Guiding his horse over to the right-hand side Masi jinked round the Giuccioli’s carriage without incident and spotting a convenient gap between Byron and Taaffe and the ditch burst through the line of English riders, and continued at full gallop for the gate. As he passed it appears that his heel, his elbow or part of his harness brushed Taaffe and Taaffe’s horse shied. Lord Byron on the other hand was unmoved. Recovering himself, Taaffe shouted out to the others ‘Shall we endure this man’s insolence?’66 and after a moment Byron replied with irritation to the effect that the soldier should be brought to account. Shelley called out sharply, ‘As you please.’67 All the English horses had broken into a trot, and suddenly, without anybody exactly taking the decision, the trot had become a canter and the canter a headlong pursuit. The rider who drew out rapidly ahead was Shelley. Shelley gained steadily on Sergeant-Major Masi who was anyway slowing down as he came up to the Pisan gate. Finding himself well ahead of the others he rode across Masi’s path and blocked it. They shouted at each other, and Masi turned to see five other English riders arriving at the gallop.
What exactly happened next is not quite clear. There were angry exchanges, the English horses circled the dragoon, Masi threatened to call out the guard from the gate and arrest them all, Lord Byron laughed in his face, the dragoon drew his sabre and called up to the guard to arrest the maledetto inglesi, Byron called back that they might if they were capable and spurred for the gate, Count Gamba did the same and in passing lashed Masi hard with his whip.68 Masi was now furious and moved into the gateway to prevent the rest of the English passing, slashing out with his sabre. Shelley, with a characteristic impulse, dashed off his riding hat and using it as a shield rode straight at the dragoon. Masi’s sabre stroke was deflected, but as Shelley came under his arm the metalled hand-guard of the sword struck him in the face and knocked him from his horse.69 Captain Hay now plunged forward wielding a riding crop, and Masi turned quickly and made a deft full-arm stroke with his sabre which cut the crop in half with its tip and caught Hay a long slicing blow across the forehead and the bridge of the nose. Hay too went down. This only left Trelawny and Taaffe, and seeing that both hesitated, Masi wheeled his horse, sheathed his sabre and trotted smartly into Pisa. It was almost twilight.
There is no doubt that Sergeant-Major Masi was, at this point, reasonably proud of himself. As he trotted rapidly down the Lung’Arno, he saw Lord Byron riding back from the Palazzo Lanfranchi. He noticed in the fading light that Byron had a servant with him and carried a sword-stick. Masi reined in his horse and greeted Byron, holding out his hand and asking ‘Siete contento?’70 But Byron on the contrary was angry, and demanded the man’s name and rank, which he duly gave. As they talked, Byron’s servant came round and seized Masi’s bridle, and for a moment the situation looked threatening again. Other hangers-on were beginning to congregate. Apparently Byron now waved away the servant, and Masi took his chance, and spurred off down the Lung’Arno for his barracks. But there were a number of people in the darkened street by this time, and he could not move quickly enough away from the danger area. As he passed the steps of the Lanfranchi, a few yards further on, an unidentified member of Byron’s Italian household ran at him suddenly with a pitchfork from the stable. It is not clear if it was this weapon that finally caught Masi in the crowd, but as he spurred desperately to get clear a blade was thrust hard through the leather belt of his uniform and deep into his side. He lurched in the saddle, recovered himself with an effort, rode clear of the crowd, called out to some friendly Italians that he had been mortally wounded and crashed into a doorway a few paces further down the Lung’Arno.71 Sergeant-Major Masi was taken to the misericordia, and he was not expected to live the night.
Edward Williams, who was not on this particular shooting expedition, left a memorable picture of the wounded English riders returning from their undistinguished affray after dark. It catches the mood of the circle round Byron and Shelley very well.
