Shelley: The Pursuit

by Richard Holmes

  An explosion of egalitarian ideas now began to take place in the little cramped lodgings at York. In the idea of his little community, Shelley had discovered a philosophic plan of action, and he was rapidly organizing new egalitarian principles to back it up with. These theories began to make him see even his own day-to-day existence in a transformed light, and he raged against the waste of time and effort expended on trivial domestic labour which had no meaning. He looked at the rooms around him like a revolutionary designer who is appalled by the lack of purity of function. ‘Every useless ornament, the pillars, the iron railings, the juttings of the wainscot, & as Southey says the cleaning of grates are all exertions of bodily labour, which tho’ trivial separately considered when united destroy a vast proportion of this valuable leisure — how many things could we do without, how unnecessary are mahogany tables, silver vases, myriads of viands & liquors, expensive printing that worst of all. Look even around some little habitation, the dirtiest cottage which has myriads of instances where ornament is sacrificed to cleanliness, or leisure.’4 Here once more, his natural puritanism was reasserting itself, and came to dominate the organization of his own menage. He loved a certain kind of scrubbed simplicity, as a Nonconformist loves a bare, blanched altar.

  Yet Shelley could be extravagant in his own way: he always spent heavily on books, on the most rapid available forms of transport, and occasionally on individual articles of clothing; he gave away money with reckless generosity, but he often promised far more than he could perform, and retained until the end of his life the old contemptuous aristocratic habit of running up local bills from small shopkeepers, merchants, agents and printers without scrupling to pay them if he could get away with it. ‘Vile as aristocracy is,’ he was inclined to say, ‘commerce, purse-proud ignorance & illiterateness is more contemptible.’5 This was all very well, but it pointed to a severe weakness in his temperament, not to mention his egalitarianism, and partly explains why in later years many of the middle-class radicals and writers, men as diverse as Hazlitt, Francis Place and John Keats, instinctively disliked and distrusted him. Someone, after all, has to clean the grates, and if Shelley was really after a new form of natural and functional existence, it would have to be himself. This was a fact of life he had yet to face.

  But for the moment he was preparing to do battle, rather than to settle into poverty-stricken domesticity. He decided to go to Field Place in person, as he had threatened, and attempt to get his allowance reinstated by ‘that mistaken man’. He went no longer as an eldest son claiming his right, but as an enemy of the vile aristocracy who was fighting for political justice on behalf of his little community of elect spirits, to pursue the ‘hateful task of combating prejudice and mistake’.6 Shelley left York on Thursday, 17 October, and, by travelling non-stop, reached his uncle’s house at Cuckfield on the night of Friday, 18 October. In his absence, Hogg was to care for Harriet. News of this arrangement reached Hogg’s family, and Mrs Hogg wrote instantly to Harriet warning her of the imprudence of remaining alone with her son. Besides, explained Mrs Hogg, Tom could not possibly support her; would she not prefer to go and stay with friends of Mrs Hogg’s acquaintance? Harriet replied with one of her short, admirably simple letters, and, to Mrs Hogg’s evident surprise, ‘much in the style of a gentlewoman’. She politely declined Mrs Hogg’s services; but she thanked her for her kindness in a situation which Mrs Hogg clearly did not understand. Mrs Hogg thought she understood the situation only too well. Her husband wrote gloomily to Timothy Shelley: the worst of it was that their two sons had resolved ‘never to part’.7 None the less this warning may have encouraged Harriet to make the fateful move of summoning Eliza, who arrived in York post-haste, and before Shelley’s own return.

