.

How wonderful is Death,
Death and his brother Sleep!

But enough of these general considerations, which are suggested to us by a closer acquaintance with the memorials of Shelley's life now before us, for they have considerably modified and raised our own opinion, not of the poet, but of the man. We shall now confine ourselves more closely to these records, passing over his earliest youth, which has been fully related by others.

measurably beneath him: he writes about | genius claim a large measure of tolerance
the miserable productions of Captain and sympathy. He differed as much from
Medwin and the feeble verses of Leigh the ordinary standard of mankind as if
Hunt as if they ranked with his own. He there had been in him the soul of some
resented the furious attacks made on him superior order of beings. The thought of
by our Quarterly contemporary-not be- death was ever present to him; it pervades
cause they criticised his poetry, and failed all he wrote, from the first invocation of
to discern the splendor of a genius which his earliest poem,
was to be a glory of our language and of
the world, but because he regarded them
as the expression of personal injustice
and malice, and because they calumniated down to the closing strains of life. His
his manner of life. The article on "Alas-own death, sudden, mysterious, in the
tor"
was at first attributed to Southey bosom of the ocean he loved, broke the
(whom Shelley had known and liked), but spell that bound him. It was the watch-
that proved untrue. It was then imputed word of liberty to a powerful spirit in a
to Milman, and Shelley denounced it as feeble frame, and he passed from dark-
the work of an angry priest. Milman, ness to the fulness of a purer light.
with admirable magnanimity, never re-
pelled the charge, though, in fact, few
men were more keenly alive to Shelley's
genius. We now learn, after all, that this
much-contested article was the work of
Mr. Coleridge · not the poet, but his
nephew, whom we have all known in
calmer times as the venerable, amiable,
and accomplished Sir John Taylor Cole-
ridge, a judge and a privy councillor!
But these incidents had but a passing
effect on Shelley. He was more anxious
for the success of others, as, for example,
Leigh Hunt, than for his own, and far
more intent on the contemplation of na-
ture, of his own thoughts, and of the great
writers of old, than on his own fame. In
the library at Ferrara Shelley saw and
compared two manuscripts in the hand-
writing of Ariosto and Tasso: of the
latter (who was his favorite) he says: "It
is the symbol of an intense and earnest
mind, exceeding at times its own depth,
and admonished to return by the waters
of oblivion striking upon its adventurous
feet." The words appear to us to be still
more appropriate to him who wrote them.
It is scarcely necessary for us to re-
mark that our own opinions differ as
widely as possible from many of the opin.
ions which Shelley had, as we think, the
misfortune to entertain and to express.
It is hardly conceivable to us that to any
man of intellect nature should be so elo-
quent and Heaven so speechless; that he
should have revelled in the philosophy of
Plato without reaching its highest con-
clusions; that he should have practised
many of the Christian virtues without ac-
knowledging the supreme beauty and
authority of the Christian law; that he
should have pursued phantoms which he
took for ideal virtue and truth, and missed
the reality. But his character and his

Shelley was expelled from Oxford on Lady Day, 1811; his father, deeply_irritated, forbade him to return to Field Place; he took lodgings in Poland Street, London, where he lived in great pecuniary embarrassment. His sisters saved their pocket-money, and sent secretly to their brother the fruits of their economy, and, as they dared not meet him, it was conveyed to him by their schoolfellow, a handsome girl named Harriet Westbrook. This led to his acquaintance with her family, which was much below his own in rank and position. There seems to be little doubt that the Westbrooks encouraged the intimacy, more especially Eliza Westbrook, a sister much older than Harriet and than Shelley himself. She had her own views and purposes in promoting this connection. Shelley, who was just recovering from the disappointment of his early attachment to his cousin, Harriet Grove, offered, by a generous impulse, to marry the second Harriet, because she complained that her father insisted on sending her back to school. The plan of the elopement was known to Eliza Westbrook, who ought to have been her sister's guardian. Their mother was alive, but she seems to have taken no steps in the matter, and we strongly suspect that the Westbrook family were privy to the elopement, which promised

to place their daughter in a rank of life | added that, as some doubt was cast on the far above her own. No attempt was made to restrain the young lady or to follow the fugitives, which would not have been difficult.

