more about the book concerning Mary Shelley, John Howard Payne, and Washington Irving ...
The book—both copies of it—is a beauty to look at. The paper is thick and
creamy and seems roughly trimmed at the edges; there are engravings of the
principals involved in the triangle, each image covered with a piece of translucent
lift-off tissue bearing, in red type, the identifying name of the person. One
image shows The Payne Cottage of East
Hampton, Long Island. This was one of the few Mary Shelley sites in the
United States that I had not visited, and this very morning (May 13, 2016) I was feeling somewhat … inadequate about
that egregious failure.
And then … redemption! Looking
on Google for images of the house (still standing, a museum), I discovered a link
to a 2005 story in a local newspaper, a story that says this: The report, prepared for the East Hampton
Village Board by Robert Hefner, a historic preservation consultant, confirms
once and for all that not only was Payne not born in this saltbox house on
James Lane, but neither he nor his parents or grandparents ever lived there.[1]
Oh, vindication! Something in
the air, something in the stars, something buzzed to me by a bee—something told me I should not go to East Hampton, Long Island, to
see the home of the man who had loved Mary Shelley, who had served as an
intermediary for her with Washington Irving. I just knew it.
Not.
I was just lucky.
But I’d still love to see that
house—and not just to gloat.
[1] Carissa Katz, “Home, Sweet
Home—John Howard Payne May Have Slept Here, but Not for Very Long” (East Hampton Star, 30 December 2005), online. (See link above.)
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