Part of the Shelley's Ghost Exhibition. In the months immediately following Shelley's death Mary lived at Albaro on the outskirts of Genoa. Her only regular companions were her young son, Percy Florence, and the journal she began on 2 October 1822. To this 'Journal of Sorrow' she confided her innermost thoughts: 'White paper - wilt thou be my confident? I will trust thee fully, for none shall see what I write.' To be sure, Mary would not have shared the entries she wrote immediately after Shelley's death, in which her remorse and despair sometimes approached hysteria. But she left no instructions for the 'Journal of Sorrow' to be destroyed after her death, and was perhaps reconciled to the idea that this, and her other journals, would eventually be seen by other eyes.

Part of the Shelley's Ghost Exhibition. This is the letter Godwin wrote to Mary after hearing of Shelley's death. Initially he seems more sorry for himself than for his daughter, complaining of her failure to write to him, but he then talks hopefully of their reconciliation. He and Mary had not seen each other for nearly four years, and for some time Shelley had intercepted Godwin's letters to Mary because, he said, their dismal contents distressed her. Now Godwin anticipates the removal of the obstacles between himself and Mary: she was no longer married to a member of the landed gentry, 'one of the daughters of prosperity', and was back on the same social level as himself, 'an unfortunate old man and a beggar'; he will be able to help with her affairs, and perhaps act as her lawyer; and she will, he assumes, leave Italy and return to England. Mary's reply has not survived (none of her letters to her father have), but on her return to England she would indeed re-establish her relationship with Godwin, to whom she had always been devoted.

Part of the Shelley's Ghost Exhibition. 'Everybody is in despair and every thing in confusion' writes Shelley in his last letter to Mary. He was in Pisa to discuss a new journal, The Liberal, with Leigh Hunt and Lord Byron. Shelley had been delayed there by Hunt's personal situation (his wife Marianne had been told she did not have long to live) and by Byron's complicated affairs. He hints that Edward Williams might sail back to the Villa Magni ahead of him. Hurriedly concluding the letter, Shelley hopes that Mary was reconciled to staying at the Villa Magni, where he had never been happier, but where she had been ill and wretchedly depressed. In a PS he tells her that he has found the manuscript of his translation

Part of the Shelley's Ghost Exhibition. This great elegy was prompted by the news of the death of John Keats in Rome, and by Shelley's belief that Keats's illness was caused by the hostile notices his work had been given in the Quarterly Review. Shelley had the poem printed in Pisa under his own supervision, thereby ensuring its speedy appearance and its textual accuracy.

Part of the Shelley's Ghost Exhibition. Shelley worked on 'The Triumph of Life', a dark and visionary poem, while living at the Villa Magni. At the time of his death it was still in a very incomplete state but despite this it is generally considered one of his major poetic achievements. Life is envisioned as a remorseless triumphal procession: a chariot is driven blindly through a madly dancing crowd, taking with it 'a captive multitude ... all those who had grown old in power, Or misery'. 'The Triumph of Life' caused Shelley considerable trouble. Most of the manuscript is heavily revised, and the page shown here is his fourth attempt at the opening lines. He wrote in terza rima, an Italian verse form used by Dante in the Divine Comedy, and by Petrarch in his Trionfi (Triumphs). Both these poems were sources for 'The Triumph of Life', but the triple rhyme scheme of terza rima is exceedingly difficult to sustain in English.

Part of the Shelley's Ghost Exhibition. Shelley presented this light-hearted poem, copied out in his best hand, with the guitar he gave to Jane Williams in 1822. Taking his cue, perhaps, from the Shakespearean Christian name of the guitar's maker, Ferdinando, he casts himself and the Williamses as characters from The Tempest: they are the lovers Miranda and Ferdinand, he is Ariel, the spirit of fire and air. The wood of the guitar is from a tree that 'Died in sleep, and felt no pain, To live in happier form again'. Only the most skilful hands can release the harmonies of nature preserved in the instrument, and 'It keeps its highest holiest tone / For our beloved Jane alone'.

Part of the Shelly's Ghost Exhibition. Shelley's best-known poem was written in Florence in late 1819. Technically it is a series of four sonnets written in 'terza rima', the verse-form Shelley would use again, with similar fluency, in his final poem, The Triumph of Life. The west wind is an agent of change: with seasonal rejuvenation comes a personal rebirth which will, in turn, inspire the 'unawakened Earth'.

Part of the Shelley's Ghost Exhibition. 'Ozymandias' is the Greek name for Ramses II, who ruled Egypt for sixty-seven years from 1279 to 1213 BC. Ramses II was a military conqueror and a great builder, but Shelley's sonnet describes how the achievements of even the mightiest tyrants are obliterated by time. Only the Pharaoh's arrogant passions, as expressed in the ruined statue, have survived, outliving both the sculptor ('The hand that mocked them') and Ramses himself ('the heart that fed'). His many monuments have reverted to 'The lone and level sands'.

Mary Shelley drafted Frankenstein in two tall notebooks. The first notebook was probably purchased in Geneva, the second several months later in England. They were later disbound, and now exist as single sheets. Shown here is an original opening from the Geneva notebook, containing Mary's draft of the turning-point in the novel: the moment when Frankenstein's Creature comes to life.

Part of the Shelley's Ghost Exhibition. Harriet Shelley drowned herself in December 1816, aged twenty-one. Her body was recovered from the Serpentine on 10 December, and an inquest into the death of one 'Harriet Smith' was held the following day. Although her precise movements in the months leading up to her death are uncertain, it is clear that she was living away from home, that she had taken a lover, and that she was pregnant. This is Harriet's last letter. Muddled and full of self-recrimination, it reveals the nervous exhaustion and profound depression of her final days.