Part 8

[This date serves to rectify a small point in literary history. We all know that the party at Cologny—consisting of Byron and Polidori on the one hand, and of Shelley and Mrs. Shelley and Miss Clairmont on the other—undertook to write each of them an independent ghost-story, or story of the supernatural; the result being Byron's fragment of _The Vampyre_, Polidori's complete story of _The Vampyre_, and Mrs. Shelley's renowned _Frankenstein_. Shelley and Miss Clairmont proved defaulters. It used to be said that Matthew Gregory Lewis, author of _The Monk_, had been mixed up in the same project; but this is a mistake, for Lewis only reached the Villa Diodati towards the middle of August. Professor Dowden states as follows: "During a few days of ungenial weather which confined them to the house [by "them" Shelley and the two ladies are evidently meant, and perhaps also Byron and Polidori] some volumes of ghost-stories, _Fantasmagoriana, ou Recueil d'Histoires d'Apparitions, de Spectres, Revenans_, etc. (a collection translated into French from the German) fell into their hands, and its perusal probably excited and overstrained Shelley's imagination." Professor Dowden then proceeds to narrate an incident connected with Coleridge's _Christabel_, of which more anon; and he says that immediately _after_ that incident Byron proposed, "We will each write a ghost-story"—a suggestion to which the others assented. It is only fair to observe that Professor Dowden's account corresponds with that which Polidori himself supplied in the proem to his tale of _The Vampyre_. But Polidori's Diary proves that this is not absolutely correct. The ghost-stories (prompted by the _Fantasmagoriana_, a poor sort of book) had already been begun by Byron, Shelley, Mrs. Shelley, and Miss Clairmont, not later than June 17, whereas the _Christabel_ incident happened on June 18. Byron's story, as I have already said, was _The Vampyre_, left a fragment; Shelley's is stated to have been some tale founded on his own early experiences—nothing farther is known of it; Mrs. Shelley's was eventually _Frankenstein_, but, from the details which have been published as to the first conception of this work, we must assume that what she had begun by June 17 was something different: of Miss Clairmont's story no sort of record remains.

The Countess Potocka, whom Polidori mentions, was a lady belonging to the highest Polish nobility, grand-niece of Stanislaus Augustus Poniatowski, who had been King of Poland up to 1798. She was daughter of Count Tyszkiewicz, and married Count Potocki, and afterwards Count Wonsowicz. Born in 1776, she lived on to 1867, when she died in Paris, a leader of society under the Second Empire. Thus she was forty years old when Polidori saw her. She wrote memoirs of her life, going up to 1820: a rather entertaining book, dealing with many important transactions, especially of the period of Napoleon I: she gives one to understand that this supreme potentate was rather susceptible to her charms, but a rival compatriot, the Countess Walewska, was then in the ascendant. I have seen reproductions from two portraits of the Countess Potocka, both of them ascribed to Angelica Kauffman: one of these shows a strikingly handsome young woman, with dark eyes of singular brilliancy and sentiment. Its date cannot be later than 1807, when the painter died, and may probably be as early as 1800.]

_June 18._—My leg much worse. Shelley and party here. Mrs. S[helley] called me her brother (younger). Began my ghost-story[10] after tea. Twelve o'clock, really began to talk ghostly. L[ord] B[yron] repeated some verses of Coleridge's _Christabel_, of the witch's breast; when silence ensued, and Shelley, suddenly shrieking and putting his hands to his head, ran out of the room with a candle. Threw water in his face, and after gave him ether. He was looking at Mrs. S[helley], and suddenly thought of a woman he had heard of who had eyes instead of nipples, which, taking hold of his mind, horrified him.—He married; and, a friend of his liking his wife, he tried all he could to induce her to love him in turn. He is surrounded by friends who feed upon him, and draw upon him as their banker. Once, having hired a house, a man wanted to make him pay more, and came trying to bully him, and at last challenged him. Shelley refused, and was knocked down; coolly said that would not gain him his object, and was knocked down again.—Slaney called.

[Some of these statements are passing strange, and most of them call for a little comment. First we hear that Mrs. Shelley called Polidori her younger brother—a designation which may have been endearing but was not accurate; for, whereas the doctor was aged 20 at this date, Mrs. Shelley was aged only 18. Next, Polidori, after tea, began his ghost-story. This, according to Mrs. Shelley, was a tale about "a skull-headed lady, who was so punished for peeping through a keyhole—what to see, I forget; something very shocking and wrong, of course." So says Mrs. Shelley: but Polidori's own statement is that the tale which he at first began was the one published under the title of _Ernestus Berchtold_, which contains nothing about a skull-headed lady: some details are given in my Introduction. Afterwards he took up the notion of a vampyre, when relinquished by Byron. The original story, _Ernestus Berchtold_, may possibly have been completed in 1816: at any rate it was completed at some time, and published in 1819, soon after _The Vampyre_. Then comes the incident (first published in my edition of Shelley's poems in 1870) of Byron repeating some lines from _Christabel_, and Shelley, who mixed them up with some fantastic idea already present to his mind, decamping with a shriek. The lines from _Christabel_ are these—

"Then drawing in her breath aloud, Like one that shuddered, she unbound The cincture from beneath her breast: Her silken robe and inner vest Dropped to her feet, and full in view Behold! her bosom and half her side, Hideous, deformed, and pale of hue— A sight to dream of, not to tell! And she is to sleep by Christabel!"

From this incident Polidori proceeds to three statements regarding 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.