Any details of the lives of men whose opinions have had a marked
influence upon mankind, or from whose works we have derived pleasure or profit, cannot but be
interesting. This conviction induces me to record some facts regarding Shelley and Byron, two of
the last of the true Poets. The matter contained in this small Volume concerning them is
derived partly from notes taken and letters written at the time the events occurred, and partly
from memory. I wrote what is now printed, not systematically, but just as the incidents
occurred to me, thinking that with the rough draft before me it would be an easy, if not an
agreeable, task to re-write the whole in a connected form; but my plan is marred by my idleness
or want of literary dexterity. I therefore commit the rough draft to
| viii | PREFACE. |
With reference to the likeness of Shelley in this Volume, I must add, that he never sat to a professional artist. In 1819, at Rome, a daughter of the celebrated Curran began a portrait of him in oil, which she never finished, and left in an altogether flat and inanimate state. In 1821 or 1822, his friend Williams made a spirited water-colour drawing, which gave a very good idea of the Poet. Out of these materials Mrs. Williams, on her return to England after the death of Shelley, got Clint to compose a portrait, which the few who knew Shelley in the last year of his life thought very like him. The water-colour drawing has been lost, so that the portrait done by Clint is the only one of any value. I have had it copied and lithographed by Mr. Vinter, an artist distinguished both for the fidelity and refinement of his works, and it is now published for the first time.
