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Summary
Summary
NATIONAL BOOK CRITICS CIRCLE AWARD WINNER * NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY THE SEATTLE TIMES
This groundbreaking dual biography brings to life a pioneering English feminist and the daughter she never knew. Mary Wollstonecraft and Mary Shelley have each been the subject of numerous biographies, yet no one has ever examined their lives in one book--until now. In Romantic Outlaws, Charlotte Gordon reunites the trailblazing author who wrote A Vindication of the Rights of Woman and the Romantic visionary who gave the world Frankenstein --two courageous women who should have shared their lives, but instead shared a powerful literary and feminist legacy.
In 1797, less than two weeks after giving birth to her second daughter, Mary Wollstonecraft died, and a remarkable life spent pushing against the boundaries of society's expectations for women came to an end. But another was just beginning. Wollstonecraft's daughter Mary was to follow a similarly audacious path. Both women had passionate relationships with several men, bore children out of wedlock, and chose to live in exile outside their native country. Each in her own time fought against the injustices women faced and wrote books that changed literary history.
The private lives of both Marys were nothing less than the stuff of great Romantic drama, providing fabulous material for Charlotte Gordon, an accomplished historian and a gifted storyteller. Taking readers on a vivid journey across revolutionary France and Victorian England, she seamlessly interweaves the lives of her two protagonists in alternating chapters, creating a book that reads like a richly textured historical novel. Gordon also paints unforgettable portraits of the men in their lives, including the mercurial genius Percy Shelley, the unbridled libertine Lord Byron, and the brilliant radical William Godwin.
"Brave, passionate, and visionary, they broke almost every rule there was to break," Gordon writes of Wollstonecraft and Shelley. A truly revelatory biography, Romantic Outlaws reveals the defiant, creative lives of this daring mother-daughter pair who refused to be confined by the rigid conventions of their era.
Praise for Romantic Outlaws
"[An] impassioned dual biography . . . Gordon, alternating between the two chapter by chapter, binds their lives into a fascinating whole. She shows, in vivid detail, how mother influenced daughter, and how the daughter's struggles mirrored the mother's." -- The Boston Globe
"Written with the galloping pace of a skilled novel peopled with fascinating characters . . . these women live on in its pages. . . . Thorough and irresistible." --The Seattle Times
"Gordon unfolds the two stories in tandem, deftly balancing the gossipy aspects of her subjects' lives with their serious intellectual concerns." -- The New Yorker
"[A] thoughtful, intelligent and deeply felt book . . . Gordon has written a book about two women, a mother and her daughter, who changed not only the way we think, but the way we are." -- The Sunday Times (London)
"A most welcome deeper take on the women who scandalized Victorian England--and whose stories continue to resonate today." -- Vogue
"By linking these two lives, Ms. Gordon's biography stretches over a fascinating era in history, characterized by great flux in political and cultural thinking and involving some of the main figures in English literary and philosophical history." --The Wall Street Journal
Author Notes
Charlotte Gordon is the author of Mistress Bradstreet: The Untold Life of America's First Poet and The Woman Who Named God: Abraham's Dilemma and the Birth of Three Faiths . She has also published two books of poetry, When the Grateful Dead Came to St. Louis and Two Girls on a Raft . She is an associate professor of English at Endicott College and lives in Gloucester, Massachusetts.
