his sensitive nature. "The writings of the future laureate (Southey) as
likewise of Wordsworth and Coleridge, and Landor's _Gehir_ were among
those for which Shelley in early youth had a particular
predilection."[168] Since the influence of Southey soon began to decline
on account of his fulsome praise of George III, we shall confine our
attention to Wordsworth and Coleridge. "One word in candor," Shelley
writes, "on the manner in which the study of contemporary writing may have
modified my composition. I am intimately persuaded that the peculiar style
of intensive and comprehensive imagery in poetry which distinguishes
modern writers has not been as a general power the product of the
imitation of any particular one. It is impossible that any one
contemporary with such writers (Wordsworth and Coleridge were specified at
first) as stand in the front ranks of literature of the present day can
conscientiously assure themselves or others that their _language_ and
_tone of thought_ may not have been modified by the study of the
productions of these extraordinary intellects."[169]
Radicalism, we said, was the characteristic of this period and this
extended both to the form and the matter of poetry. Byron characterizes
one eminent poet as "the mild apostate from poetic rule."[170]
During the greater part of the eighteenth century conservatism and
classicism were in the ascendant. After the Revolution of 1688 everything
medieval and Catholic was looked upon with suspicion. Old customs and
festivities were allowed to fall into disuse. Compared with the past it
was a material age. In the early part of the century agriculture and
commerce flourished and with this advance in material prosperity came the
decline of romanticism. "Correctness" in form and thought is the guiding
light of prince and peasant, of poet and philosopher. Imagination is
concerned almost entirely with society and fine manners. Pope's themes are
beaux and belles, pomatum, billets-doux, and patches. He preferred the
artificial to the natural. Form, imitation of the classics, is to him and
the men of that period, the all important matter in literature. In his
_Essay on Criticism_ he tells us again and again
Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem
To copy nature is to copy them.
"To his immediate successors Pope was the grand exemplar of what a poet
should be,"[171] but unfortunately he was followed by a horde of imitators
whose only claim on the muse of poetry was ability to turn out heroic
couplets. As a consequence poetry became a cold, lifeless affair, devoid
of imagination and "divorced from living nature and the warm spontaneity
of the heart."[172]
A reaction against this pseudo-classicism was inevitable. That small but
constantly flowing stream of romanticism which is found in the works of
Thomson, Blake, Warton and Gray, increased in size until it broke loose in
the _Lyrical Ballads_ of 1798. This was the joint work of Coleridge and
Wordsworth. The two poets met for the first time in 1796. Coleridge was
then 24 years of age and Wordsworth but two years his senior. In July,
1797, Wordsworth and his sister moved to Alfoxden, in Somersetshire, that
they might be near Coleridge, who was living with his wife at
Nether-Stowey. They were, as Coleridge has said somewhere, three people
but one soul. A good description of the relationship between them is given
in Dorothy Wordsworth's _Alfoxden Journal_, and in Coleridge's _The
Nightingale_; a conversation poem. Their most frequent topic of
conversation was "the power of exciting the sympathy of the reader by a
faithful adherence to the truth of nature, and the power of giving the
interest of novelty by the modifying colors of imagination."[173] From
these conversations originated the plan of the _Lyrical Ballads_. The work
was divided into two parts. Coleridge was to direct his attention to
romantic and supernatural characters and to enshroud these with a human
interest and a semblance of truth sufficient to engage our interest and
attention. Wordsworth, on the other hand, was to produce the same effect
by giving the charm of novelty to objects chosen from ordinary life. It
seemed to them that the beauty of a landscape often depended on the
accidents of light and shade; that moonlight or sunset sometimes
transformed an uninviting scene into one of entrancing beauty; and so they
believed that they could diffuse the glow of their imagination over any
object and make it attractive. As might be expected the publication of the
_Ballads_ did not meet with success. The change from the stereotyped verse
of the age to these carelessly formed effusions was too much for the
critics. Some scoffed at them; others thought they were being hoaxed. The
subjects dealt with in these poems were long considered as unfit for
poetry; and of course the conservative felt it his bounden duty to protest
against the innovation. In the second edition of the _Ballads_, which was
entirely Wordsworth's own work, an attempt is made to justify this radical
departure from the beaten path. A poet, he explains, is a genius, and
should not be hampered by any conventions of art or traditions of society.
His imagination is the purifying fire which transmutes the rough ore of
the commonplace into the choice gold of literature. "Good poetry," he
writes, "is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings." "He (the poet)
is a man speaking to men; a man, it is true, endowed with more lively
sensibility, more enthusiasm and tenderness, who has a greater knowledge
of human nature and a more comprehensive soul, than are supposed to be
common among mankind; a man pleased with his own passions and volitions,
and who rejoices more than other men in the spirit of life that is in him;
delighting to contemplate similar volitions and passions as manifested in
the goings of the universe, and habitually impelled to create them where
he does not find them."[174] This is a good picture of Shelley. "With a
spiritual gaze turned first inward, on his own passions and volitions, and
then turned outward upon the universe, Shelley looked in vain for external
objects answering to the forms generated by his dazzling
imagination."[175]
Meter and poetic diction, Wordsworth says, are something altogether
accidental to poetry, and consequently there is no essential difference
between the language of poetry and that of prose. "The distinction,"
Shelley writes, "between poets and prose writers is a vulgar error. Plato
was essentially a poet."[176] Wordsworth contends, too, that the proper
language of poetry is the ordinary language of the rustic. The excellence
of poetry depends not so much on the dignity of the words used as on their
capacity to arouse emotions. "The language of poets," Shelley writes, "is
vitally metaphorical; that is, it marks the before-unapprehended relations
of things and perpetuates their apprehension; until words which represent
them, become, through time, signs for portions or classes of thought
instead of pictures of integral thoughts.... Every original language near
to its source is in itself the chaos of a cyclic poem."[177]
Not only Shelley's principles as regards "the use of language" but also
his "tone of thought" was influenced by Wordsworth. Coleridge and
Wordsworth removed the sphere of poetry from social action to
philosophical reflection; they exchanged the ancient method, consisting in
the ideal imitation of external objects, for an introspective analysis of
the impressions of the individual mind.[178] Many of Wordsworth's poems
are records of the moods of his own soul, and of phases of his life; so
also are Shelley's. A brief examination of some of Wordsworth's works will
serve to make this clear.
Wordsworth planned an epic poem, _The Recluse_, of which _The Prelude_, or
introduction, and _The Excursion_ are the only parts extant. In these two
poems we can trace out the history of his radicalism. _The Prelude_ is his
autobiography; and _The Excursion_ supplements what is lacking to a
thorough revelation of the workings of his mind. He begins _The Prelude_
by telling about his childhood and schooltime, his residence at Cambridge,
vacation and love for books. He then treats of his first trip to the
Continent and his residence in London. Book IX is concerned with his
second visit to France in 1791. While there he mixed up with all classes
... and thus ere long
Became a patriot; and my heart was all
Given to the people, and my love was theirs.[179]
It was natural for him to do so, because he lived from boyhood among those
whose claims on one's respect did not rest on accidents of wealth or
blood. He describes his friend General Beaupis, who inoculated him with
enthusiasm for the cause of the Revolution. In _The Revolt of Islam_
Shelley describes Dr. Lind, who taught him to curse the king. Hatred of
absolute rule, where the will of one is law for all, was becoming stronger
in Wordsworth every day. After the September massacres and the
imprisonment of the king he returned to Paris.
And ranged with ardor heretofore unfelt
The spacious city.[180]
He was about to cast in his lot with the Revolutionists when he was forced
to return to England. The excesses of the Revolution, however, deprived
him of some of the hopes that he placed in it. At that time his "day
thoughts" were most melancholy. When news came of the fall of Robespierre
his hopes began to revive. The earth will now march firmly towards
righteousness and peace.
Oh! pleasant exercise of hope and joy!
For mighty were the auxiliars which then stood
Upon our side, us who were strong in love;
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very Heaven.[181]
In Canto V of _The Revolt of Islam_ Shelley describes how oppressors and
oppressed are persuaded to forego revenge. Love has conquered and a new
era of peace and happiness is about to begin.
To hear, to see, to live, was on that morn
Lethean joy.
Although Shelley does not dwell on details as Wordsworth does, still there
is a striking similarity between the spirit of parts of _The Excursion_
and that of many of Shelley's poems. An extract from _The Revolt of Islam_
will help to verify this.
