The Story of The Mask of Anarchy, from Shelley to the Triangle Factory Fire

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I have a treat in store for members of the Shelley Nation: Michael Demson’s graphic novel (or radical comic - your choice of terminology), “Masks of Anarchy: The History of a Radical Poem, From Percy Shelley to the Triangle Factory Fire”.

In it, Demson tells the story of two political radicals and the poem that brought them together:  Percy Shelley and the early 20th Century union organizer he inspired, Pauline Newman.  Demson, in collaboration with illustrator Summer McClinton, accomplishes this through an unusual medium: a radical political graphic novel! This gets my RPBS "Stamp of Champ, You Must Read This" recommendation!

Let’s dig in. Pauline Newman came to America in 1901 as a child, the daughter of immigrant Lithuanian Jews. She spoke no English, lived in appalling poverty and was subjected to brutal labour conditions. According to Annelise Orleck (writing for the Jewish Women’s Archive) as a child worker Newman began working among other children “in the ‘kindergarten’ at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory, the most infamous of early twentieth-century garment shops” - she would work there for 7 years, leaving just before the infamous fire which killed 146 people. Yet, incredibly, at the age of around 16, Newman started fighting for change. Orleck:

In 1907, with New York City in the grip of a depression and thousands facing eviction, the sixteen-year-old Newman took a group of “self-supporting women” to camp for the summer on the Palisades above the Hudson River. There they planned an assault on the high cost of living. That winter, Newman and her band led a rent strike involving ten thousand families in lower Manhattan. It was the largest rent strike New York City had ever seen, and it catalyzed decades of tenant activism, which eventually led to the establishment of rent control.

At age 15 Newman joined the Socialist Reading Society. There, according to Orleck (“Common Sense and a Little Fire”, 40), she was introduced to the writings of Shakespeare, George Eliot and Thomas Hood and actually met Jack London. Inspired by this she would invite other young girls from the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory to join her in her room where they would read poetry aloud to better educate themselves. Eventually she came to Shelley of which she said, “he appealed to us because it was a time when we were ready to rise.” (Orleck, 40) Later on she peppered her speeches with references to Shelley.

As Michael Demson suggests here, a poem like “The Mask of Anarchy” not only offered common people a language for understanding their problems, but also helped workers to build a sense of community from culture and shared political goals.

Newman went on to be a driving force in the International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union (henceforth, “ILGWU”).  According to Orleck,

Pauline Newman was a labor pioneer and a die-hard union loyalist once described by a colleague as “capable of smoking a cigar with the best of them.” The first woman ever appointed general organizer by the International Ladies Garment Workers Union (ILGWU), Newman continued to work for the ILGWU for more than seventy years—first as an organizer, then as a labor journalist, a health educator, and a liaison between the union and government officials. Newman played an essential role in galvanizing the early twentieth-century tenant, labor, socialist, and working-class suffrage movements. She also left an important legacy through her writings, as one of the few working-class women of her generation who chronicled the struggles of immigrant working women.

Demson tells us that “Newman was aware that Shelley had two audiences in America in the early twentieth century.” She traveled widely at the behest of the ILGWU in order to win sympathy from upper-class women's groups in New York and across the country. In her letters, Newman recounts two stories which specifically mention Shelley. In upstate New York she recounts that the women’s group,

“…began asking questions – not only about the strike [of 1909], but about me personally – did I like to read? Shelley? How nice! However, like all good things the afternoon came to an end – an afternoon which once again pointed to the comfort and plenty of some and the poverty with all its resulting misery of/for others…”

In Indianapolis, Newman was asked by the secretary of the Woman's Poetry Club:

“…whether I liked poetry and who my favorite poet was…I need not tell you that I had no difficulty in telling them that I did like poetry, very much indeed, and that I regard Shelley and Keats as my favorite poets although there were others whom I like, too. My reply was my passport to enter the inner sanctum of the Women's Poetry Club of Indianapolis!”

In 1923, Newman was appointed as the educational director for the ILGWU Union Health Center - a position she would keep for 60 years. According to Orleck, she used her position “to promote worker health care, adult education, and greater visibility for women in the union.” She died in 1986 at approximately 99 years of age. And she most decidedly had changed the world in which she lived.

Shelley himself had set out to change the world - through poetry. And, across the centuries, a poem that was not even published in his lifetime, did just that: “The Mask of Anarchy”.

