find the consolation of sympathy. I sometimes feel faint with the fatigue of checking the overflowing of my unbounded abhorrence for this miserable wretch. But she is no more than a blind and loathsome worm that cannot see to sting.'

Shelley felt keenly the contrast of the peaceful home in which he was staying with his Some years afterwards, in 1819, he wrote to Peacock:

own.

'I could not help considering Mrs. B. when I knew her as the most admirable specimen of a human being I had ever seen. Nothing earthly ever appeared to me more perfect than her character and manners. It is improbable that I shall ever meet again the person whom I so much esteem and still admire. I wish, however, that when you see her you would tell her that I have not forgotten her, nor any of the amiable circle once assembled around her; and that I desired such remembrances to her as an exile and a Pariah may be permitted to address to an acknowledged member of the community of mankind.'

With Mrs. Boinville and her daughter, Mrs. Turner, he now made his first acquaintance with Italian. On March 26 he remarried Harriet, who had not been with him for the previous month, in St. George's Church, London, in order to place beyond doubt the validity of the Scotch marriage and the rights of his children. Shortly afterwards, in April, Harriet again left him, and to this month belongs the poem, 'Stanza, April, 1814,' the most melancholy verses he had yet written, in which he speaks of his sad and silent home,' and 'its desolated hearth.' During the next month Harriet was still away; and, at some time in it, he addressed to her the stanzas, 'To Harriet, May, 1814,' in which he appeals to her to return to him and restore his happiness, tells her that her feeling is ' remorseless,' that it is 'malice,' 'revenge,'' pride,' and begs her to 'pity if thou canst not love.' There is no evidence that Harriet rejoined Shelley, and, when her residence is next discovered, in July, she was living at Bath apparently with her sister. The story of Harriet's voluntarily leaving Shelley may have sprung from this protracted absence. Meanwhile Shelley had met Godwin's daughter, Mary, a girl of sixteen, who is described as golden-haired, with a pale, pure face, hazel eyes, a somewhat grave manner, and strength both of mind and will. Early in June he was feeling a strong attraction toward her. He confided in her, and out of their intimacy, through her sympathy, sprang that mutual love which soon became passion. The stanzas To Mary, June, 1814,' show deep feeling and a sense of doubtfulness in their position, but do not disclose any thought or suggestion of a relation other than friendship. But to Shelley, who was suffering deeply and was indeed wretched, it was not unnatural that he should reflect whether this was not one of those occasions justifying separation, which he had always held should be met by putting an end to a relation which had become false. This was his view of marriage, well known to Harriet at the time that he married her, when he had observed the ceremony for her sake, and openly repeated in his writings dedicated to her within a year. Shelley would not violate his principles by such an action; nor could it be pleaded that he had taken up with this view after obligations already incurred or subsequent to the incidents which made him desire a change. Harriet probably did not realize what Shelley's convictions were, and may have been deceived by her experience of his disposition. The natural inference from the state of the facts, which, at best, are imperfectly known, is that, as Shelley had now come of age and was in a position to make his rights of property felt, Harriet, under the guidance of her sister, who had been the intriguer from the start, desired such a settlement as would put her in possession of the social position and privileges which were at Shelley's command; that differences arose in the home, possibly on the comparatively slight question whether Eliza should continue to live with

them; and that Harriet, swayed by her sister, was endeavoring to subdue Shelley to her way by a certain hardness in her conduct, and by if not refusing to live with him, refraining from doing so. But Shelley, on his part, in Harriet's absence, had come to love Mary, and to see in following that love the way of escape from his troubles. The time was one of intense mental excitement to him, especially when the crisis came early in July. He secured Mary's consent. She was the daughter of Mary Wollstonecraft and of Godwin, and derived from both parents the same principles of marriage, both by practice and precept, that Shelley held. In their own eyes neither of them was committing a wrong. Shelley sent for Harriet. She came to London, and he told her his determination. She was greatly shocked and made ill by the disclosure. Shelley acted with a certain deliberation as well as with openness. He directed settlements to be made for Harriet's maintenance, and saw that she was supplied with money for the present. At the same time his state of mind was one of conflict and distress. Peacock describes

