FANNY. Shall I go down and sit in the shop?
MARY. No, Fanny.
MRS GODWIN. Oh, I’ve closed the shop. We shan’t get any customers now with this going on. I always said this was a stupid place to open a children’s bookshop. We’re so close to the gallows we can almost hear the necks snap.
JANE. Maman!
MARY. At least we get passing trade.
MRS GODWIN. Oh, yes. I’m sure any number of these louts is likely to pop in for a copy of Pilgrim’s Progress.
GODWIN. I don’t remember you saying this was a stupid place to open a bookshop, Mrs Godwin.
MRS GODWIN. Well, that just shows how seldom you listen to me.
Oh, do come away and sit down, Jane. Let’s all just sit down nicely and have tea, like normal people.
They sit together, and tea commences. In the street below, someone in the passing crowd is shouting, and there is a burst of laughter. GODWIN raises his teacup to MARY.
GODWIN. Welcome home, Mary.
MARY. Thank you.
JANE. Yes. Welcome home.
GODWIN. How was the dreaded voyage?
MARY. It passed quite quickly. And the weather was so beautiful this morning. I was on deck to see the sun rise.
GODWIN. You look well, at any rate. The Scottish air obviously agreed with you.
MARY. It did.
MRS GODWIN. She didn’t see Charles.
GODWIN. And a new dress, eh?
MARY. Yes. Thank you for sending the money.
GODWIN. You put me in mind of one of Walter Scott’s heroines.
JANE. I’ve never been sure about tartan. I mean, I’m sure it looks very fine in its natural... habitat, as it were. The Highlands, and the glens. Kilts, and so on.
FANNY. I think it’s a very pretty dress.
JANE. Oh, so do I. In fact, I should love to have one just like it.
MRS GODWIN. You’ve had your new dress this season.
JANE. Yes, I know. I only meant...
She trails off.
GODWIN. And how did you spend your days?
MARY. Walking, mostly. Bathing a little. Though the water was ferociously cold.
MRS GODWIN. The Baxters send their regards. Evidently.
MARY. I have letters for you from Mr Baxter, Papa.
MRS GODWIN. Letters. Oh. Very nice.
GODWIN. Thank you.
And I hope you did some writing.
MARY. I did. I’ve begun a new story.
FANNY. What’s it about?
MARY. It’s about... But I won’t say yet. Because I’m not quite sure if it’s going to take. You understand.
GODWIN. Only too well.
MARY. But when I’ve finished it, I’ll show it to Papa, and if he thinks it’s good enough, I shall read it to you all.
MRS GODWIN. I have begun a new translation – The Swiss Family Robinson. It is very taxing.
JANE. Did Fanny tell you about Mr Shelley, Mary?
MARY. Yes.
JANE. I can’t wait for you to meet him.
MARY. You’ve met him already?
JANE. He was here yesterday. And he really is the most extraordinary man. Quite the most... vibrant human being I have ever met.
GODWIN. Yes. I’m afraid you will find that both your sisters are rather taken with my young friend Shelley.
FANNY. Papa, really.
JANE. Is he coming this evening?
GODWIN. Tomorrow.
MARY. He’s doing some business with you – is that right?
GODWIN. Of sorts. I am helping him with a rather complicated financial transaction, and he is showing a kind interest in our little enterprise here.
JANE. He’s giving Papa some money.
GODWIN. Lending me some money, Jane. Lending me some money so that I might be able to discharge one or two of the difficulties which have built up of late, and so that I might begin to concentrate on my writing again. Which is the most important thing.
MARY. Yes.
MRS GODWIN. Well, I shall believe it when I see it. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we never saw a penny of this alleged money from Mr Shelley.
JANE. Maman.
MARY. Why?
MRS GODWIN. Firstly, because he doesn’t have any money. He’s having to borrow it himself, against his future fortune…
GODWIN. I would rather we didn’t speak of business at tea.
MRS GODWIN.…at an exorbitant cost. And secondly, because the only reliable thing about Mr Shelley is that he is completely unreliable. He turns up here when he isn’t invited, and then when he is invited, he doesn’t turn up. I’ve lost count of the number of dinners I’ve prepared for him, only to have them wasted.
