the love triangle ... Mary, Payne, Irving ...
Anyway, the book itself (The Romance of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley,
John Howard Payne and Washington Irving) … what’s there? Well, there are
some brief introductory remarks, followed by the texts of the letters among the
principals identified in the title, with some brief commentary.
One (very) annoying thing: The editor, F. B. Sanborn (whose “remarks”
accompany the letters), does not—for a reason I cannot fathom—give the dates of the letters, nothing beyond
whatever the writer included. So, for example, on page 37, in a letter from
Mary to Payne, we get only this: Wednesday,
Kentish Town (in northwest London). Now, an assiduous scholar (not always
an accurate description of me) could
consult the three-volume published letters of Mary, check “Payne” in the index,
and gradually catch up with who was writing what and when.
For the curious (or demented),
here’s what I found about that letter—after about a ten-minute search. Mary
wrote it in early May 1825 (the fabulous editor of her letters, the late Betty
Bennett, has put a question mark by May 4, and—thorough scholar that she was—Betty
also quotes what Payne had written earlier … and the source? The Romance. The “ambiguity,” by the
way, that Mary mentions in that opening sentence concerns the production of the
play Virginius, which, Betty notes in
an earlier letter, was written by James Sheridan Knowles and first produced in
1820. Anyway, in that letter, Mary wrote, I
have seen Virginius, but she had planned to go with her friend Jane
Williams, whose husband, Edward, had drowned with Bysshe in July 1822.[1] (You may recall that Mary
often acquired theater tickets from Payne, who was an actor as well as a
writer.)
So, if you want to know the
dates of these letters, you need to keep handy Betty’s volumes of Mary letters—and
the volumes of Irving’s letters (and diaries) as well. I had to do all of that,
originally, but now, as I page through the Romance
again, I don’t need to. Instead, I’m just following the sad arc of the story.
No one really emerged from this 1820s triangle feeling very good. And that, I
suppose, is not really too surprising. Triangles—the love sort—rarely ring a clear
tone.
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