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Through the medium of a radical comic, Demson tells the story of the creation of Shelley's poem and the incredible real world influence it had a century later and on the other side of the world.  Regular visitors to this site will know that my goal is to introduce Shelley to a new generation of readers in an accessible, approachable manner. Thus, when I stumble on something like “Masks of Anarchy “I get very excited: it is something I can recommend to the burgeoning Shelley Nation without reserve. I know this will fire your interest in Shelley and inflame your passion for him. “Masks of Anarchy” is thrilling to read. I found myself emotionally overwhelmed at several points - most particularly as I read the story of Pauline Newman’s activism.

Poetry, writes Demson in his introduction, "is our most fundamental weapon against alienation, isolation, automation, apathy and despair." Coupled with skepticism, that ancient philosophy that Shelley so admired, the liberal arts and the humanities may be the only trump card we have to play in the face of a wave of 21st century intolerance, hypocrisy, xenophobia and cyber-libertarianism.

Paul Buhle, self portrait from Verso Press

Demson’s technique is to interweave the two narratives, a chapter on Shelley followed by a chapter on Newman and then a flashback to Shelley, and so on.  In his forward, Paul Buhle, places this work in the context of the history of comic art and notes that “Masks of Anarchy” is “one of the most remarkable works of comic art to date.” Buhle should know, he is a formerly a senior lecturer at Brown University who now produces radical comics full time. He founded the SDS Journal Radical America and the archive Oral History of the American Left and, with Mari Jo Buhle, is coeditor of the “Encyclopedia of the American Left”. Buhle believes “Masks of Anarchy” will “cast its influence widely over future non-fiction graphic works, especially as regards the uses of poetry and meanings of social, labour and women’s history.”

If I have a quibble about “Masks of Anarchy”, it is that some of the details about Shelley’s life have been somewhat distorted. The reason for this is not obvious to me.  Demson has Claire Clairmont meeting Byron for the first time in Geneva and getting pregnant by him there. We know this is incorrect. He also has Shelley, Mary and Claire leaving Geneva in 1816 to go straight to Italy, when it is well known that they returned to England so Claire’s child could be born there. While somewhat troubling, these flaws are no reason to turn away.

But what of the poem Demson celebrates? “The Mask of Anarchy” was written by Shelley as a response to the massacre of unarmed protestors (including children) in Manchester on 16 August 1819. Shelley was in Italy at the time, hence the famous opening lines of the poem, “As I lay asleep in Italy / There came a voice from over the Sea.”  Shelley had been cut off from the politics of England for some years, so he does not mean he was literally asleep, he means this figuratively. As Paul Foot has pointed out, the people of England had endured the worst government in their history for Shelley's entire adult life (1810-1822); Shelley called it the "ghastly masquerade." (Foot, 19) Living in Italy, Shelley felt cut off and impotent for years. He was outraged by what he heard and it motivated him to drop everything else he was doing and focus on a response. Now he wanted to get plugged back in. You can read an excellent summary of what happened at Peterloo - and Shelley’s reaction to it - in Paul Bond’s superb article The Peterloo Massacre and Shelley (originally published by the World Socialist Web Site). Or, why not try the young Irish Marxist and Poet Ciaran O’Rourke’s review of Paul O’Brien’s “Shelley’s Revolutionary Year.”

“The Mask of Anarchy” was the first of a stream of highly charged political poems and essays including:

(i) his letter in support of the radical journalist Richard Carlile (one of the words great defenses of free speech),

(ii) “Peter Bell the Third” (a scathing attack on Wordsworth's callow, shameless black-sliding into conservatism),

(iii) “A Philosophical View of Reform” (a brilliant set of philosophical proposals that anticipated socialism by decades) and

(iv) “The Mask of Anarchy”. 

Not one of these works of genius were published in his life time.  He wrote with increasing desperation to his friend Leigh Hunt, but to no avail.  The letters are tinged with a deeply moving, plaintive desperation:

You do not tell me whether you have received my lines on the Manchester affair. - Florence, 14 November 1819

I don't remember if I acknowledged the receipt of "Robin hood" - no more than you did of "Peter Bell". - Pisa, 5 April 1820

I wish to ask you if you know of any bookseller who would like to publish a little volume of popular songs, wholly political. Pisa, 1 May 1820

One thing I want to ask you - do you know any bookseller who wd publish for me an octavo volume entitled "a Philosophical View of Reform? It is boldly by temperately written - and I think readable - ... will you ask and think for me? Pisa, 26 May 1820

All of the works were either ignored or actively repressed until very recently.  Even modern collections of Shelley's poetry routinely omit “The Mask of Anarchy”; a work Richard Holmes has called "the greatest poem of political protest every written in English". It is time to restore this poem to its rightful place in the history of protest - and not a moment too soon considering the election of Donald Trump in America. If ever there was a poet speaking to our times, it is Percy Bysshe Shelley. So let's learn more about the events that inspired him to write his great poem.

