Mary Shelley

by Helen Edmundson

  FANNY. Oh.

  GODWIN. Ah. Staying.

  SHELLEY. It has been a day of great emotion.

  FANNY. Yes. I must see if the spare room is… Sometimes it is rather full of books and so on.

  SHELLEY. But I can sleep in here. If you don’t object, Godwin?

  GODWIN. No.

  SHELLEY. When I get tired I can sleep anywhere. I shall sleep curled up on the rug there. Or on the sofa.

  FANNY. Yes.

  SHELLEY. A blanket, perhaps, for the early hours? And a glass of water, please. If it isn’t too much trouble.

  FANNY. Not at all. I’ll fetch them.

  SHELLEY. Thank you.

  FANNY leaves. GODWIN and SHELLEY sit down together.

  GODWIN. I was imprisoned once. For debt. Did I tell you that?

  SHELLEY. No.

  GODWIN. In the early days. When I was trying to make my way. People assume that philosophers can live on air. My friends and I were completely reliant upon one another. If one of us went under, another would always try to help him out.

  SHELLEY. That’s how it should be.

  GODWIN. Nothing has changed really. Except these days there are a great many noughts on the amounts which we owe.

  SHELLEY. What did the lawyers say?

  GODWIN. Yes. So. It seems the purchasers of the bond are now satisfied on the question of life insurance.

  SHELLEY. Good.

  GODWIN. But they have now come back with two further questions. The first concerns existing borrowing against the estate. They wish to be certain that when your grandfather dies, they will not find that there are prior and sweeping claims upon his property and land.

  SHELLEY. How absurd this is.

  GODWIN. Do you know if your grandfather has borrowed against the estate?

  SHELLEY. I’m quite sure he hasn’t.

  GODWIN. And your father?

  SHELLEY. No. He is entirely opposed to borrowing. It’s one of the reasons why he is entirely opposed to me.

  GODWIN. With your permission, I will write to your family’s lawyer to ask for a statement on the subject.

  SHELLEY. How long will that take?

  GODWIN. I can’t say exactly. We could consider a direct approach to your grandfather, but…

  SHELLEY. What is the matter with these people? If they didn’t want to buy the bond, why did they bid for it? They’re already getting it for a lot less than it is worth. Surely they should understand that there is some risk attached to it?

  GODWIN. No one was prepared to bid higher. We must remember that.

  Do not be disheartened. We’re drawing close now.

  SHELLEY. What is the second question?

  GODWIN. I think we should leave that for the morning. We can talk before breakfast, if you prefer.

  SHELLEY. Please, Godwin. I am not a ‘wait until the morning’ sort of person.

  GODWIN. As you wish. It concerns your marriage.

  SHELLEY. My marriage?

  GODWIN. They are not convinced that your existing certificate of marriage would stand up to scrutiny in an English court. If you were to die, and there were any challenges to the legitimacy of your heirs, their claim could stall – or be rejected completely.

  SHELLEY. I don’t understand.

  GODWIN. You were married in Scotland, I think? In some form of chapel?

  SHELLEY. Yes. We eloped.

  GODWIN. Well, what they are asking is that you marry again. In an English church. In the Church of England.

  Do you foresee any difficulty with that?

  Will Mrs Shelley be in London at all this week?

  SHELLEY. No. She is staying in Windsor with the baby.

  GODWIN. Then could you arrange to be married there? Tomorrow, I can accompany you to get a certificate. You could consider a marriage the following day. And if you have need of witnesses…

  SHELLEY. You know my views on marriage, Godwin. They are the same as yours. They were forged by you.

  GODWIN. Yes. And yet we both sit here, married men.

  SHELLEY. I married in haste. I could see no other way of protecting Harriet.

  GODWIN. Precisely.

  SHELLEY. I was young then.

  GODWIN. Really, Shelley…

  SHELLEY. It did not seem too abhorrent, to stand in a chapel and make some vows. It did not even seem like a church. To do so again – in cold blood. I don’t think I can.

  I’m sorry. They will have to accept my marriage as it is.

  They are quiet for a moment.

  GODWIN. We must apply philosophy to this situation. Once you have the money – we have the money – the use we can make of it will far outweigh the small but necessary evil of your repeating your wedding vows. We must use convention to defeat convention.