Thoughts of great deeds were mine, dear friend, when first
The clouds that wrapt me from this world did pass.
I do remember well the hour which burst
My spirit's sleep. A fresh May-dawn it was,
When I walked forth upon the glittering grass,
And wept, I know not why; until there rose
From the near schoolroom voices that, alas!
Were but one echo from a world of woes,
The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes.
And then I clasped my hands and looked around--
But none was near to mock my streaming eyes,
Which poured their drops upon the sunny ground--
So without shame I spoke: "I will be wise,
And just, and free, and mild, if in me lies
Such power, for I grow weary to behold
The selfish and the strong still tyrannize
Without reproach or check.
Wordsworth's joy, however, was short-lived. In 1796 Napoleon started on a
campaign of conquest and this completely shattered Wordsworth's faith in
the Revolution. When he saw that the French were changing a war of
self-defense into one of subjugation, losing sight of all which they
themselves had struggled for, he became "vexed with anger and sore with
disappointment." About the year 1793 he fell under the influence of
Godwin, and it is to his doctrines that he now turned for solace. Godwin,
as we have seen, makes reason the sole guide and rule of conduct. Custom,
law, and every kind of authority are inimical to the well-being of
humanity. Wordsworth then at this time began dragging all precepts,
creeds, etc., "like culprits to the bar of reason, now believing, now
disbelieving,"
till, demanding formal proof
And seeking it in everything, I lost
All feeling of conviction, and, in fine,
Sick, wearied out with contrarieties,
Yielded up all moral questions in despair.[182]
He had sounded radicalism to its lowest depths and found it wanting.
I drooped
Deeming our blessed reason of the least use
Where wanted most.
In _The Prelude_ Wordsworth records how he had in youth moments of supreme
inspiration, and had taken vows binding himself to the service of the
spirit he felt in nature.
To the brim
My heart was full, I made no vows but vows
Were made for me; bond unknown to me
Was given, that I should be, else sinning greatly
A dedicated spirit.
So with Shelley in _Alastor_:
Mother of this unfathomable world!
Favor my solemn song! for I have loved
Thee ever and thee only.
The sense of life and the sense of mystery are seen in _Alastor_ and these
are due to the influence of Wordsworth.
During all this time Wordsworth wrote very little poetry embodying his
radical sentiments. The only important work of this kind which appeared is
his drama, _The Borderers_. Even this cannot be called a radical word as
it marks his rejection of Godwinism. Marmaduke loves Idonea, Herbert's
daughter, and is told that she is about to be sacrificed by her father to
the lust of a neighboring noble. Oswald, the Godwinian, persuades
Marmaduke, by dint of reasoning, to disregard the musty command of
tyrants, to obey the only law "that sense submits to recognize," and kill
blind Herbert. This Marmaduke does, but later on finds out his mistake and
tells Idonea towards the end that
Proof after proof was pressed upon me; guilt
Made evident, as seemed, by blacker guilt,
Whose impious folds enwrapped even thee.[183]
He realizes that he has committed a crime; that it is the height of folly
to ignore instinct and tradition, and so he wanders over waste and wild
till anger is appeased
In heaven, and mercy gives me leave to die.
Although the radicalism of his early years does not reveal itself to any
great extent in his poetry of that time, still it is responsible for his
largest work, _The Excursion_. This poem is an attempt to reconstruct a
new theory of life out of the ruins of the French Revolution. According to
Wordsworth, the poet is a teacher. "I wish," he says, "to be considered as
a teacher or as nothing." Shelley says that "poets are the unacknowleged
legislators of the world."[184] His _Revolt of Islam_ and other poems
attempt to inculcate "a liberal and comprehensive morality." What
particularly distinguishes Wordsworth and Shelley from preceding poets is
that they moralize and draw lessons from their own experiences. The two
principal characters in _The Excursion_--the Solitary and the
Wanderer--represent Wordsworth the radical and Wordsworth the
conservative. The Wanderer, who has had a long experience of men and
things, derives from nature moral reflections of various kinds. In his
walks he meets the Solitary, a gloomy, morose sceptic. This man tells
about his desire to find peace and contentment; his delight in nature; and
the happiness of his wedded life. The death of his wife and children
filled him with despair. He then begins to question the ways of God to men
and exclaims
Then my soul
Turned inward--to examine of what stuff
Times fetters are composed; and life was put
To inquisition, long and profitless![185]
He is aroused from these abstractions by the report that the dread Bastile
has fallen; and from the wreck he sees a golden palace rise
The appointed seat of equitable law
The mild paternal sway
... from the blind mist issuing
I beheld
Glory, beyond all glory ever seen.
In _Queen Mab_ Shelley has a somewhat similar phrase:
Hope was seen beaming through the mists of fear.
He thus becomes interested once more in life; and joins in the chorus of
Liberty singing in every grove.
War shall cease
Did ye not hear that conquest is abjured?
Bring garlands, bring forth choicest flowers, to deck
The tree of Liberty.[186]
Society then became his bride and "airy hopes" his children. Although no
Gallic blood flows in his veins, still not less than Gallic zeal burns
among "the sapless twigs of his exhausted heart." He is in entire sympathy
with the plans and aspirations of the revolutionists, and he feels that a
progeny of golden years is about to descend and bless mankind. All the
hopes of the Solitary, though, are blasted. He is disgusted with the way
in which the revolution is progressing and sets sail for America, where he
expects to find freedom from the restraints of tyranny. Shelley writes
about America as follows:
There is a people mighty in its youth.
A land beyond the oceans of the west
Where, though with rudest rites, Freedom and Truth
Are worshipped.[187]
The Solitary's expectations are not fulfilled, and so he returns,
despondent, to his own country. He is in this frame of mind when he meets
the Wanderer, who tells him that the only adequate support for the
calamities of life is belief in Providence. Victory, the Wanderer says, is
sure if we strive to yield entire submission to the law of conscience. He
compares the force of gravity, which constrains the stars in their
motions, to the principle of duty in the life of man. In Act IV of
_Prometheus Unbound_ Shelley compares the force of gravity to the impulse
of love. There is no cause for despair, and "the loss of confidence in
social man." The beginning of the revolution had raised man's hopes
unwarrantably high. As there was no cause then for such exalted
confidence, so there is none now for fixed despair.
The two extremes are equally disowned
By reason.
One should have patience and courage. It is folly to expect the
accomplishment in one day of "what all the slowly moving years of time
have left undone." In the preface to _The Revolt of Islam_ Shelley writes:
"But such a degree of unmingled good was expected (from the revolution) as
it was impossible to realize.... Could they listen to the plea of reason
who had groaned under the calamities of a social state according to the
provisions of which one man riots in luxury whilst another famishes for
want of bread? Can he who the day before was a trampled slave suddenly
become liberal-minded? This is the consequence of the habits of a state of
society to be produced by resolute perseverance and indefatigable hope,
and long-suffering and long-believing courage, and the systematic efforts
of generations of men of intellect and virtue." The Wanderer exhorts the
Solitary to engage in bodily exercise and to study nature. He contrasts
the dignity of the imagination with the presumptuous littleness of certain
modern philosophers. At this point the Solitary remarks that it is
impossible for some to rise again; that the mind is not free. It is as
vain to ask a man to resolve as bid a creature fly "whose very sorrow is
that time hath shorn his natural wings." The Wanderer replies that the
ways of restoration are manifold
fashioned to the steps
Of all infirmity, and tending all
To the same point, attainable by all
Peace in ourselves and union with our God.
The Wanderer calls upon the skies and hills to testify to the existence of
God. Wordsworth the Wanderer finds an answer for Wordsworth the Solitary
in Nature. He sees that there is a Living Spirit in Nature; a spirit which
animates all things, from "the meanest flower that blows" to the glorious
birth of sunshine; a spirit which pervades matter and gives to each its
distinctive life and being. He sees God in everything.
To every form of being is assigned
An _active principle_ ...
... from link to link
It circulates the soul of all the worlds.[188]
Shelley, in a letter to Hogg, January 3, 1812, speaks about "the soul of
the Universe, the intelligent and necessarily beneficent _actuating
principle_."