What happened in Manchester in 1819 was an outrage, an outrage that has been perpetuated by a failure by English authorities to honestly and respectfully recognize the tragedy.  You can find out more about this here. I almost never recommend Wikipedia as a source for reliable information on the internet, however, here you will find an unusually well written and researched document with appropriate sources.  Demson pictures Shelley’s reaction when he heard of the massacre thusly:

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On the morning of 16 August, a peaceful assembly of some sixty thousand English men, women and children began to gather in what is now St. Peter’s Square in Manchester (hence the name the massacre was popularly given: Peterloo). They did so quietly and with discipline. The protest was organized by the Manchester Patriotic Union and was to feature the famed orator Henry Hunt. Hunt was to speak from a simple platform in front of what is now the Gmex Center. The crowd brought homemade banners that proclaimed REFORM, UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE, EQUAL REPRESENTATION and (touchingly) LOVE. But before the speeches could begin, local magistrates ordered the local militia (known as ‘yeomanry”) to break up the meeting.  This was done with extraordinary violence.  As many as 12 protestors died and over 500 were wounded.

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In the aftermath, journalists attempting to cover the massacre were arrested and news of the event suppressed. The businessman John Edwards Taylor was so shocked by what had happened that he went on to help set up the Guardian newspaper to ensure that the people would have a voice. For years, the event was commemorated in Manchester only by a blue plaque which described the massacre as a “dispersal”:

“The site of St Peters Fields where on 16th August 1819 Henry Hunt, radical orator addressed an assembly of about 60,000 people. Their subsequent dispersal by the military is remembered as “Peterloo”.

That the term “dispersal” is used to describe what was a massacre is an unconscionable euphemism.  It was only in 2007 that it was replaced by a more appropriate red plaque:

Finally, in 2019, on the 200th Anniversary of the Peterloo Massacre, the local authorities bowed to a fierce advocacy campaign mounted by the Peterloo Memorial Campaign, and created a permanent memorial to the event and the people who participated in (and some of who died during) the protest.

Photograph from the Peterloo Memorial Campaign website

In a partnership with the Age of Revolution, The University of Kent and the authors and publishers of the full graphic novel “Peterloo: Witnesses to a Massacre” (Polyp, Schlunke, and Poole) created a twenty-page schools’ version of the innovative graphic novel specially adapted for teachers wishing to explore the events of 16 August 1819 in the classroom. You can download the student version at the Age of Revolution website here or buy the full version from the publisher’s Ethicalshop here.

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Excerpt from the graphic novel Peterloo: Witnesses to a Massacre. The cover on the right.

According to Michael Scrivener, “the response of the radical leadership to Peterloo was surprisingly timid…the leaders must have been more alarmed than inspired by the revolutionary situation”. (Scrivener, 207) Hunt, for example, called for passive resistance in a variety of forms (such as tax resistance) and others sought a Parliamentary investigation. Only Richard Carlile (a radical journalist championed by Shelley and who later did much to keep Shelley’s reputation alive) proposed a meaningful response: he and a few others proposed a general strike – which never materialized. Shelley as we shall see went much further. Scrivener notes: ‘the key to understanding the uniqueness of Shelley’s poem is his proposal for massive non-violent resistance.”  (Scrivener, 208)

Shelley's poem opens with a poetic, allegorical vision of the true nature of social reality a reality which must be "unmasked' - hence the title of our poem. We are shown a parade (Shelley calls it the "ghastly masquerade") of political figures; exposed for what they really represent.  Shelley sets out to expose the manner in which Murder, Fraud, Hypocrisy and Anarchy operate in society: they can only come to life through the actions of people. The individuals he names, leading members of government, can be thought of as having completely given up their humanity as they take on their roles: Castlereagh as Murder, Eldon as Fraud, and Sidmouth as Hypocrisy.  Daringly, the skeletal Anarchy represents the entire social order and is described in such a way as to invite a connection to the Prince Regent. These monsters are shown trampling the people of England, aided and abetted by lawyers and priests. Shelley therefore daring executes one of the ironic inversions for which he is justly famous. Anarchy is not to be seen in it’s traditional sense; anarchy is what happens when society is perverted by the ruling classes.