Reviews (6)
Publisher's Weekly Review
The relationship between Mary Shelley (1797-1851) and the mother she never knew-Mary Wollstonecraft (1759-1797), author of the incendiary tract A Vindication of the Rights of Women, who died 10 days after her daughter's birth-is explored with remarkable insight and perspicacity in this exhilarating dual biography from Gordon (Mistress Bradstreet). The book illustrates the similarities between mother and daughter by devoting alternating chapters to their lives. Both were raised in emotionally turbulent households (although Shelley's offered more intellectual stimulation); both had to leave home to find their identities as writers; and both lived as adults under the shadow of scandal-Wollstonecraft for her outspoken feminism and marriage to liberal political philosopher William Godwin, a critic of matrimony, and Shelley for her role in the notorious Byron-Shelley literary circle. Gordon's perceptive reading of both women's published works illuminates their core ideas, including complementary critiques of patriarchy, and identifies the emotional fault lines caused by the drama in their lives. Her lucid prose and multifaceted appraisal of Wollstonecraft, Shelley, and their times make warm-blooded and fully fleshed-out people of writers who exist for readers today only as the literary works they left behind. Agent: Brettine Bloom, Kneerim, Williams, & Bloom. © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Booklist Review
*Starred Review* Gordon (Mistress Bradstreet, 2005) infuses literary history with electrifying discoveries in this symbiotic portrait of radical mother-daughter writers who indelibly changed society and the arts. Mary Wollstonecraft, the author of the scandalous and transformative A Vindication of the Rights of Woman (1792), died soon after giving birth to a sickly baby girl whose father was the controversial philosopher William Godwin, a daughter who at 19 and as a mother herself wrote the still-reverberating masterpiece, Frankenstein. The first to fully investigate the life-determining influence Wollstonecraft's feminist writings had on Mary Shelley, Gordon chronicles their harsh, tragic, and courageous lives in alternating chapters that are as emotionally incisive as they are finely particularized in their astute renderings of tumultuous settings and dire predicaments. She traces each woman's struggle against poverty, viciously abusive sexism, agonizing familial and romantic relationships, and, in Shelley's case, the deaths of three children and her young husband, the poet Percy Shelley, all while insightfully profiling Godwin, Mary Shelley's stepsister and rival, and the romantic poets. As Gordon ardently excavates the complete, true stories of Wollstonecraft and Shelley's heroic, world-altering achievements during the French Revolution, the dawn of science, and the blossoming of romanticism, she delivers overdue justice to two heretofore shallowly perceived yet deeply moral thinkers and writers who risked everything to protest in word and deed crimes and discrimination against women.--Seaman, Donna Copyright 2015 Booklist
New York Review of Books Review
THEY HAD IT ALL. When they eloped, 16-year-old Mary Godwin and 21-year-old Percy Shelley had everything artists could desire: genius, beauty, literary pedigree, aristocratic inheritance, Mediterranean villas, famous friends, fearless admirers, freedom and - above all - faith in free love. Yet by the time Percy drowned on a pleasure boat in 1822 at the age of 29, the poet had, for some time, been stashing cyanide and laudanum in the Italian mansion where he was vacationing with his wife, his mistress, his adoring sister-in-law and other hangers-on. He knew laudanum intimately: His famous mother-in-law, the philosopher Mary Wollstonecraft, had nearly ended her life with it. His wife's half sister had, in fact, ended her life with it. Now Percy himself was stocking up. Did he shipwreck himself on his boat deliberately? There were rumors he had declined the help of an Italian vessel as he capsized, but we will never know. There is a great deal we can't know about the social experimenters who crowd Charlotte Gordon's new tome of almost 650 pages, "Romantic Outlaws: The Extraordinary Lives of Mary Wollstonecraft and Her Daughter Mary Shelley." Gordon's goal in this biography, her third work of history, is to tack back and forth between the literary love lives of both women in order to show that Mary Shelley was "steeped ... in her mother's ideas" and that the two were temperamental twins, even if their existences hardly overlapped. Wollstonecraft, best known for radical social argument and fiery feminist polemics like "A Vindication of the Rights of Woman," died 11 days after giving birth to Mary Godwin, who as Mary Shelley is best known as the author of "Frankenstein," written to entertain fellow holiday makers on Lake Geneva. Gordon's conceit of alternating chapters between Mary W. and Mary S. sets her biography apart from the vast existing literature on the two, but it ultimately makes for a confusing and disjointed narrative. As we flip between the Marys, the chronology gets muddled. Characters' deaths are recounted before their births. Moreover, Gordon seems minimally interested in her subjects' writings. In this book about their lives, however, she misses that mother