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CHAPTER VII.

ENGLAND AND SWITZERLAND: JUDGMENT OF THE LORD CHANCELLOR: THE "REVOLT OF ISLAM."

To the family of Godwin, Shelley had, from the period of his self-introduction at Keswick, been an object of interest; and the acquaintanceship which had sprung up between them during the poet's occasional visits to London had grown into a cordial friendship. It was in the society and sympathy of the Godwins that Shelley sought and found some relief in his present sorrow. He was still extremely young. His anguish, his isolation, his difference from other men, his gifts of genius and eloquent enthusiasm, made a deep impression on Godwin's daughter Mary, now a girl of sixteen, who had been accustomed to hear Shelley spoken of as something rare and strange. To her, as they met one eventful day in St. Pancras Churchyard, by her mother's grave, Bysshe, in burning words, poured forth the tale of his wild past-how he had suffered, how he had been misled, and how, if supported by her love, he hoped in future years to enrol his name with the wise and good who had done battle for their fellow

men, and been true through all adverse storms to the cause of humanity.

Unhesitatingly, she placed her hand in his, and linked her fortune with his own; and most truthfully, as the remaining portions of these Memorials will prove, was the pledge of both redeemed.

The theories in which the daughter of the authors of Political Justice and of the Rights of Woman had been educated, spared her from any conflict between her duty and her affection. For she was the child of parents whose writings had had for their object to prove that marriage was one among the many institutions which a new era in the history of mankind was about to sweep away. By her father, whom she loved-by the writings of her mother, whom she had been taught to venerate— these doctrines had been rendered familiar to her mind. It was, therefore, natural that she should listen to the dictates of her own heart, and willingly unite her fate with one who was so worthy of her love.

The short peace of 1814 having opened the Continent, they went abroad, and, having visited some of the most magnificent scenes of Switzerland, returned to England from Lucerne by the Reuss and the Rhine. This rivernavigation enchanted Shelley. He was never so happy as when he was in a boat, and "in his favourite poem of Thalaba,” as Mrs. Shelley records in her notes to her husband's works, "his imagination had been excited by a description of such a voyage.' His pleasure must therefore have been keen.

On the death of Sir Bysshe, in January, 1815,

Shelley's father inherited the title and the accumulated wealth. With respect to this event, Shelley records, in a journal which he kept :-" The will has been opened, and I am referred to Whitton" (Sir Timothy's legal adviser). "My father would not allow me to enter Field Place." Shelley Sidney-a half-brother of Sir Timothy — expressed his opinion that the will was a most extraordinary one. The death of the old baronet, however, placed the young poet in a better pecuniary position than he had ever yet occupied. Being now the direct heir to the estates, he could the more readily raise money for his immediate necessities; besides which, his father, yielding to the pressure of advice, allowed him 1,000l. a year. He was thus relieved from the painful stringency of his former condition.

In the winter months, at the commencement of this year, Shelley walked a hospital, for the purpose of acquiring some slight knowledge of surgery, which might enable him to alleviate the sufferings of the poor. Yet, at the very time he subjected himself to these painful and often harrowing experiences, he was himself in the most delicate state of health. In the spring, he was said by an eminent physician to be in a rapid consumption; and so far had the malady progressed that abscesses were formed on his lungs. His fragile nature was shaken by frequent paroxysms of pain, during which he was often obliged to lie on the ground, or to have recourse to the perilous sedative of laudaHe was at this time living in London. symptoms of pulmonary disorder subsequently left him,

num.

The

with a suddenness and completeness which seem to be unaccountable. A thorough change in his system supervened, and he was never again threatened with consumption; though he was at no time healthy, or free from the assaults of pain. This change, however, did not take place until some few years after the present date.

The summer of 1815 was partly occupied by a tour along the southern coast of Devonshire and a visit to Clifton. On the completion of these trips, Shelley rented a house on Bishopsgate Heath on the borders of Windsor Forest, the air of which neighbourhood did his health considerable service. The conclusion of the summer was very fine, and all things contributed to afford the worn spirits of Bysshe a brief interspace of happiness and calm. He visited the source of the Thames, together with a few friends, and on this occasion again indulged in the pleasure of boating-that pleasure which was in the end to lure him to his death. The party proceeded from Windsor to Cricklade in a wherry. "His beautiful stanzas in the churchyard of Lechlade," says Mrs. Shelley, in her collected edition of the 66 poems, were written on that occasion. Alastor was composed on his return. He spent his days under the oak shades of Windsor Great Park; and the magnificent woodland was a fitting study to inspire the various descriptions of forest scenery we find in the poem." This was the first production in verse which Shelley gave openly to the world.

In 1816, he again visited Switzerland, and made the

acquaintance of Lord Byron, for the first time, at Sécheron's hotel at Geneva, where the former was staying when the latter arrived there. Both poets

being ardent lovers of boating, they joined in the purchase of a small craft, in which, evening after evening, they made sailing excursions on the lake of Geneva, accompanied by Signor Polidori, a friend of Byron, though by no means of Shelley, who disliked him on account of the morbid vanity he was constantly exhibiting. Bysshe afterwards rented a house on the banks of the lake, and passed many days alone in the boat, reading or meditating, and resigning himself to the summer influences of winds and waters. On one occasion, when Shelley and Byron were sailing from Meillerie to St. Gingoux, a storm came on; the vessel was injured, and shipped a good deal of water; and, to make matters still worse, one of the boatmen stupidly mismanaged the sail. The loss of the boat seemed inevitable; and Shelley, being unable to swim, made up his mind that he should have to meet that death for which he was in fact only reserved until a later period. But the vessel righted, and got safely to the shore.

Mrs. Shelley has recorded that her husband's lines on Mont Blanc, and his Hymn to Intellectual Beauty, were written at this time. She thinks, however, that the genius of Shelley was in some measure checked by his association with Byron, "whose nature was utterly dissimilar to his own;" but that, at the same time, Shelley had a corresponding influence on Byron, as