The theory of civil liberty has ever seemed lovely to the eyes of a young
man enamoured of moral and intellectual beauty. Shelley's devotion to
freedom, therefore, was ardent and sincere. He would have submitted with
cheerful alacrity to the greatest sacrifices, had they been demanded of
him, to advance the sacred cause of liberty; and he would have gallantly
encountered every peril in the fearless resistance to active oppression.
Nevertheless, in ordinary times, although a generous and unhesitating
patriot, he was little inclined to consume the pleasant season of youth
amidst the intrigues and clamours of elections, and in the dull and
selfish cabals of parties. His fancy viewed from a lofty eminence the
grand scheme of an ideal republic; and he could not descend to the
humble task of setting out the boundaries of neighbouring rights, and to
the uninviting duties of actual administration. He was still less disposed
to interest himself in the politics of the day because he observed the
pernicious effects of party zeal in a field where it ought not to enter.
It is no slight evil, but a heavy price paid for popular institutions,
that society should be divided into hostile clans to serve the selfish
purposes of a few political adventurers; and surely to introduce politics
within the calm precincts of a University ought to be deemed a capital
offence--a felony without benefit of clergy. The undue admission (to
borrow the language of Universities for a moment) is not less fatal to its
existence as an institution designed for the advancement of learning, than
the reception of the wooden horse within the walls of Troy was to the
safety of that renowned city.
What does it import the interpreters of Pindar and Thucydides, the
expositors of Plato and Aristotle, if a few interested persons, for the
sake of some lucrative posts, affect to believe that it is a matter of
vital importance to the state to concede certain privileges to the Roman
Catholics; whilst others, for the same reason, pretend with tears in their
eyes that the concessions would be dangerous and indeed destructive, and
shudder with feigned horror at the harmless proposal? Such pretexts may be
advantageous and perhaps even honourable to the ingenious persons who use
them for the purposes of immediate advancement; but of what concernment
are they to Apollo and the Muses? How could the Catholic question augment
the calamities of Priam, or diminish the misfortunes of the ill-fated
house of Labdacus? or which of the doubts of the ancient philosophers
would the most satisfactory solution of it remove? Why must the modest
student come forth and dance upon the tightrope, with the mountebanks,
since he is to receive no part of the reward, and would not emulate the
glory of those meritorious artists? Yet did this most inapplicable
question mainly contribute to poison the harmless and studious felicity
which we enjoyed at Oxford.
During the whole period of our residence there the University was cruelly
disfigured by bitter feuds, arising out of the late election of its
Chancellor; in an especial manner was our own most venerable college
deformed by them, and by angry and senseless disappointment.
Lord Grenville had just been chosen. There could be no more comparison
between his scholarship and his various qualifications for the honourable
and useless office, and the claims of his unsuccessful opponent, than
between the attainments of the best man of the year and those of the huge
porter, who with a stern and solemn civility kept the gates of University
College--the arts of mulled-wine and egg-hot being, in the latter case,
alone excepted.
The vanquished competitor, however, most unfortunately for its honour and
character, was a member of our college; and in proportion as the intrinsic
merits of our rulers were small, had the vehemence and violence of
electioneering been great, that, through the abuse of the patronage of the
church, they might attain to those dignities as the rewards of the
activity of partisans, which they could never hope to reach through the
legitimate road of superior learning and talents.
Their vexation at failing was the more sharp and abiding, because the only
objection that vulgar bigotry could urge against the victor was his
disposition to make concessions to the Roman Catholics; and every dull
lampoon about popes and cardinals and the scarlet lady had accordingly
been worn threadbare in vain. Since the learned and liberal had conquered,
learning and liberality were peculiarly odious with us at that epoch. The
studious scholar, particularly if he were of an inquiring disposition, and
of a bold and free temper, was suspected and disliked; he was one of the
enemy's troops. The inert and the subservient were the loyal soldiers of
the legitimate army of the faith. The despised and scattered nation of
scholars is commonly unfortunate; but a more severe calamity has seldom
befallen the remnant of true Israelites than to be led captive by such a
generation! Youth is happy, because it is blithe and healthful and exempt
from care; but it is doubly and trebly happy, since it is honest and
fearless, honourable and disinterested.
In the whole body of undergraduates, scarcely one was friendly to the
holder of the loaves and the promiser of the fishes--Lord Eldon. All were
eager--all, one and all--in behalf of the scholar and the Liberal
statesman; and plain and loud was the avowal of their sentiments. A sullen
demeanour towards the young rebels displayed the annoyance arising from
the want of success and from our lack of sympathy, and it would have
demonstrated to the least observant that, where the Muses dwell, the
quarrels and intrigues of political parties ought not to come.
