Our little boat was of greater use, unaccompanied by any danger, when we
removed to the Baths. Some friends lived at the village of Pugnano, four
miles off, and we went to and fro to see them, in our boat, by the
canal; which, fed by the Serchio, was, though an artificial, a full and
picturesque stream, making its way under verdant banks, sheltered by
trees that dipped their boughs into the murmuring waters. By day,
multitudes of Ephemera darted to and fro on the surface; at night, the
fireflies came out among the shrubs on the banks; the cicale at noon-day
kept up their hum; the aziola cooed in the quiet evening. It was a
pleasant summer, bright in all but Shelley's health and inconstant
spirits; yet he enjoyed himself greatly, and became more and more
attached to the part of the country were chance appeared to cast us.
Sometimes he projected taking a farm situated on the height of one of
the near hills, surrounded by chestnut and pine woods, and overlooking a
wide extent of country: or settling still farther in the maritime
Apennines, at Massa. Several of his slighter and unfinished poems were
inspired by these scenes, and by the companions around us. It is the
nature of that poetry, however, which overflows from the soul oftener to
express sorrow and regret than joy; for it is when oppressed by the
weight of life, and away from those he loves, that the poet has recourse
to the solace of expression in verse.
Still, Shelley's passion was the ocean; and he wished that our summers,
instead of being passed among the hills near Pisa, should be spent on
the shores of the sea. It was very difficult to find a spot. We shrank
from Naples from a fear that the heats would disagree with Percy:
Leghorn had lost its only attraction, since our friends who had resided
there were returned to England; and, Monte Nero being the resort of many
English, we did not wish to find ourselves in the midst of a colony of
chance travellers. No one then thought it possible to reside at Via
Reggio, which latterly has become a summer resort. The low lands and bad
air of Maremma stretch the whole length of the western shores of the
Mediterranean, till broken by the rocks and hills of Spezia. It was a
vague idea, but Shelley suggested an excursion to Spezia, to see whether
it would be feasible to spend a summer there. The beauty of the bay
enchanted him. We saw no house to suit us; but the notion took root, and
many circumstances, enchained as by fatality, occurred to urge him to
execute it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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