not long after the second marriage (March I will write at length from Neufchatel, or 24, 1814), with the lady who was subse- you direct your letters "au Bureau de la Poste, quently his second wife," is not only un- Neufchatel," until you hear again. We have founded, but it is the reverse of the truth. journeyed from Paris on foot, with a mule to Harriet Shelley had for some time past been sufficiently well to walk, fears the fatigue carry our baggage; and Mary, who has not acquired habits the most repugnant to of walking. We passed through a fertile Shelley's abstemious vegetarian diet, and country, neither interesting from the character in this, to say the least of it, she had not of the inhabitants nor the beauty of the scenbeen checked by her sister, and other cir-ery. We came 120 miles in four days; the cumstances had occurred which prove how little they were united. We believe it to be much nearer the truth to say that the separation of Shelley and his wife had virtually taken place before his intimacy with Godwin's daughter began. He had known Godwin since 1812, but Mary Godwin was then a child of fourteen, and Shelley had taken no notice of her. It was not until June or July, 1814, that these two fiery natures discovered and disclosed their mutual attachment. On July 28 they left England together; but there is evidence to show that even this step was scarcely premeditated, and that a few days before Mary Godwin believed and acknowledged their union to be impossible. Harriet Shelley returned, or had already returned, to her father's house. Shelley made over to her a part of his income, and she retained all that she received from her own family. She was, therefore, not exposed to any pecuniary embarrassments, except those caused by her own imprudence. Ianthe, the eldest child of Shelley, remained with her, and in the course of the autumn, as above mentioned, she gave birth to a son, who, if he had lived, would have inherited the Shelley title and estates. We are not aware that there exists any record of strong feeling on her part against Shelley caused by this breach of duty-perhaps it was not unexpected by her.

But the most singular trait in this strange history is that Shelley himself regarded his elopement as no breach at all of at least friendly relations with his wife; for within a fortnight he wrote her the following letter from Troyes, whilst he was on the road to Switzerland with Mary.

Troyes, 120 miles from Paris, on the way to Switzerland, August 13, 1814. My dearest Harriet, I write to you from this detestable town; I write to show that I do not forget you; I write to urge you to come to Switzerland, where you will at last find one firm and constant friend, to whom your interests will be always dear-by whom your feelings will never wilfully be injured. From none can you expect this but me - all else are either unfeeling or selfish, or have beloved friends of their own, as Mrs. B-, to whom

their attention and affection is confined.

last two days we passed over the country that was the seat of war. I cannot describe to you the frightful desolation of this scene; village after village entirely ruined and burned, the white ruins towering in innumerable forms of The destruction among the beautiful trees. dependent now beg their bread in this wretched inhabitants were famished; families once incountry; no provisions; no accommodation; filth, misery, and famine everywhere. (You will see nothing of this on your route to Geneva.) I must remark to you that, dreadful as these calamities are, I can scarcely pity the inhabitants; they are the most unamiable, inhospitable, and unaccommodating of the human race. We go by some carriage from this town to Neufchatel, because I have strained recovered by that time; but on our last day's my leg, and am unable to walk. I hope to be journey I was perfectly unable to walk. Mary. resigned the mule to me. Our walk has been, excepting this, sufficiently agreeable; we have met none of the robbers they prophesied at Paris. You shall know our adventures more detailed if I do not hear at Neufchatel that I am soon to have the pleasure of communicating to you in person, and of welcoming you to some sweet retreat I will procure for you among the mountains. I have written to Peacock to superintend money affairs; he is expensive, inconsiderate, and cold, but surely not utterly perfidious and unfriendly and unmindful of our kindness to him; besides, interest will secure his attention to these things. I wish you to bring with you the two deeds which Tahourdin has to prepare for you, as also a copy of the settlement. Do not part done about the books? You can consult on with any of your money. But what shall be With love to my sweet little Ianthe, ever most affectionately yours,

the spot.