'Nothing that I ever read in tale or history could present a more striking image of a sudden, violent, irresistible, uncontrollable passion, than that under which I found him laboring, when, at his request, I went up from the country to call on him in London. Between his old feelings toward Harriet, from whom he was not then separated, and his new passion for Mary, he showed in his looks, in his gestures, in his speech, the state of a mind "suffering like a little kingdom the nature of an insurrection." His eyes were bloodshot, his hair and dress disordered. He caught up a bottle of laudanum and said, "I never part from this." He added, "I am always repeating to myself your lines from Sophocles :

"Man's happiest lot is not to be:

And when we tread life's thorny steep

Most blest are they who earliest free
Descend to death's eternal sleep.'

Mary appears to have been determined at last by fears for Shelley's life, and on July 28 she left England with him.

It is unfortunately necessary to notice another element in the situation. It is the testimony of the common friends of Harriet and Shelley - Hogg, Peacock, and Hookham that, up to the period of their parting, she was pure. It is said, indeed, on what must be regarded as the very doubtful authority of Miss Clairmont, that Shelley persuaded Mary to go by asserting Harriet's unfaithfulness. What is certain is that, after Harriet's death, he wrote to Mary, January 11, 1817, 'I learned just now from Godwin that he has evidence that Harriet was unfaithful to me four months before I left England with you.' That Godwin had such a story is known by his own evidence. The name of an obscure person, Ryan, who was acquainted with the family as early as the summer of 1813, was brought into connection with the affair. Shelley at one time doubted the paternity of his second child, Charles Bysshe, born in November, 1814, but he was afterwards satisfied that he was in error. I do not find any reliable evidence that Shelley ever maintained that he was convinced in July, 1814, of Harriet's infidelity. He afterwards believed that she had been in fault, as is shown by his letter to Southey in 1820, in which he maintains the rightfulness of his conduct: 'I take God to witness, if such a being is now regarding both you and me; and I pledge myself, if we meet, as perhaps you expect, before Him after death, to repeat the same in his presence that you accuse me wrongfully. I am innocent of ill, either done or intended. The consequence you allude to flowed in no respect from me.' At the time of the event itself, it was not necessary

to Shelley's mind to have a justification which would appeal to all the world and ordinary ways of thinking; but, when time disclosed such justification, he made use of it to strengthen his action in his own eyes and the eyes of Mary, and, though only by implication, in Southey's judgment. He appears never to have mentioned the matter to others. Shelley's habitual reticence was far greater than he has ever received credit for.

Shelley and Mary had for a companion on their voyage Miss Clairmont, a daughter of the second Mrs. Godwin by her first marriage. They visited Paris, crossed France, and stopped on the shores of Lake Lucerne, near Brunnen. There they remained but a short time, and, descending the Rhine to Cologne, journeyed by Rotterdam to England, where they arrived September 13. Peacock describes the following winter as the most solitary period of Shelley's life. He settled in London, and was greatly embarrassed with his affairs, endeavoring to raise money and to keep out of the way of creditors. He had written to Harriet during his journey, often saw her in London, and seems to have been upon pleasant terms with her. Godwin, who had at first been very angry, renewed his relations under the stress of his own financial difficulties, and the money to be had from Shelley. In January, 1815, old Sir Bysshe's death greatly improved Shelley's position by making him the immediate heir. He went home, and was refused admittance by his father; but negotiations could not be long delayed. They lasted for eighteen months. He was given the choice of entailing the entire estate, £200,000, surrendering his claim to that part of the property, £80,000, which could not be taken from him, and accepting a life interest, on which condition he should receive the whole; or, refusing this, he should be deprived of the £120,000, which would go to his younger brother, John. Shelley refused to execute the entail, which he thought wrong, and yielded the larger part of the property. To pay his immediate debts he sold his succession to the fee-simple of a portion of the estate, valued at £18,000, to his father for £11,000, in June, 1815, and by the same agreement received a fixed annual allowance of £1,000, and also a considerable sum of money. He sent Harriet £200 for her debts, and directed his bankers to pay her £200 annually from his allowance. Mr. Westbrook also continued to his daughter his allowance of £200, so that she now had £400 a year.