  The alternative is… what? That we lose the sale. I need not tell you, I think, the consequences that would have.

  I sympathise. Believe me. Sometimes, when I look back on my own life, it seems…

  SHELLEY. What?

  GODWIN. One learns to live with compromise. A horrible bed-bound relative in a secret room.

  Pause.

  SHELLEY. I will speak to Harriet.

  GODWIN. Yes.

  SHELLEY. Though I do not feel at all comfortable about doing so. Our relations at present would not naturally tend towards a renewal of vows. In fact…

  MRS GODWIN is heard from outside the door –

  MRS GODWIN (off). Mr Godwin? What is going on?

  GODWIN (to SHELLEY). Excuse me one moment?

  GODWIN leaves. There is the sound of whispering. After a moment, FANNY enters. She is carrying some blankets and a glass of water.

  SHELLEY. I appear to have woken the whole house.

  FANNY. Don’t worry.

  FANNY begins to make up a bed on the sofa.

  I think you should sleep on here tonight. Please don’t sleep on the floor.

  SHELLEY. If anyone had told me, when I was at school, that one day I would lie down to sleep in the study of the great William Godwin – with Mary Wollstonecraft gazing down upon me – I would have thought it too much a fantasy to be believed. And to have her legendary daughter as my companion…

  FANNY. I am hardly legendary.

  SHELLEY. But you are. You must know you are. No child has ever been so lovingly described. Your joy in being, your inquisitiveness.

  FANNY. I am glad to have those descriptions to look back upon.

  SHELLEY. You know, when Harriet first discovered she was pregnant, I gave her a copy of your mother’s thoughts on raising daughters. In case we had a girl. And then we did –

  FANNY. Has she found it useful?

  SHELLEY. Yes. Though she has not taken it to heart entirely – in the way I hoped she would. On education she is completely agreed. But she would not feed the baby herself. That I found very difficult. She hired a wet nurse. I would have snatched the child away and fed her myself if I could.

  FANNY. I’m sorry. I suppose it is a very personal… It’s very personal.

  SHELLEY. Yes.

  FANNY. But your daughter is well, isn’t she?

  SHELLEY. Yes. She is thriving.

  FANNY. That’s the most important thing. I feel sure my mother would say so.

  SHELLEY. We are to have another. Harriet told me this morning.

  FANNY. Oh. Another baby.

  SHELLEY. Some time in the autumn.

  FANNY. That’s wonderful. That’s wonderful news.

  SHELLEY. I suppose it is.

  FANNY. You aren’t sure?

  SHELLEY. It’s very hard… this question of responsibility… to one’s own children. I wish… I want to take responsibility for the whole world, and yet I am expected to reserve a vast share of my attention for one or two individual creatures, whom I had a part in creating. Do you understand what I mean?

  FANNY. I think I do.

  SHELLEY. Today… I saw a small boy being thrown into the river.

  FANNY. Oh, no.

  SHELLEY. He was on a coal
barge that was passing by. He was arguing with a large man. And the man suddenly picked him up and tossed him over the side. Quite casually. As though he were emptying his piss-pot. The boy was floundering. I ran down to the edge of the water and made as much commotion as I could. I can’t swim, or I would have gone in to get him.

  FANNY. Yes.

  SHELLEY. He was picked up and rowed to shore. I felt so much for him. I wanted to keep him.

  I would have taken him home, but all he wanted was to run to catch up with the barge. I gave him all the money in my pockets. I felt so much for him, in his plight. As much as I have ever felt for my own child. Does that seem wrong?

  FANNY. No. No, not at all. I have often felt quite overwhelmed with love for the children I visit in the poor schools.

  SHELLEY. Have you?

  FANNY. I have often thought there could be no greater vocation in life – no greater use of energy – than to rescue a whole class full of those children from the evils of poverty and ignorance.

  SHELLEY. A greater vocation than motherhood?

  FANNY. Yes.

  SHELLEY. How right you are. How wise.

  Why don’t you stay with me, and talk to me all night? Really. I don’t feel at all sleepy. Do you?

  FANNY. No, but… I would like to, but…

  SHELLEY. But what? Have you ever stayed up and talked all night?

  FANNY. No…

  SHELLEY. Then you must. It is one of the great pleasures of life.