  Shelley’s whirlwind campaign lasted four days, and by Tuesday, 23 October, he was again boarding the evening coach for York. In this short space of time he renewed relations with his champion, Captain Pilfold, and the Sister of his Soul, Miss Hitchener. He wrote to Thomas Medwin and asked him to organize a marriage settlement of £700 a year for Harriet. He sent a seething letter to his mother accusing her of an adulterous relationship with Edward Graham, the music-master,[1] and bombarded Timothy with demands for the £200, putting the whole Field Place household in a state of uproar and panic. Failing to achieve anything concrete in Sussex, he took the captain with him to London and tried to frighten the solicitor Whitton, but without success. Whitton and Shelley then mutually insulted each other by post, the latter writing on the outside page which formed the envelope: ‘Mr S. commends Mr W. when he deals with gentlemen (which opportunity perhaps may not often occur) to refrain from opening private letters, or impudence may draw down chastisement upon contemptibility.’8 Whitton who had been ordered specifically by Timothy Shelley to open all private letters addressed to him by his son, was considerably shaken by this threat which seemed to be a complicated way of saying he would be beaten up. He wrote to his employer that he thought Shelley was a ‘mad viper’.9

  Timothy in his turn was also shaken, and actually intimidated — a significant fact. In his more intimate relationships, Shelley frequently if unconsciously exerted an element of fear as a way of establishing his own importance and authority. But during this visit to Sussex, inflamed by his new principles and outraged by the alienation of his family, Shelley seems to have been constantly on the brink of overt physical violence. Potentially Shelley had a murderous temper, and this was one of several incidents in his life when he came dangerously near to unleashing it. Two days after he had left London, Timothy wrote to Whitton about his son’s visit, and the picture he draws, though brief, is sufficiently clear. ‘From the present disturbed state of PB’s mind, which will not suffer it to rest until it has completely and entirely disordered his whole spiritual past, I will not open a letter from him, and be cautious how I open any in other handwriting for fear he should endeavour to deceive. I shall most decidedly keep my resolution with him, and had he stay’d in Sussex I would have sworn in especial Constables around me. He frightened his mother and sister exceedingly, and now if they hear a Dog Bark they run up stairs. He has nothing to say but the £200 a year.’10 To his family Shelley appeared to have become a criminal lunatic without any interest in them except obtaining money. It should never be forgotten that his own father feared that Shelley might break into the house and assault them.

  Some echo of this state of mind was caught in one of Shelley’s notes to Miss Hitchener, dashed off when he had arrived at Field Place. He said that he had been planning how to use the money for the little group at York all the way down on the overnight coach. He was filled with millennial visions, and there was an unmistakable note of hysteria in his expectations. ‘I shall come to live in this county. My friend Hogg, Harriet, my new sister — could but be added to these the sister of my soul, that I cannot hope, but still she may visit us. — I have long been convinced of the eventual omnipotence of mind over matter; adequacy of motive is sufficient to anything, & my golden age is when the present potence will become omnipotence: this will be the millennium of Xtians “when the lion shall lay down with the lamb”.’11

  The millennium had not yet arrived, and Shelley went back empty-handed to York. The whole visit had been an unrelieved disaster. In London, Charles Grove advised Shelley that the Duke of Norfolk, who had tried to mediate during the expulsion crisis, might again be worth applying to for aid. When Shelley arrived back in York he wrote to the duke, explaining the new crisis over the marriage, and asking for the duke’s ‘intervention’ on his behalf.12 The duke had in fact already heard of the renewed trouble, probably through Timothy, and had sent a message through Whitton suggesting that Shelley might like to call on him in London. But the message had unfortunately reached Shelley’s address at the Turk’s Head too late, and he was already whirling northwards.

  Shelley’s rapid travels were not yet over, for about eight days after returning to York he was again on the road, this time to Cumberland, with Hogg left behind i
n disgrace. The events leading up to this sudden departure from York have been exhaustively discussed by Shelley biographers, but beyond establishing that Hogg had made a pass at Harriet, there has not been very much agreement as to what really occurred.

  Two facts stand out. The first is that Eliza Westbrook had arrived in York. She immediately re-established her maternal hold over her sister Harriet, and completely altered the balance of the little group. Eliza took a quick dislike to Hogg who returned the emotion with vivacity; he left a memorably malicious account of her delphic silences, her long hair-combing sessions in front of the mirror, and her governessy commands to Harriet to take care of her health, and to ‘think what Miss Warne would say’. Most important of all, Eliza arrived in York with a considerable sum of money, which, in Shelley’s precarious state of finances, gave her the lead, not to say the whip-hand. This has usually been overlooked, but it is clear from what Hogg says,13 and from the fact that after Eliza’s arrival they immediately moved to more salubrious lodgings in Blake Street. It is obvious that Eliza came to York with the determination to regulate Harriet’s marriage, and this she quickly succeeded in doing.