Wordsworth's treatment of nature is original in this that nature is no
longer viewed as a garden or laboratory where man's processes are carried
on, but she is recognized as being over and above him and penetrating his
whole life by impulses that emanate from her. Wordsworth spiritualizes
nature. He views her phenomena as so many "varying manifestations of one
life sacred, great, and all-pervading. "This life of nature is felt more
when man is alone with her and hence the love of solitude which marks the
Wordsworthian habit of mind."[189] Other characteristics of Wordsworth
besides the love for Nature's seclusion are "the reverence which sees in
her a revelation of infinity and the recognition in her of a mysterious
and poetic life." These are also characteristics of Shelley. His love of
solitude is inspired by the desire to know nature in her inmost heart; "he
has the same feeling for infinite expanse and the same perception of an
underlying life." He also insists, like Wordsworth, on "the education of
nature."
In the preface to _Alastor_, Shelley says that the subject of the poem
represents a youth "led forth by an imagination inflamed and purified
through familiarity with all that is excellent and majestic, to the
contemplation of the universe.... The magnificence and beauty of the
external world sinks profoundly into the frame of his conceptions and
affords to their modifications a variety not to be exhausted." In the
introductory stanzas, Shelley asks this great parent, Nature, to inspire
him that his "strain may modulate with murmurs of the air." He tells us,
too, "that every sight and sound from the vast earth and ambient air sent
to his heart its choicest blessings." Wordsworth says, in _Lines on
Tintern Abbey_, that
Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life to lead
From joy to joy; for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings.
In the Prelude, Wordsworth speaks of the influence of nature as follows:
Wisdom and spirit of the universe!
That soul that art the eternity of thought.
That givest to forms and images a breath
And everlasting motion, not in vain
By day or star-light thus from my first dawn
Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me
The passions that build up our human soul.
This and the _Intimations of Immortality_ remind us of the following
passage in _Queen Mab_:
Soul of the Universe! eternal spring
Of life and death, of happiness and woe,
Of all that chequers the phantasmal scene
That floats before our eyes in wavering light,
Which gleams but on the darkness of our prison,
Whose chains and massy walls
We feel, but cannot see.
Wordsworth goes into the woods and hears a thousand notes all making sweet
music, all in harmony. Furthermore, he feels that all living things,
flowers and animals, are possessed of conscious life.
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
(_Lines written in early spring._)
Nature is throbbing not only with life but with the spirit of love, a
spirit that knits the whole world of living things together.
Love, now a universal birth,
From heart to heart is stealing,
From earth to man, from man to earth.
(_To my sister._)
The same thought runs through many of Shelley's poems. In _The Sensitive
Plant_ the flowers live, love, and die.
But none ever trembled and panted with bliss
In the garden, the field, or the wilderness,
Like a doe in the noontide, with love's sweet want,
As the companionless sensitive plant.
The beauty and loveliness of nature will do us more good "than all the
sages can." They will inspire us as nothing else will.
Dr. Ackermann draws attention to the kindness of Wordsworth and Shelley
for animals, and notes the similarity between the two following
passages.[190] Thus Wordsworth in _The Excursion_, II, 41-47:
Birds and beasts
And the mute fish that glances in the stream
And harmless reptile coiling in the sun
... he loved them all:
Their rights acknowledging he felt for all.
And Shelley in _Alastor_, 13-15:
If no bright bird, insect, or gentle beast
I consciously have injured, but still loved
And cherished these my kindred.
Wordsworth concludes _The Excursion_ and Shelley the _Alastor_ with the
desire for death.
With the name of Wordsworth, the name of that greater genius, Coleridge,
will always be linked. Although they were life-long friends still no two
could be more unlike in character and temperament. Wordsworth was moody
and determined. He, like Shelley, worked out his plans unmindful of the
opinion of others. Neglect and ridicule did not trouble him in the least.
He was an excellent type of _mens sana in corpore sano_. Coleridge, on the
other hand, was without ambition and steadiness of purpose. He drifted on
through life in a listless manner, "sometimes committing a golden thought
to the blank leaf of a book, or to a private letter, but generally content
with oral communication."[191] At an early age he had accomplished great
things and it was felt that these were but "the morning giving promise of
a glorious day." He was scarcely thirty when he won distinction as a poet,
journalist, lecturer, theologian, critic and philosopher. The "glorious
day," however, never matured. Sickness and opium were the clouds that
obscured the brightness of his genius. His married life was not a happy
one. As in the case of Shelley, jealousy and irritation on the part of the
wife, and disenchantment on the part of the husband made home-life
intolerable.
One of the earliest manifestations of Coleridge's radicalism is his _Ode
on the Destruction of the Bastile_, written in 1789. In it he rejoices at
the overthrow of tyranny and the success of Freedom. Liberty with all her
attendant virtues will now be the portion of all.
Yes! Liberty the soul of life shall reign,
Shall throb in every pulse, shall flow thro' every vein!
He hopes that she will extend her influence wider and wider until every
land shall boast "one independent soul." In his _Ode to France_ he
writes:
With what deep worship I have still adored
The spirit of divinest Liberty.
Shelley may have had this in mind when he wrote in _Alastor_
And lofty hopes of divine liberty
Thoughts the most dear to him.
Coleridge's most important radical work, which Lamb considered to be more
than worthy of Milton, is _Religious Musings_. Shelley's _Queen Mab_ bears
so strong a resemblance to it that the _Religious Musings_ has been called
Coleridge's _Queen Mab_. In the first part he lashes his countrymen for
joining the coalition against France under pretence of defending religion.
Further on he gives his views on society, its origin and progress. It is
to private property that we must attribute all the sore ills that desolate
our mortal life. Unlike many radicals, however, Coleridge can see the good
in an institution as well as the evil. Thus he holds that the rivalry
resulting from our present economic condition has stimulated thought and
action
From avarice thus, from luxury and war,
Sprang heavenly science; and from science freedom.
The innumerable multitude of wrongs, continues Coleridge, by man on man
inflicted, cry to heaven for vengeance. Even now (1796) the storm begins
which will cast to earth the rich, the great, and all the mighty men of
the world. This will be followed by a period of sunshine, when Love will
return and peace and happiness be the portion of all.
As when a shepherd on a vernal morn
Through some thick fog creeps timorous with slow foot,
Darkling with earnest eyes he traces out
The immediate road, all else of fairest kind
Hid or deformed. But lo! the bursting Sun!
Touched by the enchantment of that sudden beam
Straight the black vapor melteth, and in globes
Of dewy glitter gems each plant and tree:
On every leaf, on every blade it hangs;
And wide around the landscape streams with glory!
So we will fly into the sun of love, impartially view creation, and love
it all. We will then see that God diffused through society makes it one
whole; that every victorious murder is a blind suicide; that no one
injures and is not uninjured. This change will be brought about by a
return to pure Faith and meek Piety. He differs from Shelley in this, that
he does not look for reformation through the overturning of thrones and
churches. The existing frame-work of society is all right; it needs only
to be freed from some of its barnacles.
The first stanza of Coleridge's _Love_ reminds one of the following
passage from Shelley's _Prometheus Unbound_ (Act IV, 406):
His will, with all mean passions, bad delights
And selfish cares, its trembling satellites,
A spirit ill to guide, but mighty to obey,
Is as a tempest-winged ship, whose helm
Love rules.
Coleridge's stanza runs as follows:
All thoughts, all passions, all delights
Whatever stirs this mortal frame
All are but ministers of Love
And feed his sacred flame.[192]
Shelley's sonnet to Ianthe is little more than a transposition of
Coleridge's sonnet to his son. Shelley says:
I love thee, Baby! for thine own sweet sake:
Those azure eyes, that faintly dimpled cheek,
Thy tender frame, so eloquently weak,
Love in the sternest heart of hate might wake;
But more when o'er thy fitful slumber bending
Thy mother folds thee to her wakeful heart,
Whilst love and pity, in her glances blending,
All that thy passive eyes can feel impart:
More, when some feeble lineaments of her,
Who bore thy weight beneath her spotless bosom,
As with deep love I read thy face, recur,--
More dear art thou, O fair and fragile blossom;
Dearest when most thy tender traits express
The image of thy mother's loveliness.[193]
Coleridge's runs as follows:
Charles! my slow heart was only sad when first
I scanned that face of feeble infancy:
For dimly on my thoughtful spirit burst
All I had been, and all my child might be!
But when I saw it on its mother's arm,
And hanging at her bosom (she the while
Bent o'er its features with a tearful smile),
Then I was thrilled and melted, and most warm
Impressed a father's kiss; and all beguiled
Of dark remembrance and presageful fear.