By his family and his connections, as well as by disposition, Shelley was
attached to the successful side; and although it was manifest that he was
a youth of an admirable temper, of rare talents and unwearied industry,
and likely, therefore, to shed a lustre upon his college and the
University itself, yet, as he was eminently delighted at that wherewith
his superiors were offended, he was regarded from the beginning with a
jealous eye. A young man of spirit will despise the mean spite of sordid
minds; nevertheless the persecution which a generous soul can contemn,
through frequent repetition too often becomes a severe annoyance in the
long course of life, and Shelley frequently and most pathetically lamented
the political divisions which then harassed the University, and were a
more fertile source of manifold ills in the wider field of active life.
For this reason did he appear to cling more closely to our sweet, studious
seclusion; and from this cause, perhaps, principally arose his
disinclination--I may say, indeed, his intense antipathy--for the
political career that had been proposed to him. A lurking suspicion would
sometimes betray itself that he was to be forced into that path, and
impressed into the civil service of the state, to become, as it were, a
conscript legislator.
A newspaper never found its way to his rooms the whole period of his
residence at Oxford; but when waiting in a bookseller's shop or at an inn
he would sometimes, although rarely, permit his eye to be attracted by a
murder or a storm. Having perused the tale of wonder or of horror, if it
chanced to stray to a political article, after reading a few lines he
invariably threw it aside to a great distance; and he started from his
seat his face flushing, and strode about muttering broken sentences, the
purport of which was always the same: his extreme dissatisfaction at the
want of candour and fairness, and the monstrous disingenuousness which
politicians manifest in speaking of the characters and measures of their
rivals. Strangers, who caught imperfectly the sense of his indistinct
murmurs, were often astonished at the vehemence of his mysterious
displeasure.
Once I remember a bookseller, the master of a very small shop in a
little country town, but apparently a sufficiently intelligent man,
could not refrain from expressing his surprise that anyone should be
offended with proceedings that seemed to him as much in the ordinary
course of trade, and as necessary to its due exercise, as the red ligature
of the bundle of quills, or the thin and pale brown wrapper which enclosed
the quire of letter paper we had just purchased of him.
A man of talents and learning, who refused to enlist under the banners of
any party and did not deign to inform himself of the politics of the day,
or to take the least part or interest in them, would be a noble and a
novel spectacle; but so many persons hope to profit by dissensions, that
the merits of such a steady lover of peace would not be duly appreciated,
either by the little provincial bookseller or the other inhabitants of our
turbulent country.
The ordinary lectures in our college were of much shorter duration, and
decidedly less difficult and less instructive than the lessons we had
received in the higher classes of a public school; nor were our written
exercises more stimulating than the oral. Certain compositions were
required at stated periods; but, however excellent they might be, they
were never commended; however deficient, they were never censured; and,
being altogether unnoticed, there was no reason to suppose that they were
ever read.
The University at large was not less remiss than each college in
particular; the only incitement proposed was an examination at the end of
four years. The young collegian might study in private, as diligently as
he would, at Oxford as in every other place; and if he chose to submit his
pretensions to the examiners, his name was set down in the first, the
second or the third class--if I mistake not, there were three
divisions--according to his advancement. This list was printed precisely
at the moment when he quitted the University for ever; a new generation of
strangers might read the names of the unknown proficients, if they
would.
It was notorious, moreover, that, merely to obtain the academical degrees,
every new-comer, who had passed through a tolerable grammar-school,
brought with him a stock of learning, of which the residuum that had not
evaporated during four years of dissipation and idleness, would be more
than sufficient.
The languid course of chartered laziness was ill suited to the ardent
activity and glowing zeal of Shelley. Since those persons, who were hired
at an enormous charge by his own family and by the State to find due and
beneficial employment for him, thought fit to neglect this, their most
sacred duty, he began forthwith to set himself to work. He read
diligently--I should rather say he devoured greedily, with the voracious
appetite of a famished man--the authors that roused his curiosity; he
discoursed and discussed with energy; he wrote, he began to print and he
designed soon to publish various works.
He begins betimes who begins to instruct mankind at eighteen. The
judicious will probably be of opinion that in eighteen years man can
scarcely learn how to learn; and that for eighteen more years he ought to
be content to learn; and if, at the end of the second period, he still
thinks that he can impart anything worthy of attention, it is, at least,
early enough to begin to teach. The fault, however, if it were a fault,
was to be imputed to the times, and not to the individual, as the numerous
precocious effusions of the day attest.
Shelley was quick to conceive, and not less quick to execute. When I
called one morning at one, I found him busily occupied with some proofs,
which he continued to correct and re-correct with anxious care. As he was
wholly absorbed in this occupation, I selected a book from the floor,
where there was always a good store, and read in silence for at least an
hour.