  FANNY. I don’t think… I don’t think Mama would allow it.

  SHELLEY. Why not? Would you stay if I were a woman?

  FANNY. Yes.

  SHELLEY. Then stay. Surely your father, of all people, would not insist upon the proprieties?

  Are we such animals that we cannot control our desires?

  FANNY cannot answer. GODWIN enters.

  FANNY. I’ll say goodnight.

  GODWIN. Yes.

  FANNY (to SHELLEY). Goodnight.

  SHELLEY. If goodnight it must be.

  She leaves. He gazes after her.

  Scene Six

  Morning. GODWIN’s study. SHELLEY is lying on the sofa under a blanket. The sounds of the busy street below are drifting into the room.

  MARY enters. She is wearing a dressing gown, and her hair is undone. She does not see SHELLEY. She heads towards her father’s desk, but then changes her mind and goes to the window and draws back the curtains.

  SHELLEY. But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?

  MARY gasps with surprise. SHELLEY sits up, smiling. He is in a state of half-undress.

  Sorry. I couldn’t resist… Oh.

  MARY. I didn’t realise there was anyone in here.

  SHELLEY. I’m sorry. I thought you were Miss Godwin.

  I stayed the night.

  Shelley. Percy. Bysshe.

  MARY. Ah. Of course.

  SHELLEY. And you? Are you…?

  MARY. Mary. Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin.

  SHELLEY. Mary. You’re back.

  MARY. Yes.

  SHELLEY. No one told me.

  The immediate rapport between them is tangible.

  MARY. I’ll go and tell Mrs Godwin you’re awake.

  She starts to go.

  SHELLEY. But what did you come for?

  MARY. Oh. It doesn’t matter.

  SHELLEY. A book? I would be the last person on earth to deprive you of a book.

  MARY. I came for some paper.

  SHELLEY (jumping up). Paper! Let me help you find some.

  MARY. It’s all right. I think I know where it is. My notebook’s full, and I just need a few sheets of paper, until I can get another one.

  SHELLEY. Are you writing? Your sisters told me that you write. You cannot know how happy I was to hear that. What are you writing?

  MARY. A story.

  SHELLEY. I write poetry.

  MARY. Do you?

  SHELLEY. Yes. I have recently finished a poem. It’s my best work. I have had several copies printed.

  MARY. That’s wonderful.

  SHELLEY. Yes. It’s a long poem. Epic, I suppose one could say. I can’t put my name to it – the content is too dangerous. It’s not that I’m afraid to take on the authorities. But I don’t want to find myself in prison when I’ve only just begun.

  MARY. What’s it about?

  SHELLEY. It is very much inspired by your father’s work.

  MARY. Is it really?

  SHELLEY. Although I showed it to him and he was rather critical. He thinks I should stick to prose. Prose and politics.

  MARY. But my father has never been fond of poetry. You ought to hear him on the subject of Lord Byron.

  SHELLEY. Really? I adore Byron.

  MARY. So do I. But Father likes things to be said in a... logical way. I’m sure it is not the fault of your poem.

  JANE enters.

  JANE. Oh. Mary. You’re here.

  MARY. Good morning, Jane.

  SHELLEY. Miss Jane! How sweet and fresh you look today.

  JANE. Do I? I’ve only just woken up.

  But look at you two. You’ve met at last.

  SHELLEY. Yes.

  JANE. It’s not fair. It’s really too unkind. I wanted to be the person to introduce you. I told him all about you, Mary. Now, is she as lovely as I said she is?

  MARY. Jane.

  SHELLEY. Certainly, she is.

  MARY. Jane, please.

  JANE. What?

  MARY. Please don’t say such silly things.

  JANE. Oh, don’t be embarrassed. Embarrassment is so petty. But, Shelley, I must tell you something quite extraordinary.

  SHELLEY. That’s a very promising beginning.

  JANE. When Mama told me just now that you had stayed the night, I wasn’t at all surprised, because I knew. Because all night... all night I had the strangest feeling that you were close by.

  SHELLEY. Did you really?

  JANE. I was finding it hard to sleep, you see, because I had been so upset yesterday about the poor man being hanged. Hadn’t I, Mary? I was quite inconsolable. I can’t bear any sort of cruelty, can I, Mary?

  MARY. No.