and child were nearly opposites. Granted, both were writers skeptical of traditional matrimony, but Wollstonecraft was a rowdy, noisy, ever-impoverished and always intrepid polemicist who came late (and hard) to love. She was a virgin until her early 30s, had her first child in her mid-30s and her first marriage five months before she died, at 38. Between those years she suffered, seduced, robustly challenged her lovers, ardently protected her progeny, got her feet bloody reporting on the French Revolution, and composed some of the most passionate and painful love letters ever exposed to the public eye. (Gordon, alas, quotes few.) Her marriage to a fellow philosopher, William Godwin, was amorous and idealistic as well as unconventional: The two maintained separate circles of friends and separate study quarters between which they passed love notes. Mary famously told him, "I wish you, for my soul, to be riveted in my heart; but I do not desire to have you always at my elbow." Mary Godwin was half her mother's "first kiss" age when Percy Shelley, then still married to a different teenage girl, whisked her from her home and impregnated her. Unlike Wollstonecraft, Mary Shelley spoke quietly, wrote decorously, deferred to her man and often appeared feelingless. She is quoted, in Daisy Hay's excellent 2010 biography, "Young Romantics: The Tangled Lives of English Poetry's Greatest Generation," as upbraiding herself for thinking about her deceased daughter days after her death, when no book was around to "divert" her: "This is foolish," she wrote in her journal. Onlookers exclaimed at her apparent coldness after Percy drowned. But perhaps such coldness was Mary Shelley's way to survive radical domestic experiments. After all, we do know a number of things about England's young Romantics. We know that by the time 24-year-old Mary Shelley learned of her husband's shipwreck, she was already alienated from him. As Gordon points out, they were sleeping apart in their Italian villa, and Mary silently blamed Percy's narcissism for the deaths of at least two of their three deceased children from illnesses during their adventures through Europe. The death and abandonment of children was a regular motif in the "league of incest" (as the Shelleys' traveling band of poetic friends became known). In 1820, news arrived of the demise of a baby named Elena - possibly his daughter with an Englishwoman in Italy. A few months before Percy's drowning, news came of the death of 5-year-old Allegra, the child of Mary Shelley's stepsister and traveling companion, Claire, with Lord Byron. By this point, Gordon suggests, Claire may already have miscarried Percy's baby. Claire had competed for her stepsister's beau from the start of their European peregrinations, but she soon retired to a remote "rural retreat" for some months - perhaps to give birth to his child and avoid more scandal than Mary's elopement with the married poet had already caused. The adult body count was also steep. It included 22-year-old Fanny Imlay, Wollstonecraft's first daughter. The emotionally fragile Fanny had difficulty abiding the loneliness and rejection occasioned by Mary and Claire's escape; when Percy Shelley found her poisoned body in a hotel room, all he did was scratch Fanny's signature off her suicide note. Two months later, in December 1816, his own despairing first wife - pregnant with his second child and caring for his first when he eloped with Mary - threw herself to her death into the River Thames. Percy, the espouser of free love, accused his abandoned wife of immorality after her suicide, arguing that he, not her parents, should claim the motherless toddlers he had ignored thus far. The 19th-century court dismissed his demand. GORDON SALUTES HER subjects because they "asserted their right to determine their own destinies, starting a revolution that has yet to end," but she remains poker-faced about the wreckage she describes. Since she is considering the lives more than the works of Wollstonecraft and Shelley, the absence of any reckoning with those lives can leave one dissatisfied. Mary Shelley considered herself an idealist, as had Wollstonecraft before her. But where Shelley was wrapped around her husband's finger and whitewashed their "revolutionary" pretensions after his death, Wollstonecraft remained her own woman. Gordon's back-and-forth style ultimately fails to do justice to Wollstonecraft's at once bolder and tenderer life: the mother's singular profile recedes behind the daughter's crowded canvas. Creating a positive social revolution is not for the fainthearted - but neither is it for the coldhearted. The Shelley domestic experiment may have failed disastrously, but then traditional domestic relations enfeeble, incarcerate and injure us regularly as well. The point - which we can glean from Gordon's biography, though she does not make it herself - is not simply to swagger with revolutionary zeal but to hold ourselves to a kinder, gentler, higher standard. In private and public life, revolutionaries aren't saints; those who depose rusty crowns should take care to replace them with jewels, not thorns. Perhaps coldness was Mary Shelley's way to survive radical domestic experiments. CRISTINA NEHRING is the author of "A Vindication of Love" and "Journey to the Edge of the Light." She is working on a memoir.
