enjoy the idea of being the first to introduce steam navigation into the Gulf of Lyons, and to glory in the consciousness of being in this manner useful to his fellow-creatures. Unfortunately, he was condemned to experience a failure. The prospects and views of his friends drew them to England, and the boat and engine were abandoned. Shelley was deeply disappointed yet it will be seen how generously he exculpates his friends to themselves, and relieves them from the regret they might naturally feel at having thus wasted his money and disappointed his desires.

FROM MRS. SHELLEY TO MRS. GISBORNE.

"Rome, Monday, April 26th, 1819.

"MY DEAR MRS. GISBORNE,

"WE already begin to feel, or think we feel, the effects of the Roman air, producing cold, depression, and even fever, to the feeblest of our party; so we emigrate a month earlier than we intended, and on the 7th of May leave this delightful city for the Bay of Naples, intending, if possible, to settle for some months at Castel del Mare. The physicians prognosticate good to Shelley from a Neapolitan summer. He has been very unwell lately, and is very far from well now; but I hope that he is getting up again.

6

"Yesterday evening, I met at a conversazione the true model of Biddy Fudge's lover an Englishman with 'the dear Corsair expression, half savage, half soft,' with the beautiful mixture of Abelard and old Blucher,' and his forehead ‘rather bald, but so warlike,' and his moustaches, on which the lamp shone with a fine effect. When I heard his name called Signor Colonello, I could not restrain a smile, which nearly degenerated into laughter when I thought we had Colonel Calicot in Rome. Presently he began, in very good

Italian, which, though Englishly pronounced, [was] yet better spoken than any other Englishman that I have heard, to give an account of his warlike feats, and how at Lisbon he had put to flight thirty well-armed and well-mounted robbers (he on foot), with two pistols that never missed their aim. There can be but one such man in the world, as you will be convinced when I tell you that, while I was admiring his extraordinary prowess, C- whispered to me, "It is Colonel

Fh.”

"You asked me to tell you what I had heard of him at Venice. Only one or two shabby tricks too long for a letter; and that an officer who served in Spain, of the same regiment to which he pretends to belong, vows that there was no Colonel F- -h there. Report says that he is a parson, and Lord B.'s nickname for his particular friend is the Reverend Colonel F-h.

“We have been very gay in Rome, as I dare say you have heard, with the visit of the Emperor of Austria, who, they whisper, wishes to take the Roman States into the keeping of the Holy Roman Empire; this would be a fall (to say the least of it) from nothingness to hell. There was a feast given at the Capitol. The three palaces were joined by a gallery, and the whole hung with silk, and illuminated in the most magnificent manner; and the dying Gladiator, surrounded by his Apollos and Venuses, shone forth very beautifully. There were very fine fireworks, and a supper not at all in the Italian taste, for there was an abundance which did honor to the old Cardinal who superintended the fête. Every one was pleased, and the Romans in ecstacies. I have not room to tell you how gracefully the old venerable Pope fulfilled the church ceremonies, or how surprised and delighted we were with the lighting up of St. Peter's; all that must serve for gossip when we meet. When will that be? We saw nobody at Naples; but we see a few people here. The Italian character does not improve upon us. By the by, we have given an introduction for you (which I do not think will be presented) to a Roman

lady, a painter and authoress, very old, very miserly, and very

mean- perhaps you know her.

remembers your name.

She says that she thinks she

"I am in better health and spirits than when I last wrote, and make no ceremony of writing without receiving answers. Shelley and C- desire best remembrances.

"Affectionately yours,

"M. W. SHELLEY.”

The ardor of intellectual creation must at this time have possessed Shelley to an extraordinary degree. No sooner had he finished the first three acts of Prometheus Unbound, than he began the Cenci; and, as the former work was written during the spring, and the date of the dedication of the latter is May 29th, the composition of the tragedy must have been pushed forward with great rapidity, though the work was not completed till a month or two after the date indicated. The dedication is to Leigh Hunt, and shows the high regard which Shelley entertained for the friend who, perhaps above all others, understood his nature and his genius. The origin of the tragedy is to be found in an old manuscript account of the story of the Cenci which a friend put into Shelley's hands while he was at Rome, and of which a translation is published by Mrs. Shelley in her edition of the poems. The poet's interest in the unhappy victim, Beatrice, was increased by seeing her portraits in the Colonna and Doria Palaces (the former by Guido); and he at first wished Mrs. Shelley to make the story the subject of a play by herself, as he conceived that she possessed a dramatic faculty, and that he had none whatever, - for the Prometheus Unbound is clearly not a

drama in the ordinary sense of the word, but a poem, taking the form of action. He had already made one or two attempts of a more strictly dramatic kind, but had thrown them aside in disgust; nevertheless, he was persuaded by Mrs. Shelley to undertake the tragedy of the Cenci, and he frequently consulted her during its progress (the only time he submitted to her judgment any of his writings while they were being composed), and talked over the arrangement of the scenes from day to day.

While the work proceeded, the illness and death of the little boy, William, took place an affliction which drove the broken-hearted parents to the neighborhood of Leghorn, where they took a small house (Villa Valsovano), about half-way between the city and Monte Nero. "Our villa," says Mrs. Shelley, 66 was situated in the midst of a poderè; the peasants sang as they worked beneath our window during the heats of a very hot summer, and in the evening the water-wheel creaked as the process of irrigation went on, and the fire-flies flashed from among the myrtle hedges. shiny, and cheerful, or diversified by storms of a majestic terror, such as we had never before witnessed." A small terrace, roofed and glazed, at the top of the house, was converted by Shelley into a study; and here he could bask in the light and heat of an Italian summer (never too intense for him), or watch the processional march of the tempests over the near ocean. The greater part of the Cenci was written in this retreat.

Nature was bright, sun

Wishing to see his drama acted at Covent Garden,

with Miss O'Neil as the heroine, Shelley wrote to a friend in London (Mr. Peacock), requesting that he would open negotiations with the manager. In addressing Mr. Peacock, he says of the newly-completed work that his "principal doubt as to whether it would succeed as an acting play hangs entirely" on the frightful nature of the story; but he thinks that the delicacy with which he has treated the facts will remove any objection. It did not do so, however, for the manager declined to accept the work, on the ground anticipated by its author; yet, at the same time, he expressed his desire that the writer (whose name was not mentioned to him*) would compose a play on some other subject, adding that he would gladly produce it. In the same letter, Shelley observes: "I am exceedingly interested in the question of whether this attempt of mine will succeed or not. I am strongly inclined to the affirmative, at present, founding my hopes on this, that, as a composition, it is certainly not inferior to any of the modern plays that have been acted, with the exception of Remorse; that the interest of the plot is incredibly greater and more real; and that there is nothing but what the multitude are contented to believe that they can understand, either in imagery, opinion, or sentiment." With respect to Miss O'Neil in the character of Beatrice, Shelley exclaims "God forbid that I should see her play it! It would tear my nerves to pieces."

*The reason for this secrecy was a fear on the part of Shelley that, if the play were produced as his, his sister-in-law would hire people to hoot it off the stage.