The allegorical figure of Hope however intervenes and overthrows Anarchy; that is to say the existing social order.  It is unclear how Anarchy’s downfall is accomplished and exactly who kills it. One gets the sense that tyranny self-destructs in the face of massive non-violent protest. The most famous stanza of the poem, and the only one which is repeated, is this:

'Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number -
Shake your chains to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you -
Ye are many - they are few.'

lines 151-54 and 369-72

Scrivener notes that “What is foremost here is struggle, unity and revolutionary consciousness: this is not moral argument, but political exhortation, and appeal to physical superiority.” (Scrivener, 209).

“The Mask of Anarchy” is neatly divided into two sections: the first is the visionary dream just described, and the second (which PMS Dawson considers “the main substance of the poem”) is Shelley’s address to the people of England in which he outlines the nature of the political problem and proposes a solution. Shelley’s economic analysis has been widely praised for its sophistication and for anticipating socialism. Dawson wrote that Shelley addressed himself “responsibly, and with a realism that does not shun the banal, to directing the efforts of those who seek to redeem [the plight of the people of England]". (Dawson, 207)

Following his economic analysis, Shelley issues his call not to arms, but to peaceful assembly:

'Let a vast assembly be,
And with great solemnity
Declare with measured words that ye
Are, as God has made ye, free -'

It is this assembly (made up of people from every walk of society and without class distinction) upon which Shelley imagines liberty will be founded. His description of that liberty is celebrated:

What are thou Freedom? O! could slaves
Answer from their living graves
This demand - tyrants would flee
Like a dream's dim imagery:'

Thou art not, as imposters say,
A shadow soon to pass away,
A superstition, and a name
Echoing from the cave of Fame.'

'For the labourer thou art bread,
And a comely table spread
From his daily labour come
In a neat and happy home.'

Thou art clothes, and fire, and food
For the trampled multitude -

Lines 209-222

For an engrossing look at the events at Peterloo as well as Shelley’s reaction to the massacre through a Marxist lens, you can read Paul Bond’s essay, “The Peterloo Massacre and Shelley”.

Even reading this poem at a distance of 200 years, it is impossible not to be inspired. And very clearly it inspired Newman. She incorporated a lot of Shelley’s poetry into her speeches and Demson and McClinton beautifully capture this in their book. The final chapter brings Shelley and Newman, graphically, face to face.  This has a quite electrifying effect as we are presented with situations in Newman’s life that caused her to draw directly from Shelley’s poetry for inspiration.

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Very clearly, Shelley’s calls for unity, struggle and revolutionary consciousness, for a great assembly and general strikes, had a profound effect on Newman and therefore on the development of one of the most powerful and effective unions of the 20th Century. It also led to the creation of the Worker's University, where course on the radical poets of the French Revolution were taught.

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I had to laugh at poke at George Gordon (Lord Byron).

Well done Percy.  And well done Pauline. We will need a lot more of your help in the 21st Century. Thanks to Michael Demson and his illustrator Summer McClinton you both feel closer than ever.

If you want to read more about Pauline Newman, try this: “Common Sense and a Little Fire” by Annelise Orlek.

Michael Demson's wonderful graphic novel can be purchased directly from Verso.  Verso is a terrific imprint of New Left Books. Demson is currently professor of English at Sam Houston State University in Texas.

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References

Dawson, P.M.S.  The Unacknowledged Legislator: Shelley and Politics. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980. Print.

Demson, Michael. “‘Let a Great Assembly Be’: Percy Shelley’s ‘The Mask of Anarchy,’” published in The European Romantic Review, Volume 22, Number 5, p. 641-665

Foot, Paul. Red Shelley, London: Sidgwick & Jackson, 1980. Print.

Orleck, Annelise, Common Sense and a Little Fire: University of North Carolina Press, 1995. Digital Edition.

Scrivner, Michael. Radical Shelley. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982. Print.

