Relative, friend,
editor Author
Figure 3
Conclusion
Thomas Weiskel’s description of the preface to Alastor hits upon many of the themes which have been explored herein:
That is astonishing, outrageous prose. I should be the last to deny its rhetorical power or the force of its bitterness, but ethically it makes no sense and it shows a deeply fractured mind defending itself. . . . The split results in the oxymoronic phrases—‘deluded by no generous error, instigated by no sacred thirst of doubtful knowledge, duped by no illustrious superstition’.623
Bloom concurs that Shelley “started as a split being, and ended as one, but his awareness of the division in his consciousness grew deeper, and produced finally the infernal vision of The Triumph of Life.”624 This split, what O’Neill would call ‘conflict’, is at the heart of my thesis. Shelley’s lyric mastery and his talent as a Gothic Romance novelist are two halves of one whole. But there is also the matter of his life, and of the way in which his choices often seemed to result in action contrary to his political vision. This is especially true of his treatment of Harriet. I would argue that the split grew greater over time, not less, in both his life and his art, and that his radical efforts to fight class privilege continued to the moment of his death. Cenci’s desire “to poison and corrupt” Beatrice’s soul can be seen as a means of attacking the patria potestas at its foundation – inequality of women, just as in Laon and Cythna. Shelley was an artist through and through, “a poet of the highest decorum,”625 and a radical to the core of his being. This radicalism was not a theory with him, but a practical reality to be manifested resolutely. Because enacting his ideals frequently placed Shelley and his loved ones at risk, he was evasive, a quality which manifests very early in his work and his life. Hence the conflicting stances in letters and publications, which make it difficult to ascertain where he stands. Shelley was ahead of his time, and he remains so.
Examining the novels in light of the later poetics was impossible to do without incorporating Shelley’s politics. I hope at least to have demonstrated that the novels are excellent works of art, politically sophisticated and psychologically astute, and that they influenced his later productions. In addition, knowledge of these works provides a new depth and insight for those who care to seek it out. The novels are not a requirement, as Shelley’s full power is written into his poetics, but they are a treasure, and one which he wanted hidden. Unlike Denis Diderot, Shelley published his novels, but then he disavowed them, and perhaps for the same reason that Diderot would not publish his novels in his lifetime – he knew that it was too soon. Yet Shelley wrote to Ollier, “Pray send me news of my
intellectual children. For ‘Prometheus’ I expect and desire no great sale. ‘The Cenci’ ought to have been popular.”626 This is expressive of the tender affection Shelley felt toward the Gothic.
In addition, the novels offer a new range of exploration, in particular concerning the issues of justice, suicide, gender roles, relations between the sexes, humor, and last but not least, action rooted in kindness. I often wonder what kind of an economic model Shelley would want to put in place in order
623
Thomas Weiskel, The Romantic Sublime (Baltimore: JHUP, 1976), 148. 624 Bloom, Ringers, 90.
625
Ibid., 115. 626
to achieve his vision. That I may never know. What is clear, however, is that he rests power with the individual, and a great power it is indeed. Under proper conditions, Gandhi, who had The Mask of Anarchy memorized, felt that if an individual pitted “one’s whole soul against the will of the tyrant” it would then be “possible for a single individual to defy the whole might of an unjust empire . . . and lay the foundation for that empire’s fall or its regeneration.”627 I believe Shelley was doing that against the evils which beset human civilizations, such as avarice, lust for power and defining women as property. In many ways, the choices Shelley made weakened him in the eyes of the patria potestas, and he himself is viewed as a strange creature, rather like a child or an angel, with Mary Shelley, his wife, in charge. This inversion of the paternalistic society is seen as progressive, but it is merely an inversion; critics portray relationships in the Shelley circle as highly competitive. This is an out-of-date
methodology; true feminism does not rest on such a hierarchy, nor is it exclusionary in nature. Mary Shelley is being used by experts as a perfect defense of the old order because Shelley’s choices were too threatening, and they remain so. I would be the first to admit that he is at the root, and that his
“oxymoronic phrases”, to use Weiskel’s term, can lead one on wild goose chases. In fact, he was using his position of privilege as a weapon against the patria potestas, and he enlisted those within his circle to help him. The relevant point here is that critics define Harriet and Mary in terms of their relationship to Shelley – a man and their husband – which is to say it is his actions in relation to each of them which determine their status. This reinforces the patria potestas, rather than calling it into question. The letters of Shelley concerning Harriet’s final days were intended to draw attention to this. It must be stressed that this is not to do to Mary what has been done to Harriet, but to stop the cycle of shame altogether.