My thoughts being as completely abstracted as those of my companion, he
startled me by suddenly throwing a paper with some force on the middle of
the table, and saying, in a penetrating whisper, as he sprang eagerly from
his chair, "I am going to publish some poems."
In answer to my inquiries, he put the proofs into my hands. I read them
twice attentively, for the poems were very short; and I told him there
were some good lines, some bright thoughts, but there were likewise many
irregularities and incongruities. I added that correctness was important
in all compositions, but it constituted the essence of short ones; and
that it surely would be imprudent to bring his little book out so hastily;
and then I pointed out the errors and defects.
He listened in silence with much attention, and did not dispute what I
said, except that he remarked faintly that it would not be known that he
was the author, and therefore the publication could not do him any harm.
I answered that, although it might not be disadvantageous to be the
unknown author of an unread work, it certainly could not be beneficial.
He made no reply; and we immediately went out, and strolled about the
public walks.
We dined and returned to his rooms, where we conversed on different
subjects. He did not mention his poems, but they occupied his thoughts;
for he did not fall asleep as usual. Whilst we were at tea, he said
abruptly, "I think you disparage my poems. Tell me what you dislike in
them, for I have forgotten."
I took the proofs from the place where I had left them, and looking over
them, repeated the former objections, and suggested others. He acquiesced;
and, after a pause, asked, might they be altered? I assented.
"I will alter them."
"It will be better to re-write them; a short poem should be of the first
impression."
Some time afterwards he anxiously inquired, "But in their present form you
do not think they ought to be published?"
I had been looking over the proofs again, and I answered, "Only as
burlesque poetry;" and I read a part, changing it a little here and
there.
He laughed at the parody, and begged I would repeat it.
I took a pen and altered it; and he then read it aloud several times in a
ridiculous tone, and was amused by it. His mirth consoled him for the
condemnation of his verses, and the intention of publishing them was
abandoned.
The proofs lay in his rooms for some days, and we occasionally amused
ourselves during an idle moment by making them more and more ridiculous;
by striking out the more sober passages; by inserting whimsical conceits,
and especially by giving them what we called a dithyrambic character,
which was effected by cutting some lines out, and joining the different
parts together that would agree in construction, but were the most
discordant in sense.
Although Shelley was of a grave disposition, he had a certain sly relish
for a practical joke, so that it were ingenuous and abstruse and of a
literary nature. He would often exult in the successful forgeries of
Chatterton and Ireland; and he was especially delighted with a trick
that had lately been played at Oxford by a certain noble viceroy, at that
time an undergraduate, respecting the fairness of which the University was
divided in opinion, all the undergraduates accounting it most just, and
all the graduates, and especially the bachelors, extremely iniquitous, and
indeed popish and jesuitical. A reward is offered annually for the best
English essay on a subject proposed: the competitors send their anonymous
essays, each being distinguished by a motto; when the grave arbitrators
have selected the most worthy, they burn the vanquished essays, and open
the sealed paper endorsed with a corresponding motto, and containing the
name of the victor.
On the late famous contention, all the ceremonies had been duly performed,
but the sealed paper presented the name of an undergraduate, who was not
qualified to be a candidate, and all the less meritorious discourses of
the bachelors had been burnt, together with their sealed papers--so there
was to be no bachelor's prize that year.
When we had conferred a competent absurdity upon the proofs, we amused
ourselves by proposing, but without the intention of executing our
project, divers ludicrous titles for the work. Sometimes we thought of
publishing it in the name of some one of the chief living poets, or
possibly of one of the graver authorities of the day; and we regaled
ourselves by describing his wrathful renunciations, and his astonishment
at finding himself immortalised, without his knowledge and against his
will: the inability to die could not be more disagreeable even to Tithonus
himself; but how were we to handcuff our ungrateful favourite, that he
might not tear off the unfading laurel which we were to place upon his
brow? I hit upon a title at last, to which the pre-eminence was given, and
we inscribed it upon the cover. A mad washerwoman, named Peg Nicholson,
had attempted to stab the king, George the Third, with a carving-knife;
the story has long been forgotten, but it was then fresh in the
recollection of every one; it was proposed that we should ascribe the
poems to her. The poor woman was still living, and in green vigour
within the walls of Bedlam; but since her existence must be uncomfortable,
there could be no harm in putting her to death, and in creating a nephew
and administrator to be the editor of his aunt's poetical works.
The idea gave an object and purpose to our burlesque--to ridicule the
strange mixture of sentimentality with the murderous fury of the
revolutionists, that was so prevalent in the compositions of the day; and
the proofs were altered again to adapt them to this new scheme, but still
without any notion of publication. When the bookseller called to ask for
the proof, Shelley told him that he had changed his mind, and showed them
to him.