Guardian Review
The lives of Mary Wollstonecraft and her daughter Mary Shelley -- told here in a series of alternating chapters -- should inspire women today Horace Walpole described Mary Wollstonecraft as a "hyena in a petticoat"; to the conservative writer Richard Polwhele she was an "unsex'd female". A generation later, Wollstonecraft's daughter Mary Shelley was accused of being part of a "league of incest" and a founding member of "the Satanic School". Since their deaths, both women have been the subject of many more words than they ever wrote, and enduring interest in their turbulent personal lives is fed by a steady stream of biographies, novels and literary studies. Charlotte Gordon's Romantic Outlaws is the latest addition to this subgenre. Her chief innovation is to take the biographies of Wollstonecraft and Shelley and to intertwine them via alternating chapters, so that mother and daughter shadow and reveal each other. The retelling emphasises the extent to which Shelley's life was shaped by her mother's legacy: the point has been made before, but here is underlined in thought-provoking ways. Both Wollstonecraft and Shelley spent their early years in complicated, tense households. Wollstonecraft's father was a violent drunk who moved his family around as businesses folded and money ran out, and who reserved particular animus for his strong-willed eldest daughter. Her mother, worn down by an abusive husband and multiple pregnancies, spent much of her time lying on a sofa while Wollstonecraft ran the house and brought up her younger siblings. She bitterly resented the fact that her education was of far less importance than that of her brothers, and seized the first opportunity available to escape, taking a job as a lady's companion and then as a governess before attempting to open her own school. She survived by attaching herself to families more congenial than her own, by forming intense friendships with like-minded young women, and by holding fast to her belief in her own abilities. At all times she was determined to forge an intellectually stimulating and financially independent existence for herself. Shelley's childhood was equally uneasy. Wollstonecraft died from puerperal fever 10 days after giving birth and although Shelley's father, William Godwin, did his best to be both father and mother to Shelley and her half-sister Fanny he was quite unsuited to life as a single parent. In 1801, he married his next-door neighbour Mary Jane Vial and the girls acquired a stepmother and step-siblings. Shelley's relationship with Mary Jane was acrimonious from the start, and tempers and tensions flared. Shelley was sent away for months at a time, first to boarding school and then to stay with friends on two separate occasions in Scotland. At 16, she too made a permanent escape, eloping to France with the radical poet Percy Shelley. In the years following their breaks with the parental home both Wollstonecraft and Shelley made names for themselves in print. Wollstonecraft announced herself as "the first of a new genus" of professional woman writer by publishing Thoughts on the Education of Daughters, a volume that became Godwin's solace and guide as he struggled alone in his early years as a widower. She honed her craft as a staff reviewer for Joseph Johnson's Analytical Review before winning fame and some notoriety for her Vindications of the Rights of Men (1791) and of Woman (1792). Shelley erupted on to the public stage with an extraordinary novel, published in 1818 when she was 20. Frankenstein reveals the influence of Wollstonecraft on Shelley at every turn and literary critics have pored over the novel for decades, trying to understand its dense network of ideas and intellectual allegiances. Gordon is more interested in the material conditions experienced by mother and daughter as they made their way in the literary world, and here the structure of Romantic Outlaws serves her well. The book's broader argument is that the intellectual endeavours of the two women were shaped by their gender in ways that were both productive and profoundly confining. Gordon keeps a close eye throughout on practical questions. Who cleaned the house? Who ordered the shopping? Who held the baby? Shelley was a mother at 18 and the mistress of a sizable house at 21; Wollstonecraft remained free of such responsibilities until her early 30s. The sections of Romantic Outlaws set when both women are in their 20s are therefore particularly valuable. We see Wollstonecraft among the philosophers, arguing away the evenings in the company of brilliant men, at the heart of a wide social circle. She goes where she pleases and writes what she wants, untrammelled by domestic ties. Shelley's existence, in contrast, is centred on a claustrophobic circle of husband, stepsister and children, and it is their needs that direct her peripatetic progress across Europe in the second half of the 1810s. Some may object to the insistence with which Gordon categorises the author of Frankenstein as mother first, writer second, and it is perhaps debatable whether she spent as much of each day dandling a baby as Gordon suggests. There is, however, something refreshing about an account of women's lives that demonstrates the relentlessness of housekeeping and childrearing. Seen in this light, Shelley's achievements appear even more remarkable, so that the emphasis on the domestic endows Romantic Outlaws with the rigorously feminist framework that is its best quality. The lives of both women were shaped by their relationships with men. Wollstonecraft was driven to despair and attempted suicide by absent lovers and romantic rejection, and her search for emotional salvation prompted some of her most brilliantly furious writing about the plight of women. Shelley's story was intertwined with that of her husband Percy from the moment of her elopement: even after his death he remained the dominant figure in her life. Both women had to work out how to stand alone, and in Gordon's narrative they appear at their best and bravest as they do so. In her long widowhood, Shelley was compelled to suppress every whiff of sexual scandal in her own story as she battled for economic survival; after her death, Wollstonecraft's critics attempted to use such scandal to silence her. It is a tactic that remains much in evidence against outspoken women today: a reminder, if any were needed, that the movement Wollstonecraft fostered remains as urgent and important as it was during her daughter's lifetime. There is therefore much in the gender politics of Romantic Outlaws to admire, but its prose verges on the pedestrian. Gordon is at her strongest when she allows her subjects to speak freely, unconstrained by other voices. "I here thrown down my gauntlet," Wollstonecraft wrote in A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. Reform the position of women, she argued, and you "reform the world". She was right in 1792 and she is right now. * Daisy Hay's Mr and Mrs Disraeli is published by Chatto. To order Romantic Outlaws for [pound]20 (RRP [pound]25) visit bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over [pound]10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of [pound]1.99. - Daisy Hay.