I seemed to see an angel's form appear--
'Twas even thine, beloved woman mild!
So for the mother's sake the child was dear
And dearer was the mother for the child.
Coleridge and Shelley made a universal application of a few metaphysical
principles acquired in their early years; and on them ground their
political and religious views. Poetry, metaphysics, morals and politics
mixed themselves forever in their imagination.[194]
CHAPTER VI
CONCLUSION
The radical, when theorizing, considers man in the abstract. He forgets
about actual conditions--man with his inequalities. The only thing
necessary, in his view, for the reformation of society is to lay before
mankind some logical plan of action. He loses sight of the fact that other
influences, besides logic, play a part in the moulding of man's conduct.
Newman says teach men to shoot around corners and then you may hope to
convert them by means of syllogisms. "One feels," Emerson writes, "that
these philosophers have skipped no fact but one, namely, life. They treat
man as a plastic thing, or something that may be put up or down, ripened
or retarded, molded, polished, made into solid or fluid or gas at the will
of the leader."[195] The radical sees the millenium dawning upon the land
every time a new scheme is proposed for the amelioration of society. They
do not apply any tests to determine its adaptability to the needs of the
people. It satisfies the rules of logic and for them this is sufficient.
Burke considers this point in his speech, "On Conciliation with America."
"It is a mistake to imagine that mankind follow up practically any
speculative principle as far as it will go in argument and in logical
illation. All government, indeed every human benefit and enjoyment, every
virtue and every prudent act is founded on compromise and barter. We
balance inconveniences; we give and take; we remit some rights that we may
enjoy others. Man acts from motives relative to his interests; and not on
metaphysical speculations."
Shelley could not understand how it is that evils continue so
pertinaciously to exist in society. He believed that men had but to will
that there would be no evil and there would be none. It seemed to him that
he could construct inside twenty-four hours a system of government and
morals that would be perfect. "The science," Burke writes, "of
constructing a commonwealth, or renovating it, or reforming it, is, like
every other experimental science not to be taught _a priori_. Nor is it a
short experience that can instruct us in that practical science.... The
science of government being therefore so practical in itself, and intended
for such practical purposes, a matter which requires experience, and even
more experience than any person can gain in his whole life, however
sagacious and observing he may be, it is with infinite caution that any
man ought to venture upon pulling down an edifice which has answered in
any tolerable degree for ages the common purposes of society, or on
building it up again without having models and patterns of approved
utility before his eyes."[196]
The radical does not distinguish between essentials and non-essentials. He
sees some evils in connection with an institution and forthwith would wipe
that institution out of existence. Garrison thought there was something in
the constitution of the United States that sanctioned slavery and so he
described the constitution as "a league with death and a covenant with
hell." As late as 1820 Shelley believed that "the system of society as it
exists at present must be overthrown from the foundations with all its
superstructures of maxims and of forms."[197] He sees the evil and misses
the good. The radical and the conservative both sin in this, that they
take the cause of their adversaries not by its strong end, but by its
weakest.
Imaginative people see a few things clearly, and on that account do not
see the whole. Their attention is entirely taken up with a few details.
Shelley had no connected view of the world. He has brilliant, perhaps
exaggerated, pictures of parts of it. He picks out some misery here and
some injustice there, and condemns the whole. Again, he does not offer a
complete philosophy of life for us to follow. He takes a truth here and
another there and deifies them, exaggerates them as he does pictures of
the world. His thoughts were so vivid that they outshone the counsels of
the more conservative. They impressed him so much that he could not see
their limitations. Single views, a simple philosophy suited him. For this
reason he made his guides and leaders those philosophers of the
eighteenth century who discarded the tortuous philosophy of the past and
put forward a simple recipe which was to bring light and happiness to the
world.
Radicals do a great deal of good by shaking off our social torpor and
disturbing our self-sufficient complacency. But they very often cause a
great deal of harm, and then society has a perfect right to defend itself
against them. If they ignore the past, if they disregard the wisdom of
centuries, if they tend to subvert all that has been already done, they
are not effecting the betterment of society, but its destruction. True
reformers link themselves with the good already existing in society and
war only against its evils. They will start with things as they are. Burke
says that "the idea of inheritance furnishes a sure principle of
conservation and a sure principle of transmission, without at all
excluding a principle of improvement. It leaves acquisition free; but it
secures what it acquires.... By preserving the method of nature in the
conduct of the state, in what we improve we are never wholly new; in what
we retain we are never wholly obsolete." True, progress in all the arts
and sciences requires a certain readiness to experiment with the unknown
and try something new. Yet if that readiness be reckless, disaster will
surely be the result. Desire to move forward must be moderate, must be
harmonized with distrust of the unknown if real progress is to ensue.
To improve society we must understand it, and to do this we must recognize
its positive value. The work of social reformers would be more effective
if they had a better knowledge of existing laws and institutions. As a
rule soap-box orators declaim against things about which they know little
or nothing. A clear consciousness then of the good in the world, a clear
understanding of the principles which bind this social world together is
indispensable to the social reformer. To understand an object is to see
through its defects to the positive qualities that constitute it; for
nothing is made up of its own shortcomings. Hence we must place our faith
in evolution rather than revolution. Any reform that is to be made must be
founded in the good at present working in the world.
It cannot be said that Shelley had a clear consciousness of the social
forces at work in society or of the good being done by the institutions of
his time. He admitted himself that he detested history, and one cannot
form a just estimate of institutions without knowing something about their
history. Had he known something about the real history of Christianity or
of the development of constitutional government in England he would not
probably have been the radical that he was. He did not see that the
institutions of his time were the product of the efforts of generations of
men; he did not realize that the social structure is the most complicated
and delicate of all the products of human nature, and consequently did not
appreciate the folly of some of the radical changes he proposed.
Shelley had a horror of tradition and prejudice; yet a certain amount of
prejudice is necessary. A man who would solve all the problems of life
without falling back on tradition would be obliged, in each of the
decisions that he would make, to follow a line of thought or argumentation
which would impose an intolerable burden on him. According to Shelley, the
morality of an act is to be measured by the utilitarian standard, "the
greatest good of the greatest number." How though can we measure the
pleasure and the pain that flows from an action? In many cases we must
take the judgment of the race; we must be guided by prejudice or
tradition. "Prejudice," writes Burke, "is of ready application in the
emergency; it previously engages the mind in a steady course of wisdom and
virtue, and does not leave the man hesitating in the moment of decision,
sceptical, puzzled and unresolved. Prejudice renders a man's virtue his
habit and not a series of unconnected acts. Through just prejudice, his
duty becomes a part of his nature."[198]
The radical lays too much stress on the influence of institutions. Shelley
ascribed to them all the evils of society. He was confident that a
remodelling of them would bring about a complete reformation of society.
Social wrongs are caused by men and men alone can cure them.
The radical is so taken up with his own ideas that he soon becomes
eccentric. He loses, too, all sense of humor. He sees nothing but tragedy
confronting him at every turn. At Leghorn, Shelley, accompanied by a
friend, visited a ship which was manned by Greek sailors. "Does this
realize your idea of Hellenism, Shelley?" his friend asked. "No! but it
does of hell," he replied. Almost every radical is lacking in tact, in
moderation and in the sense of practical life.
The radical is apt to think that everybody is against him. He does not
credit his opponents with honest convictions, and so he imagines that he
is being unjustly persecuted. Shelley thought that even his father sought
to injure him. "The idea," Peacock writes, "that his father was
continually on the watch for a pretext to lock him up haunted him through
life."
This brings us to several of Shelley's traits which are characteristic of
genius or insanity rather than of radicalism. In his _Man of Genius_
Professor Lombroso says that the characteristics of insane men of genius
are met with, though far less conspicuously, among the great men freest
from any suspicion of insanity. "Between the physiology of the man of
genius," he writes, "and the pathology of the insane, there are many
points of coincidence; there is even actual continuity."
One of the most important of these characteristics is hallucination.