GODWIN. You cannot dismiss a man’s character on the basis of a few discarded chops.
MRS GODWIN. Chops which have to be paid for, and with money we haven’t got. And then there was the time he disappeared altogether. What’s to stop him doing that again?
FANNY. That was a long time ago, Mama.
MRS GODWIN. And what of that?
FANNY. I… I think he’s become more reliable lately. I think…
MRS GODWIN. ‘Come to my hotel, Mrs Godwin. Dine with us, Mr Godwin.’ And then we get there and he’s gone. Packed up and left. I’ve never been so humiliated.
MARY. Do we need the money badly, Papa?
GODWIN. There is no question of Shelley disappearing. I have great faith in him. You cannot sit for hours with a man, discussing my Political Justice without learning something of his true nature. There are certain principles upon which we disagree, yes, but he knows as well as I what constitutes just treatment of one man by another. Now can we please stop discussing business at tea.
MRS GODWIN. You are too trusting, Mr Godwin.
GODWIN. And you are too cynical, my dear.
MRS GODWIN. I’d rather be cynical than an old fool.
There is a moment of shocked silence.
MARY. It’s possible to be both. It’s possible to be a cynical old fool.
FANNY. Mary…
MARY. I only said it’s possible.
MRS GODWIN. Is that in some way directed at me?
(To GODWIN.) Are you going to let her speak to me like that?
GODWIN. I’m sorry, I must have missed that.
MRS GODWIN. Oh, I see. Return of the selective deafness.
GODWIN. Now, now, my dear.
MARY. I also did a great deal of reading in Scotland.
GODWIN. I hope you kept a list.
MARY. I did. Clarissa…
GODWIN. Ah, yes.
MARY. And I read your memoir of my mother. (Looking at FANNY.) Of our mother. Memoirs of the Author of the Rights of Woman.
GODWIN. Did you?
MRS GODWIN. You read the Memoirs?
GODWIN. First or second edition?
MARY. First.
MRS GODWIN. Is that all you’ve got to say?
MARY. It’s a beautiful piece of writing, Papa. Aside from anything else. I couldn’t be more proud of you. Or of my wonderful mother.
GODWIN. Yes. I see. I am gratified.
JANE. What memoir?
MARY. A memoir of Mary Wollstonecraft. Papa tells the whole story of her life. Her politics, her philosophies, her travels. Her love affairs.
MRS GODWIN. Well. I suppose I am expected to keep quiet on this occasion. But I must say, I shouldn’t have thought it suitable reading at all for a sixteen-year-old girl.
MARY. Why not? I think it should be compulsory reading for all sixteen-year-old girls. To learn about such a woman. So courageous. So liberated.
MRS GODWIN. Well, I don’t want Jane reading it.
JANE. Maman!
MARY. Why not?
FANNY. I think we should change the subject.
MARY. Why don’t you wish Jane to read it?
MRS GODWIN. Oh, I couldn’t possibly say. Because it’s none of my business, is it?
MARY. No, it isn’t. It isn’t any of your business.
GODWIN. Mary…
&
nbsp; MRS GODWIN. How dare you speak to me like that?
MARY. I do dare. I suppose you’re going to threaten to slap my wrists? Send me to bed without any supper? I came back here determined to be civil to you but it is impossible. No one in the whole of Scotland ever spoke to me in such a rude and disrespectful way.
MRS GODWIN. Disrespectful? Huh! That’s very high and mighty, I must say.
MARY. The Baxters did not even speak to their dogs in such a way!
GODWIN (standing). Time to get back to work, everyone. I’m sure we all have things we should be doing.
MRS GODWIN. Oh, that’s right, Mr Godwin – run off back to your study.
The noise of a great roar from the nearby crowd is heard. JANE rushes to the window.
MARY. So rude!
GODWIN. Please attempt to control your temper, Mrs Godwin. Remember what we spoke about.
JANE bursts into tears.
MRS GODWIN. What’s the matter with you?
JANE. He’s dead.
MRS GODWIN. Who is?
JANE. The poor man. All he did was steal a gun and now he’s dead, dead, dead.