Kirkus Review
Gordon (English/Endicott Coll.; The Woman Who Named God: Abraham's Dilemma and the Birth of Three Faiths, 2007) delivers a drama-filled dual biography of Mary Wollstonecraft (1759-1797) and her daughter, Mary Shelley (1797-1851).In an occasionally confusing style featuring alternating chapters, the author's biographies of the two Marys show how different their lives were. The daughter of an alcoholic father, Wollstonecraft grew up constantly trying to protect her mother and siblings, circumstances that led her into a lifelong fight for independence and female rights and against marriage. Her publisher, Joseph Johnson, gave her a position as a book reviewer for his monthly Analytical Review, where only initials indicated the author, masking her gender. Johnson eventually sent her to Paris to write about the Revolution, and she became the first foreign correspondent and an unwed mother to boot. Her political writing, especially A Vindication of the Rights of Woman (1792), was highly regarded. She eventually married William Godwin, a political writer with an equally dim view of marriage. Their marriage was happy but short, and Mary died giving birth to her daughter, who spent her life idolizing and emulating her mother. At 16, Mary and her half sister, Jane, ran away to France with Percy Shelley; the only poorer choice would have been his dear friend, Lord Byron. Together, society termed them the "League of Incest." Mary and Jane vied for Shelley's attention; Jane eventually had Byron's child, and polite society shunned them. Mary and Percy eventually married, in hopes of gaining custody of his children from a previous marriage. The widowed Mary successfully carried on her mother's work, not through political writing but in novels. What the two women had in common was their writing talent, strength, and dedication to the fight for women's education and rights. While Gordon tells their stories well, moving back and forth between the Marys can be perplexing. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Library Journal Review
This excellent dual biography of Mary Wollstonecraft (1759-97) and her daughter Mary Shelley (1797-1851) by author Gordon (English, Endicott Coll.; Mistress Bradstreet) examines the profound influence Wollstonecraft had on Shelley and the impact both women have had on women's rights in succeeding generations. Although Wollstonecraft died days after Shelley's birth, her writing, especially that most famous volume, A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, inspired Shelley to embrace her mother's radical ideas and heartfelt aspirations. Consequently, Shelley's essays, novels, travel books, reviews, and poetry emphasize the importance of education and independence for women and denounce male values of dominance and ambition. Gordon presents the lives of each woman chronologically in alternating chapters; this technique allows her to emphasize "the echo of Wollstonecraft in Shelley's letters, journals, and novels and demonstrate how often Wollstonecraft addressed herself to the future." Gordon's prose is compelling and her scholarship meticulous; her contention that both women led "lives as memorable as the words they left behind" is brilliantly supported. VERDICT Readers interested in Mary Wollstonecraft and Mary Shelley will relish this volume.-Kathryn Bartelt, Univ. of Evansville Libs., IN © Copyright 2015. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
Chapter 1 A Death and a Birth [ 1797-1801 ] On a sunny afternoon in late August 1801, a few miles north of London, three-year-old Mary Godwin held her father's hand as they walked through the gates of St. Pancras churchyard. They were on their way to visit her mother's grave in a cemetery as familiar to Mary as her own home. She and her father, William, came here almost every day. The churchyard was more like a pasture than a burial ground. The grass grew in uneven clumps; old gravestones lay toppled on the ground, and a low rail separated the grounds from the open countryside. William Godwin did not think it was odd to teach his small daughter to read from her mother's tombstone. And Mary was eager to learn anything her father had to teach. In her eyes, he was "greater, and wiser, and better . . . than any other being." He was also all she had left. She began by tracing each letter with her fingers: "Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin." Except for the "Wollstonecraft," this name was the same as hers: MARY GODWIN. One dead. One alive. This gravestone could be her own. She yearned to be reunited with her mother, Mary Wollstonecraft, the woman she had never known, but whom she loved all the same. Mary Godwin had been born on August 30, 1797, at the end of a month when a comet had burned through the London skies. People all over England