Although the events of Shelley’s life cannot be ignored, they nevertheless can leave one in a quandary of quick sand which can be difficult to extricate oneself from, and which can become an impediment to appreciating him as a writer. But perhaps that is the point, that his politics, his prose and his poetics are inextricably linked. His lyric mastery when viewed with the novels in mind can result in discomfort, disillusionment and confusion, but that is emblematic of his power. Studying Shelley can take one out to sea, and leave one there – at sea. But losing anchor is necessary in order to be unhitched from the chains which bind us and to appreciate even a fraction of what he has to say. At the same time, his writing touches us in a way which is devoid of external social and political systems, and is free from the limits of time as well. I learned during the aftermath of the disaster in Northern Japan that the act of reading Shelley is empowering in and of itself, and is one which, as Ellis noted, can grow and grow if nurtured.628
Finally, I would like to end with a discussion of a poem which was written very near to Shelley’s death, only three weeks before, which is now kept in the Bodleian Library with The Triumph of Life manuscript. Its title is ‘Lines written in the Bay of Lerici’. It is a love poem, and Reiman and Fraistat have identified its subject as Jane Williams.629 The poem is addressed to the moon, “Bright wanderer, fair
627 Eknath Easwaran, Gandhi the Man, 2nd ed. (Petaluma, CA: Nilgiri Press, 1972, 1978), 156. 628
Ellis, “Some words”, 1:vii-viii. 629
coquette of Heaven” (l 1), and the salutation also applies to the lady in the poem, who is as fair as the moon “but far more true” (l 6). The woman “left me” (l 7 & 15), seeking “her Ocean nest / In the chambers of the west” (ll 13-14). This implies that she was loyal to the poet, is dead, having died in water, and is now in the Elysium Fields. Shelley still loves her “—O too much— / The soft vibrations of her touch / As if her gentle hand even now / Lightly trembled on my brow” (ll 21-24), and as he watches the boats gliding in and out of the bay, he imagines that they seek a cure for his broken heart: “As if to some Elysian star / They sailed for drink to medicine / Such sweet and bitter pain as mine” (ll 42-44).
Although multiple readings are possible with all of Shelley’s poems, it seems that this is for Harriet, Shelley’s first wife, because it captures a haunting melancholy which is not synonymous with the desire he felt for Jane Williams in the present time. It is a story of the past, and of a longing that can never be fulfilled. The inconstancy of the moon is mentioned by Juliet in Romeo and Juliet, and she also committed suicide at a young age for her beloved. The poem manifests a magical quality reminiscent of Queen Mab, a creation dedicated to Harriet, with “spirit-winged chariots sent / O’er some serenest element / To ministrations strange and far” (ll 39-41). Harriet drowned, leaving him (although he had left her first), and is an albatross around his neck, one which will never fall into the sea as it does in Coleridge’s poem.
But this poem is not only for Harriet, it is also for his muse, “Her presence had made weak and tame / All passions, and I lived alone, / In the time which is our own; / The past and future were forgot / As they had been, and would be, not—” (ll 28-32). The poem ends on a Gothic note, with graphic violence, which destroys the softness of the early part of the poem, but not its effect. The “fisher with his lamp” who “struck the fish who came / To worship the delusive flame” (ll 51-53) may be none other than Shelley himself, and this part of the poem could also be for Fanny Imlay. I would fill in the missing word in the final couplet as follows:
Too happy, they whose pleasure sought Extinguishes all sense and thought Of the regret that pleasure cease
Destroying life alone not peace. (ll 55-58)
“Familiar acts are beautiful through love” (Prometheus Unbound, Act IV, l 403), and study of Shelley’s youthful works in relation to the poetry has been such an act. Another side of Shelley is emerging, like the moon from behind a cloud, or lightning on a hot summer night. In part,
The loathsome mask has fallen, the man remains Sceptreless, free, uncircumscribed, but man Equal, unclassed, tribeless, and nationless, Exempt from awe, worship, degree, the king
Over himself. (Prometheus Unbound, Act III, Scene iv, ll 193-197)