The man was so much pleased with the whimsical conceit that he asked to be
permitted to publish the book on his own account; promising inviolable
secrecy, and as many copies _gratis_ as might be required: after some
hesitation, permission was granted, upon the plighted honour of the
trade.
In a few days, or rather in a few hours, a noble quarto appeared; it
consisted of a small number of pages, it is true, but they were of the
largest size, of the thickest, the whitest and the smoothest drawing
paper; a large, clear and handsome type had impressed a few lines with ink
of a rich, glossy black, amidst ample margins. The poor maniac laundress
was gravely styled "the late Mrs Margaret Nicholson, widow;" and the
sonorous name of Fitzvictor had been culled for her inconsolable nephew
and administrator. To add to his dignity, the waggish printer had picked
up some huge text types of so unusual a form that even an antiquary could
not spell the words at the first glance. The effect was certainly
striking; Shelley had torn open the large square bundle before the
printer's boy quitted the room, and holding out a copy with both his
hands, he ran about in an ecstasy of delight, gazing at the superb
title-page.
The first poem was a long one, condemning war in the lump--puling trash,
that might have been written by a Quaker, and could only have been
published in sober sadness by a society instituted for the diffusion of
that kind of knowledge which they deemed useful--useful for some end which
they have not been pleased to reveal, and which unassisted reason is
wholly unable to discover. The MS. had been confided to Shelley by some
rhymester of the day, and it was put forth in this shape to astonish a
weak mind; but principally to captivate the admirers of philosophical
poetry by the manifest incongruity of disallowing all war, even the most
just, and then turning sharp round, and recommending the dagger of the
assassin as the best cure for all evils, and the sure passport to a lady's
favour.
Our book of useful knowledge--the philosopher's own book--contained sundry
odes and other pieces, professing an ardent attachment to freedom, and
proposing to stab all who were less enthusiastic than the supposed
authoress. The work, however, was altered a little, I believe, before the
final impression; but I never read it afterwards, for, when an author
once sees his book in print, his task is ended, and he may fairly leave
the perusal of it to posterity. I have one copy, if not more, somewhere or
other, but not at hand. There were some verses, I remember, with a good
deal about sucking in them; to these I objected, as unsuitable to the
gravity of a University, but Shelley declared they would be the most
impressive of all. There was a poem concerning a young woman, one
Charlotte Somebody, who attempted to assassinate Robespierre, or some such
person; and there was to have been a rapturous monologue to the dagger of
Brutus. The composition of such a piece was no mean effort of the Muse. It
was completed at last, but not in time; as the dagger itself has probably
fallen a prey to rust, so the more pointed and polished monologue, it is
to be feared, has also perished through a more culpable neglect.
A few copies were sent, as a special favour, to trusty and sagacious
friends at a distance, whose gravity would not permit them to suspect a
hoax. They read and admired, being charmed with the wild notes of
liberty. Some, indeed, presumed to censure mildly certain passages as
having been thrown off in too bold a vein. Nor was a certain success
wanting--the remaining copies were rapidly sold in Oxford at the
aristocratical price of half-a-crown for half-a-dozen pages. We used to
meet gownsmen in High Street reading the goodly volume as they
walked--pensive, with a grave and sage delight--some of them, perhaps,
more pensive because it seemed to portend the instant overthrow of all
royalty from a king to a court card.
What a strange delusion to admire our stuff--the concentrated essence of
nonsense! It was indeed a kind of fashion to be seen reading it in public,
as a mark of a nice discernment, of a delicate and fastidious taste in
poetry, and the very criterion of a choice spirit.
Nobody suspected, or could suspect, who was the author. The thing passed
off as the genuine production of the would-be regicide. It is marvellous,
in truth, how little talent of any kind there was in our famous
University in those days; there was no great encouragement, however, to
display intellectual gifts.
The acceptance, as a serious poem, of a work so evidently designed for a
burlesque upon the prevailing notion of the day, that revolutionary
ruffians were the most fit recipients of the gentlest passions, was a
foretaste of the prodigious success that, a few years later, attended a
still more whimsical paradox. Poets had sung already that human ties put
love at once to flight; that at the sight of civil obligations he spreads
his light wings in a moment and makes default. The position was soon
greatly extended, and we were taught by a noble poet that even the
slightest recognition of the law of nations was fatal to the tender
passion. The very captain of a privateer was pronounced incapable of a
pure and ardent attachment; the feeble control of letters of marque could
effectually check the course of affection; a complete union of souls could
only be accomplished under the black flag. Your true lover must
necessarily be an enemy of the whole human race--a mere and absolute
pirate. It is true that the tales of the love-sick buccaneers were adorned
with no ordinary talent, but the theory is not less extraordinary on that
account.