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Other Reviews

“Absorb these words and pictures. Read them carefully. This is your history on the verge of oblivion. An unbroken thread of labor activism through the centuries, across oceans, is skillfully woven together here. Art and activism are the warp and woof of this unforgettable story: allow it to seep deeply into your soul and inspire you.”

         – Eric Drooker, author of Flood! A Novel in Pictures

“With spectacular panache, Demson and McClinton weave together two passionate tales across the ages that come together to transform the world. An inspirational testament to the longevity and power of poetry.”

          – Kennith Goldsmith, author of Uncreative Writing, founder of UbuWeb, and the Museum of Modern Art's 2013 Poet Laureate

“The historical scholarship is impressive”

          – Publishers Weekly

“It’s a fascinating book for all sorts of reasons, not least its portrayal of America’s ongoing antipathy toward immigrants, which, of course, remains very much in the news.”

            – LA Times

“A stunning yet nuanced story… In collaboration with talented illustrator Summer McClinton this short graphic novel reaches deep within one's sense of humanness.”

            – SWANS Commentary

Shelley's Revolutionary Year - a review by Ciarán O'Rourke

In 1990, Redwords published an important collection of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s verse and prose from the year 1819: Shelley’s Revolutionary Year (henceforth“SRY”). The collection was introduced (and I assume curated) by the great crusading journalist and Shelley devotee, Paul Foot. You can read his brilliant speech about Shelley to the London Marxism Conference of 1981 here.

Paul Foot’s introduction to the 1990 edition (now perserved as an “afterword”) opened with these words: “This is the first edition of the book which was proposed for publication 170 years ago by one of England‘s most famous writers.”

In May of 1820, Shelley, who was living in Pisa at the time, wrote two letters to his friend Leigh Hunt. In the letter he asked if Hunt knew of “any bookseller would like to publish a little volume of popular songs, wholly political, and destined to awaken and direct the imagination of reformers.“

Hunt declined to publish the collection - and what a loss it was. 170 years later Paul Foot set out to right the wrong by collecting together those works which he thought Shelley most likely would have included in the collection. 

In this slim volume you will find the Mask of Anarchy, Lines written During the Castlereagh Administration, Song to the Men of England, Sonnet: England 1819, Ode to Liberty and much more. Importantly, Paul elected to include Shelley’s essay, A Philosophical Review of Reform.

It’s been 30 years since this collection was published. And now, timed to co-incide with the 200th anniversary of Peterloo, Redwoods is republishing the collection - with an important difference: this time we are treated to a brand new introduction by the brilliant Shelley scholar Paul O’Brien: Beware the Risen People.

What I love about this collection is that it places some of Shelley’s most radical and trenchant writing all in one handy volume. And thanks to Paul Foot and Paul O’Brien, the reader is given an excellent sense of the importance and context of the poetry and prose. This is a perfect gift for the young (or old) radical in your life. Maybe it is even more important for those among your family and friends who are “radical-curious” or who are searching for political meaning in life. There is a very good reason why Shelley was revered by the Chartists and Owenites and later by luminaries on the left such as Marx and Engels. As Paul Foot said in his address to the London Marxism Conference in 1981:

Of all the things about Shelley that really inspired people in the 160 years since his death, the thing that matters above all is his enthusiasm for the idea that the world can be changed. It shapes all his poetry. And when you come to read Ode to the West Wind…you [can] begin to see his ideas, his enthusiasm and his love of life. He believed in life and he really felt that life is what mattered. That life could and should be better than it is. Could be better and should be better. Could and should be changed. That was the thing he believed in most of all.

Echoing these thoughts, Paul O’Brien concludes his engaging introduction with these words:

Shelley has bequeathed us a body of work and an access to language that can inspire and energise people to organize and agitate for a better world…The famous closing lines from The Mask of Anarchy “ye are many - they are few” is more than a slogan or the title of an election programme; it is a call to action.

A few weeks ago, Ciarán O‘Rourke wrote me from Ireland to alert me to the existence of this new version of SYR. He also forwarded me a copy of his own review on the book which appeared in the Irish Marxist Review. I thought it was brilliant. I immediately wanted to republish it because I think it is important for modern fans of Shelley to hear authentic voices from the left speaking about the value of Shelley in the modern political context. With the kind permission of the Reviews editor, John Molyneux, I am pleased to republish (and promote!) Ciarán’s article. Thank you John!