had speculated about its meaning. A happy omen, her parents had thought. They could not know that Wollstonecraft would die of childbed fever ten days later, leaving behind a daughter so small and weak it seemed likely she would soon join her mother. But under the care of Wollstonecraft's dear friend Maria Reveley, Mary gradually grew stronger, and by the time she was a month old, though still undersized, she howled at all hours of the day and night. Her sweet-tempered half sister, three-year-old Fanny, Wollstonecraft's illegitimate child by another man, tried to calm her tears, but there was nothing anyone could do. Mary would not be soothed. Godwin asked his friend William Nicholson, an expert in physiognomy, to measure Mary's cranium and facial features, but the baby shrieked through the entire examination, leading an exasperated Nicholson to report, "The mouth was too much employed to be well observed." However, he told Godwin he saw evidence of "considerable memory and intelligence" as well as a "quick sensibility." The only potential negative, Nicholson said, noting her screams, was that she could be "petulant in resistance." Godwin, Fanny, and Mary lived at No. 29 the Polygon, a semicircular block of tall Georgian homes in Somers Town, about two miles north of St. Paul's. The Polygon has long since been torn down, and though a plaque on Werrington Street says that the Godwins once lived here, it is an act of the imagination to picture them behind St. Pancras today. Hospitals, new developments, and council estates have replaced the shops, rose gardens, and cow sheds of Mary's childhood. In the early 1800s, her home was deep in the country. A dirt path led through a white turnstile into Clarendon Square, where thirty-two terraced buildings had been constructed as an early experiment in suburban living. No. 29 had a large parlor with a marble mantelpiece where Godwin received guests and where Mary and Fanny learned to be quiet during grown-up conversations. The family ate their suppers upstairs in the dining room and could stand outside on a wrought iron balcony to gaze out over the wild heaths, Hampstead and Highgate. From her bedroom window on the top floor, Mary could see the River Fleet and the narrow lane that led to her mother's grave. Spacious and elegant, these homes were affordable because they were far from the fashionable West End, but for the Godwins and many like them, Somers Town was the ideal compromise, a modern realtor's truism: the tranquillity of a small town within walking distance of the city, an "outleap" of London, as one contemporary called such developments. When Mary was old enough, she and Fanny toured the square with their nurse, gazing in the plate glass windows of the apothecary, the toymaker, the mercer, the haberdasher, the saddler, and the milliner. Sometimes, they were allowed to pick out a ribbon, or drink a frothy syllabub, a delicious whipped cream confection, at the tea shop. A muffin seller whose nickname was the Mayor of Garratt circled the square, pushing his cart and ringing a handbell. Watchmakers and goldsmiths hunched over worktables, hammering precious metals or examining pocket watches with a magnifying glass. These men were refugees from the French Revolution, and if the girls were lucky, one might look up and salute them with a little bow, or say bonjour through the open door, an exotic experience. Godwin adhered to a routine that to his daughters seemed carved in stone, as unwavering as the steady tick of the clock. A renowned political philosopher and novelist, Godwin did not allow any interruptions when he was writing; ideas came first in the Godwin household. He worked until one, lunched, and then read to the girls. Together they enjoyed Perrault's Mother Goose and La Fontaine's Fables. On special days, Godwin chose the book their mother had written for Fanny before she died. Wollstonecraft's warm, chatty style made it seem as though she were actually in the room: "When you were hungry, you began to cry," she said, addressing Fanny directly. "You were seven months without teeth, always sucking. But after you got one, you began to gnaw a crust of bread. It was not long before another came pop. At ten months you had four pretty white teeth, and you used to bite me. Poor mamma!" Reminders of this loving mother were everywhere, from the portrait that hung in Godwin's study to the books that lined the shelves. Godwin did his best to honor his dead wife, but he was not well suited for the education of small children. He had been a bachelor for most of his life, marrying Mary Wollstonecraft when he was forty-one. Raised by stern Calvinists, he could be excruciatingly reserved and was stingy with both time and money, carefully parceling out his hours to avoid losing any work time. In the late afternoons, distinguished