LORD BYRON PART 8
By Jovan Stipić
I believe only those still waiting for Halley’s Comet have waited longer than you, dear readers, for Part 8 of this little Lord Byron biopic.
To ease you back into the story, you might want to revisit Part 1 and start from the beginning. Or at the very least Part 7, so it doesn’t feel like you’re jumping into a TV show midseason.
When we last saw Byron, he—too, coincidentally—departed England for the very last time. Before we follow his final years and explore some of his finest works, we’ll linger a little longer on his turbulent marriage. Of course, I’ll pause here for those who aren’t caught up to do so by following the links above. Are they gone? Good. I never liked them anyway.
Just as exile to my previous posts might help them, exile did something similar for Byron. The rage he felt at being forced out of England, he channeled not only into his own work, but also into supporting and inspiring other artists.
One of his former lovers, Claire Clairmont, upon hearing of his exile and visit to Geneva, invited Byron to join her, her half-sister Mary, and Mary’s lover for a little literary vacation in Switzerland. These two “nobodies” turned out to be none other than Mary Shelley, who—well, we’ll get to her—and the struggling but brilliant poet Percy Bysshe Shelley.
Looking back now, their trip to Geneva would go on to reshape literary history. One night, Byron suggested they tell ghost stories, a challenge the group accepted eagerly. From that night on, Byron and Percy Shelley became close friends and creative allies. Supposedly, Byron’s proposed bet was the spark that gave rise to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, one of the most iconic works of Gothic literature ever written.
Unfortunately, that literary gem was the only positive outcome of the trip. During their stay, Claire became pregnant with Byron’s child. Later, she would describe her time with him as “a month of adventure which led to a lifetime of trouble.” Their relationship remains one of the darkest stains on Byron’s name.
He sent both Claire and Mary back to London. However, once they were gone, he wired Claire to say he could provide a better life for their daughter, Allegra. That sentiment didn’t last. Byron’s fatherly instincts evaporated quickly. He passed Allegra around among friends, later claimed she wasn’t his, and even nicknamed her “that brat.” Eventually, he abandoned her in a convent.
The only documented visitor she ever received there was Percy Shelley. Allegra died at the age of five from illness, calling for a father who never came.
Meanwhile, Byron was settling in Italy. Fueled by a wave of inspiration, thanks in no small part to his creative circle with the Shelleys, he began work on his magnum opus.
Though I’ve never shied away from my admiration for Byron’s writing, I’ve also tried to give honest context for his darker actions. Not to excuse them, but to show how someone can be brilliant in one corner of life and monstrous in another.
Even still, dear reader, I’ve found it difficult to understand what kind of mental state someone must be in to do what Byron did to little Allegra.
Thank you once again for your time. We’re just two parts away from the end. I’ll see you again very soon, if not here, then in another blog post.
Adieu.