Mary Shelley Page #6

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Most tourists come to gawk at

the place.

We've become accustomed to prying eyes

ourselves. I'm sure we'll manage.

Mr. Shelley!

It is a pleasure to make

your acquaintance once more.

I received Miss Clairmont's letter yesterday

alerting me of this impending arrival.

My Lord, it is an honor. And may I

introduce Miss Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin?

Miss Godwin.

Forgive me but there is a smile

hidden inside of you, I can see it.

And it is

beautiful and brutal.

And I hope that before long I

can coax it outside of you.

And there she is.

My Lord.

Claire.

[giggles]

Claire, I must remember next time

that to mention travel plans to you

is tantamount

to an invitation.

My Lord, I apologize. I fear

there's been some confusion.

If our visit is an imposition,

we will seek lodging elsewhere.

Please, don't concern yourselves.

You must stay here as my guest.

Things have been getting

bloody boring round here and I

will be grateful

for the distraction.

In fact there is the Duke of

Dulldom himself, Doctor Polidori.

Come with me.

Doctor Polidori, Miss Godwin.

She doesn't smile.

Charmed, Miss Godwin.

[laughter]

Don't embarrass the servants.

Are you a Doctor of Science,

Doctor Polidori?

- I'm sorry, but I'm a physician.

- Science fascinates Mary.

Why is being a physician disappointing.

You save lives.

You bring babies

into the world.

You help poets with their

sleeping disorders.

Doctor Polidori wrote

his thesis on the subject.

And, conveniently, I've become quite

the somnambulist in his presence.

Well, I hope we can liven things

up for you a little, My Lord.

I'm sure you will try,

Miss Clairmont.

Would you like to join me in

the parlor, Mr. Shelley?

Of course.

Perhaps you'll be more

comfortable conversing with

Claire and Doctor Polidori,

my love.

Byron...

I must say,

the decor is interesting.

Byron likes to record

his 'grand ideas'

on slips of paper and tack

them up on the wall.

You should see the one

in the parlor.

Gets littered with paper when we have

company, or when he's stimulated.

[giggles]

[airy, dramatic music ]

[Byron]

This is poetry, my brother.

'On Death' by the

incomparable yours truly.

Third stanza!

Summon the muse.

[imitating monkey]

The world is the nurse

of all we know

This world the mother

of all we feel

And the coming of death

is a fearful blow

To the brain unencompassed

with nerves of steel

When all we know

or feel

or see

Shall pass like an

unreal mystery!

[Polidori] I found this article and

recalled your interest in science.

Is this possible?

Reanimation?

That is the claim. Applying the principle

of galvanism to human corpses.

Every lady in the land

knows this.

She walks in beauty

Like the night...

of cloudless

Climes and starry skies

And all that's bright

Of dark and light

- What?!

- Bright! Bright, bright, bright!

All that's best of

dark and bright

Meet in the aspect

of her eyes

That's mellow to

thy tender light Which

heaven to gaudy day deny

[Polidori] I was sorry

to hear about your baby.

Her name was Clara.

I don't mean to upset you.

No. No, you haven't at all.

I thank you for speaking

of her.

It's an unspeakable cruelty

for a woman to lose a child.

I've seen it more times than

I care to remember.

I'm in awe of you,

Miss Godwin

and your strength

to survive it.

Drink!

Drink. Drink.

Why not?

Why would I not be sure?

It's called 'The Nightmare -

The Curse Of The Incubus'.

The Angel fallen from grace

because of insatiable lust.

You know the painter,

don't you?

Henry Fuseli.

He was my mother's

first love.

She tried to kill herself

with an overdose of laudanum

when he left her for

another woman.

I've never reconciled how

someone as strong as my mother

was so vulnerable when it

came to love.

Love will find its way through paths

where wolves would fear to prey.

[Mary] But if she wasn't impervious

to the pain of heartbreak

what hope is there for the

rest of us?

The great art of

life is sensation.

To feel that you exist,

even in pain.

I mean would you

not die for love?

After all, what is life if it

does not have love?

Nothing,

according to you poets.

You are...

I've always believed

that a woman

should be intelligent enough to

understand what I'm saying but

not intelligent enough to be able to

form ideas or opinions of her own.

You, Miss Godwin, have the

chance to prove me wrong.

[piano crash]

Play us a tune, Shelley.

[revelry]

[thunder]

Oh, this infernal copying.

I'm bored of it.

I can't transcribe another

word of these poems.

It's been raining like this

for weeks.

We're all going to go insane.

Can't anyone think of ways to

pass the time?

- Mary, please.

- No. She's right.

Listen.

[wind howling]

There are witches

in the wind.

I have an idea.

We are, each one of us,

to write a story.

A ghost story.

It's a competition,

of course.

Whoever writes the

finest story shall win.

[Lord Byron, voiceover]

Miss Clairmont... you...

...your job is to

transcribe them.

How dare you?

What right do you have to treat

me like this? Your lover.

Claire...

...you are not my lover.

You are a dalliance.

A lapse in judgement.

A silly little girl.

I'm sorry,

have I caused a scene?

[airy, dramatic music ]

Sir, I have an urgent message

arrived from London.

Claire!

Is everything alright, sir?

Claire.

Why,

why must they be so vile?

Don't let such

cruelty wound you.

You're stronger than you

realize and you don't need

anything from them.

You don't need anything

from them.

Thank you, Mary.

[Byron]

No!

- I need to speak to you.

- [Byron] No!

[thunder]

[Mary, voiceover] I no longer see the

world and its works as they before

appeared to me.

But now misery has come home...

and men appear to me as monsters

thirsting for each other's blood.

And I, a miserable spectacle

of wrecked humanity...

pitiable to others and

intolerable to myself.

Has Claire risen?

She sent down word. She is

feeling unwell this morning.

Where is Shelley?

I had assumed

he was with you.

[Shelley stumbling]

[laughter]

I think we've found him.

Mr. Shelley.

You look like you could do

with some breakfast.

Do I?

How were the taverns?

Disgusting.

I, uh,

I started upon my story.

I've called it 'The Vampyre'.

Very well. Well we have our

first story.

A vampire.

I thought the challenge

was a-was a ghost story?

Not a childish superstition.

You do not believe in

vampires, Mr. Shelley?

No more than I believe

in physicians.

Percy, that's quite enough.

I thought you would

know intimately

about the existence of nocturnal

beings who exploit the vulnerable.

[laughter]

- Did you just slap him?

- Madam, you have my sympathy.

No story from Polidori.

How disappointing.

Whatever shall we do to

entertain ourselves now?

Well I'm going to go riding.

I need something thick

between my legs.

What's wrong with you?

You think I'm an idiot.

Oh, you claim no interest

in Hogg. That's alright.

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