Trelawny had finished his story when Lord B. came in — the Countess fainting on his arm — Shelley sick from the blow — Lord B. and the young Count [Gamba] foaming with rage — Mrs Shelley looking philosophically upon this interesting scene — and Jane and I wondering what the Devil was to come next. — A surgeon came in, and Lord B. took him with the Countess home — where she was bled and soon came round — Taaffe next entered, and having given his deposition at the Police, returned to us with a long face saying that the Dragoon could not live out the night. — All soon again sally’d forth to be the first to accuse and according to the Italian policy not wait to be accused. — All again return mutually recriminated and recriminating. 9 o’clock — The report already in circulation about Pisa is that a party of peasants having risen in insurrection made an attack upon the guard headed by some Englishmen. . . . Trelawny left dead at the gate, and Lord B mortally wounded. . . .72
The next day the troops were confined to barracks, and the English — notably Taaffe — were ‘guarded by bulldogs &c’ at the Lanfranchi. Vaccà, after talking to both sides, significantly took a very dim view of the English role in the affair, and said he was prepared to swear in a court of law that Masi had been horsewhipped and stabbed at close quarters with a stiletto.73
In the end the dragoon did not die, nor were the English attacked in reprisal, but the affair rumbled on into April, with much legal documentation and a lawsuit. It was soon in the Paris and English papers, and Galignani wrote politely to Shelley asking for personal reminiscences of the affair for publication in his paper.74 But the most important consequence was that it resulted in the eventual banishment of Byron and the Gambas from Pisa, while the Shelleys made up their minds to move to the Bay of Spezia without further delay. The Pisa circle was no longer welcome in the city.
Events in another direction also speeded the summer sailing plan. From Florence, Claire returned to the offensive, and at the end of March, announced privately to Mary and Shelley that she had concocted a plan to kidnap Allegra from the convent at Bagnacavallo. This required Shelley’s aid in forging a letter which should purport to come from the Palazzo Lanfranchi. Both Shelley and Mary replied in firm letters arguing against the madcap plan. Mary set out all the difficulties, emphasizing that Byron was alert, and powerful and on the spot, and that Shelley would quickly end up with an engagement for a duel. Having exhausted reason, Mary turned to a form of persuasion she felt was perhaps better adapted to convince Claire: that they had always been ill-fated in the spring, and it was not a good time to take on such a project for astrological reasons. Mary’s analysis of their ‘unlucky Springs’ is interesting: ‘Another thing I mention which though sufficiently ridiculous may have some weight with you. Spring is our unlucky season. . . . Remember the first spring [1815] at Mrs Harbottles. The second [1816] when you became acquainted with Lord Byron. The Third [1817] when we went to Marlow — no wise things at least. The fourth [1818] our uncomfortable residence in London. The fifth [1819] our Roman misery — the sixth [1820] Paolo at Pisa — the seventh [1821] a mixture of Emilia & a Chancery suit — Now the aspect of the Autumnal Heavens has on the contrary been with few exceptions favourable to us. — What think you of this? It is in your own style, but it has often struck me.’75
Shelley added a note, indicating that Mary was right, and that his own relations with Lord Byron were strained to the utmost. ‘I shall certainly take our house [at Spezia] far from Lord Byron’s, although it may be possible suddenly to put an end to his detested intimacy . . . .’ He could not, he said, afford the journey to Florence to see her, but instead, why didn’t Claire return to them? ‘Come and stay among us — If you like, come and look for houses with me in our boat — it might distract your mind.’76
But for once Claire was not so easily mollified. She wrote back to Shelley under the unlikely pseudonym of ‘Mr Joe James’ at the Pisa post office, pressing the plan further, or threatening instead to leave Italy immediately for Vienna. On hearing his part in the dragoon affair she criticized in turn h
is own ‘rashness’ and ‘want of temper’, and he was forced to defend himself. ‘My part in the affair, if not cautious or prudent, was justifiable. . . . The fault of the affair, if there be any, began with Taaffe. . . . The man was probably drunk. — Don’t be so ready to blame. Imagine that there may be more temper and prudence in the world, besides what that little person of yours contains.’77 He did not often write like that, but Claire had wittingly or unwittingly touched on the delicate subject of his conduct in Byron’s company. He told her that as far as Vienna was concerned, ‘the change might have a favourable effect on your mind. . . . I must try to manage the money for your journey, if you have so decided.’78
But he did not really want her to go. After his show of benevolent indifference, he suddenly addressed her an urgent and deeply personal appeal to take a firmer and calmer control on her life. ‘Some of yours & of my evils are in common, & I am therefore in a certain degree a judge. If you would take my advice you would give up this idle pursuit after shadows, & temper yourself to the season; seek in the daily and affectionate intercourse of friends a respite from these perpetual and irritating projects. Live from day to day, attend to your health, cultivate literature & liberal ideas to a certain extent, & expect that from time & change which no exertions of your own can give you . . . .’ It was the philosophy he had been trying to practise himself for several months.79