First a few words about Ciarán O’Rourke. Ciarán is a brilliant young poet and Marxist from Ireland. He is the founder and editor of the online archive Island's Edge Poetry which features interviews with contemporary Irish poets about their work and craft. His first collection, The Buried Breath, is available from Irish Pages Press. He is based in Dublin, Ireland (www.ragpickerpoetry.net/). I can personally attest to the vibrancy and beauty of his poetry. After sampling some verse on line, I immediately ordered The Buried Breath.

Ciarán was born in 1991 and took a degree English and History at Trinity College, Dublin. He received a Masters in English and American Studies from Oxford in 2014, and is currently doing a doctorate on William Carlos Williams at his alma mater in Dublin. A winner of the Lena Maguire/Cúirt New Irish Writing Award, the Westport Poetry Prize, and the Fish Poetry Prize, his poems have appeared in a number of leading publications, including Poetry Ireland Review, Poetry Review, The Irish Times, The London Magazine, New Welsh Review, The Spectator, and Irish Pages.

Oh, and one other thing, he is a HUGE fan of Shelley. Here is his article:

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Shelley's Revolutionary Year - a reflection by Ciarán O'Rourke

In the aftermath of the Peterloo Massacre of 1819, in which over seven hundred unarmed civilian demonstrators were injured, eleven killed, by cavalry sent by local magistrates to disperse the crowd, Percy Shelley’s impulse was to mourn the “people starved and stabbed in the untilled field”. Comparing “England” to an “old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king”, Shelley excoriated those actual “Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know, / But leech-like to their fainting country cling” - sucking the blood, like Marx’s later “vampire” capitalists, of the working people whose labour they both demanded and disdained. Later, Shelley addressed the survivors themselves, and in terms that connected the oppression they suffered as a group with the work they performed and the distribution of wealth that resulted:

            Men of England, wherefore plough 

            For the lords who lay ye low?

            Wherefore weave with toil and care 

            The rich robes your tyrants wear?

            Wherefore feed, and clothe, and save, 

            From the cradle to the grave

            Those ungrateful drones who would 

            Drain your sweat - nay, drink your blood?

Peterloo had unleashed the poet into something close to a class analysis of his society, governed increasingly by force under Lord Liverpool’s Tory administration. 

The Peterloo Memorial

 The event stands in history as an emblematic and explosive manifestation of the abhorrence of establishment elites for the democratic rights of a subjugated majority; it was a singular atrocity, but also an omen, in which “the painted veil” of social relations was momentarily lifted, revealing the violence beneath. Indeed, as Paul O’Brien notes, versions of “Peterloo” have “been played out on many occasions in the past two hundred years”, including on “Bloody Sunday in Derry in 1972” and in “the battle of Orgreave during the miners’ strike in 1984.” In this respect, the massacre may be understood as holding out to us today that same question which Shelley was clear in answering in 1819: which side are you on? As this selection of the poet’s writings from that year makes plain, the brutality of the Peterloo attack and the pervasiveness of the subsequent cover-up was in fact a catalyst for one of the most productive and incendiary creative periods of his life - and as such serves to foreground the political impetus of a figure too often portrayed as an imaginative if overly earnest dreamer, or the prodigal literary son of the (ultimately reactionary) William Wordsworth. This book serves as a corrective to both of these interpretations. 

Born in 1792 into a minor aristocratic family, expelled from Oxford for publishing a pamphlet on atheism, obsessed with French revolutionary discourse and the relatively recent rebellions in Ireland, Shelley burned bright and died young (in a boating accident in 1822): he is known today, after decades of critical near-invisibility, as one of the most gifted English poets of the nineteenth century. He was also the most radical. 

If Shelley’s instinct in life was to resist all forms of entrenched authority (religious and political), his distinction as a Romantic was to crystallise this rebellion into an often heart-quickening poetry and an incisive style of prose argumentation that together - and despite the occasional limitations of his perspective - sought without fail to kindle and keep alive the revolutionary promise of his times. As Paul Foot helpfully summarises, “Shelley’s enormous talents were used not to butter up the rulers of society”, as has been the case of many other prominent writers, then and now, “but to attack those rulers from every vantage point.” If Shelley sometimes vacillated on questions that later socialists have held dear - questions of universal suffrage, the roles of capital and private property in society, or the validity (and methods) of revolutionary insurrection over political reform - his concern was always to unmask the structures of power that dominated his society. He set out to find in nature, in the upsurge of democratic and nationalist movements across Europe, and in the individuality of his own sensations, the stirrings of a world-transforming change, both spiritual and material. In this sense, the Shelley of mystical visions, celebrated by W. B. Yeats, and the Shelley of inspired insight and radical action, beloved of Karl and Eleanor Marx, among many others, were inseparably the same - as this book valuably reminds us. 