MRS GODWIN. Well, he was nothing to you, you silly girl.
JANE. He was a fellow creature. A fellow creature and now he’s dead.
MARY (going to leave). I’ve had enough of this.
MRS GODWIN. Don’t you think of flouncing out. If anyone is going to flounce out, it’s me!
MRS GODWIN leaves. JANE sobs loudly.
GODWIN. Well. Thank you for tea.
GODWIN exits to the study.
FANNY. Mary, did you have to?
MARY. Yes. Yes, I did.
Scene Four
Evening. GODWIN’s study. Windows look out onto the street. Above a large fireplace there is a portrait of Mary Wollstonecraft. Books line the walls, and lie in piles on the floor. Between the windows there is an old leather sofa. GODWIN is working at his desk. MARY enters quietly. There is a small bundle of letters in her hand.
MARY. The letters from Mr Baxter, Papa.
GODWIN (without looking up). Thank you. Place them there.
MARY puts them on the desk. She waits, but he continues to work.
MARY. Shouldn’t you stop now? It’s quite late.
GODWIN. One or two things more.
MARY. What are you working on?
GODWIN. It doesn’t deserve to be called work. Calculations. Business. Commercial drudgery.
MARY. All the more reason to stop.
She goes to stand before the portrait and stares up at it.
How old was she in this portrait?
GODWIN. About thirty-eight. She was pregnant with you.
MARY. She looks content.
GODWIN. You have grown more like her.
MARY. Have I?
GODWIN. A little in your looks. A great deal in your stridency of expression.
You went away a girl, and have returned a young woman.
GODWIN finishes his work and sets his pen down. They smile at each other.
So, am I forgiven for sending you away?
MARY. I wasn’t cross. Just a little nervous, I suppose.
GODWIN. I knew it was time for you to make a foray into the outside world.
MARY. You were right.
GODWIN. Your mother was a great believer in girls experiencing life outside the home. Within reason, of course.
MARY. Papa, are there more books about my mother which I can read? Or can I read the other books she wrote?
GODWIN. Hum. I can’t remember what you’ve read already.
He goes to the bookshelves.
MARY. Not that much. The Rights of Woman. You read us that. View of the French Revolution.
GODWIN. Her travels in Sweden?
MARY. No.
He hands it to her.
GODWIN. I think Fanny has read that one. Of course, there’s a great deal in there about Fanny, as a baby. Your mother took her with her on her travels.
MARY. Yes. Anything else?
GODWIN (hesitating). There are the letters.
MARY. The letters?
GODWIN. I edited a volume of her letters. But perhaps that’s for another day.
MARY. Please let me see it. I feel as though I’ve been sleeping on top of buried treasure.
GODWIN (handing it to her). Very well.
MARY. Thank you.
GODWIN. Mary…
MARY. I’m sorry I lost my temper with Mrs Godwin. But she seemed to be implying that there was something wrong about my mother – about the way she lived. And there wasn’t, was there?
GODWIN. No. But, Mary, you are old enough to understand now that there are many people who cannot view the world as openly as your mother did. Or as you and I do.
MARY. You mean small-minded people. Like Mrs Godwin.
GODWIN. That is not what I mean.
MARY. But she spoke about your book as though it were contaminated.
GODWIN. Mrs Godwin has worked hard – tremendously hard, as have I, to achieve the relatively settled life which we have given you. And all our children. If she is a little alarmed, or decidedly averse to anything which seems to… veer towards scandal, then she is understandably so.
MARY. Scandal?
GODWIN. The Memoirs were not well received. It is only right that you be made aware of that.
In fact, I was vilified.
MARY. But…
GODWIN. And not only in the reactionary press. Some people – friends even – thought I was wrong to write in detail about her private affairs. Some thought I was wrong to write so quickly after her death. I was only trying to make something useful out of tragedy…
MARY. Yes.
GODWIN. But I was judged – we were both judged, very harshly. The suicide attempt… the circumstances of Fanny’s birth… many people thought I should have left those things unstated. It was a shock to me. I had not realised until then how entirely out of step I had become – even with radical society.
