Entries from Percy Bish and Mary Shelley's Journal 29th of July 1840.
On July 28th, the night preceding this morning, all being decided.
I ordered a chaise. Be ready at 4:00. Because he's used to.
Entries from Percy Bish and Mary Shelley's Journal 29th of July 1814, July 28th, the night preceding this morning all being decided.
I ordered a chaise be ready at 4:00. I watched until the lightning and stars became pale.
At length it was for I believed it not possible that we should succeed.
Still, there appear to lurk some danger, even in certainty.
I went. I saw her. She came to me. Yet one quarter of an hour remained.
Still, some arrangements must be made. And she left me for a short time.
How dreadful did this time appear? It seemed that we were trifled with.
Life and hope. A few minutes passed. She was in my arms.
We were safe. We were on our road to Dover.
Mary was ill as we travelled. Yet in that illness, what pleasure and security did we not share?
The heat made her faint. It was necessary at every stage that she should repose.
I was divided between anxiety for her health and terror, lest I pursuers should arrive.
I reproached myself with not allowing her sufficient time to rest,
with conceiving any evil so great that the slightest portion of her comfort might be sacrificed to avoid it.
At Dartford, we took four horses that might outstrip pursuit. We arrived at Dover before 4:00.
Some time was necessary expenses and consideration in dinner, in bargaining with sailors and custom house officers.
At length, we engaged a small boat to convey us to Calais.
It was ready by 6:00. The evening was most beautiful.
The sand slowly receded. We felt secure.
There was little wind. The sails flapped in the flagging breeze.
The moon rose. The night came on.
And with the night a slow, heavy swell and a fresh breeze, which soon became so violent it tossed the boat very much.
Mary was much affected by the sea. She could scarcely move.
She lay in my arms through the night.
The little strength which remained to my own exhausted frame was all expended and keeping her head in rest on my bosom.
The wind was violent and contrary. If we could not reach Calais, the sail is proposed making for billowing.
They promised only 2 hours sail from the shore. Yet hour after hour passed and we were still far distant.
When the moon sunk in,
the red and stormy horizon and the fast flashing lightning became pale in the breaking day we were proceeding slowly against the wind,
when suddenly a thunderstorm struck the sail and the waves rushed into the boat.
Even the sailors perceived that our situation was perilous. They succeeded in reaching the sail.
The wind had now changed, and when we drove before a wind that came in, violent gusts directly to Calais.
Mary did not know our danger. She was resting between my knees that were unable to support her.
She did not speak or look, but I felt that she was there.
I had time in that moment to reflect and even to reason upon death.
It was rather a thing of discomfort and disappointment and terror to me.
We could never be separated, but in death we might not know and feel our union as now.
I hope. But my hopes are not unmixed with fear for what will befall this inestimable spirit.
When we appear to die, the morning broke, the lightning died away.
The violence of the wind abated. We arrived at Calais whilst Mary still slept.
We drove upon the sand. Suddenly the broad sun rose of France.
France. Friday 29th, I said.
Mary. Look, the sun rises over France.
We walked over the sands to the inn. We were shown into an apartment that answered the purpose.
Both of a sitting and sleeping room. Mary was there.
Shelly was also with me.