The operation of Peg Nicholson was bland and innoxious. The next work that
Shelley printed was highly deleterious, and was destined to shed a baneful
influence over his future progress. In itself it was more harmless than
the former, but it was turned to a deadly poison by the unprovoked malice
of fortune.
We had read together attentively several of the metaphysical works that
were most in vogue at that time, as Locke _Concerning Human
Understanding_, and Hume's _Essays_, particularly the latter, of which we
had made a very careful analysis, as was customary with those who read the
_Ethics_ and the other treatises of Aristotle for their degree. Shelley
had the custody of these papers, which were chiefly in his handwriting,
although they were the joint production of both in our common daily
studies. From these, and from a small part of them only, he made up a
little book, and had it printed, I believe, in the country, certainly not
at Oxford. His motive was this. He not only read greedily all the
controversial writings on subjects interesting to him which he could
procure, and disputed vehemently in conversation with his friends, but he
had several correspondents with whom he kept up the ball of doubt in
letters; of these he received many, so that the arrival of the postman was
always an anxious moment with him. This practice he had learned of a
physician, from whom he had taken instructions in chemistry, and of whose
character and talents he often spoke with profound veneration. It was,
indeed, the usual course with men of learning formerly, as their
biographies and many volumes of such epistles testify. The physician was
an old man, and a man of the old school. He confined his epistolary
discussions to matters of science, and so did his disciple for some
time; but when metaphysics usurped the place in his affections that
chemistry had before held, the latter gradually fell into discepations,
respecting existences still more subtle than gases and the electric fluid.
The transition, however, from physics to metaphysics was gradual. Is the
electric fluid material? he would ask his correspondent; is light--is the
vital principle in vegetables--in brutes--is the human soul?
His individual character had proved an obstacle to his inquiries, even
whilst they were strictly physical. A refuted or irritated chemist had
suddenly concluded a long correspondence by telling his youthful opponent
that he would write to his master, and have him well flogged. The
discipline of a public school, however salutary in other respects, was not
favourable to free and fair discussions, and Shelley began to address
inquiries anonymously, or rather, that he might receive an answer, as
Philalethes, and the like; but, even at Eton, the postmen do not
ordinarily speak Greek. To prevent miscarriages, therefore it was
necessary to adopt a more familiar name, as John Short or Thomas Long.
When he came to Oxford, he retained and extended his former practice
without quitting the convenient disguise of an assumed name. His object in
printing the short abstract of some of the doctrines of Hume was to
facilitate his epistolary disquisitions. It was a small pill, but it
worked powerfully. The mode of operation was this: he enclosed a copy in a
letter and sent it by the post, stating, with modesty and simplicity, that
he had met accidentally with that little tract, which appeared unhappily
to be quite unanswerable. Unless the fish was too sluggish to take the
bait, an answer of refutation was forwarded to an appointed address in
London, and then, in a vigorous reply, he would fall upon the unwary
disputant and break his bones. The strenuous attack sometimes provoked a
rejoinder more carefully prepared, and an animated and protracted debate
ensued. The party cited, having put in his answer, was fairly in court,
and he might get out of it as he could. The chief difficulty seemed to
be to induce the person addressed to acknowledge the jurisdiction, and to
plead; and this, Shelley supposed, would be removed by sending, in the
first instance, a printed syllabus instead of written arguments. An
accident greatly facilitated his object. We had been talking some time
before about geometrical demonstration; he was repeating its praises,
which he had lately read in some mathematical work, and speaking of its
absolute certainty and perfect truth.
I said that this superiority partly arose from the confidence of
mathematicians, who were naturally a confident race, and were seldom
acquainted with any other science than their own; that they always put a
good face upon the matter, detailing their arguments dogmatically and
doggedly, as if there was no room for doubt, and concluded, when weary of
talking in their positive strain, with Q.E.D.: in which three letters
there was so powerful a charm, that there was no instance of anyone having
ever disputed any argument or proposition to which they were subscribed.
He was diverted by this remark, and often repeated it, saying, if you ask
a friend to dinner, and only put Q.E.D. at the end of the invitation, he
cannot refuse to come; and he sometimes wrote these letters at the end of
a common note, in order, as he said, to attain to a mathematical
certainty. The potent characters were not forgotten when he printed his
little syllabus; and their efficacy in rousing his antagonists was quite
astonishing.
It is certain that the three obnoxious letters had a fertilising effect,
and raised crops of controversy; but it would be unjust to deny that an
honest zeal stimulated divers worthy men to assert the truth against an
unknown assailant. The praise of good intention must be conceded; but it
is impossible to accord that of powerful execution also to his
antagonists; this curious correspondence fully testified the deplorable
condition of education at that time. A youth of eighteen was able to
confute men who had numbered thrice as many years; to vanquish them on
their own ground, although he gallantly fought at a disadvantage by taking
the wrong side.
