it off. He confessed that he had saved £1500 out of one year's income. Shelley had £1000 a year, and gave away £500 every year.

Of Mary Shelley's mental faculties Trelawny spoke thus: "Her mind was nothing particular. She was not worthy of Shelley. Her father taught her a good deal, and Shelley the rest."

I said that the "Shelley Memorials," a book edited by Lady Shelley, gave the world a very high opinion of her character. To my surprise, Trelawny rose from

his chair and made a quick movement toward me. He stopped suddenly, and in a savage tone exclaimed: "They are all false. I waited for some further explanation, for I did not understand his meaning. At last he said: "The letters published in those memoirs are hers (Mary Shelley's); the rest of the book is all fiction."

A well-known English authoress was at that time trying to find a publisher for a book which she had compiled on Byron. Trelawny said: " told me about it; he assures me it is harmless, that it will do Byron no harm whatever.

I asked him whether the writer possessed any authentic documents. "Yes, some. But none of any imporbegged me to see her, but I refused. She shall not put a lot of lies in her book and say I told them."

tance.

Speaking of Byron's portraits, he said: "There is but one good likeness of Byron, and that is the work of Thorwaldsen. A statue should, when possible, resemble the original that it is erected to. Byron's sister, his wife, Hobhouse, Kinnaird, Harness, and myself, all considered the bust by Thorwaldsen was the best in existence of Byron. The portraits by Phillips and others were unlike him, both in drawing and expression. Byron himself thought they were caricatures. The miniature by Holmes that you have of mine, his sister thought very like; but she considered that no artist of his time could do justice to his expressive face. I was with Lady Byron when the statue by Thorwaldsen was unpacked. Lady Byron's cold nature warmed at the sight of it. Impetuosity got the better of her for once, as she exclaimed: 'How like my dear Byron only not half beautiful enough for him.' Miss Leigh could find but one fault in it the lobe of the ear did not lie close enough to the cheek, which was one of Byron's facial peculiarities."

Speaking of the affray at the Pisan gateway, Trelawny told me that a blind beggar, sympathizing with the Inglesi in their quarrel with Tuscan soldiers, stole up to him and placed a dagger in his hand, saying, You may have need of this." This dagger is now in the possession of Trelawny's daughter.

Reverting to the subject of Byron, I asked Trelawny whether Byron boasted of his vices in ordinary conversation.

Our

"When with me, alone, never. conversation was generally about Shelley. When others were present he tried to shock them, and tried to blacken his own character. But he had few vices, and none of those he most vaunted. He could not indulge in vicious living; he had not the strength."

I reminded him of Lady Blessington's remarks on Byron's personal appearance, and asked him whether the description petite was correct. "Certainly not. He had a large chest, and was a good-sized man.'

Trelawny had a poor opinion of Byron's proficiency in the noble art of self-defence. "His boxing was all bumbug. He liked to talk about it, but it was all talk.”

I reminded him that he took lessons from "Gentleman Jackson."

"Yes, I know: but he could not stand, I tell ye! he had to lean against something. I've boxed with him often, and have always been afraid of killing him. He has shown me some of the marks I have left on his arm after an encounter. He had no stamina; it was all energy. If I were to say to him, I have a horse I should like you to look at,' he would jump up so [here Trelawny jumped up and took two strides], and would then sit down-his lameness making itself feltand say, 'I will look at your horse when I go out.' formance.

His walking was a sad per

He would walk two or perhaps three hundred yards, when the sweat would stand out on his brow, and he would gladly sit down."

In speaking of the Contessa Guiccioli, Trelawny said: "She had but one faultvanity. Her love for Byron was buoyed up by vanity.'

I asked him on another occasion whether he could account for the strong feeling that existed against Byron during his lifetime.

"There was no feeling against Byron -against Shelley plenty. against Byron none. Shelley was simply without vice of any kind. Byron's attack against cant was mainly on account of the manner in which Shelley was treated. He said to me one day: 'Look how the groundlings attack Shelley. He is better than any one.' I said: "Would you defend him?' and he answered: Shelley requires no defender. I write for the "groundlings, Shelley writes for men; when I am forty I will write for men also.'"'

Trelawny concluded these remarks by saying "Shelley will live forever; there was never, and never will be, any one like him."

Some days later we fell into our usual talk about Byron. He said: 66 They have spread about the report that Byron was given to dram-drinking. Nothing could be more false. He has often said to me: 'Come and dine, Tre, and we will carouse.' ' But, pah! what was his carouse'? Half a glass of Punch! He had not the strength, but he liked to think he had, and liked to talk about his (imaginary) failings."

Speaking of Dr. Kennedy, Trelawny called him" that old fool at Cephalonia with the pretty wife"-and told me that nothing could have been more absurd than the discussions on religion which were got up for the conversion of Byron, and added: "Byron used to say to me: 'You know I can't argue-if only we had Shelley !'"

"I agreed with him," he added, "for Shelley was a man who would not only have replied to and controverted all Kennedy's theories and arguments, but he would have filled his heart with such doubts as would have made him miserable for the rest of his life. Shelley was the most profound logician, and his knowledge of Scripture immense.

On the subject of Byron's lameness Trelawny had much to say. But as his opinion has been given to the world, I will make no further allusion to it beyond saying that the discrepancy in the accounts given by him in his first and second publication was due to the fact that I had supplied him with some information which I had gathered at Nottingham. Although he combated my arguments at the time, he seems to have come round in his book, for the statements made in his last "Records" are precisely those with which I had supplied him.