Early in this year Shelley was told that he was dying rapidly of consumption. His health was certainly broken before this time, but every symptom of pulmonary disease suddenly and completely passed away. In February Mary's first child was born, but died within a fortnight. In the spring he settled at Bishopgate and there wrote 'Alastor.' In 1816, Mary's second child, William, was born. In May, Shelley, with Mary and Miss Clairmont, left England for the Continent, and within two weeks arrived at Lake Geneva. There he became acquainted with Byron, and spent the summer boating with him. Unknown to Shelley or Mary, Miss Clairmont, before leaving London, had become Byron's mistress, and the intrigue went on at Geneva without their knowledge. There Shelley also met Monk Lewis. On returning to England, where he arrived September 7, he settled at Bath for some months. The two incidents that saddened the year occurred in quick succession. On October 8, Mary's half-sister Fanny, daughter of Mary Wollstonecraft and Imlay, committed suicide by taking laudanum at an inn in Swansea. Shelley was much shocked by this event, but another blow was in store for him. He seems to have lost sight of Harriet during his residence abroad, and it is doubtful whether he saw her after reaching England. She had received her allowances regularly. In November Shelley sought for and could not find her. It is affirmed that she was living under the protection of her father until shortly before her death. She was in lodgings, however, in that month, and did not return to them after November 9. On

December 10 her body was found in the Serpentine River. Of the two suicides, he said that he felt that of Fanny most acutely; but it is plain that, while he said at a later time she had a heart of stone,' the fate of Harriet brought a melancholy that was not to pass away, though he had ceased to love her. Unfortunately there is no doubt that she had erred in her life after leaving his protection, but the letters she wrote to an Irish friend excite pity and sympathy with her.

Shelley was married to Mary December 30, in St. Mildred's Church. He immediately undertook to recover his children from the Westbrooks. These children had been placed, before Harriet's death, under the care of the Rev. John Kendall, at Budbrooke. The Westbrooks were determined to contest Shelley's possession of them. The affair was brought into the Chancery Court. It was set forth that Shelley was a man of atheistical and immoral principles, and Queen Mab,' which had been distributed only in a private way, was offered in proof. The case was heard early in 1817 before Lord Eldon. Shelley was represented by his lawyers. On March 27 Lord Eldon gave judgment against Shelley, basing it on his opinions as affecting his conduct. The children were not placed in the hands of the Westbrooks, but were made wards, and the persons nominated by Shelley, Dr. and Mrs. Hume, were appointed guardians. Shelley was to be allowed to visit them twelve times in the year, but only in the presence of their guardians, and the Westbrooks were given the same privilege without that restriction. Shelley settled at Marlow early in 1817, having with him Miss Clairmont and her newborn child Allegra, and his own two children, William and Clara. In the summer he wrote The Revolt of Islam,' besides prose pamphlets upon politics; but he had now really begun his serious life as a poet. The only cloud on his happiness was the separation from his children, which his poems sufficiently illustrate. Hunt, with whom he was now intimate, says, that after the decision Shelley 'never dared to trust himself with mentioning their names in my hearing, though I had stood at his-side throughout the business.' He was in fear lest his other children should be taken from him; and he finally determined to leave England and settle in Italy, being partly led thereto by the state of his health, for which he was advised to try a warm climate.