men and women flocked to pay him tribute. Many of Godwin's visitors were eager to meet Wollstonecraft's children, particularly Mary, who, as the daughter of two such intellectual heavyweights, seemed destined for fame. She had grown used to hearing a hush when she entered the room, an intake of breath, as though she were a great dignitary; they pointed to her fine reddish hair, her large light eyes--how like her mother, they said--how wonderful the first Mary had been, how wise and brave, how loving; a genius and a beautiful woman, too. Surely, her daughter would follow in her footsteps. Brown-haired and scarred by a bout with chicken pox, Fanny receded into the background during these events. She knew that she came second to Mary. When Godwin married Wollstonecraft, he had adopted Fanny, who was the daughter of Gilbert Imlay, Wollstonecraft's previous lover. Godwin loved Fanny, but he adored his "own" daughter, describing Mary as "quick," "pretty," and "considerably superior" to Fanny, who was "slow" and "prone to indolence." If anyone had pointed this out to him--his obvious favoritism--he would have said he was simply stating the truth; all evidence pointed to little Mary's superiority, an observation that had the added benefit of demonstrating his own superiority over Imlay. To his credit, Godwin had never judged Wollstonecraft for her affair, but he was not above being jealous of the passion she had felt for Imlay. Godwin's infatuation notwithstanding, young Mary did strike others as an unusual child. Delicate, with pale, almost unearthly skin, coppery curls, enormous eyes, and a tiny mouth, she had entered the world in such a tragic fashion that sorrow trailed behind her like the train of a wedding dress. When visitors talked to her, they were impressed by what seemed to be her preternatural intelligence. George Taylor, one of Godwin's fans, called on the widower twice during the first year of Mary's life. On the first visit, although he enjoyed playing with baby Mary, he did not notice anything out of the ordinary. It was on his second visit that he was startled when it seemed the nine-month-old "knew me instantly and stretched out her arms." How could she have remembered him? One of Mary's particular devotees was the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who first visited the Polygon in the winter of 1799 when he was twenty-seven years old and Mary was two. An admirer of Godwin, but even more so of Wollstonecraft, the young poet was lonely, estranged from his wife and living apart from his own family. When he came to dinner, he stayed long past the girls' bedtime, keeping the Godwins up late with his stories. To the girls, he was like a magical creature from Mother Goose. With a dimpled chin, a pudgy face, long messy hair, bushy eyebrows, and astonishingly red lips, Coleridge was a spellbinding storyteller. Even the pedantic Godwin was content to sit and listen to him. Coleridge, though, was startled by the stillness of his audience. Godwin had trained his daughters to be perfectly behaved in company--too well behaved, Coleridge thought. Even Mary, who was far more free-spirited than her sister, could be silent for hours in the presence of guests, hardly even fidgeting. Later, Mary would say that though her father loved her, he was a stern taskmaster and rarely affectionate. In one of her fictional portraits of a father and daughter based on her own relationship with Godwin, she wrote: [My father] never caressed me; if ever he stroked my head or drew me on his knee, I felt a mingled alarm and delight difficult to describe. Yet, strange to say, my father loved me almost to idolatry; and I knew this and repaid his affection with enthusiastic fondness, notwithstanding his reserve and my awe. Godwin's coldness was harming his daughters, Coleridge thought. Fanny and Mary should be more like his own little boy, three-year-old Hartley, who was rarely quiet and never still. He rode the wind like a bird, Coleridge said, "using the air of the breezes as skipping-ropes." Initially, Godwin was impressed by the proud father's description of this young free spirit, but he changed his mind when he actually met Hartley, who, as Coleridge remembered it, "gave the philosopher such a rap on the shins with a ninepin that Gobwin [as Hartley called him] in huge pain lectured [Coleridge's wife] on his boisterousness." However, Godwin had enough respect for the poet to allow his friend to try to enliven his daughters. Although Coleridge was the author of somber poems such as Dejection: An Ode and The Ancient Mariner, he liked jokes of all kinds and had a vast repertoire of tricks. He loved ghost stories and knew quantities of nursery rhymes. "I pun, conundrumize, listen and dance," he once said to a friend. He made his fingers gallop like horses