too, was most probably written the beautiful if inconclusive ‘Essay on Christianity,’ first printed in ‘Shelley Memorials’ (1859), which shows so remarkable a progress from the prejudice and unreason of the notes to ‘Queen Mab.’
In May 1816 this repose was interrupted by a hasty flight to the continent, precipitated in all probability by the unbearable annoyance of Godwin's affairs. Godwin's pecuniary embarrassments had led him to revise his opinion of Shelley's conduct. He importuned Shelley for money, which Shelley was for a time only too ready to supply; but patience failed at last, and, weary of perpetual contest, he withdrew from the scene with more expedition than dignity. The influence of Jane, or, as she now called herself, Claire Clairmont, no doubt also contributed to their departure, although both Shelley and Mary were ignorant of the liaison with Byron which made her anxious to join him in Switzerland. Shelley now met Byron there for the first time, and little as their characters had in common, similarity of fortune and affinity of genius made them friends. ‘The most gentle, the most amiable, and the least worldly-minded person I ever met,’ said Byron afterwards. ‘I have seen nothing like him, and never shall again, I am certain.’ They travelled together, and Byron's poetry, to its great advantage, was deeply influenced by his new friendship. Shelley composed his ‘Mont Blanc,’ and Mary conceived and partly wrote her ‘Frankenstein.’ Returning to England in the autumn, they established themselves at Bath, prior to occupying the house which, probably at Peacock's recommendation, they had taken at Great Marlow, where two stunning blows fell upon them. The melancholy death of Fanny Godwin, Mary's half-sister [see Godwin, William, the younger, and Godwin, Mrs. Mary Wollstonecraft], was succeeded by the dismal tragedy of Harriet Shelley. Learning that she had quitted her father's house, Shelley was having every search made for her, when, on 10 Dec. 1816, her body was taken from the Serpentine, where it had been for three or four weeks. She was apparently in an advanced state of pregnancy (cf. Times, 12 Dec. 1816; the verdict at the inquest on ‘Harriet Smith’ was ‘Found drowned’). The circumstances immediately occasioning her death are too obscure to be investigated with profit. Shelley certainly had no share in them, but his relations with her were no doubt present to his mind when he afterwards spoke of himself as ‘a prey to the reproaches of memory.’ He hastened, nevertheless, to perform the obvious duty of giving his union with Mary a legal sanction (they were married on 30 Dec. at St. Mildred's, in the city of London), and next endeavoured to obtain his two children by Harriet (Ianthe and Charles Bysshe) from her relatives. The case went before the court of chancery, and, by a memorable decision of Lord Eldon, on 27 March 1817, was decided against Shelley. Early in this year (1817) appeared Shelley's ‘Proposal for putting Reform to the Vote throughout the Kingdom. By the Hermit of Marlow,’ London, 8vo; and, under a like pseudonym, he issued in the same year ‘An Address to the People on the Death of the Princess Charlotte’ (London, 1843, 8vo; being a reprint of the lost edition of 1817).
A son, William, had been born to Shelley and Mary Godwin in January 1816, and September 1817 saw the birth of a daughter, Clara. The household was further augmented by the company of Claire and her child Allegra, the fruit of her amour with Byron, which had ended in mutual disgust and bitter recrimination. Peacock was a near neighbour, but a closer friend was Leigh Hunt, whom Shelley had come to know upon his return from Switzerland, and whose delicate attentions had soothed the miseries of the preceding winter. Shelley gave him 1,400l. to relieve his difficulties—a noble action, if it had not been performed at the expense of others who had juster claims upon him. He made the acquaintance of Keats through Leigh Hunt, but it did not become intimacy. Coleridge he never met, to the loss of both. Godwin renewed his importunities for pecuniary help, which, after a long display of patience and magnanimity on Shelley's part, ended in complete estrangement. Nothing gives a higher idea of the energy of Shelley's mind than that, amid all these troubles, the most ambitious of his poems should have been written within six months. ‘The Revolt of Islam’ (London, 1818, 8vo)—originally called ‘Laon and Cythna’ (a few copies were printed under this title in 1817), and wisely altered before publication—may be described as a poet's impassioned vision of the French revolution and the succeeding reaction. Compared with the later ‘Prometheus Unbound’ it is the product of a mighty ferment, as the other poem is of the calm ensuing upon it. The music of its Spenserian stanza is unsurpassed in the language; and although the middle part is somewhat tedious, Shelley never excelled the opening and the close—Cythna's education and bridal, the picture of the fallen tyrant, the tremendous scenes of pestilence and famine; above all, perhaps, the dedication to Mary. It was written partly on a high