His little pamphlet was never offered for sale; it was not addressed to an
ordinary reader, but to the metaphysician alone, and it was so short, that
it was only designed to point out the line of argument. It was, in truth,
a general issue, a compendious denial of every allegation, in order to put
the whole case in proof; it was a formal mode of saying you affirm so and
so, then prove it, and thus was it understood by his more candid and
intelligent correspondents. As it was shorter, so was it plainer, and,
perhaps in order to provoke discussion, a little bolder, than Hume's
_Essays_--a book which occupies a conspicuous place in the library of
every student. The doctrine, if it deserves the name, was precisely
similar; the necessary and inevitable consequence of Locke's philosophy,
and of the theory that all knowledge is from without. I will not admit
your conclusions, his opponent might answer; then you must deny those of
Hume; I deny them; but you must deny those of Locke also, and we will go
back together to Plato. Such was the usual course of argument. Sometimes,
however, he rested on mere denial, holding his adversary to strict proof,
and deriving strength from his weakness.
The young Platonist argued thus negatively through the love of argument,
and because he found a noble joy in the fierce shocks of contending minds.
He loved truth, and sought it everywhere and at all hazards frankly and
boldly, like a man who deserved to find it; but he also loved dearly
victory in debate, and warm debate for its own sake. Never was there a
more unexceptionable disputant; he was eager beyond the most ardent, but
never angry and never personal; he was the only arguer I ever knew who
drew every argument from the nature of the thing, and who could never be
provoked to descend to personal contentions. He was fully inspired,
indeed, with the whole spirit of the true logician; the more obvious and
indisputable the proposition which his opponent undertook to maintain,
the more complete was the triumph of his art if he could refute and
prevent him.
To one who was acquainted with the history of our University, with its
ancient reputation as the most famous school of logic, it seemed that the
genius of the place, after an absence of several generations, had deigned
to return at last; the visit, however, as it soon appeared, was ill-timed.
The schoolman of old, who occasionally laboured with technical subtleties
to prevent the admission of the first principles of belief, could not have
been justly charged with the intention of promoting scepticism; his was
the age of minute and astute disceptation, it is true, but it was also the
epoch of the most firm, resolute and extensive faith. I have seen a
dexterous fencing-master, after warning his pupil to hold his weapon fast,
by a few turns of his wrist throw it suddenly on the ground and under his
feet; but it cannot be pretended that he neglected to teach the art of
self-defence, because he apparently deprived his scholar of that which
is essential to the end proposed. To be disarmed is a step in the science
of arms, and whoever has undergone it has already put his foot within the
threshold; so it is likewise with refutation.
In describing briefly the nature of Shelley's epistolary contention, the
recollection of his youth, his zeal, his activity, and particularly of
many individual peculiarities, may have tempted me to speak sometimes with
a certain levity, notwithstanding the solemn importance of the topics
respecting which they were frequently maintained. The impression that they
were conducted on his part, or considered by him, with frivolity or any
unseemly lightness, would, however, be most erroneous; his whole frame of
mind was grave, earnest and anxious, and his deportment was reverential,
with an edification reaching beyond the age--an age wanting in reverence,
an unlearned age, a young age, for the young lack learning. Hume permits
no object of respect to remain; Locke approaches the most awful
speculations with the same indifference as if he were about to handle
the properties of triangles; the small deference rendered to the most holy
things by the able theologian Paley is not the least remarkable of his
characteristics.
Wiser and better men displayed anciently, together with a more profound
erudition, a superior and touching solemnity; the meek seriousness of
Shelley was redolent of those good old times before mankind had been
despoiled of a main ingredient in the composition of happiness--a
well-directed veneration.
Whether such disputations were decorous or profitable may be perhaps
doubtful; there can be no doubt, however, since the sweet gentleness of
Shelley was easily and instantly swayed by the mild influences of friendly
admonition, that, had even the least dignified of his elders suggested the
propriety of pursuing his metaphysical inquiries with less ardour, his
obedience would have been prompt and perfect.
Not only had all salutary studies been long neglected in Oxford at that
time, and all wholesome discipline was decayed, but the splendid
endowments of the University were grossly abused. The resident authorities
of the college were too often men of the lowest origin, of mean and sordid
souls, destitute of every literary attainment, except that brief and
narrow course of reading by which the first degree was attained: the
vulgar sons of vulgar fathers, without liberality, and wanting the manners
and the sympathies of gentlemen.
A total neglect of all learning, an unseemly turbulence, the most
monstrous irregularities, open and habitual drunkenness, vice and
violence, were tolerated or encouraged with the basest sycophancy, that
the prospect of perpetual licentiousness might fill the colleges with
young men of fortune; whenever the rarely exercised power of coercion was
extorted, it demonstrated the utter incapacity of our unworthy rulers by
coarseness, ignorance and injustice.
