Scattered throughout Shelley’s writings we find many indications of his
bisexual disposition. For example, his heroes, Laon, Athanase, and his
heroines, Laone, Beatrice, etc., each combine masculine energy and
intellect with a feminine grace and gentleness. His ideal of human
beauty as of character, was bisexual, as can be seen from his comments
on the Greek sculpture in Italy.[19] His highest praise is given to the
statues of adolescent boys--a Ganymede, an Apollo: “It was difficult to
conceive anything more delicately beautiful than the Ganymede; but the
spirit-like lightness, the softness, the flowing perfection of these
forms, surpass it. The countenance, though exquisite, lovely, and
gentle, is not divine. There is a womanish vivacity of winning yet
passive happiness, and yet a boyish inexperience exceedingly
delightful.” On an Olinthus, he remarks:
“Another of those sweet and gentle figures of adolescent youth, in which
the Greeks delighted.”
His description of the “Bacchus and Ampelus” is worth quoting at some
length. “The figures are walking as it were with a sauntering and idle
pace and talking to each other as they walk, and this is expressed in
the motions of their delicate and flowing forms. One arm of Bacchus
rests on the shoulder of Ampelus, and the other ... is gracefully thrown
forward corresponding with the advance of the opposite leg.... Ampelus,
with a beast skin over his shoulder, holds a cup in his right hand, and
with his left half-embraces the waist of Bacchus. Just as you may have
seen (yet how seldom from their dissevering and tyrannical institutions
do you see) a younger and an elder boy at school walking in some remote
grassy spot of their playground, with that tender friendship towards
each other which has so much of love.”[20]
In a letter from Naples (December 22, 1818) he tells Peacock of one
statue: “A Satyr, making love to a youth: in which the expressed life of
the Sculpture and the inconceivable beauty of the form of the youth,
overcome one’s repugnance to the subject.”
Personally I have never visited the Naples gallery, but I have been
credibly informed that this statue is one of the very few indecently
homosexual pieces. If so, it is curious that Shelley should have singled
it out for mention, for he had a horror of everything crude or obscene.
Another statue that evidently fascinated him was the Louvre
“Hermaphrodite,” for he refers to it in a fragment for _Epipsychidion_
as:
That sweet marble monster of both sexes,
That looks so sweet and gentle, that it vexes
The very soul that the soul is gone
Which lifted from her limbs the veil of stone.
His delight in bisexual forms is also evident in his description of the
angelic being, called “Hermaphroditus,” which was created by the Witch
of Atlas.
A sexless thing it was, and in its growth
It seemed to have developed no defect
Of either sex, yet all the grace of both,
In gentleness and strength its limbs were decked,
The bosom swelled lightly with its full youth,
The countenance was such as might select
Some artist, that his skill should never die,
Imaging forth such perfect purity.
One of the most peculiar traits in Shelley’s psychology was his interest
in the theme of incest between a brother and sister. To most of his
readers this pre-occupation with such a subject appears repulsive and
inexplicable, for there is nothing attractive, or even interesting, in
incest _per se_. Nevertheless, for some obscure reason, the subject
fascinated Shelley; and I think we shall be able to explain this fact by
connecting it with his general bisexual tendency. We have seen that his
heroines and heroes were dual types, in whom the masculine and feminine
traits were blended, and that, in _The Witch of Atlas_, he went a step
further, and created an ideal Hermaphrodite, to symbolise his conception
of perfect being. Surely it was in the same mood that he originally
created Laon and Cythna to be brother and sister; thus emphasising their
absolute similarity, and, by their incestuous union, achieving a more
complete fusion of the two sexual natures. Swedenborg went a step
further in this direction, when he said that two true lovers became, in
Heaven, one angel.
It is important to remember that love, in Shelley’s mind, depended upon
the perception of the similarity of two lovers; not upon any polar, or
complementary attraction. Thus Alastor’s mind “thirsts for intercourse
with an intelligence similar to itself”; while Laon refers to:
“That _likeness_ of the features which endears the thoughts expressed by
them.” It was for this reason that Shelley made the Spirit of the Earth
fall in love with his sister, the moon.
In real life, too, Shelley always sought for a similar soul to mate
with. Thus, he calls Hogg: “The Brother of my soul”; and Miss Hitchener,
before he knew her intimately, was his “spiritual sister.” And in the
same key he cries to Emilia:
“Would we two had been twins of the same mother!” From all these
considerations, I think we may suggest that Shelley’s pre-occupation
with the theme of incest between brother and sister (for other forms of
incest did not occupy his mind at all, except in the one instance of
_The Cenci_, where the interest is purely dramatic) was in reality
nothing but a disguised expression of his own bisexual nature; and that
Hermaphroditus represents the logical development of this expression.