It is not easy to account for this discrepancy, especially as Trelawny had himself examined Byron's feet, but so it is. I am strongly persuaded that the later account of Byron's lameness is correct in every particular. Trelawny was very inodest on the subject of his kindness to Mary Shelley, and said: "How could any man do otherwise? It was but common humanity." Perhaps it was. But common humanity is so very rare that I doubt the

Speaking of Lady Blessington's "Conversations with Byron,' a book which Trelawny held in the greatest contempt, he said: “ Byron never uttered a word of French in his talk; the whole thing is false."

Of Leigh Hunt, the "Pirate" had a poor opinion, and called him " an insipid Cockney," adding that his behavior dur ing the burning of Shelley's body was "that of a sickly girl, rather than of a man. Of Southey he said: "Southey offended Byron mortally by saying to a mutual acquaintance: If you take off Byron's shoe you will see the cloven foot.' Byron, who was told this, never forgave the malicious tuft-hunter whom he handled so severely in his poems.

Trelawny had an almost unbounded admiration for Sir Edgar Boehm, and on one occasion invited me to accompany him to the studio of that famous artist. I never saw Trelawny at greater advantage than during this visit. In the sacred precincts of Boehm's studio he unbent his naturally rigid and "stand-off" demeanor, and said that he would often come there to smoke his pipe while watching the great man at work. Mr. Boehm seemed to be flattered by Trelawny's unfeigned appreciation of his work, and told him that a comfortable arm-chair would always be at his service.

66

"I don't want an arm-chair, I only want a stool," replied Trelawny sternly. 'I should not come here to lounge: I can do that at home: I should come to see how really good work is done."

After we had left the studio, Trelawny said: "That Austrian sculptor is the only man I know of capable of doing a good likeness of Byron. You had better ask him to compete for the Byron memorial."

I had often wondered whether, during the close intimacy which existed between Byron and Trelawny, a few scraps of intelligence, relative to the separation between the poet and his wife, might have reached him. I knew that Trelawny was not prone to conjecture, and that his opinions could never have been formed by others; so one day I asked him the question point blank. He answered without the slightest hesitation: "Incompatibility of temper-his wife was a Puritanical woman, and used to preach to him. Byron re

sented this by telling her all kinds of stories relative to his numerous loves. All humbug; but it was his weapon. She believed them all."

Trelawny lent me a letter which Lady Byron had written to a certain Doctor T- on the subject of Ada's engagement to Lord King. The contents of that epis tle went a long way toward settling my doubts, and gave me so much satisfaction that next day I wrote the letter which Trelawny subsequently published in his "Records of Byron, Shelley, and the Author." Trelawny remarked: "Although details. can never be known, yet Byron sounded the keynote to the whole mystery when he told Medwin that the cause of separation was too simple to be easily found out.

Trelawny held very decided views as to Byron's character. He had formed his judgment leisurely, and from a close personal experience. I noted the following words: Byron spoke out. He kept nothing back. He was downright. His greatest failing was the pleasure he took in blackening his own character. I will venture to swear that Byron committed less faults in one year than any other young man would, and does, commit in one week. He was perfectly mad about blackening his own character. But he knew that others professed to be better than they are, so he determined to be worse than he was.

One day Trelawny showed me a letter he had received from Shelley-and one that has not, I believe, been published. The poet appeals to Trelawny's friendship to procure some subtle drug whereby he might become possessed of the power to die. I regret that I made no note of the exact words, but I remember that Shelley argued, somewhat after the manner of Rousseau, in favor of suicide under certain conditions. Trelawny also told me that Shelley never took sugar with his tea or coffee, "because sugar was at that time produced by slave labor." Whenever he spoke of Shelley, Trelawny's voice softened-no one could be one moment mistaken as to the cause. He loved Shelley with all his heart. One day I ventured to tell Trelawny that I was surprised so remarkable a career as his had not been written down. In one instant the "Pirate" was blazing his eagle eyes upon me.

"It has been written. Have you not read the Younger Son'?''

I nodded.

"Well, what more do you want? That is a faithful record of my early life. The publishers would not enter into any of my proposals for its continuation, which I would have made highly diverting. But it is too late now.

men.

I named De Ruyter, who plays so heroic a part in the "Younger Son." Trelawny softened in a moment, and said: “His name was De Witt; he was one of the best, as well as one of the bravest, of I never saw any one equal him.' I may here mention, for the benefit of the curious in such matters, that I have verified one of the staternents contained in the "Younger Son." Six months ago I went to Dr. Burney's school at Gosport, and inspected the school lists, which go back as far as 1784. I found Trelawny's name entered as a pupil at that academy in the year 1806.

I once reminded Trelawny of Byron's definition of courage, and asked whether, in his opinion, there was any one nation which could claim general pre-eminence in the matter of bravery. I put it thus: "If we were to hunt for the bravest man, in what country would he be found?"

His answer was prompt, and decisive in tone : "The bravest man on earth is an Albanian Turk, for he would not even know what fear is.'

Our talk having turned on the subject of Greece, Trelawny showed me a sword that Byron had given to him when they parted at Cephalonia.

Byron gave me this sword with great pomp and circumstance, saying, in a melodramatic manner: Here, take this, Tre, and use it, either like Childe Harold or Don Juan.' I found that sword very useful."

At the time of which I write, the news reached England of the death, at Spezzia, of an old man who, on his death-bed, confessed to having been in the boat that ran down the Ariel in July, 1822. Trelawny was firmly convinced of the truth of this story, and told me that he personally had never doubted the fact that Shelley's boat