 For all his sweeping intuition as to the spiritual unity of the universe (“The One remains, the Many change and pass”), Shelley was incapable of imagining the world without also recognising the social antagonisms of human society as such. What is slavery, he declares:

            ‘Tis to work and have such pay           

            As just keeps life from day to day 

            In your limbs, as in a cell 

            For the tyrants’ use to dwell, 

             So that ye for them are made 

            Loom, and plough, and sword, and spade, 

            With or without your own will bent 

            To their defence and nourishment. 

            ‘Tis to see your children weak, 

            With their mothers pine and peak, 

            When the winter winds are bleak, - 

            They are dying whilst I speak.

Karl Marx with family and Engels - all of them fans of Shelley

Shelley’s hatred for the institutions and privileges of his own class, his insistent recognition of the vicious force with which these last were defended, could also at times shapeshift into a sense of personal isolation and despondency - a feeling all “Me”, as he once wrote, “who am as a nerve o’er which do creep / The else unfelt oppressions of the earth”. More often, however, Shelley presented a vision of the earth in motion, in which the turning seasons and the all-too-palpable pains of social oppression could both be galvanised “to repeal / Large codes of fraud and woe” - a vision in which the “sneer of cold command” of ruling elites was by its very nature vulnerable to these “boundless”, surging forces of transformation the poet discerned. Amid all the destruction of his times - from the bloody final acts of the French Revolution, to the unfettered butchery of the Napoleonic and Peninsular wars, to the savage repression enforced against Irish and domestic populations - Shelley had an uncanny ability to draw the outlines of a new society, urging rebels the world over “To defy Power, which seems omnipotent; / To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates / From its own wreck the thing it contemplates”. As in this passage, there are moments in the sweep and rush of Shelley’s writing that seem the very distillation of revolutionary struggle. 

Of course, in re-claiming the work from a politically anemic and largely conservative literary tradition, there is always the risk of heroising the poet into another kind of myth - of erecting an image of radical purity in place of the much messier reality that was Shelley’s life and personality. Here, for instance, the furious compassion and searing political fire of Ballad of a Starving Mother is praised by the editors (and quite rightly, too), and yet the powerful and even callous solipsism that at times defined Shelley’s own marital relationships, first with Harriet Westbrook and then with Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, goes unmentioned. Such qualities were erratic, and were perhaps intensified by Shelley’s youth; and yet it is surely difficult not to perceive Shelley’s sometimes extreme self-absorption at the emotional and physical expense of the women around him as a reflex of his status as a man of many entitlements in an intensely gender-divided society - a society of which, as we have seen, Shelley was an outspoken critic.

Such biographical complexity is lacking from the portrait of the poet we receive in this volume, which seems a loss: partly because socialists deserve a fuller picture of the past and the literary figures whom they are encouraged to quote, and partly because a socialism sanitised of human contradiction will surely fail to live up to its name. This would be a final defeat, for us and for Shelley, the poet who dedicated his work to the winds and “Wild Spirit” of renewal, “Destroyer and preserver” both - and who met, in the “Autumn” of world history in which he lived, the vista of “Pestilence-stricken multitudes” with his own enduring challenge: “Be through my lips to unawakened earth // The trumpet of a prophecy! O, Wind, / If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”

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Afterword

In response to Ciarán’s important final remarks about the volume’s lack of “biographical complexity” and its failure to address the “callous solipsism that at times defined [Percy] Shelley’s own marital relationships”, I would suggest the reader turn to any of the major biographies, but perhaps in particular to John Worthen’s recent book: The Life of Percy Bysshe Shelley: A Critical Biography or James Bieri’s Percy Bysshe Shelley: A Biography. Both treat the subject with rigor and candour.