If a few gentlemen were admitted to fellowships, they were always absent;
they were not persons of literary pretensions, or distinguished by
scholarship, and they had no more share in the government of the college
than the overgrown guardsmen, who, in long white gaiters, bravely protect
the precious life of the sovereign against such assailants as the tenth
Muse, our good friend Mrs Nicholson.
As the term was drawing to a close, and a great part of the books we were
reading together still remained unfinished, we had agreed to increase our
exertions, and to meet at an early hour.
It was a fine spring morning on Lady Day, in the year 1811, when I went to
Shelley's rooms; he was absent, but before I had collected our books he
rushed in. He was terribly agitated. I anxiously inquired what had
happened.
"I am expelled," he said, as soon as he had recovered himself a little. "I
am expelled! I was sent for suddenly a few minutes ago; I went to the
common room, where I found our master and two or three of the fellows. The
master produced a copy of the little syllabus, and asked me if I were the
author of it. He spoke in a rude, abrupt and insolent tone. I begged to
be informed for what purpose he put the question. No answer was given; but
the master loudly and angrily repeated, 'Are you the author of this book?'
'If I can judge from your manner,' I said, 'you are resolved to punish me
if I should acknowledge that it is my work. If you can prove that it is,
produce your evidence; it is neither just nor lawful to interrogate me in
such a case and for such a purpose. Such proceedings would become a court
of inquisitors, but not free men in a free country.' 'Do you choose to
deny that this is your composition?' the master reiterated in the same
rude and angry voice."
Shelley complained much of his violent and ungentlemanlike deportment,
saying, "I have experienced tyranny and injustice before, and I well know
what vulgar violence is; but I never met with such unworthy treatment. I
told him calmly and firmly, that I was determined not to answer any
questions respecting the publication on the table. He immediately repeated
his demand. I persisted in my refusal, and he said furiously, 'Then you
are expelled, and I desire you will quit the college early to-morrow
morning at the latest.' One of the fellows took up two papers and handed
one of them to me; here it is." He produced a regular sentence of
expulsion, drawn up in due form, under the seal of the college.
Shelley was full of spirit and courage, frank and fearless; but he was
likewise shy, unpresuming and eminently sensitive. I have been with him in
many trying situations of his after-life, but I never saw him so deeply
shocked and so cruelly agitated as on this occasion. A nice sense of
honour shrinks from the most distant touch of disgrace, even from the
insults of those men whose contumely can bring no shame. He sat on the
sofa, repeating with convulsive vehemence the words "Expelled, expelled!"
his head shaking with emotion, and his whole frame quivering. The
atrocious injustice and its cruel consequences roused the indignation and
moved the compassion of a friend who then stood by Shelley. He has given
the following account of his interference:--
"So monstrous and so illegal did the outrage seem, that I held it to be
impossible that any man, or any body of men, would dare to adhere to it;
but, whatever the issue might be, it was a duty to endeavour to the utmost
to assist him. I at once stepped forward, therefore, as the advocate of
Shelley: such an advocate, perhaps, with respect to judgment, as might be
expected at the age of eighteen, but certainly not inferior to the most
practised defenders in good will and devotion. I wrote a short note to the
masters and fellows, in which, as far as I can remember a very hasty
composition after a long interval, I briefly expressed my sorrow at the
treatment my friend had experienced, and my hope that they would
reconsider their sentence since, by the same course of proceeding, myself,
or any other person, might be subjected to the same penalty, and to the
imputation of equal guilt. The note was despatched; the conclave was still
sitting, and in an instant the porter came to summon me to attend,
bearing in his countenance a promise of the reception which I was about to
find. The angry and troubled air of men assembled to commit injustice
according to established forms was then new to me, but a native instinct
told me, as soon as I had entered the room, that it was an affair of
party; that whatever could conciliate the favour of patrons was to be done
without scruple, and whatever could tend to impede preferment was to be
brushed away without remorse. The glowing master produced my poor note. I
acknowledged it, and he forthwith put into my hand, not less abruptly, the
little syllabus. 'Did you write this?' he asked, as fiercely as if I alone
stood between him and the rich see of Durham. I attempted, submissively,
to point out to him the extreme unfairness of the question, the injustice
of punishing Shelley for refusing to answer it; that if it were urged upon
me I must offer the like refusal, as I had no doubt every man in college
would, every gentleman, indeed, in the University, which, if such a course
were adopted with all, and there could not be any reason why it should
be used with one and not with the rest, would thus be stripped of every
member. I soon perceived that arguments were thrown away upon a man
possessing no more intellect or erudition, and far less renown, than that
famous ram, since translated to the stars, through grasping whose tail
less firmly than was expedient, the sister of Phryxus formerly found a
watery grave, and gave her name to the broad Hellespont.