Examples of geniuses who were subject to hallucinations are Caesar,
Brutus, Cellini, Napoleon, Dr. Johnson, and Pope. Shortly before his death
Shelley saw a child rise from the sea and clap its hands. At Tanyralt, on
the night of February 26, 1813, Shelley imagined that he heard a noise
proceeding from one of the parlors and immediately went downstairs armed
with two pistols. There, he said, he found a man who fired at him but
missed. The report of Shelley's pistol brought the rest of the family on
the scene, but none of them could find any trace of the intruder. It is
generally conceded that this attack took place only in Shelley's fertile
imagination. At another time Shelley imagined that he was afflicted with
elephantiasis. One day towards the close of 1813 he was traveling in a
coach with a fat old lady, who, he felt sure, must be a victim of this
disease. Later on at Mr. Newton's house as "he was sitting in an arm
chair," writes Madame Gatayes, "talking to my father and mother, he
suddenly slipped down on the ground, twisting about like an eel. 'What is
the matter?' cried my mother. In his impressive tone Shelley announced 'I
have the elephantiasis.'... After a few weeks this hallucination left him
as suddenly as it came.
"He took strange caprices," writes Hogg, "unfounded frights and dislikes,
vain apprehensions and panic terrors and therefore he absented himself
from formal and sacred engagements." It is well to keep this in mind when
reading some of the criticism of Shelley. J. C. Jeafferson cites a long
list of facts to prove that Shelley was a wilful prevaricator. Almost all
of these can be explained away through the assumption that Shelley himself
was deceived when he told something that did not square with the known
facts of the case. "Had he," writes Hogg, "written to ten different
individuals the history of some proceeding in which he was himself a party
and an eye-witness each of his ten reports would have varied from the rest
in essential and important circumstances."
"Genius," says Lombroso, "is conscious of itself, appreciates itself, and
certainly has no monkish humility." Shelley often expressed regret that
the rest of mankind was not as good as himself and his soulmate, Miss
Hitchener. He thought that he had no faults.
Another characteristic of the genius is that he must be continually
traveling from one place to another. This is certainly true of Shelley. He
seldom remained longer than a year in one place.
Shelley in common with most sane men of genius was much preoccupied with
his own ego. He loved to talk and write about himself and his opinions.
The most important of his poems contain pictures of himself.
"These energetic intellects," writes Lombroso, "are the true pioneers of
science; they rush forward regardless of danger, facing with eagerness the
greatest difficulties--perhaps because it is these which best satisfy
their morbid energy." Shelley was always embarking on some foolish
enterprise. He ran away with a school girl without having in sight any
means of support. He went to Ireland to emancipate the whole race; and
after this failed he set about reclaiming a large tract of land from the
sea at the little town of Tremadoc, Wales. He finally lost his life
through venturing out to sea in stormy weather with an undermanned
boat.[199]
Matthew Arnold's dictum, then, that Shelley was not sane is a gross
exaggeration. The characteristics of his life which would seem to uphold
Arnold's assertion are found in sane men of genius. That he was abnormal
in some ways cannot be denied. In a letter which Mrs. Shelley wrote to Sir
John Bowring when she sent him the holograph manuscript of the _Mask of
Anarchy_, there is the following reference to her husband: "Do not be
afraid of losing the impression you have concerning my lost Shelley by
conversing with anyone who knows about him. The mysterious feeling you
experience was participated by all his friends, even by me, who was ever
with him--or why say even I felt it more than any other, because by
sharing his fortune, I was more aware that any other of his wondrous
excellencies and the strange fate which attended him on all occasions....
I do not in any degree believe that his being was regulated by the same
laws that govern the existence of us common mortals, nor did anyone think
so who ever knew him. I have endeavored, but how inadequately, to give
some idea of him in my last published book--the sketch has pleased some of
those who best loved him--I might have made more of it, but there are
feelings which one recoils from unveiling to the public eye."[200]
Shelley always remained a child. This was the opinion of one of his
greatest admirers, Francis Thompson. "The child appeared no less often in
Shelley the philosopher than in Shelley the idler. It is seen in his
repellant no less than in his amiable weaknesses." To this fact, perhaps,
may be ascribed the luxuriance of his imagination; it is freer in
childhood than in old age.
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing boy.
But he beholds the light and whence it flows
He sees it in his joy.[201]
He has been described as "a beautiful spirit building his many-colored
haze of words and images." For him idealism was more than a need of the
spirit; it was the principal element of his being.[202] Anyone who cleared
away obstacles from the path of his imagination had all the attraction of
a kindred spirit. This helps to explain Godwin's influence over him. His
father-in-law advocated the entire abolition of existing institutions, and
left the work of reconstruction to man's imagination. Here it was that
Shelley found full scope for the exercise of his faculties. He cannot be
said to have contributed many original ideas to nineteenth century
literature. "He merely familiarizes the highly refined imagination of the
more select classes of poetical readers with beautiful idealisms of moral
excellence."
Radicalism is a characteristic of youth. Almost every person who is of any
importance in his community will be found to have started out in life,
boiling over with enthusiasm and eager to help on reform by advocating a
change in this or that institution. Very often this interferes with their
judgment. Bacon had this in mind when he wrote: "Is not the opinion of
Aristotle worthy to be regarded wherein he saith that young men are not
fit auditors of moral philosophy, because they are not settled from the
boiling-heat of their affections nor tempered with time and
experience."[203] Shakespeare endorses this in _Troilus and Cressida_, Act
II, scene 2.
not much
Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought
Unfit to hear moral philosophy.
That Shelley, had he lived, would have followed in the footsteps of
Wordsworth, Coleridge and Southey and become a conservative may well be
doubted. However, his life shows some progress in that direction. He had
learned to become more tolerant of various types of men; and Stopford
Brooke maintains that there are indications in Shelley's works to show
that he would have become a Christian.
It is unfortunate that Shelley never came into close personal contact
with a Burke who could take him out of the region of imagination and make
him appreciate the beauty of order and institutions. Had Shelley met such
a one he might have been influenced in the way that the Greek Augustine
was benefited by the Roman Ambrose. Southey might have helped Shelley if
he had shown more consideration for our poet's extremely sensitive
feelings. Southey's pet argument was that Shelley was too young to
understand the question they were discussing. "When you are as old as I
am," he would say, "then you will see things in a different light." Such a
line of reasoning has no influence on men of Shelley's stamp.
Aubrey De Vere, in a letter to Henry Taylor, December 12, 1882, states
that Shelley's character had two great natural defects. The first was a
want of robustness which took away from him stability and self-possession.
The second was his want of reverence. "There is," he writes, "an insolence
of audacity in some passages of Shelley on religious subjects which admits
only of two interpretations, viz., something in his original cerebral
organization doubtless augmented by circumstances that hindered proper
development in some part of it or else pride in quite an extraordinary
degree." Lest this should appear to give De Vere's complete view of
Shelley I quote further from the same letter. "Something angelic there was
certainly about him, something that I recognized from the first day that I
read his poetry. His intelligence had also a keen logic about it."
The radical is gifted with a powerful constructive imagination. He feels
keenly the failures of institutions and is led to construct an ideal state
of society. He takes all the good he knows, joins the pieces together,
beautifies and adorns the picture until he has formed an earthly paradise.
This has its advantages as only those whose imaginations are fired by fine
ideals will ever stir the world with noble deeds. To succeed you must, as
Emerson expresses it, "hitch your wagon to a star."
Imagination has, of course, its dangers. Some are content to day dream; to
live in the world of their imagination. They are impatient of the
failures, of the slow, steady toil that precedes success. They forget that
change works slowly. "He who has a clear grasp of a concrete ideal and a
clear insight into the conditions, realization, and the difficulties in
the actual world by which it is beset will be the true social reformer of
the world."[204] Shelley had a good grasp of the ideal, but he did not
know how to cross over from the ideal to the real. This journey is a long
and tedious one. "All progress," MacKenzie writes, "which is guided by an
ideal must be more or less of the nature of a stumble."[205] "Our very
walking," as Goethe puts it, "is a series of falls." Bacon writes,
"certainly it is heaven upon earth to have a man's mind move in charity,
rest in Providence, and turn upon the poles of the earth." Shelley's mind
moved in charity, but turned anywhere except upon the poles of the earth.
Notwithstanding all its shortcomings radicalism fulfils a very useful
purpose in society. It keeps before our eyes the ideal. "It emphasizes the
moral over the material; man over property. Its prominence in society
insures progress and gives promise that ideals shall not perish; that hope
shall not wane, and that society shall long for perfection and peace,
without which longing no progress is possible."[206] Radicalism emphasizes
the ideal; conservatism the real. Out of the two springs progress. "One is
the moving power; the other the steadying power of the state. One is the
sail without which society would make no progress; the other the ballast
without which there would be small safety in a tempest."[207]
It is strange that the experience of centuries has not taught men to be
more tolerant towards the radical. We see how blind was the generation
behind us in resisting the obvious reforms which it was asked to approve;
yet it never enters our heads to suspect that the next generation will
consider as obvious reforms what we consider subversive proposals, and
will wonder at our stupidity in having offered any resistance to them.
