Hideous Love: The Story of the Girl Who Wrote Frankenstein by Stephanie Hemphill

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    VISITORS TO OUR HOME
    August 1815
Hogg visits infrequently.
Claire gratefully does not call upon us.
But Thomas Love Peacock
takes up residence in Marlow
and will make the long walk
up the Thames to stay with us
from time to time.
He advises Shelley
on his writing and career
as he is seven years his senior
and then becomes his agent
and business advisor.
We argue into the night
about vegetarianism,
the return of the French monarchy,
the disrepair of the government,
and Thomas encourages
us to read classical texts again.
Peacock convinces
Shelley to change his diet
of bread, butter, and lemonade
and finally eat a pork chop.
Shelley loses his pallid complexion
and starts to feel markedly better.
My brother Charles Clairmont
also frequents our home
as he is now free to do so.
But, to my sorrow,
Father still will not
acknowledge me.
Charles concocts many ideas
for his future, but they
all require funding from Shelley.
Thomas provides us
some relief from Charles
by chaperoning him on long walks.
One night after reading Peacock’s poem,
“The Genius of the Thames,”
we four decide to embark
on a boating expedition
up the river. I enjoy
the old houses surrounded by
purple loosestrife and golden water-irises.
The slow row of the boat
through the locks soothes me.
I lounge back and smell
peace in the air.
We discuss history,
politics, and literature
with vigor and ambition.
We spend the day
wandering Oxford
and stand in Shelley’s
old room at University College.
Magic occurred here,
an alchemy of spirit
pushed at the boundaries
of human knowledge.
This is where my Shelley and Hogg
threatened the world
to open its eye,
and for such blasphemy
were expelled.
We travel ten days
but no more
even though we thought
to try and reach Wales
and the Lake District.
We haven’t adequate funds,
and the water lowers
so shallow, we must
carry the boat
above our heads.
We merrily trek home.

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    BISHOPSGATE
    Autumn 1815
Shelley finds great inspiration
and harmony here
in Bishopsgate.
He embarks on a new poem
even more ambitious
than “Queen Mab.”
Peacock suggests
he call it “Alastor”
or “The Spirit of Solitude.”
It tells the story of a poet who
leaves his home
to wander the world,
and ends with the poet’s solitary death
which is then mourned
by nature and the narrator.
I help him copy the poem out
and praise the work
as genius.
In “Alastor” Shelley raises the question
of whether a poet
needs companionship
or solitude to produce great work.
I am never certain
which best serves Shelley himself.
Inspired, I find that I must
study Latin again
as we have many classical
discussions, and I want
to be active in the conversation,
not just one taking notes.
I apply myself to daily exercises
and Shelley is impressed
by my quick progress.
This pregnancy feels
more stable, too,
like a boat on still water.
I begin to have faith
that the baby will be fine.

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    WILLIAM SHELLEY
    January 24, 1816
Born this day
a baby boy.
We name him William
after my father.
I cradle my baby
in my arms
and hope that Father
will wish to do the same.
William appears healthy
and strong as the sea.
As I nurse him for
the first time
I know for certain
I wish us to never part.
Claire come to helps me
with the birth and the baby,
but she is determined
not to stay with me and Shelley.
She seeks more independence.
This is good,
because I am determined
not to let her stay.

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    THE INFAMOUS POET
    Winter–Spring 1816
Where Claire has lived
these past few