  The second outstanding fact is that Hogg had been carrying on a flirtation with the 16-year-old Harriet ever since they met in Edinburgh. He had actually ‘declared himself’ — probably jokingly, in Scotland, and Harriet had laughed him off without awkwardness. Since they had all been living closely together for some six weeks, it is impossible that Shelley had not noticed Hogg’s growing infatuation. In view of the opinions that Shelley subsequently expressed about free love and the un-exclusiveness of marriage in a sexual sense, an arrangement which he sometimes referred to as the ‘Godwinian system’, it would seem likely that not only did he accept this, but that he may have encouraged it. When he wrote to Miss Hitchener about the community of property, and Hogg and he sharing everything in common, there was an implied suggestion of sexual communality. Indeed it seems possible that his journey to London, leaving Hogg and Harriet alone, was made partly with the intention of fostering the relationship between them, his sister and his brother.[2]

  If this was indeed part of the plan, it too misfired, for Hogg pressed his suit too warmly until finally Harriet was alarmed, and told him that the whole thing was immoral and must stop. The situation had now become awkward. ‘At last Harriet talked to him much of its immorality and (tho I fear her arguments were such as could not be logically superior to his) Hogg confessed to her his conviction of having acted wrongly, & as some expiation proposed instantly to inform me by letter of the whole. — This Harriet refused to permit, fearing its effect upon my mind at such a distance.’14 Hogg wanted to clear up the whole matter with Shelley instantly, but Harriet prevaricated and it is interesting that she doubted Shelley’s mental stability in Sussex. In fact Shelley was not told of the disagreement immediately after he had returned from York, and possibly as much as a week elapsed. Finally, ‘dark hints’ were made, Harriet was ‘greatly altered’ towards Hogg, and Shelley questioned her and finally had the whole thing out with Hogg in a long walk together in the fields outside York.

  In an explanatory letter to Miss Hitchener, Shelley makes no mention of Eliza’s role in all this, but he might well be expected to play it down. It is impossible to believe that Eliza’s presence did not materially alter the outcome of the affair. It can only have been her presence that prevented a free and frank discussion of what had occurred, when Shelley returned, as both Harriet and Hogg had wanted this. By covering up the matter, misunderstandings were allowed to fester; and this suited Eliza very well.

  Once Shelley did finally have the matter out with Hogg, the interview was traumatic, though, as he emphasized to Miss Hitchener, nothing had actually happened between Hogg and Harriet. ‘I sought him and we walked to the fields beyond York. I desired to know fully the account of this affair, I heard it from him and I believe he was sincere. All I can recollect of that terrible day was that I said I pardoned him, freely, fully pardoned him, that I would still be a friend to him and hoped soon to convince him how lovely virtue was . . . that I hoped the time would come when he would regard this horrible error with as much disgust as I did — He said little, he was pale terrorstruck, remorseful.’15 One concludes that the decision to abandon Hogg in York was made over Shelley’s head at the insistence of Harriet; and this really meant at the insistence of Eliza Westbrook. Propriety had got her foot back in the door.

  The Shelleys departed from Blake Street suddenly in mid-afternoon some eight days after Shelley had returned from London. They left without Hogg’s knowledge, and a ‘blind’ note was propped on the mantelpiece saying that they were going to Richmond, where Hogg might like to follow. In fact they were already on the road to Cumberland. Shelley apparently did not know about this note,16 so it must have been left by Harriet — or by Eliza. Hogg also found that he had been delegated to deal with the landlord’s bill.