"The other persons present took no part in the conversation; they presumed
not to speak, scarcely to breathe, but looked mute subserviency. The few
resident fellows, indeed, were but so many incarnations of the spirit of
the master, whatever that spirit might be. When I was silent, the master
told me to retire, and to consider whether I was resolved to persist in my
refusal. The proposal was fair enough. The next day or the next week, I
might have given my final answer--a deliberate answer; having in the
meantime consulted with older and more experienced persons, as to what
course was best for myself and for others. I had scarcely passed the door,
however, when I was recalled. The master again showed me the book, and
hastily demanded whether I admitted or denied that I was the author of it.
I answered that I was fully sensible of the many and great inconveniences
of being dismissed with disgrace from the University, and I specified some
of them, and expressed a humble hope that they would not impose such a
mark of discredit upon me without any cause. I lamented that it was
impossible either to admit or to deny the publication--no man of spirit
could submit to do so--and that a sense of duty compelled me respectfully
to refuse to answer the question which had been proposed. 'Then you are
expelled,' said the master, angrily, in a loud, great voice. A formal
sentence, duly signed and sealed, was instantly put into my hand: in what
interval the instrument had been drawn up I cannot imagine. The alleged
offence was contumacious refusal to disavow the imputed publication. My
eye glanced over it, and observing the word _contumaciously_, I said
calmly that I did not think that term was justified by my behaviour.
Before I had concluded the remark, the master, lifting up the little
syllabus, and then dashing it on the table and looking sternly at me,
said, 'Am I to understand, sir, that you adopt the principles contained in
this work?' or some such words; for like one red with the suffusion of
college port and college ale, the intense heat of anger seemed to deprive
him of the power of articulation, by reason of a rude provincial dialect
and thickness of utterance, his speech being at all times indistinct. 'The
last question is still more improper than the former,' I replied, for I
felt that the imputation was an insult; 'and since, by your own act, you
have renounced all authority over me, our communication is at an end.' 'I
command you to quit my college to-morrow at an early hour.' I bowed and
withdrew. I thank God I have never seen that man since; he is gone to his
bed, and there let him sleep. Whilst he lived, he ate freely of the
scholar's bread and drank from his cup, and he was sustained, throughout
the whole term of his existence, wholly and most nobly, by those sacred
funds that were consecrated by our pious forefathers to the advancement of
learning. If the vengeance of the all-patient and long-contemned gods can
ever be roused, it will surely be by some such sacrilege! The favour which
he showed to scholars and his gratitude have been made manifest. If he
were still alive, he would doubtless be as little desirous that his zeal
should now be remembered as those bigots who had been most active in
burning Archbishop Cranmer could have been to publish their officiousness
during the reign of Elizabeth."
Busy rumour has ascribed, on what foundation I know not, since an active
and searching inquiry has not hitherto been made, the infamy of having
denounced Shelley to the pert, meddling tutor of a college of inferior
note, a man of an insalubrious and inauspicious aspect. Any paltry fellow
can whisper a secret accusation; but a certain courage, as well as
malignity, is required by him who undertakes to give evidence openly
against another; to provoke thereby the displeasure of the accused, of his
family and friends, and to submit his own veracity and his motives to
public scrutiny. Hence the illegal and inquisitorial mode of proceeding by
interrogation, instead of the lawful and recognised course by the
production of witnesses. The disposal of ecclesiastical preferment has
long been so reprehensible, the practice of desecrating institutions that
every good man desires to esteem most holy is so inveterate, that it is
needless to add that the secret accuser was rapidly enriched with the most
splendid benefices, and finally became a dignitary of the Church. The
modest prelate did not seek publicity in the charitable and dignified act
of deserving; it is not probable, therefore, that he is anxious at present
to invite an examination of the precise nature of his deserts.
The next morning at eight o'clock Shelley and his friend set out together
for London on the top of a coach; and with his final departure from the
University these reminiscences of his life at Oxford terminate. The
narrative of the injurious effects of this cruel, precipitate, unjust and
illegal expulsion upon the entire course of his subsequent life would not
be wanting in interest or instruction, when the scene was changed from the
quiet seclusion of academic groves and gardens, and the calm valley of our
silvery Isis, to the stormy ocean of that vast and shoreless world, to the
utmost violence of which he was, at an early age, suddenly and unnaturally
abandoned.
THE END
EDINBURGH
COLSTON AND COY, LIMITED
PRINTERS
Transcriber's Notes:
Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_.
The following misprints have been corrected:
"surrrounding" corrected to "surrounding" (page 5)
"gometricians" corrected to "geometricians" (page 83)
End of Project Gutenberg's Shelley at Oxford, by Thomas Jefferson Hogg