S. I write in great haste; we depart directly. It is difficult to conceive anything more wild and impracticable — the more so as Shelley himself, travelling with another woman who was not his wife, invites his wife in terms of endearment to join him in Switzerland, which he had not reached and where he was not going to stay. It is the scheme of a reckless child. If it were not for the serious character and the deplorable consequences which this scappatura, as Mrs. Shelley somewhere calls it, subsequently assumed, the narrative would read more like a fairy tale of babes wandering in a wood- a Mähr.

chen ohne Ende — than a passage in the|them in their flight. How she fared in lives of contemporary men and women. the voyage does not appear. She is usu For we have the whole record before us. ally mentioned in the journals by the more It was the practice of Shelley and Mary euphonious name of Clare. to keep a short journal of the occurrences Soon, however, the highflown language of each day. This record begins on the of love, poetry, and romance subsides very day of their elopement. It was con-into pure comedy. They reach Paris on tinued to the end of their lives. Few August 2; Shelley finds out that he has human existences can be traced so mi- no money, and sells his watch and chain nutely where they were, what they did, for eight napoleons and five francs; at what they read, whom they saw, now and length a remittance of 60l. arrives, and then what they felt and thought-it is they resolve to proceed on foot to Switzerall there in an unbroken, indissoluble land. union, sometimes entered by one hand, sometimes by the other, but always in one journal book. The first page records the starting-point of this new life. They fled from London at four in the morning, reached Dover at four in the afternoon, embarked in an open boat at six, and crossed the Channel in the night.

The wind was violent and contrary. If we could not reach Calais, the sailors proposed making Boulogne. They promised only two hours' sail from the shore, yet hour after hour passed, and we were still far distant when the moon sank in the red and stormy horizon, and the fast-flashing lightning became pale in the breaking day. We were proceeding slowly against the wind, when suddenly a thunder squall struck the sail and the waves rushed into the boat; even the saitors believed that our situation was perilous. The wind had now changed, and we drove, before a wind that came in violent gusts, directly to Calais.

Mary did not know our danger; she was resting between my knees, that were unable to support her; she did not speak or look, but I felt that she was there. I had time in that moment to reflect and even to reason upon death; it was rather a thing of discomfort and of disappointment than of horror to me. We should never be separated, but in death we might not feel or know our union as now. I hope, but my hopes are not unmixed with fear for what will befall this inestimable spirit when we appear to die.

The morning broke; the lightning died away; the violence of the wind abated; we arrived at Calais whilst Mary still slept; we drove upon the sands; suddenly the broad sun rose over France.*

Never certainly was an elopement described with such reflections or in such terms. Jane Clairmont accompanied

The journal from which this extract is taken was afterwards in part rewritten by Mary Shelley and published under the title "A History of Six weeks' Tour through a Part of France, Switzerland, Germany, and Holland." It was also prefixed by her to the second volume of the "Essays and Letters" published in 1840. But there is no reference in this published narrative to the peculiar circumstances under which the journey was made, and many striking passages are omitted. Our extracts are from the original journal kept at the time.

Shelley go to the ass merchant; we buy an Monday, August 8.-(Mary.) Jane and ass. Day spent in preparations for departure. We set out for Charenton in the evening, carrying the ass, who was weak and unfit for la bor. We arrived at Charenton late. One horrible spasm.

Tuesday, August 9.-(Shelley.) We sell our ass and purchase a mule, in which we much resemble him who never made a bargain but always lost half. We arrive without adventures, but not without feelings of pride and pleasure, at Guignes, a town nine leagues from Charenton.

So they go on, through villages and towns devastated by the Cossacks, to Provins, Nogent, and Troyes. There, Shelley having sprained his foot, they resolve to continue the journey en voiture, and the letter we have just quoted was written to his wife. Mule and saddle are sold with a loss of fifteen napoleons, and a carriage bought for five napoleons, and a mule hired to take it to Neufchatel. Thence to Soleure and Lucerne. Lake of Lucerne enchants them.

The

August 23.- We land at Bessen (?). We sleep at Brunnen. Before we sleep, however, we look out of window.

Wednesday, August 24.- We consult on our situation. We cannot procure a house; we are in despair; the filth of the apartment is terrible to Mary; she cannot bear it all the winter. At last we find a lodging in an ugly house they call the Château for one louis per month, which we take; it consists of two rooms. Mary and Shelley walk to the shore of the lake and read the description of the siege of Jerusalem in Tacitus. Thursday, August 25. ruel's "Histoire de Jacobinisme." Shelley and Jane make purchases. We pack up our things and take possession of our house, which we have engaged for six months. We arrange Our apartment and write part of Shelley's

romance.