Shelley was a "sentimental" rather than a "philosophical"[208] radical.
He inflamed wills rather than enlightened minds. He roused men to action
instead of solving difficult problems.
Man is influenced more by his emotions than by his intellect and hence the
importance of the position which the sentimental radical holds in the
history of society. If the radical arouses helpful emotions the amount of
good he does is incalculable, so too is the amount of harm an unwise
radical is responsible for.
The emotions which Shelley's poetry arouse are on the whole helpful. True
a few of the details of one or two of his works should be condemned, but
these usually serve to bring out the main idea of the work which is always
an inspiring one. Nobody thinks of condemning "Lear" because of the
vileness of Goneril. If we would interpret any writer's meaning and
message the first thing to attend to is to regard the work "as a whole
bearing on life as a whole." Doing this we will grasp what is central, and
at the same time will appreciate the true value of all details. Francis
Thompson does not believe that any one ever had his faith shaken through
reading Shelley. He knows, too, only of three passages to which exception
might be taken from a moral point of view. Shelley extolled Justice,
Freedom and Equality; and he denounced tyranny and injustice. His poetry
should inspire men to be more charitable and tolerant, to seek less after
wealth and the applause of the world, to sympathize more and more with
suffering humanity, to return good for evil and to pursue the common good
of all with more zeal and enthusiasm.
One or more of the faculties of every poet are more highly developed than
those of ordinary people. In some cases it is the senses; in others the
imagination. Tennyson and Wordsworth are good examples of the first class.
They note and describe shades of color--in flowers, in the sky--the music
of waters, and a hundred other things that escape the notice of common
mortals. In Shelley it is his imagination, his faculty for feeling the
sufferings of others that is abnormal. He sees a woman afflicted with
elephantiasis, and straightway imagines that he himself has the same
disease. Shelley keenly feels the misery around him, gives expression to
that feeling, and castigates the causes of that misery.
Shelley's poetry exercises our imagination, takes us away from ourselves
and makes us think about our neighbors. The great trouble with the world
today is that men think only about themselves, their own wants and their
own joys. If we were made to feel the sufferings of the poor one-half of
the evils of society would be eliminated. Anything then that brings home
to us the evils of society is a blessing. "Every grade of culture," writes
Dr. Kerby, "has its own spirit of fellowship, its own code, understanding
and secrets. Hence it is that the imagination has a supreme role in the
neighborly relations of men. As social processes unite men in imagination,
they supply the basis of concord, service and trust.... Reason may talk of
social solidarity, and economic or sociological analysis may show us how
intimately all men are united; the catechism may appeal to intellect and
tell us that mankind of every description is our neighbor. But only they
have entrance to our hearts to whom imagination gives the passport; only
they are neighbors whom imagination accepts and embraces."[209] The work
of reconstructing human brotherhood is in a great measure the work of the
imagination.
The objection may be raised here that although Shelley's imagination was
very strong, still he was guilty of great wrong to Harriet. In reply one
may say that the imagination is only one-half the mould which forms the
perfect man. The other half is made up of reason and revealed religion.
Where these two parts of the mind are found together we get great men.
They exist side by side in the saints. A man may know all about ascetical
theology, or all about his profession, but if he has not imagination he
will always be a plodder. To come more directly to our difficulty, Shelley
had the motive power of imagination and the guiding force of reason, but
not that of revealed religion. The result was that he went off at a
tangent when he dealt with matrimony. His case should be a convincing
argument to women at least that Christianity is necessary for the
happiness and well-being of mankind. In so far as Shelley's imagination
was guided by the light of reason, he was a saint. Trelawny says that
Shelley stinted himself to bare necessities, and then often lavished the
money saved by unprecedented self-denial on selfish fellows who denied
themselves nothing.
Some of Shelley's poetry is calculated to arouse one's anger and hatred of
wrong. A people who are destitute of these emotions are fit subjects for
the yoke. As long as there are men ready to take advantage of another's
weakness; as long as there are selfish men who will advance themselves at
the expense of others, so long will it be necessary to keep alive in men
the spirit of hatred of injustice.
The difficulty with a great many critics of Shelley is that they confound
Shelley's railing at the evils of religion and governments with railing at
religion and government itself. In places, it is true, he would seem to be
a complete anarchist, but then allowance should be made for the sweeping
generalizations that are characteristic of poetry and radicalism. Those
passages in which he would seem to condemn all religion and government
should deceive no one.
No doubt it is wrong to brood too much over the misery of the world. One
misses a great deal if one sees only the evil, and never sees any of the
good nor experiences any of the joy of life. Extreme pessimism is as
harmful as extreme optimism. The pessimism that lets in no ray of hope is
a plague. Such though is not the pessimism of Shelley. His pictures of the
evils of society are illumined by the reflection from the happier state of
society that is about to come to pass.
Shelley would do away with government and authority. Surely, some would
say, that is enough to discredit him as a thinker forever. On the
contrary, it shows how far in advance of his time he was; it shows he had
a good grasp of the sociological principle that the less compulsion and
the more cooperation under direction there is in any state the better it
is. Shelley never meant to say that he would here and now abolish all
authority. No one saw more clearly than he that chaos would result from
the removal of authority from society as at present constituted. When
Shelley writes about freedom from authority he is picturing the ideal
state where men will be just and wise. He very likely doubted that such a
state was possible here below, still he thought it was incumbent on
everybody to strive after this ideal. He wanted men to so perfect
themselves, to so act, that laws and policemen would become less and less
necessary.
Shelley may not have the "sense of established facts," and may be unable
to offer suggestions which will work out well in practice, but he does
infuse a higher and a nobler conception of life into the consciousness of
a people. What Wordsworth said concerning his own poems is true of the
works of Shelley. "They will cooperate with the benign tendencies in human
nature and society, and will, in their degree, be efficacious in making
men wiser, better, and happier."
BIBLIOGRAPHY
The best critical edition of Shelley's complete work is that by H. B.
Forman in eight volumes, London, 1880. Other useful editions of the
poetical works are: Professor G. E. Woodberry's, four volumes, Boston,
1892; Professor Dowden's, one volume, London, 1900; T. Huchinson's,
Oxford, 1905; and W. M. Rossetti's, three volumes, London, 1881.
For an account of the earlier publications of Shelley's works consult _The
Shelley Library: an Essay in Bibliography_, by H. B. Forman.
The most comprehensive and authoritative life of Shelley is that by
Professor Dowden in two volumes, London, 1886.
The following are the chief authorities, critical and biographical, to be
consulted:
ACKERMANN, R.: (a) _Quellen zu Shelley's Poetischen Werken._ 1890.
(b) _Shelley's Epipsychidion und Adonais._ 1900.
(c) _Prometheus Unbound. Kritische textansgabe, etc._ 1908.
ALLEN, EDITH L.: _Shelley Day by Day._ 1910.
ALLEN, LESLIE H.: _Die Personlichkeit P. B. Shelley's._ 1907.
ANGELI, HELEN A.: _Shelley and His Friends in Italy._ 1911.
ALEXANDER, W. J.: _Select Poems of Shelley._
AXON, W. E.: _Shelley's Vegetarianism._ 1891.
BATES, E. S.: _A Study of Shelley's Drama._ The Cenci.
BELFAST, EARL OF: _Poets and Poetry of the Nineteenth Century._ 1852.
BENNETT, D.: _The World's Sages, Infidels and Thinkers._ 1876.
BERNTHSEN, S.: _Der Spinozismus in Shelley's Weltanschauung._ 1900.
BIAZI, GUIDO: _The Last Days of P. B. Shelley._ 1898.
BRAILSFORD, H. N.: _Shelley, Godwin, and Their Circle._
BROWN: _The Prometheus Unbound of Shelley._
BRANDES, G.: _Main Currents in Nineteenth Century Literature._ Vol. IV.
BRANDL, SAMUEL T.: _Coleridge und die Englische Romantik._ 1886.
BROOKE, STOPFORD A.: _Studies in Poetry._ 1907.
