第3章

Wordsworthprobablylearned，whatShelleywasincapableoflearning，thatlovecanneverpermanentlybeafountain。Alivingpoet，inanarticle{6}whichyoualmostfeartobreatheuponlestyoushouldfluttersomeofthefrailpastel—likebloom，hassaidthething:

\"Loveitselfhastidalmoments，lapsesandflowsduetothemetricalruleoftheinteriorheart。\"Elementaryreasonshouldproclaimthistrue。Loveisanaffection，itsdisplayanemotion:loveistheair，itsdisplayisthewind。Anaffectionmaybeconstant;anemotioncannomorebeconstantthanthewindcanconstantlyblow。

All，therefore，thatamancanreasonablyaskofhiswifeisthatherloveshouldbeindeedawell。Awell;butaBethesda—well，intowhichfromtimetotimetheangeloftendernessdescendstotroublethewatersforthehealingofthebeloved。SuchaloveShelley\'ssecondwifeappearsunquestionablytohavegivenhim。Nay，shewascontentthatheshouldveerwhilesheremainedtrue;shecompanionedhimintellectually，sharedhisviews，enteredintohisaspirations，andyet—yet，evenatthedateofEpipsychidionthefoolishchild，herhusband，assignedherthepartofmoontoEmiliaViviani\'ssun，andlamentedthathewasbarredfromfinal，certain，irreversiblehappinessbyacoldandcalloussociety。Yetfewpoetsweresomatedbefore，andnopoetwassomatedafterwards，untilBrowningstoopedandpickedupafair—coinedsoulthatlayrustinginapooloftears。

Intruth，hisveryunhappinessanddiscontentwithlife，insofarasitwasnottheinevitablepenaltyoftheethicalanarch，canonlybeascribedtothissamechildlikeirrationality—thoughinsuchaformitisirrationalityhardlypeculiartoShelley。Pity，ifyouwill，hisspiritualruinsandtheneglectedearlytrainingwhichwaslargelytheircause;butthepityduetohisoutwardcircumstanceshasbeenstrangelyexaggerated。Theobloquyfromwhichhesufferedhedeliberatelyandwantonlycourted。Fortherest，hislotwasonethatmanyayoungpoetmightenvy。Hehadfaithfulfriends，afaithfulwife，anincomesmallbutassured。Povertyneverdictatedtohispen;thedesignsonhisbrightimaginationwereneveretchedbythesharpfumesofnecessity。

If，ashaschancedtoothers—aschanced，forexample，toMangan—

outcastfromhome，healthandhope，withacharredpastandablearedfuture，ananchoritewithoutdetachmentandself—cloisteredwithoutself—sufficingness，deposedfromaworldwhichhehadnotabdicated，piercedwiththornswhichformednocrown，apoethopelessofthebaysandamartyrhopelessofthepalm，alandcursedagainstthedewsoflove，anexilebannedandproscribedevenfromtheinnocentarmsofchildhood—hewereburninghelplessatthestakeofhisunquenchableheart，thenhemighthavebeeninconsolable，thenmighthehavecastthegorgeatlife，thenhavecoweredinthedarkeningchamberofhisbeing，tapestriedwithmoulderinghopes，andhearkenedtothewindsthatsweptacrosstheillimitablewastesofdeath。ButnosuchhaplesslotwasShelley\'sasthatofhisowncontemporaries—Keats，halfchewedinthejawsofLondonandspitdyingontoItaly;deQuincey，who，ifheescaped，escapedrentandmaimedfromthosecrueljaws;Coleridge，whomtheydullymumbledforthemajorportionofhislife。Shelleyhadcompetence，poetry，love;yethewailedthathecouldliedownlikeatiredchildandweepawayhislifeofcare。Isiteversowithyou，sadbrother;isiteversowithme？andistherenodrinkingofpearlsexcepttheybedissolvedinbitingtears？\"Whichofushashisdesire，orhavingitissatisfied？\"