By the second week of April, the Pisan circle was breaking up. Byron was to take a summer residence near Livorno, while Shelley and the Williamses agreed that they would go further up the coast north of Viareggio. They were not quite sure where they would settle, for they had been refused leases on their original houses at Spezia. But a report from Roberts via Trelawny said their boat would be ready in ten days’ time. On the 10th, Shelley wrote to Claire: ‘I am not well. My side torments me; my mind agitates the frame which it inhabits, and things go ill with me — that is within — for all external circumstances are auspicious. Resolve to stay with us this summer, and remain where you are till we are ready to set off — no one need know of where you are; the Williams’s are secure people, and [we] are alone.’80 Two days later Mary, who had been writing sheets and sheets narrating the dragoon affair to the Gisbornes, wrote to Leigh Hunt to know when he might be expected. ‘You will find Shelley in infinitely better health; indeed he has got over this winter delightfully . . . .’
A few last desultory billiard games were played at the Lanfranchi,81 but there was no more shooting, or dining, and the weather was wet and windy. Shelley and Williams stayed indoors talking about play-writing: ‘[Shelley] gave me a long lecture on the drama — put me in bad spirits with myself.’ Claire arrived secretly on the 15th, and lodged quietly with the Williams. They were all now anxious to leave, but the Pisan courts had summoned each of them to appear for cross-examination in the dragoon affair. Byron’s courier was asked if he struck the dragoon: ‘No! [he answered] but if I had had a pistol I should have shot him.’ Mary and Theresa Guiccioli themselves were examined for five hours, during the course of which the Countess offered that ‘she could not swear but she thought Mr Taaffe was the person who stabbed the dragoon’. So it muddled on.82
The imminent dissolution of the colony at Pisa had the effect of turning Shelley’s eyes for a moment to more distant personal changes. He was anxious to know what real independence he could eventually secure in Italy from his own resources. He wrote at length to John Gisborne about the Shelley estates in England, discussing his debts — which he now reckoned at £20,000 to £25,000 ‘principally post obits’ — and his wish to escape from the hand of his old solicitor Longdill. He talked of inheriting, but ‘I have altered my determination about coming to England at my father’s death — I will not come at any rate’. Although he did not ask Gisborne directly, he obviously hoped that having started as his literary agent he might also cope with the financial side. ‘What ought I to do? Is there any possibility of engaging some active & intelligent man of business, who would zealously enter into my affairs, and make himself master of my papers &c., so that on the event of the succession falling to me, he might be prepared to act with the promptitude & the spirit which my concerns demand. . . . These are questions to which I should be obliged if you would give your serious consideration, & indeed you might consult with Hogg upon them.’ The list of Shelley’s enemies in England seemed full: his many creditors, his solicitor Longdill, ‘this thief Ollier’, and of course the Godwins — who were ‘forever plotting & devising pretexts for money, none of which however they get: 1st because I can’t, & 2nd because I won’t’.83
There was little news from Pisa: Hellas had arrived in Ollier’s edition, ‘prettily printed’ and Shelley was continuing to read Faust and also Calderón’s Magico Prodigioso which he found ‘strikingly similar’ to the Goethe in many respects. He had now decided to translate both for the first issue of the Liberal. To Ollier he sent a curt note by the same post asking him to deliver his accounts to Gisborne and authorizing Gisborne as his sole agent in London. There were also half a dozen printing errors in Hellas, though only one serious one: line 466 had been printed ‘Death is awake! Repulsed on the waters!’ Repulsed was wrong.84
To Horace Smith in Paris Shelley wrote somewhat guardedly of Byron. There had been a report circulated by Moore that the atheistical tendencies in Cain were the result of Shelley’s influence. Shelley remarked that he would have been happy to have any influence on that ‘immortal work’, but ‘pray assure [Moore] that I have not the smallest influence over Lord Byron in that particular; if I had I certainly should employ it to eradicate from his great mind the delusions of Christianity, which in spite of his reason, seem perpetually to recur, & to lay in ambush for the hours of sickness & distress’.85
To Leigh Hunt Shelley wrote more confidentially . Though the Pisan plan for the Liberal was still alive, and Byron still ‘anxiously’ awaited Hunt’s arrival, Shelley’s personal feelings were bitter. ‘Perhaps time has corrected me, and I am become, like those whom I formerly condemned, misanthropical and suspicious . . . . Certain it is, that Lord Byron has made me bitterly feel the inferiority which the world has presumed to place between us and which subsists nowhere in reality but in our talents, which are not our own but Nature’s — or in our rank, which is not our own but Fortune’s. I will tell you more when we meet . . . .’ In the meantime, ‘sea air is necessary’.86 The circle was broken.