  Once Shelley had arrived in Keswick a passionate exchange of letters took place between him and the deserted Hogg. It was a series of recriminations, explanations and avowals which continued for most of November. In one of the last and longest, Shelley insisted: ‘I am not jealous. — Heaven knows that if the possession of Harriet’s person, or the attainment of her love was all that intervened between our meeting again tomorrow, willingly would I return to York, aye willingly, to be happy thus to prove my friendship. Jealousy has no place in my bosom; I am indeed at times very much inclined to think the Godwinian plan is best, particularly since the late events. But Harriet does not think so. She is prejudiced; tho’ I hope she will not always be so, — and on her opinions of right and wrong alone does the morality of the present case depend.’17 This was how Shelley interpreted events when he rationalized them at a distance.

  Yet the real emotional shock for him was not the seduction of Harriet, but the loss of Hogg as a friend, and almost — one must insist — as a lover. Shelley’s letters from Keswick give a vivid impression of the battle fought out in his mind between Hogg and Harriet for his ultimate allegiance. It was more than the usual rivalry between the young wife and the best friend of the young husband, and it was a close thing. Eliza certainly realized that it could only be won by separating the two friends first. In writing to Miss Hitchener, the painful affection with which Shelley looks back at Hogg was heartfelt, if partially veiled: never could you conceive never having experienced it that resistless & pathetic eloquence of his, never the illumination of that countenance on which I have sometimes gazed till I fancied the world could be reformed by gazing too’.18

  In addressing Hogg himself, Shelley completely broke down, and he became passionate and agonized:

  I am dismayed. I tremble — is it so? Are we parted, you — I — Forgive this wildness. I am half mad. I am wretchedly miserable. I look on Harriet. I start — she is before me — Has she convinced you?. . . Will you come — dearest, best beloved of friends, will you come? Will you share my fortune, enter into my schemes — love me as I love you; be inseparable as once I fondly hoped you were. . . . Ah! how I have loved you. I was even ashamed to tell you how! & now to leave you forever, — no, not forever. Night comes, — Death comes — Cold, calm death, almost I would it were tomorrow. There is another life. — Are you not to be the first there — Assuredly. Dearest, dearest friend, reason with me — I am like a child in weakness. . . .19

  This was, in many respects, the letter of one lover to another, written at the most bewildering moment of a major upheaval and breach.

  Hogg, in his turn, was writing distractedly, threatening to pursue them to Keswick, sending letters directly to Harriet herself, which Shelley had to intercept — the parallel with Elizabeth Shelley is obvious — swearing that he would blow his brains out at Harriet’s feet. This side of the correspondence has not survived, but its nature is clear from Shelley’s return comments in his own letters. He wrote back: ‘Can I not feel? are not those throbbing temples that bursting heart chained to mine . . . do they not sympat
hize. Cannot I read your soul as I have done your letter which I believe especially considered to be a copy of the former — little must you know me if now I appear to you otherwise than the most wretched of men . . . .’

  Referring to his friend’s passion for Harriet, which Hogg was still urging and declaring, Shelley wrote to Hogg in the same letter: ‘But how tyrannic is that feeling do I not know; how restless its influence, how sophisticated its inductions. And shall I eager to avoid prejudice, by the vanity of disinterestedness expose you to the possibility of a renewal of this. . . . Shall I to gratify your present feelings expose you to the lasting scorpion sting . . . .’20 For the duration of the letter, at least, Shelley considered Hogg’s physical passion for a woman as a poison, a scorpion’s sting.

  In one matter Shelley remained firm. Here again the parallel with the earlier love-triangle with Elizabeth Shelley is obvious. He always refused to have Hogg join them in Cumberland. However distracted his letters became in those first two weeks, he always ended them with an absolute injunction not to come, on one occasion waiting until the flap of the outer cover to write: ‘Do not come now.’21 Continually he upbraided Hogg for his weakness in letting a woman, the implication is a mere woman, come between them. ‘Oh! how the sophistry of the passions has changed you, the sport of a woman’s whim; the plaything of her inconsistencies, the bauble with which she is angry, the footstool of her exaltation. Assert yourself be what you were Love! Adore! It will exalt your nature, bid you a Man be a God.’22