There can be little doubt that if Shelley had survived a few more years
his true nature would have forced itself into his conscious recognition.
He seems to have had a predilection for such classical authors as
Theocritus, Moschus, and Plato, in all of whom there is an atmosphere
of “ideal homosexuality.” He translated a sonnet of Dante’s to Guido
Cavalcanti, and another by the latter to Dante, and he had obviously
appreciated the significance of Shakespeare’s _Sonnets_.
If any should be curious to discover
Whether towards you I am Friend or Lover,
Let them read Shakespeare’s Sonnets
During the years 1817-18 he occupied himself much with Plato’s
_Symposium_. He apparently only read this dialogue in Latin, but its
thought fascinated him, and he set himself to translate it, and also to
write a commentary on its subject. The manner in which he achieved this
is significant. In spite of the fact that homosexual love is the theme
of the dialogue, and in spite of the fact that this dialogue so
fascinated him that its lore became an integral part of his philosophy,
his translation omits all the definitely homosexual passages that can
possibly be omitted. For example, he omits an entire passage in
Alcibiades’ speech, where the drunken youth relates his unsuccessful
siege of Socrates, and praises the philosopher for his (to the speaker)
superhuman chastity.
The most important omission, however, occurs in the speech of
Aristophanes. Plato imagines that Hephæstus appears to two lovers, as
they lie inarmed, and offers to grant them their dearest wish, namely,
to melt them permanently together into one being. The point of the
passage is that the lovers are both male, for Plato wishes to maintain
that such lovers are purer, nobler, and less selfishly sensual than the
lovers of women. These latter, he says, are sections of the original
androgyne, and are for the most part lascivious and adulterous. But the
sections of the original double-male, those who seek the love of men,
“are the best and most manly of youths.”
We might conclude from these omissions that Shelley, like many a prudish
and normal translator, wished to gloss over passages which offended him.
But this view is really quite untenable. Shelley was remarkably
courageous and frank, and all the evidence shows that he was attracted,
and not repelled, by what has been called “ideal homosexuality.”
Moreover, he had no need to translate the _Symposium_ at all, and only
did so because it fascinated him. In a letter to Peacock dated August
16, 1818, the following instructive passage occurs: “I have translated,
and Mary has transcribed, the _Symposium_, as well as my poem; and I am
proceeding to employ myself on a discourse upon the subject of which the
_Symposium_ treats, considering the subject with reference to the
difference of sentiments respecting it, existing between the Greeks and
Modern Nations: a subject to be handled with that delicate caution which
either I cannot or I will not practise in other matters, but which here
I acknowledge to be necessary. Not that I have any thought of publishing
either this discourse or the _Symposium_, at least till I return to
England, when we may discuss the propriety of it.”
The discourse referred to was begun but never completed. It is given in
his prose works, usually under the title _On the Arts and Manners of the
Athenians_. In reading through this discourse we are forcibly struck by
a marked timidity and caution, quite foreign to Shelley’s nature. Here
is an author who frankly advocated “lawless love” and defended incest;
and yet he was quite unable to face the question of Greek Paiderastia.
He set out to write an essay on that one theme, for that is the subject
of the _Symposium_, if one differentiates between Greek Love and Love in
Modern Nations. Yet when his essay, after a general introduction,
demands a statement and description of this custom he at once hedges,
and digresses into vague general statements, and finally breaks off.
It is obvious that mere respect for the prejudices of publishers or
readers would not have deterred Shelley had he wished to describe or
even to defend Paiderastia; moreover, he wrote in Italy, and states that
he had no particular intention of publishing the discourse, nor even
the _Symposium_. It is possible that he deferred somewhat to the
feelings of his wife, for one can hardly suppose that Mary would enthuse
over certain passages of Plato. On the whole, however, his timidity and
weakness in handling this theme sprang from internal subjective causes.
Instinctively he shrank from a definite conscious revelation of his own
half-repressed impulses, even if that revelation were only made to
himself. And yet Shelley was vaguely aware, in a quite general way, of a
conflict within himself, even although he could not specify precisely
the sources of the trouble. He rightly attributed his constant
melancholy to this cause, as his self-analysis in _Prince Athanase_
shows:
For all who knew and loved him then perceived
That there was drawn an adamantine veil
Between his heart and mind--both unrelieved
Wrought in his brain and bosom separate strife.
