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Lord Byron gets up at two [afternoon].

After breakfast we sit talking till six.

From six till eight we gallop through the pine forests which divide Ravenna from the sea; we then come home and dine, and sit up gossiping till six in the morning.

— Percy Shelley, August 10 1821.

If I were to let loose my imagination rapt into future times I could paint portraits of Glories and Terrors and Horrors, sublime beautiful and miraculous.

But Sacred Authority Says “Lord thou destroyest the hope of Man.” So he does the fear.

— John Adams, June 3 1821.

Lady Noel is dangerously well again I hear.

— Lord Byron’s mother-in-law joke, May 20 1821.

A violent misty maestrale.

— Mary Shelley, March 19 1821.

John Keats’s body is wrapped in a winding sheet, and placed in a coffin for burial in the morning.

— February 25 1821.

As an earthquake rocks a corse
In its coffin in the clay,
So White Winter, that rough nurse,
Rocks the death-cold Year to-day;
Solemn Hours! wail aloud
For your mother in her shroud.

— SHELLEY, “Dirge for the Year” January 1 1821.

Cloudy, but without rain.

— Mary Shelley, December 27
1820.

Napoleon has breakfast at Mount Pleasant, the home of Sir William Webber Doveton.

Napoleon jokes about how much alcohol Sir William drinks.

Sir William notes how Napoleon is “fat in figure, his body and thighs round and plump” and looks like a giant pig.

— October 4 1820.

Mary Shelley celebrates her twenty-third birthday by studying Greek, and reading Percy’s “Tyrannus; Or, Swellfoot the Tyrant,” a satire in verse dealing with Queen Caroline and George IV and inspired by the grunting of pigs at the Baths of San Guilliano.

— August 30 1820.

“Prometheus Unbound” is in the merest spirit of ideal Poetry, and not, as the name would indicate, a mere imitation of the Greek drama, or indeed if I have been successful, is it an imitation of anything.

But you will judge.

— Percy Shelley, July 20 1820.