29. The Gulf of Spezia
On 23 April 1822, Edward and Jane Williams took Claire off to go househunting in the bay of Spezia. Williams and Shelley had already decided on the little fishing village of Lerici as their summer residence. It stood on the southern tip of the bay opposite Portovenere, and for all its diminutive size and remoteness it had a proper stone quay and was a regular calling-point for mail boats. Williams had an introduction to the harbour-master, Signor Maglian, and when they arrived on the 24th, they were greeted with great politeness and shown round at least a dozen unsuitable houses. After a full day’s search round the bay, there was still ‘nothing that could possibly suit’, and leaving the harbourmaster to make further inquiries, they set out back to Pietra Santa and Pisa. But returning homeward ‘we were struck with the beauty of some unfinished grounds, and on inquiry learnt that it was probable they would sell them & the dilapidated house that stood in ruins there’.1 This was their first sight of the Casa Magni.
Back at Pisa on the 25th, Williams found Shelley standing white-faced at the door of his apartment, and hastily took him aside.2 He had just received news from Byron that little Allegra had died of typhus fever at the convent of Bagnacavallo.
Shelley decided that the first thing to do was to leave Pisa and get settled at Lerici without a moment’s pause. The whole of the next day was spent packing and boxing furniture, for he did not intend to keep the apartment at the Tre Palazzi any longer. At midday on the 27th the baggage was loaded on to two boats at the landing-stage. Shelley kept Claire’s box with his personal luggage.3 He took a tight-lipp
ed leave of Lord Byron who was at the Lanfranchi morosely considering his own emigration to Livorno. Mary, Claire and little Percy were dispatched by coach to La Spezia in Trelawny’s care, with instructions to conclude the negotiations for a house immediately. At 4 o’clock, the two luggage boats cast off and disappeared under the Ponte Al Mare and round the curve of the Arno in the fast seaward current.4 The Williamses and Shelley followed on a separate boat ninety minutes later. Shelley, said Mary, was like a torrent hurrying everything in its course.5 And still Claire knew nothing of Allegra.
The last three days of April were spent with Mary at La Spezia negotiating for the Casa Magni, and Shelley at Lerici with two boat-loads of luggage trying to avoid paying £300-worth of customs duties. Notes sped across from one side of the Gulf of Spezia to the other. ‘I, of course, cannot leave Lerici…but if the Magni House is taken there is no possible reason why you should not take a row over in the boat which will bring this — but don’t keep the men long. — I am anxious to hear from you on every account . . . .’6 Finally, on the 30th, the Casa Magni was taken, and the boats were unloaded on the tiny piece of sandy beach in front of it, with everyone helping to carry the boxes up through the lapping Mediterranean surf. It only took an hour.7 The Williamses, unable to find a house for themselves, were also quartered on the single habitable floor of the Casa Magni, together with their two babies and the servants. The customs said they would count the house as a luggage depot since it was so near the sea, and there would be no duty to pay.