The fact that he was thus dimly aware of a conflict proves that the
repressed impulses were somewhat near the surface, and were not entirely
subjugated.
V
If, as is here maintained, Shelley suffered from a repression of
homosexual impulses, an experienced psychoanalyst should be able to
trace the effects of this on his life and behaviour. The writer is not
such an expert, but he would nevertheless indicate in a general way how
psychoanalytic theories may confirm his views as to Shelley’s nature.
Shelley suffered from Paranoia, in a distinct, though not acute, degree.
Paranoia is a mental disease characterised by delusions of persecutions,
jealousy, or grandeur. These delusions are usually intermittent, and
often change in their content. For example, the persecutor may first be
one person and later another, or several others, or a whole class (e.g.
the “Kings, Priests, and Statesmen” of _Queen Mab_).
Sometimes a delusion of persecution is replaced by one of jealousy, or
vice versa.
Shelley’s delusions have been described, but only very inadequately
discussed, by his biographers, and I can only summarise them here. The
earliest of them is the most important, for it probably reveals the
cause of them all.[21] It concerned his father, who was a bluff Country
Squire, rather boorish, and totally incapable of understanding Shelley’s
nature. What the relations between Shelley and his father were before
this delusion, we do not know; but for the rest of his life the poet
was hostile and antagonistic to Mr. Timothy, and, moreover, suspicious
of him.
At one time in his boyhood Shelley contracted a fever, and, presumably
during his convalescence, he became convinced that his Father was
secretly plotting to have the boy (who was indubitably erratic) locked
up in a mad-house. Shelley appealed to Dr. Lind who, so the story goes,
came over and spoke strongly to Mr. Timothy, and thus rescued Shelley.
The date of this delusion is not known, but it occurred while the boy
was at school, probably in the earlier Eton days. Peacock, after quoting
Hogg’s account of Shelley’s description of this scheme, adds: “However
this may have been, the idea that his father was continually on the
watch for a pretext to lock him up haunted him through life, and a
mysterious intimation of his father’s intention to effect such a purpose
was frequently received by him, and communicated to his friends as a
demonstration of the necessity under which he was placed of changing
his residence and going abroad.”
In canto 3 of _The Revolt of Islam_ we have a record of this fever and
of Shelley’s delirium. Laon is imprisoned, and suffers the horrors of
temporary madness.
With chains which eat into the flesh alas!
With brazen links my naked limbs they bound:
After lying in chains for three days, madness overcomes him:
My brain began to fail when the fourth morn
Burst o’er the golden isles--a fearful sleep,
Which through the caverns dreary and forlorn
Of the riven soul, sent its foul dreams to sweep
With whirlwind swiftness--a fall far and deep--
A gulf, a void, a sense of senselessness--
These things dwelt in me, even as shadows keep
Their watch in some dim charnels loneliness,
A shoreless sea, a sky sunless and planetless!
The forms which peopled this terrific trance
I well remember--like a choir of devils,
Around me they involved a giddy dance;
And then comes the old Hermit (or, in real life, Dr. Lind) whose mere
presence heals the disordered brain.
In the deep,
The shape of an old man did then appear,
Stately and beautiful; that dreadful sleep
His heavenly smiles dispersed, and I could wake to weep.
* * * * *
He struck my chains and gently spake and smiled:
As they were loosened by that Hermit old,
Mine eyes were of their madness half beguiled,
To answer those kind looks.
The significance of all this lies in the fact that the authorities on
psychoanalysis mostly seem to agree in attributing Paranoia, with its
delusions of persecution and of jealousy, to a repression of
homosexuality.[22] Dr. E. Jones (_Papers on Psychoanalysis_) states:
“In Paranoia, for instance, it is now known that such delusions always
arise to begin with in connexion with persons whom the patient has tried
to love, but for internal reasons (repression of homosexuality) has been
unable to.”
In Shelley’s case, we have seen that the original delusion concerned his
father, which is conclusive evidence of his inversion.
After this it will not seem too rash to say that Shelley’s various
persecutory delusions sprang, in all probability, from a like cause. We
have, indeed, brought forward considerable positive evidence, from
Shelley’s life and writings, to show that in him was a strangely double
nature, and that there was certainly a homosexual _component_ in his
make-up. His character was complex, and full of contradictions, and he
showed an unusual number of physical and mental traits which are common
in women rather than in men. More than any other English poet, he was
the minstrel of Love; and his own erotic nature was surely the most
important thing about him. Yet on this hardly a significant word has
been written by his biographers. Until we understand the inner tragedy
of his life, we can hardly understand the poet or his song.