Giornale 3 (Keats-Shelley Museum)

Entering the Keats-Shelley museum, I gave a sigh of relief to be out of the strong sun. I climbed up the stairs, and, following the signs, headed into the gift shop to purchase my ticket. There I saw a young woman scurrying around, talking on the phone and searching for something at the same time. I awkwardly stood there for a few minutes, while she finished talking and then turned to me. I felt such a rush of relief when she began talking to me in English. While I enjoy being in a foreign country, it is sometimes comforting to be able to speak English, instead of horribly mangling Italian. We chatted for a brief moment about money, and how it has taken both of us a little while to get used to paying with correct change. I bought a museum guide, thanked the woman, turned around and headed up the stairs to the floor with the exhibit. I handed my ticket to the guy sitting in one of the main chairs lining the walls of the first room. He was also very nice, and quickly told me the layout.

I headed into Keats’s bedroom to start with. Having utterly no previous knowledge of Keats’s life, (and knowing only a sparse few facts about Shelley’s life,) I found the museum fascinating. I began with the description written under a portrait of Keats's sister, done in her old age. He often wrote to her, and, apparently, her letters were buried with Keats, along with the unopened ones from Fanny Brawne (his fiancé, who was the daughter of his neighbor, and 5 years his younger.) I continued to read all of the descriptions that I could find, finding most of them to be more about Keats’s acquaintances, than about events in his life. I found that a little odd, although it does make perfect sense considering that he died at such a young age.

I learned a great deal from the exhibits, such as the fact that Shelley's heart was saved after he was cremated, along with a few bone fragments. These were given out to friends, while his widow kept his heart. The museum has a jar containing a fragment of his jaw bone. The museum also had some locks of hair from Shelley, Keats, and another poet named Hunt (who was not described, and was entirely unknown to me.) I was intrigued by all the mentions of their friend Trelawney, (whose grave is also at the Protestant Cemetery.) He seems like a generally fascinating fellow, and quite a character, according to the descriptions. He apparently lavishly embellished many of his tales.

I found it a little odd to have a spot devoted to Shelley in the house where Keats lived, although I understand why, seeing as both are buried in Rome and both were Romantic poets. A few of the letters about Keats’s acquaintances seemed to me to be unnecessary as they did not really add anything to my understanding of the man or his life.

I was a little rushed at the end, since I was taking the time to read everything that I could. However, by skimming the last few descriptions of some letters pertaining to Shelley, I was able to finish with a little time to spare.