Itistruethathesharedthefateofnearlyallthegreatpoetscontemporarywithhim，inbeingunappreciated。Likethem，hesufferedfromcriticswhowereforevershearingthewildtressesofpoetrybetweenrustyrules，whocouldneverseealiteraryboughprojectbeyondthetrimlevelofitsdaybuttheymustlopitwithacrookedcriticism，whokeptindomitablyplantinginthedefileoffamethe\"establishedcanons\"thathadbeenspikedbypoetafterpoet。ButwedeclinetobelievethatasingerofShelley\'scalibrecouldbeseriouslygrievedbywantofvogue。Notthatwesupposehimtohavefoundconsolationinthatsenselesssuperstition，\"theapplauseofposterity。\"Posterity！posteritywhichgoestoRome，weepslarge—sizedtears，carvesbeautifulinscriptionsoverthetombofKeats;andthewormmustwrigglehercurtseytoitall，sincethedeadboy，whereverhebe，hasquiteothergeartotend。Neverabonelessdryforallthetears！

Apoetmusttosomeextentbeachameleonandfeedonair。Butitneednotbethemustybreathofthemultitude。Hecanfindhisneedfulsupportinthejudgementofthosewhosejudgementheknowsvaluable，andsuchsupportShelleyhad:

LagloireNecomptepastoujourslesvoix;

Ellelespesequelquefois。

Yetifthismightbeneedfultohimassupport，neitherthis，northeapplauseofthepresent，northeapplauseofposterity，couldhavebeenneedfultohimasmotive:theoneall—sufficingmotiveforagreatpoet\'ssingingisthatexpressedbyKeats:

IwastaughtinParadiseToeasemybreastofmelodies。

Preciselyso。Theoverchargedbreastcanfindnoeasebutinsucklingthebaby—song。Noenmityofoutwardcircumstances，therefore，buthisownnature，wasresponsibleforShelley\'sdoom。

Abeingwithsomuchaboutitofchildlikeunreasonableness，andyetwithalsomuchofthebeautifulattractionluminousinachild\'ssweetunreasonableness，wouldseemfore—fatedbyitsveryessencetothetransienceofthebubbleandtherainbow，ofallthingsfilmyandfair。Didsomeshadowofthisdestinybearpartinhissadness？

Certainitisthat，byacuriouschance，hehimselfinJulianandMaddalojestinglyforetoldthemannerofhisend。\"Oho！Youtalkasinyearspast，\"saidMaddalo（Byron）toJulian（Shelley）;\"Ifyoucan\'tswim，BewareofProvidence。\"Didnounearthlydixistisoundinhisearsashewroteit？Butabriefwhile，andShelley，whocouldnotswim，waswelteringonthewatersofLerici。Weknownothowthismayaffectothers，butoverusitisacoincidencewhichhaslongtyrannisedwithanabsorbinginveteracyofimpression（strengthenedratherthandiminishedbythecontrastbetweenthelevityoftheutteranceanditsfatalfulfilment）—thustobehold，heraldingitselfinwarningmockerythroughtheverylipsofitspredestinedvictim，theDoomuponwhosebreathhislockswereliftingalongthecoastsofCampania。Thedeathwhichhehadprophesiedcameuponhim，andSpezziaenrolledanothernameamongthemournfulMarcelliofourtongue;Venetianglasseswhichfoamedandburstbeforethepoisonedwineoflifehadrisentotheirbrims。

ComingtoShelley\'spoetry，wepeepoverthewildmaskofrevolutionarymetaphysics，andweseethewinsomefaceofthechild。

PerhapsnoneofhispoemsismorepurelyandtypicallyShelleianthanTheCloud，anditisinterestingtonotehowessentiallyitspringsfromthefacultyofmake—believe。Thesamethingisconspicuous，thoughlesspurelyconspicuous，throughouthissinging;

itisthechild\'sfacultyofmake—believeraisedtothenthpower。

Heisstillatplay，saveonlythathisplayissuchasmanhoodstopstowatch，andhisplaythingsarethosewhichthegodsgivetheirchildren。Theuniverseishisboxoftoys。Hedabbleshisfingersintheday—fall。Heisgold—dustywithtumblingamidstthestars。Hemakesbrightmischiefwiththemoon。Themeteorsnuzzletheirnosesinhishand。Heteasesintogrowlingthekennelledthunder，andlaughsattheshakingofitsfierychain。Hedancesinandoutofthegatesofheaven:itsfloorislitteredwithhisbrokenfancies。Herunswildoverthefieldsofether。Hechasestherollingworld。Hegetsbetweenthefeetofthehorsesofthesun。HestandsinthelapofpatientNatureandtwinesherloosenedtressesafterahundredwilfulfashions，toseehowshewilllooknicestinhissong。