SOURCE: “July 8, 1822” in The Powder of Sympathy, Doubleday, Page & Company, 1923, pp. 143-47.

In the essay that follows, Morley examines Trelawny's dramatized depiction of Shelley's death and cremation.

It is to-day a hundred years since that sultry afternoon when Edward John Trelawny, aboard Byron's schooner-yacht Bolivar, fretted anxiously in Leghorn Harbour and watched the threatening sky. The thunderstorm that broke about half-past six lasted only twenty minutes, but it was long enough to drown both Shelley and his friend Williams, very haphazard yachtsmen, who had set off a few hours earlier in their small craft. It was only some foolish red tape about quarantine that had prevented Trelawny from convoying them in the Bolivar; in which case, probably, that dauntless and all-competent adventurer could have saved them. He was already dubious of their navigating skill. So, if there is any comfort in the thought, one may conclude that Shelley...