  JANE. But then I started to feel quite calm suddenly, and I started to feel that there was a presence close by – a good, strong presence – and then I realised that it was you.

  SHELLEY. That’s fascinating.

  JANE. And then I slept quite happily. And calmly. How can I describe it? I felt very... soft. And relaxed.

  SHELLEY. How extraordinary. I’m glad to have been of service.

  JANE (laughing). Did you know? I mean, were you... thinking...?

  SHELLEY. I wasn’t conscious of anything.

  JANE. You didn’t come upstairs at all?

  SHELLEY. No. But who knows where our souls wander when we sleep?

  GODWIN enters and goes straight to his desk.

  GODWIN. Ah, you’re awake, Shelley. Good. (Calling.) Fanny! She was afraid we might disturb you, but I see we are too late for that.

  JANE. He was awake when I came in, Papa.

  GODWIN (to MARY and SHELLEY). So you’ve met.

  SHELLEY. Yes. We introduced ourselves.

  FANNY enters.

  FANNY. Good morning.

  SHELLEY. Good morning, my dear Miss Godwin.

  FANNY. Rather an invasion, I’m afraid. Would you like a little privacy?

  SHELLEY. No. This is the perfect start to my day.

  FANNY. How are you, Mary? Rested?

  MARY. Yes, thank you, dear.

  GODWIN. This is the letter I wish you to copy, Fanny.

  FANNY (crossing to the desk). Jane, go down and mind the shop please.

  JANE. Now?

  FANNY. Yes.

  JANE. But I don’t want to. Surely if anyone comes they can ring the bell? No one will come anyway.

  GODWIN. Will it be clear enough?

  FANNY. Yes. I think so.

  GODWIN. Shelley, I’ve ascertained where we must go for the certificate, but the office
will close at midday, so we must start out as soon as you’re ready.

  SHELLEY. Right. Yes. What time is it now?

  MARY. It’s almost half-past ten.

  SHELLEY. Is it really?

  JANE. I’m always losing track of time.

  MRS GODWIN enters.

  MRS GODWIN. What on earth is going on in here?

  I do apologise, Mr Shelley. I gave orders that you were not to be disturbed.

  JANE. Mary was here before I was.

  SHELLEY. But it’s been splendid, Mrs Godwin. Really. It reminds me of being a child again. Waking up surrounded by my sisters.

  MRS GODWIN. Well, we are none of us children now. What do you say, Mr Godwin?

  GODWIN. What’s that, my dear?

  MRS GODWIN. Come out now, girls. In fact, no. Mr Shelley, I think you should come out, if you don’t mind? You may use my bedroom in which to refresh yourself, and so forth. I’m sure you must need to do that.

  SHELLEY. Thank you. You’re very kind.

  MRS GODWIN. And who’s minding the shop, may I ask?

  FANNY. I was. But I’m busy now. I asked Jane to go down.

  MRS GODWIN. Then go down, Jane. At once. What do you think this is? A public holiday?

  JANE (to SHELLEY). Will you be coming back?

  SHELLEY. I hope so. Will we come back, Godwin?

  GODWIN. Back? No. Windsor.

  SHELLEY. Ah, yes. A pity.

  JANE. But you’ll come again soon?

  MRS GODWIN. Jane!

  JANE. Sorry. (To SHELLEY.) Come out through the shop and say goodbye!

  She leaves.

  MRS GODWIN (inviting him to come with her). Mr Shelley?

  SHELLEY (to MARY). I hope I will see you soon. You’re not going away again?

  MARY. No. I have no more plans to travel.

  SHELLEY. I wonder if you would read my poem? Would you?

  MARY. Yes. Of course. I would like that very much.

  SHELLEY. I will come back as soon as I can.

  They smile deeply at each other.

  Good day, Miss Godwin.

  FANNY. Good day. I hope...

  MRS GODWIN (ushering him out). I have saved you a nice slice of bacon for your breakfast, Mr Shelley.

  GODWIN. No time!

  SHELLEY. Oh, I never eat breakfast, Mrs Godwin. Or meat.

  MRS GODWIN. No? Of course you don’t.

  They leave.

  GODWIN. Right. Once you have finished it, I want you to deliver it. You know the office?

  FANNY. Yes, Papa.

  GODWIN. As soon as you can.