BYRON, MAY.: _A Day with the Poet P. B. Shelley._ 1910.
CALVERT, G. H.: _Coleridge, Shelley, Goethe, Biographic Aesthetic
Studies._ 1880.
CARDUCCI, G.: _Prometeo Liberato, Torino Roma._ 1894.
CHEVRILLON, T. A.: _Etudes Anglaises._ 1901.
CHIARINI, GIUSEPPE: _Ombre e Figure Saggi Critici._ 1883.
A. CLUTTON-BROCK: _Shelley; the Man and the Poet._ 1910.
COURTHOPE, W. J.: _The Liberal Movement in English Literature._ 1885.
CHAPMAN, E. M.: _English Literature and Religion._ 1800-1900.
CLARKE, MISS H. A.: _Prometheus Unbound._
COPELAND, C. T.: _Shelley, P. B._, Vol. IV. Gateway Series Texts.
COURTHOPE, W. J.: _A History of English Poetry_, Vol. VI. 1910.
CRASHWAY, ROSE M.: _Byron, Shelley, Keats Prize Essays._ 1893.
DARMESTETER, JAMES: _Essais de Litterature Anglaise._ 1883.
DAWSON, W. J.: _Quest and Vision, Essays in Life and Literature._ 1886.
DELL, E. E.: _Pictures from Shelley._ 1892.
DE QUINCY, THOMAS: _Essays on the Poets._
DIBDIN: _Reminiscences of a Literary Life._ 1836.
DOWDEN, EDWARD: (a) _Transcripts and Studies._ 1896.
(b) _The French Revolution and English Literature._ 1897.
DREYER, C.: _Studier og Portraeter._ 1901.
DROOP, A.: _Die Belesenheit, P. B. Shelley._ 1906.
DRUSKOWITZ, DR. HELENE: _Shelley._ 1884.
EDGAR, P.: _A Study of Shelley._ 1899.
EDMUNDS, E. W.: _Shelley and His Poetry._ 1911.
ELLIS, F. S.: _Alphabetical table of contents adapted to Forman's._ 1888.
ELSNER: _Shelley's abhangigkeit, V. Godwin's Political Justice._ 1906.
ELTON, C. T.: _An Account of Shelley's Visits to France._ 1894.
GARNETT, R.: _Essays of an ex-Librarian._ 1901.
GILLARDON, H.: _Shelley's einwirkung auf Byron._ 1898.
GRIBBLE, FRANCIS: _Shelley._ 1911.
GUMMERE, FRANCIS B.: _Democracy and Poetry._
GODWIN, PARKE: _Out of the Past._
GUTHRIE, W. N.: _Modern Poet Prophets._ 1897.
HANCOCK, A. E.: _The French Revolution and English Poets._ 1899.
HOGG, T. J.: _The Life of P. B. Shelley._ 1906.
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BIOGRAPHY
The author of this dissertation was born in Glassburn, Nova Scotia,
November 7, 1881. He attended the public school there until the fall of
1896, when he entered St. Francis Xavier University, Antigonish, N. S. In
November, 1900, he entered the Propaganda College, Rome, and was ordained
a priest in 1904. The years 1908 and 1909 he devoted largely to the study
of English literature, and in July, 1910, passed the preliminary
post-graduate examinations in English at St. Francis Xavier University. In
October of the same year he entered the Catholic University of America,
where he pursued studies in English under Professors Lennox and Hemelt; in
sociology under Dr. Kerby, and in economics under Dr. O'Hara. To these
gentlemen and to the Rt. Rev. Bishop Shahan for kindly encouragement he
wishes to acknowledge a debt of gratitude.
Footnotes:
[1] A dissertation submitted to the Catholic University of America in
partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of
Philosophy, June, 1912.
[2] Trent, _The Authority of Criticism and Other Essays_.
[3] _English Thought in the Eighteenth Century_, Chap. X.
[4] Cf. Halevy, _La Resolution et la Doctrine de L'Utilite_.
[5] _Queen Mab_, Canto IV.
[6] Samuel Butler, _Hudibras_.
[7] _Open Court._
[8] _Ingpen_, Letter Jan. 26, 1812.
[9] _The Real Shelley_, Vol. I, p. 97.
[10] Hogg: _Life of Shelley_, p. 136.
[11] _Oxford Studies_ (1855), quoted in _Koszul_, p. 59.
[12] _Rights of Woman_, Ch. 12, p. 174.
[13] Hogg, _Life of Shelley_, p. 71.
[14] "Il est vrai que Shelley courait un peu a l'amour de Harriet comme
MacBeth courait au meurtre de Duncan. 'Ce qu'il faisait ressemblait plutot
a un coup de volonte qu' a un elan de passion."--_La Jeunesse de Shelley_,
Koszul, p. 86.
[15] _Ingpen_, Vol. I, p. 155.
[16] _Hogg_, Vol. II, p. 52.
[17] Wordsworth uses this expression in the conclusion of _The Prelude_.
[18] Cf. _The Excursion_, Book VIII.
[19] Leslie Stephen: _English Thought in the Eighteenth Century_. Vol. II.
[20] _Koszul_, p. 340.
[21] Cf. _Social England_, Trail and Mann, p. 825, also _The Political
History of England_, by Broderick and Fotheringham, p. 340.
[22] _Social England_, Trail and Mann, p. 665.
[23] Thackeray, _The Four Georges_.
[24] _The French Revolution and English Literature_, p. 76.
[25] Cf. Hancock. _French Revolution and English Poets_, p. 56.
[26] Chapter XI. p. 66.
[27] Canto VI. p. 23.
[28] missing note
[29] _Queen Mab._
[30] _The Enquirer_, p. 174.
[31] Letter, Oct. 10, 1811. _Ingpen_, p. 142.
[32] _The Real Shelley_, Vol. II, p. 217.
[33] Quoted in _Shelley und die frauen_, Maurer.
[34] _Hogg's Life_, p. 447.
[35] _The Naires_, book 8, p. 130.
[36] Book VI, p. 239.
[37] P. 797.
[38] Book XI cf. _Chardius Travels in Persia_.
[39] _Persian Letters._ Letter 55.
[40] _Naires_, Book X, p. 65.
[41] Book X, p. 86.
[42] _The Naires_, Book VIII, p. 108.
[43] Notes to _Queen Mab_.
[44] Ibid.
[45] Dowden: _Life of Shelley_, Vol. I, p. 472.
[46] _The Revolt of Islam._ Canto XI, st. 15.
[47] Page 74.
[48] Canto II, st. 36.
[49] Canto IV, st. 20.
[50] Canto IV, st. 34.
[51] Canto VI, st. 19.
[52] Canto XII, 18.
[53] Canto VIII, st. 12.
[54] "Toutes les sources de "Laon and Cythna" n'ont pas ete explorees:
celles qui l'ont ete paraissent peu sures et peu importantes: la fete de
la Federation du V e chant rappelle son modele francais, et l'ideale
peinture des Ruines de Volney; la grotte on Cythna est enchainee--comme la
caverne d'Asia dans Promethee peut etre due a un souvenir de The Cave of
Fancy de Mary Wollstonecraft; les echos de Byron, et certains pretendent
de l'Imagination de notre Delille semblent peu discernables."--Koszul, _La
Jeunesse de Shelley_, 1910, p. 366.
[55] Hogg's _Life of Shelley_, ed. 1906, p. 233.
[56] _The Revolt_, Canto II, st. 33.
[57] _Notes to Queen Mab._
[58] P. 210.
[59] P. 273.
[60] Cf. Letter to Godwin, Jan. 16, 1812.
[61] Preface to _The Revolt of Islam_.
[62] Maurer: _Shelley und die frauen_, p. 74.
[63] Howell's Letters, Book I, sect. 6, let. XV.
[64] To E. Hitchener, Nov. 12, 1811.
[65] J. S. Harrison, _Platonism in English Poetry of the Sixteenth and
Seventeenth Centuries_, p. 104.
[66] _Epipsychidion_, Dowden, p. 408.
[67] _Platonism in English Poetry_, p. 115.
[68] _Essay on Love._
[69] Letter to Miss Hitchener.
[70] _Epipsychidion._
[71] _Dowden's Life_, Vol. II, p. 373.
[72] _Life of Shelley_, Vol. II, p. 378.
[73] _Vindication of the Rights of Women_, ch. II, p. 38.