The private and intimate view of Shelley, from the time of his union with Mary in the summer of 1814 to that of his final departure from England in the spring of 1818, is given by Peacock and Hunt. Peacock had become his familiar friend, though Shelley was less confidential with him than Peacock supposed. In the solitary winter of 1814-15, which was spent drearily in London, Peacock saw him often; and in the next summer, during his residence at Bishopgate, the pleasant voyage up the Thames to Lechlade was taken. It was on this excursion that Peacock's favorite prescription for Shelley's ills — 'three mutton chops well peppered' - effected so sudden a cure. Peacock attributes much of Shelley's physical ills to his vegetarian diet. He observes that whenever Shelley took a journey and was obliged to live on what he could get,' as Shelley said, he became better in health, so that his frequent wanderings were beneficial to him. On these journeys, he notes, too, Shelley always took with him pistols for self-defence, and laudanum as a resource from the extreme fits of pain to which he was subject. Shelley was apprehensive of personal danger, and he had a vague fear, till he left England, that his father would attempt to restrain his liberty on a charge of madness. He also had at one time the suspicion that he was afflicted with elephantiasis. Peacock took these incidents more seriously than is at all warranted. Shelley's mind was, in general, strong, active and sound; his industry, both in acquisition and creation, was remarkable; and the theory that be was really unbalanced in any material degree is not in harmony with his constant

intellectual power, his very noticeable practical sense and carefulness in such business as he had to execute, and his adherence to fact in those cases where his account can be tested by another's. He had visions, both waking and sleeping; he had wandering fears that became ideas temporarily, perhaps approaching the point of hallucination; but to give such incidents, which are not extraordinary, undue weight is to disturb a just impression of Shelley's mind and life, as a whole, which were singularly distinguished by continual intellectual force, tenacity and consistency of principle, and studies and moral aims maintained in the midst of confusing and annoying affairs, perpetual discouragement, and bodily weariness and pain. The excess of ideality in him disturbed his judgment of women, but in other relations of life, except at times of illness, he did not vary from the normal more than is the lot of genius.

Peacock brings out, more than other friends, the manner of Shelley, his temperance in discussion, especially when his own affairs were concerned, and his serene demeanor. One anecdote is illustrative of this courtesy, and at the same time indicates that limitation under which his friendship with Peacock went on:

'I was walking with him in Bisham Wood, and we had been talking in the usual way of our ordinary subjects, when he suddenly fell into a gloomy reverie. I tried to rouse him out of it, and made some remarks which I thought might make him laugh at his own abstraction. Suddenly he said to me, still with the same gloomy expression: "There is one thing to which I have decidedly made up my mind. I will take a great glass of ale every night." I said, laughingly, "A very good resolution, as the result of a melancholy musing." "Yes," he said, "but you do not know why I take it. I shall do it to deaden my feelings; for I see that those who drink ale have none." The next day he said to me, "You must have thought me very unreasonable yesterday evening?" I said, “I did, certainly." "Then," he said, "I will tell you what I would not tell any one else. I was thinking of Harriet." I told him I had no idea of such a thing; it was so long since he had named her.'

This is the single instance of expression of the remorse which Shelley felt for Harriet's fate.

Peacock mentions the heartiness of Shelley's laughter, in connection with his failure to cultivate a taste for comedy in him, for Shelley felt the pain of comedy and its necessary insensibility to finer humane feeling; but this did not make him enjoy less his familiar, harmless humor, in which there was a dash of his early wild spirits. He was always fond of amusements of a childlike sort. Peacock thought that it was from him Shelley learned the sport of sailing paper-boats, happy if he could load them with pennies for the boys on the other side of stream or pond. At Marlow he used to play with a little girl who had attracted him, pushing a table across the floor to her, and when he went away he gave her nuts and raisins heaped on a plate, which she kept through life in memory of him, and on her death willed it, so that it is now among the few personal relics of the poet. At Marlow, too, he visited the poor in their homes, as his custom was, helping and advising. His house there was a large one with many rooms, and handsomely furnished, the library being large enough for a ball-room, and the garden pleasant. Peacock's last service was to introduce him to the Italian opera, of which he became fond, just before leaving England.

Hunt had once seen Shelley in earlier years, and in prison had received letters of admiration and encouragement from him; but he did not really know him until the end of 1816, just at the time of Harriet's death. He is more evenly appreciative, and no such allowances as are made for Hogg and Peacock have to be observed in his case. Shelley