Hideous Love: The Story of the Girl Who Wrote Frankenstein (21 page)

Byron arranges a schedule

based upon his preference

for rising late. The men—

Shelley, Pietro Gamba (Teresa’s brother),

Medwin, John Taafe, and Edward—

ride out to a farm

to have shooting contests.

All the horses and arrangements

are courtesy of Byron.

Sometimes we ladies

attend the shooting match,

but often I stay back

at the house to care

for Percy and read and write.

Byron generally dines alone

and then calls upon Teresa

as though she were a servant.

Every Wednesday Byron hosts

dinner parties for his new

acquaintances, but these

are male affairs, with heavy

eating and drinking.

Shelley and Edward

lounge around Byron’s palazzo

on days when rain

makes walking unviable,

and they play billiards.

Shelley produces not

as much work as he would like,

but I think as one overwhelmed

by a hurricane

the immense productivity

and character of LB

humbles and intimidates him.

I reduce to picking

flowers and talking morality

with Jane. But I miss being part

of the political and poetical

conversations of the men.

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MY FATHER’S PRAISE

Winter 1822

When I sink low or need

a little inspiration for my writing

I remember the words

my father bestowed

upon my first novel,

“the most wonderful work

to have been written

at twenty years of age

that [he] ever heard of.”

His praise buoys me

through deep and rough tides.

I regain energy to swim to shore.

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MORE SEPARATION

Winter 1822

Though it chills not outside,

inside our apartments

it often feels icy.

Shelley and I, unlike

Jane and Edward, do not steal

off to find moments alone lately.

We grow like two trees

whose limbs and roots

may be intertwined

but who nevertheless stem

upwardly apart.

Edward Trelawny now

arrives in Pisa. He claims

to know everything relating

to ships, and Edward Williams

and my Shelley set their hearts

on building a boat.

Trelawny, of course,

knows the perfect man

to build them a ship.

Trelawny is like sugar

mixed with butter.

Because of his brooding figure

and tales of fantastical adventure,

I enjoy him immediately

as does everyone in our circle.

Jane and I question

Shelley and Edward’s

designs to construct a boat,

but boys will be boys

and we have little to say about it.

I enter more into Pisan

society, attending balls

and the sort of functions

that bring repulsion to my lover’s eyes.

He refuses my idea to host a party.

I send my novel
Valperga

to my father for publication

after Shelley’s editor

refused to look at it.

It pains me that we are

no longer united

even in our literary accomplishments,

very different from when

we worked together

on
Frankenstein
.

I copy Byron’s poems for him

and recopy the cantos of
Don Juan

into a more readable form.

I amuse my toddler Percy

and prepare for the arrival

of the Hunts. I bake mince

pies for a Christmas

that I do not spend

with Shelley as all the men

celebrate it together at Byron’s.

I do all of these things alone,

like a duet of only one voice,

without the one I most love.

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DANCING AT A BALL

Winter 1822

My feet glide

across the floor

and I am swept up

in a moment of ardor

and light

like one sprinkled

with fairy dust.

I forget

worry and woe

and embrace

movement.

Twirls of happiness

kiss my forehead,

and I fly free.

My only wish

is that my Shelley

was here to partner me.

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JANE WILLIAMS

Winter 1822

Shelley’s new infatuation

appears to be Jane.

He admires her easy

way and her singing voice

and buys her a guitar.

I believe he may

write secret poems

to her as he did

with Claire in the past.

I know this is just

Shelley’s way of the sun

and expect that the infatuation

will pass, but sometimes it makes

me feel as though

I am a garment of clothing

with holes and stains

no longer wearable.

Shelley is not one to be material

in his possessiveness,

but pretty new things

often attract his attention.

I try to speak to Edward

about this but he seems

a little flattered

that Shelley takes

an eye to Jane.

I try to remember

that this too shall pass,

although has it ever really

passed with Claire?

At least I become pregnant

again, so old clothing

or not I am not completely

disposable.

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A CATASTROPHE

March 24, 1822

On the way home from shooting,

Shelley, Byron, Pietro, Trelawny,

Taafe, and Captain Hay

meet an Italian dragoon called Masi.

Teresa and I watch the action

from a nearby carriage.

Masi gallops toward Taafe

and knocks him from his horse.

Then my Shelley chases Masi,

and a confrontation arises

wherein Shelley’s face is cut

by Masi’s sword,

and Shelley and Captain Hay

are thrown from their horses

like there has been a joust.

Masi then disappears

back into the city

cowardly among the crowds.

Byron and his servants find him,

and Byron challenges Masi

to a duel, but as a throng gathers

one of Byron’s servants

stabs Masi in the stomach

with a pitchfork.

Masi is expected to die.

Much fuss occurs

over these events because

it will be murder if Masi dies.

Thankfully he lives.

I record everyone’s account

of the incident for the police

at Byron’s request.

We are now as notorious

in Pisa as we are in England.

They banish Byron’s servant

from the city.

We can go nowhere

without scandal it seems.

I tell Byron I prefer

when he sends me his

poems to copy out.

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MY FAIR HAND

Spring 1822

I transcribe the brilliant lines

of Byron and Shelley

in my fair hand.

I trace the family lines

of writers and philosophers

on my fair hand.

I nurture a small child

in body and spirit

with my fair hands.

But sometimes I wonder,

when the wind throws

whirlwinds round my feet,

if I
have
a fair hand?

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ALLEGRA

Spring 1822

Before Byron left Ravenna

the mother superior of the convent

invited him to visit his daughter Allegra.

Allegra wrote to ask her father to come and see her.

He neither answered his daughter’s letter,

nor dropped by the convent.

In February 1822,

Claire planned to take

a job as a governess in Vienna.

She begged Byron to allow her

to see Allegra before she left.

Byron refused, so Claire

remained in Florence

instead of going to Vienna.

By the early spring,

Claire hatches a scheme

wherein we should liberate

Allegra from her cage

of the convent.

Shelley and I stand

firmly against this

as it is as foolish

as going shoeless in the snow.

Byron will certainly find out,

and with his money and power

could destroy us all.

He might even engage Shelley