In the second edition, I tried to remedy some of the damage. Her sisters in Ireland – your aunts – had been very upset by the book. One or two of her friends…
MARY. But you don’t regret writing it? Surely you don’t.
GODWIN. No. Although, in hindsight, I am not at all sure that I should have had it published.
MARY. But surely for every person who balked at it, there was someone like me… who found it inspiring?
GODWIN. I simply want you to be aware that there are certain sensitivities surrounding your mother’s reputation, which we must be mindful of. Not least because we are reliant upon a business. A shop which sells books for children.
MARY. Then perhaps we should not be. If it means we cannot be true to our principles and to your philosophies. If it means I cannot be openly proud of my mother.
GODWIN. Well. I’m afraid we must deal with things as they are.
Come and kiss me.
She does so. She hugs him.
MARY. Poor Papa.
GODWIN. You even smell the way your mother used to smell. Is that possible, do you think?
MARY. I’m sure it is.
GODWIN. My dearest girl.
You are right to be proud of your mother, Mary. But we must be patient, cautious with those who do not have our capacity and strength of mind. Always remember who you are. And ask more of yourself.
Goodnight now.
MARY. Goodnight.
She starts to go.
I wish she hadn’t died. I wish we were together now. My mother and you. Fanny and I. That was how it was meant to be.
She leaves.
Scene Five
Late at night. GODWIN’s study.
There is the sound of knocking on the front door of the house. It stops. After a few moments, GODWIN enters, with SHELLEY behind him. GODWIN is carrying a candle.
GODWIN. We had better come in here.
SHELLEY. I didn’t realise it was so late.
GODWIN lights a lamp.
You weren’t in bed?
GODWIN. Yes. But no matter.
SHELLEY. Was I expected here this evening? I felt sure I was.
GODWIN. We expected you tomorrow, Shelley.
SHELLEY. Ah. Tomorrow. Then I’m early.
GODWIN. Yes. Early and late, it would seem. A walking challenge to the laws of physics.
SHELLEY. I went to the Fleet this afternoon. The first time I’ve been in a prison. It shook me rather.
GODWIN. I’m sure it did.
SHELLEY. I went for a walk by the river. I must have lost track of time. And the days are getting longer now, aren’t they? Perhaps it was that. A trick of the light.
GODWIN. What took you to the Fleet? Sit down for a moment.
SHELLEY. A friend of mine was arrested for debt yesterday. He has a wife and five children to support.
GODWIN. I’m sorry to hear it.
SHELLEY. It’s the perversity of it which enrages me. To confine a man, to shackle him, at the very moment he has most need to be industrious.
GODWIN. Does your friend have private rooms, at least?
SHELLEY. No, no. He shares a cell with three others. I thought I knew what it was to be in prison. But the reality… I took him a copy of Caleb Williams.
GODWIN. Did you?
SHELLEY. He had read it, of course, but he was glad to have it with him. A lone voice of sanity amidst the madness. ‘Go, go, ignorant fool and visit the scenes of our prisons, then show me the man shameless enough to rejoice and say, “England has no Bastille”.’
GODWIN. Yes. Those passages were the result of bitter experience. I dare not think of the hours I have spent visiting men in prison cells. Good men. Wasted lives.
SHELLEY. I am going to take up the cry. I don’t know how yet, but I shall. Godwin, when will we have the money? I have sworn that I will help him. I won’t use any of your share, of course, but I shall use mine – all of it, if need be.
GODWIN. We are making progress, certainly. I saw the lawyers this afternoon.
SHELLEY. What did they say?
FANNY enters. She is in a nightdress and dressing gown.
FANNY. Oh. Mr Shelley.
SHELLEY. Miss Godwin. Forgive me. I have come rather…
GODWIN. Early.
SHELLEY. Yes.
FANNY. Please don’t worry. I only wondered if anyone had need of anything. Are you staying, Mr Shelley?
SHELLEY. Staying? Yes. Yes. Thank you. If that would be agreeable?
GODWIN. By all means, stay a while.
SHELLEY. It’s true I have no wish to be alone tonight. If I could lie down amongst friends it would mean a great deal to me.
Mary Shelley Page 2