[74] P. 128.
[75] _The Revolt of Islam_, Canto II, st. 36.
[76] _Vindication of the Rights of Women_, ch. XI.
[77] _The Revolt of Islam_, Canto VIII, st. 13.
[78] Miss Hitchener, Dec. 11, 1811.
[79] P. 200, _Memoirs_.
[80] P. 281.
[81] Canto IX, st. 34.
[82] _Ingpen_, p. 659.
[83] Book I, Ch. V, p. 87.
[84] _Queen Mab_, Canto III.
[85] _Queen Mab_, III, p. 9.
[86] _Political Justice_, IV, 1.
[87] Canto V.
[88] _Political Justice_, I, 273.
[89] Ibid., p. 259.
[90] _Defense of Poetry._
[91] Ibid.
[92] _Political Justice_, Book II, Chap. II, p. 126.
[93] Ibid., I, p. 126.
[94] _Enquirer_, p. 298.
[95] _Prom. Unbound_, III, 4, 167.
[96] _Queen Mab._
[97] _Decl. of Rights_, art. 15.
[98] _Political Justice_, I, p. 221.
[99] Letter to Elizabeth Hitchener, July 26, 1811.
[100] Notes to _Queen Mab_.
[101] Shelley Memorials, _Essay on Christianity_, p. 297.
[102] Book VIII, ch. 2.
[103] _Queen Mab_, V.
[104] _Essay on Christianity_, p. 302.
[105] _The Enquirer_, Part II, essay 2; also _Political Justice_, Book
VIII, ch. 2.
[106] _Political Enquirer_, p. 177.
[107] Notes to _Queen Mab_.
[108] V. D. Scudder: _Introduction to Prometheus Unbound_.
[109] Ibid.
[110] Letter of Prof. Dowden to the author.
[111] _Political Justice_, IV, 2.
[112] Flint: _Philosophy of History_, p. 323.
[113] _Political Justice_, Book 8, 9.
[114] _Queen Mab._
[115] Cf. Volney, Les Ruines, "Dieu apres avoir passe une eternite sans
rien faire prit enfin le dessin de produire le monde."
[116] _Essay on Christianity_, p. 291.
[117] Letter to Horace Smith, April 11, 1822.
[118] Letter to Lord Ellenborough, June, 1812.
[119] _Queen Mab._
[120] _Essay on Christianity. Shelley Memorials_, p. 275.
[121] _Recollections by Trelawny_, p. 40.
[122] Letter to E. Hitchener, Jan. 2, 1812.
[123] Koszul: _La Jeunesse de Shelley_, p. 132.
[124] Letter to E. Hitchener, Oct. 26, 1811.
[125] _Grammar of Assent_, p. 264.
[126] Leslie Stephen: _The Utilitarians_, Vol. III, p. 496.
[127] _Ingpen_, p. 90.
[128] _Essay on Life._
[129] _Catholic Encyclopedia_, Vol. II.
[130] "Doch ist vielleicht nichts fuer die Gestaltung seines eigenartigen
Genius und fuer die Richtung seiner poetischen Weltauschauung von so ma
geliender bedeutung gewesen, wie die Philosophie Spinoza's."
[131] _Dowden's Life_, Vol. I, p. 330.
[132] _Ethics_, II.
[133] _Notes to Queen Mab._
[134] _Essay on Life_, ed. by Mrs. Shelley, Vol. I, p. 226.
[135] P. 17, _Academical Questions_.
[136] _Ingpen_, Vol. I, p. 327.
[137] _Notes to Queen Mab._
[138] _Queen Mab._
[139] _Academical Questions_, p. 241.
[140] Ibid., p. 258.
[141] _Queen Mab_, IV, p. 15.
[142] Baldwin, J. M.: _Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology_, 1902.
[143] _Ode to Naples_, Epode II. B.
[144] _Colisseum_, III, 6.
[145] Turner: _History of Philosophy_, p. 483.
[146] _Ode to Naples_, Epode II, B.
[147] _Def. of Poetry_, III, 3.
[148] Forman's ed. _Prose Works_, Vol. III, p. 219.
[149] _Prom. Unbound_, Act. II, sc. 3, p. 267.
[150] _Hymn to Intellectual Beauty._
[151] _Turner_, p. 102.
[152] _Adonais_, st. 54.
[153] _Hellas._
[154] Cf. Shelley's _Essay on a Future State_.
[155] Letter to Eliz. Hitchener, June 25, 1811.
[156] _Essay on Life._
[157] Turner: _History of Philosophy_, p. 110.
[158] _Adonais_, st. 55.
[159] June 20, 1811.
[160] _Political Justice_, Book VI. 11.
[161] _Queen Mab_, Canto VI, p. 24.
[162] Ibid.
[163] Notes to _Queen Mab_.
[164] _Shelley Memorials, Essay on Christianity_, p. 283.
[165] _Essay on Christianity._
[166] _Speculations on Morals_, Vol. II, prose works, p. 260.
[167] _Shelley Memorials. Essay on Christianity_, p. 279.
[168] W. M. Rossetti: _Memoir of Shelley_, p. 33.
[169] Shelley's notebook. Printed for W. K. Bixby, St. Louis, 1911.
[170] _English Bards and Scotch Reviewers._
[171] P. J. Lennox in the _Catholic Encyclopedia_, Vol. XII.
[172] T. Arnold; _Manual of English Literature_, p. 304.
[173] Coleridge: _Biographia Literaria_, Ch. XIV.
[174] _Preface to Lyrical Ballads._
[175] _Courthope_, Vol. VI, p. 314.
[176] Shelley's _Defence of Poetry_, p. 9.
[177] Shelley's _Defence of Poetry_, p. 5.
[178] Courthope: _History of Poetry_, Vol. VI, p. 192.
[179] _Riverside Edition_, p. 217.
[180] Ibid., p. 239.
[181] Ibid., Book XI, p. 265.
[182] _The Prelude_, Book XI, p. 272.
[183] Act. V, scene 3.
[184] _Essay on Poetry._
[185] _The Excursion_, Book III, p. 107.
[186] Ibid., p. 108.
[187] _Revolt of Islam_, Canto XI, st. 22.
[188] _The Excursion_, verse 15.
[189] L. Winstanley in _Englische Studien_, V. 34.
[190] Quellen: _Vorbilder, Stoffe zu Shelley's Poetischen Werken_.
[191] Jenkins: _Handbook of Literature_, p. 313.
[192] Dowden's ed., p. 135.
[193] Dowden's _Life of Shelley_, Vol. I, p. 376.
[194] Courthope: _History of Poetry_. Vol. VI, p. 194.
[195] _Essay on Owen._
[196] _Reflections_, Vol. V.
[197] _Letter to Leigh Hunt_, May 1, 1820.
[198] Letter to Leigh Hunt, p. 82.
[199] Guido Biagi: _Gli ultimi giorni di P. Shelley_.
[200] Quoted in _Shelley Society Papers_, Part I, p. 94.
[201] Wordsworth: _Ode on the Intimations of Immortality_.
[202] "Tutte le circostanze della vita dello Shelley attestano come in lui
la poesia, la visione, l'idealismo fossero, piu che un bisogno dello
spirito, il principale elemento costitutive dell esser suo." G. Chiarini,
Ombre e figure.
[203] _Advancement of Learning_, Book II.
[204] J. S. McKenzie: _Social Philosophy_. p. 428.
[205] Ibid., p. 42.
[206] _Am. Cath. Quarterly._ Vol. 28, p. 239.
[207] MacAulay: _Essay on the Earl of Chatham_.
[208] Carlyle calls the philosophical radicals "paralytic radicals"
because their theories lead to inaction.
[209] _The Catholic World_, Vol. 87, p. 744.
Transcriber's Notes:
Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_.
The following misprints have been corrected:
"queston" corrected to "question" (page 9)
"Shelly's" corrected to "Shelley's" (page 17)
"sacrcely" corrected to "scarcely" (page 52)
"shiek" corrected to "shriek" (page 55)
"destines" corrected to "destinies" (page 57)
"make" corrected to "makes" (page 60)
"acknowedged" corrected to "acknowledged" (page 86)
"intellecual" corrected to "intellectual" (page 99)
"Encylopedia" corrected to "Encyclopedia" (footnote 171)
Other than the corrections listed above, inconsistencies in spelling and
hyphenation have been retained from the original.