- We read Abbé Ba

three o'clock. Propose crossing Mount St. Friday, August 26.- Write the romance till Gothard. Determine at last to return to England; only wait to set off till the washerwoman brings home our linen. The little

Frenchman arrives with tubs and plums and | rose at the fair, and of pastimes which scissors and salt. The linen is not dry; we might have amused an infant. For, during are compelled to wait till to-morrow. all this autumn of 1814, Shelley was in They proceeded by boat, ever Shelley's a position of extreme embarrassment. favorite mode of conveyance, down the Godwin, indignant at the flight of his Reuss and the Rhine, sometimes sleeping daughters, refused to see or correspond in the boat, whirled onwards by the cur- with them. Shelley's relations with Harrent and meeting with sundry discomforts riet are not unfriendly; he frequently till they reach Holland, and land at calls on her. "WE," says Mary, "think Gravesend, without a penny to pay the of calling on her." A good-humored letcaptain, on September 13. The whole ter arrives from Harriet, but meanwhile expedition lasted forty-seven days. she was incurring debts for which Shelley On the following day Shelley calls on was of course liable, and on October 20 Harriet, his wife, "who is certainly a very Harriet leaves her father's house to go we odd creature; " engages lodgings; and know not whither. Desperate attempts reads "The Excursion" to Mary, in which are made to raise money to meet their they are much disappointed. The details daily wants and pay these debts. Shelley of this gipsy life, very shortly given in resorts to money-lenders and post-obits at the journal book, are inexpressibly queer a ruinous charge; he is tracked by bailiffs, and diverting. They read incessantly, and obliged to fly to a place of concealfrequently aloud: "Thalaba," Lewis's ment; Mary and he can only meet by ap"Monk," Godwin's "Political Justice," pointment in St. Paul's or Staple Inn; Anacreon, Madoc," "Rasselas," "The they correspond, and Shelley, in the midst Empire of the Nairs,” and a dozen other of terms of endearment and distress, adbooks are rapidly devoured; and indeed, vises her to read Cicero's "Paradoxa," this passion for copious and omnivorous "one particularly concerning Regulus." reading never abandons either Shelley or In the midst of all this indescribable conMary for the rest of their lives. For fusion Harriet Shelley, about December amusement they "sail little boats " on I, gives birth to a son and heir. On the the lake of Naugis (wherever that may following day Shelley calls on Harriet, be), "set off little fire-boats and let off "who treats him with insulting selfishfireworks," and make plans for converting ness:" no wonder. Meanwhile Godwin's and liberating two heiresses, and running affairs were, as usual, in a wretched off to the west of Ireland. In the midst plight; and although he had refused to of these puerilities, Shelley fires off a communicate with Shelley except through magnanimous sentiment which might an attorney, Shelley contrives to raise have been a warning and a forecast of his 90/., which is sent to his relief. future.

These degrading troubles fortunately In consequence of Friday, October 14. Jane's insensibility and soon came to an end. incapacity for the slightest degree of friend- the death of Sir Bysshe Shelley in Janship. The feelings occasioned by this discov-uary, 1815, Sir Timothy succeeded to the ery prevent me (Shelley) from maintaining any baronetcy and the estates, and, yielding measure in security. Beware of giving to the pressure of advice, he consented to way to trivial sympathies. Content yourself allow his son 1,000l. a year. For the with one great affection - with a single mighty simple wants and habits of the poet this hope: let the rest of mankind be the subjects income was an ample one; but to supply of your benevolence, your justice, and, as hu- his boundless munificence to others and man beings, of your sensibility; but as you the exactions of those who preyed upon value many hours of peace, never suffer more his kindness, ten times the amount would than one even to approach the hallowed circle. Nothing should shake the great spirit which is not have sufficed. Towards the close of not sufficiently mighty to destroy it.... The his life, Shelley estimated that he had most exalted philosophy, the truest virtue, charged the family estates, which were consists in an habitual contempt of self; a entailed on him, with debt to the amount subduing of all angry feelings; a sacrifice of of 22,500l.; for this sum he had received pride and selfishness. When you attempt to far less in cash, and a great part of what benefit either an individual or a community, he did receive was spent in assisting abstain from imputing it as an error that they Godwin and other persons. As, however, despise or overlook your virtue. he died before his father, the post-obits never became due. Shelley, in the course of this winter, walked a hospital in the hope of learning enough of surgery to enable him to alleviate the sufferings of

Never was there a stranger combination of lofty sentiments, of poetry and philosophy, of genius and literary acquirements, with a simplicity worthy of Moses Prim