GENIUS AND SUICIDE. 367 



George Sand declared that, whether it was that bile made her 

 melancholy or that melancholy made her bilious, she had been 

 frequently seized by a desire for eternal repose. 



Goethe, who thought the suicide of the Emperor Otho worthy 

 of praise, slept for several nights with a dagger under his pillow, 

 trying to get up sufficient courage to imitate the act. 



Comte, in a fit of depression, threw himself into the Seine ; 

 and there is abundant evidence that Shelley, whose unhappy life 

 was clouded by the suicide of two women, himself contemplated 

 the deed. Fanny Imlay's death by laudanum in the Swansea inn 

 was followed in a few weeks by the recovery of Harriet Wester- 

 brook's lifeless body from the Serpentine. The tragic death of 

 Harriet was a frightful blow to Shelley, and there is no doubt that 

 his character was altered by it. Thornton Hunt says, " I am well 

 aware he had suffered sorely, and that he continued to be haunted 

 by certain recollections which pursued him like an Orestes " ; and 

 Woodbury adds, " From that time a shadow fell upon him which 

 never was removed." Whether it was the recollection of the wa- 

 tery grave of the woman he had wronged, or whether it was only 

 the desire to rend the veil which hides the mysteries of the Great 

 Beyond, it is certain that Shelley on more than one occasion con- 

 templated self-destruction. 



In Trelawney's interesting records of Shelley and Byron two 

 striking instances are given. The first is a letter from Lerice, 

 dated June 18, 1825, in which the poet writes: "You, of course, 

 enter into society at Leghorn. Should you meet with, any scien- 

 tific person capable of preparing prussic acid, or essential oil of 

 bitter almonds, I should regard it as a great kindness if you could 

 procure me a small quantity. It requires the greatest caution in 

 preparation and ought to be highly concentrated ; I would give 

 any price for this medicine. You remember we talked of it the 

 other night, and we both expressed a wish to possess it. My wish 

 was serious, and sprang from the desire of avoiding needless suf- 

 fering. ... I need not tell you," he adds, " that I have no inten- 

 tion of suicide at present, but I confess it would be a comfort to 

 me to hold in my possession that golden key to the chamber of 

 perpetual rest." Notwithstanding the denial that he contem- 

 plated suicide, an incident which happened soon afterward, and 

 which is related by Trelawney in the same interesting chapter, 

 leaves no doubt that Shelley more than once felt the suicidal im- 

 pulse to an almost irresistible degree. To make free use of Tre- 

 lawney's graphic words : " On a calm, sultry evening, while Jane 

 (the wife of Shelley's friend Williams) was sitting on the sands 

 before the villa on the margin of the sea with her two infants 

 watching for her husband, Shelley came from the house dragging 

 his skiff. After launching her, he said to Jane: f The sand and 