or "fly like stags pursued by the staghounds"--a trick he immortalized in a letter to Wordsworth in which he tells his fellow poet how to make his hands do "the hop, trot and gallop" of hexameter lines. Few could resist Coleridge's charm, and Fanny and Mary were no exception. The poet was a thrilling departure from anyone they had ever met. When he sat in their front parlor, anything might happen: a witch might tumble down the chimney; a specter might float by. When he spilled wine on the carpet, instead of frowning as he did when the girls made such mistakes, Godwin actually laughed. Although some physical ailment always troubled the poet--his head ached, his throat was sore, his eye was infected, his stomach churned--these ailments did not stop him from devoting himself to the Godwin girls. Tapping into his enormous capacity to be fascinated, Coleridge bestowed on the girls--even Mary, who could barely remember her first visit with the great poet--the feeling that they were delightful and their ideas worth listening to. He called them forward, and although Fanny resisted, Mary loved the sensation of coming out from behind a curtain, of being pushed onstage in a house where her father ruled supreme. For her, and all the Godwins, it was a sad day when Coleridge left to rejoin his family in the Lake Country in 1802. But within a few weeks, Mary and Fanny settled back into the comforts of the nursery and their quiet routine, and it was only Godwin who continued to suffer. Restless and lonely, he wanted to remarry, to find a wife to share his life, his bed, and the burden of raising children. Coleridge had made it clear to him that his daughters needed more than he could provide. They needed a mother's touch. Excerpted from Romantic Outlaws: The Extraordinary Lives of Mary Wollstonecraft and Her Daughter Mary Shelley by Charlotte Gordon All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
Table of Contents
Introduction | p. xv |
Chapter 1 A Death and a Birth [1797-1801] | p. 3 |
Chapter 2 Mary Wollstonecraft: The Early Years [1759-1774] | p. 11 |
Chapter 3 Mary Godwin: Childhood and a New Family [1801-1812] | p. 23 |
Chapter 4 Mary" Wollstonecraft: Hoxtox and Bath [1774-1782] | p. 36 |
Chapter 5 Mary Godwin: Scotland, An "Eyry of Freedom" [1810-1814] | p. 49 |
Chapter 6 Mary Wollstonecraft: Independence [1783-1785] | p. 60 |
Chapter 7 Mary Godwin: "The Sublime and Rapturous Moment" [1814] | p. 74 |
Chapter 8 Mary Wollstonecraft: On the Education of Daughters [1785-1787] | p. 87 |
Chapter 9 Mary Godwin: The Break [1814] | p. 99 |
Chapter 10 Mary Wollstonecraft: London [1786-1787] | p. 111 |
Chapter 11 Mary Godwin: London And Bishopsgate [1814-1815] | p. 124 |
Chapter 12 Mary Wollstonecraft: The First Vindication [1787-1791] | p. 142 |
Chapter 13 Mary Godwin: "Mad, Bad and Dangerous To Know" [1816] | p. 155 |
Chapter 14 Mary Wollstonecraft: "A Revolution in Female Manners" [1791-1792] | p. 170 |
Chapter 15 Mary Godwin: Fits of Fantasy [1816] | p. 184 |
Chapter 16 Mary Wollstonecraft: Paris [1792-1793] | p. 199 |
Chapter 17 Mary Shelley: Retribution [1816-1817] | p. 211 |
Chapter 18 Mary Wollstonecraft: In Love [1792] | p. 227 |
Chapter 19 Mary Shelley: Marlow and London [1817-1818] | p. 240 |
Chapter 20 Mary Wollstonecraft: "Motherhood" [1793-1794] | p. 254 |
Chapter 21 Mary Shelley: Italy, "The Happy Hours" [1818-1819] | p. 266 |
Chapter 22 Mary Wollstonecraft: Abandoned [1794-1795] | p. 281 |
Chapter 23 Mary Shelley: "Our Little Will" [1818-1819] | p. 293 |
Chapter 24 Mary Wollstonecraft: "Surely You Will Not Forget Me" [1795] | p. 308 |
Chapter 25 Mary Shelley: "The Mind of a Woman" [1819] | p. 322 |
Chapter 26 Mary Wollstonecraft: Return Home [1795-1796] | p. 331 |
Chapter 27 Mary Shelley: "When Winter Comes" [1819-1820] | p. 345 |
Chapter 28 Mary Wollstonecraft: "A Humane and Tender Consideration" [1796] | p. 360 |
Chapter 29 Mary Shelley: Pisa [1820-1821] | p. 374 |
Chapter 30 Mary Wollstonecraft: In Love Again [1796) | p. 388 |
Chapter 31 Mary Shelley: "League of Incest" [1821-1822] | p. 402 |
Chapter 32 Mary Wollstonecraft: "I Still, Mean To Be Independent" [1797] | p. 418 |
Chapter 33 Mary Shelley: "It's All Over" [1822] | p. 431 |
Chapter 34 Mary Wollstonecraft: "A Little Patience" [1797] | p. 453 |
Chapter 35 Mary Shelley: "The Deepest Solitude" [1823-1828] | p. 465 |
Chapter 36 Mary Wollstonecraft: The Memoir [1797-1801] | p. 484 |
Chapter 37 Mary Shelley: A Writing Life [1832-1836] | p. 498 |
Chapter 38 Mary Wollstonecraft: The Wrongs [1797-1798] | p. 512 |
Chapter 39 Mary Shelley: Ramblings [1837-1848] | p. 519 |
Chapter 40 Mary and Mary: Heroic Exertions | p. 537 |
Acknowledgments | p. 549 |
Notes | p. 551 |
Bibliographic Note: Percy Bysshe Shelley's Letters | p. 607 |
Selected Bibliography | p. 609 |
Image Credits | p. 625 |
Index | p. 629 |