The death scene is elaborated from F. of F.—A. and made more melodramatic by the addition of Woodville’s plea and of his vigil by the deathbed. ↩
F. of F.—A. ends here and F. of F.—B. resumes. ↩
A similar passage about Mathilda’s fears is cancelled in F. of F.—B. but it appears in revised form in S.—R. fr. There is also among these fragments a long passage, not used in Mathilda, identifying Woodville as someone she had met in London. Mary was wise to discard it for the sake of her story. But the first part of it is interesting for its correspondence with fact: “I knew him when I first went to London with my father he was in the height of his glory and happiness—Elinor was living and in her life he lived—I did not know her but he had been introduced to my father and had once or twice visited us—I had then gazed with wonder on his beauty and listened to him with delight—” Shelley had visited Godwin more than “once or twice” while Harriet was still living, and Mary had seen him. Of course she had seen Harriet too, in 1812, when she came with Shelley to call on Godwin. Elinor and Harriet, however, are completely unlike. ↩
Here and on many succeeding pages, where Mathilda records the words and opinions of Woodville, it is possible to hear the voice of Shelley. This paragraph, which is much expanded from F. of F.—B., may be compared with the discussion of good and evil in “Julian and Maddalo” and with Prometheus Unbound and “A Defence of Poetry.” ↩
In the revision of this passage Mathilda’s sense of her pollution is intensified; for example, by addition of “infamy and guilt was mingled with my portion.” ↩
Some phrases of self-criticism are added in this paragraph. ↩
In F. of F.—B. this quotation is used in the laudanum scene, just before Level’s (Woodville’s) long speech of dissuasion. ↩
The passage “air, and to suffer … my compassionate friend” is on a slip of paper pasted across the page. ↩
This phrase sustains the metaphor better than that in F. of F.—B.: “puts in a word.” ↩
This entire paragraph is added to F. of F.—B.; it is in rough draft in S.—R. fr. ↩
This is changed in the MS. of Mathilda from “a violent thunderstorm.” Evidently Mary decided to avoid using another thunderstorm at a crisis in the story. ↩
The passage “It is true … I will” is on a slip of paper pasted across the page. ↩
In the revision from F. of F.—B. the style of this whole episode becomes more concise and specific. ↩
An improvement over the awkward phrasing in F. of F.—B.: “a friend who will not repulse my request that he would accompany me.” ↩
These two paragraphs are not in F. of F.—B.; portions of them are in S.—R. fr. ↩
This speech is greatly improved in style over that in F. of F.—B., more concise in expression (though somewhat expanded), more specific. There are no corresponding S.—R. fr. to show the process of revision. With the ideas expressed here cf. Shelley, “Julian and Maddalo,” ll. 182–187, 494–499, and his letter to Claire in November, 1820 (Julian Works, X, 226). See also White, Shelley, II, 378. ↩
This solecism, copied from F. of F.—B., is not characteristic of Mary Shelley. ↩
This paragraph prepares for the eventual softening of Mathilda’s feeling. The idea is somewhat elaborated from F. of F.—B. Other changes are necessitated by the change in the mode of presenting the story. In The Fields of Fancy Mathilda speaks as one who has already died. ↩
Cf. Shelley’s emphasis on hope and its association with love in all his work. When Mary wrote Mathilda she knew “Queen Mab” (see Part VIII, ll. 50–57, and Part IX, ll. 207–208), the “Hymn to Intellectual Beauty,” and the first three acts of Prometheus Unbound. The fourth act was written in the winter of 1819, but Demogorgon’s words may already have been at least adumbrated before the beginning of November:
To love and bear, to hope till hope creates
From its own wreck the thing it contemplates.
Shelley had written, “Desolation is a delicate thing” (Prometheus Unbound, Act I, l. 772) and called the Spirit of the Earth “a delicate spirit” (Ibid., Act III, Sc. iv, l. 6). ↩
Purgatorio, Canto 28, ll. 31–33. Perhaps by this time Shelley had translated ll. 1–51 of this canto. He had read the Purgatorio in April, 1818, and again with Mary in August, 1819, just as she was beginning to write Mathilda. Shelley showed his translation to Medwin in 1820, but there seems to be no record of the date of composition. ↩
An air with this title was published about 1800 in London by Robert Birchall. See Catalogue of Printed Music Published Between 1487 and 1800 and Now in the British Museum, by W. Barclay Squire, 1912. Neither author nor composer is listed in the Catalogue. ↩
This paragraph is materially changed from F. of F.—B. Clouds and darkness are substituted for starlight, silence for the sound of the wind.