However, Shelley is hardly the misogynistic cartoon-like madman that some recent books (Fiona Sampson’s In Search of Mary Shelley) and movies (Mansour’s Mary Shelley) have sensationally suggested. One thing worth recalling is that Mary stayed married to (and with) Percy until the day he died and then remained devoted to him for decades afterwords - until her own death. Mary was a brilliant and powerful personality - she seems to have made her own judgement. To replace that judgement with arm-chair psychiatric work and casual (almost “click-bait” style calumnies) at a distance of 200 years is a stretch. I reviewed the movie in my essay The Truth Matters. Lesley McDowell, writing in The Herald had this to say about Sampson’s ad hominem jeremiad (in which she attacks everyone around Mary as well - including Claire Clairmont and William Godwin):

“Biography is meant to be an objective art. Stick to the verifiable facts; maintain an authoritative tone; don’t invite conjecture and definitely don’t play armchair psychologist. Fiona Sampson, a prize-winning poet and editor, has eschewed all four rules as she seeks to get inside the head of Mary Shelley, so intent on seeing everything solely from her subject’s perspective that she becomes almost enthusiastic about attributing blame for what happens.”

For a fascinating insight into the depth and strength of Mary and Percy’s relationship you can read Anna Mercer’s article ‘Your sincere admirer’: the Shelleys’ Letters as Indicators of Collaboration in 1821. Since that article was written, Anna has published a book-length study of the subject: The Collaborative Literary Relationship of Percy Bysshe Shelley and Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. You c an buy it here. Written by expert on the subject matter, Anna’s approach is refreshing, clear-sighted, rational and grounded in fact as opposed to supposition.

But about the need for socialists (frankly all of us) to get a “fuller picture of the past and the literary figures whom [we] are encouraged to quote”, Ciarán is absolutely right. Because, as he writes, “a socialism sanitised of human contradiction will surely fail to live up to its name.” The full picture is on display in the carefully researched biographies of Shelley by Bieri, Worthen and Richard Holmes. Having done that, let us not then forget what Paul Foot wrote:

It’s not just that he saw that women were oppressed in the society, that the women were oppressed in the home; it’s not just that he saw the monstrosity of that. It’s not even just that he saw that there was no prospect whatever of any kind for revolutionary upsurge if men left women behind. Like, for example, in the 1848 rebellions in Paris where the men deliberately locked the women up and told them they couldn’t come out to the demonstrations that took place there because in some way or other that would demean the nature of the revolution. It wasn’t just that he saw the absurdity of situations like that. It was that he saw what happened when women did activate themselves, and did start to take control of their lives, and did start to hit back against repression. Shelley saw that what happened then was that again and again, wome seized the leadership of the forces that were in revolution! All through Shelley’s poetry, all his great revolutionary poems, the main agitators, the people that do most of the revolutionary work and who he gives most of the revolutionary speeches, are women. Queen Mab herself, Asia in Prometheus Unbound, Iona in Swellfoot the Tyrant, and most important of all, Cythna in The Revolt of Islam. All these women, throughout his poetry, were the leaders of the revolution and the main agitators. The person who says, “Can man be free if woman be a slave” is Cythna in The Revolt of Islam! She is taken captive and then she goes to her captors and calls on them to free her and the other prisoners and join with the revolution: “This need not be; ye might arise, and will / That gold should lose its power, and thrones their glory.”

         And that comes from a woman. And he understood, just as we had better understand, and we better understand it fast, because it is a prejudice that goes back deeper than any other prejudice that exists in society today. We’d better understand that point: that when the women start to take control, and it’s not just the question of understanding oppression, paying lip service to the oppression, but the possibility of taking part and sharing in the revolutionary upheaval, actually of leading it. That, I think, is one of the most inspiring parts of Shelley’s poetry.

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 Ciarán is founder and editor of the online archive, Island's Edge Poetry, which features interviews with contemporary Irish poets about their work and craft. His first collection, The Buried Breath, is available from Irish Pages Press. He is based in Dublin, Ireland (www.ragpickerpoetry.net/).

Will Britain Make It? The "Mask of Anarchy" is Timelier than Ever

Last week we drew attention to P. B. Shelley’s Mask of Anarchy as a critical social comment on class politics that is as fresh and timely today as it was when it was written two hundred years ago in 1819—and certainly no less radical. Its timeless message on the corrupt nature of political power extends into Shelley’s later “Ode to the West Wind.” While we put the Mask of Anarchy into dialogue with “Ode to the West Wind” for the latter’s emphasis on the benefits of the cross-cultural influences of globalization as a counter to the current political climate of xenophobia and myopic nationalism, Mask of Anarchy deserves a closer inspection for its critique of the nature of political authority.

Now, as then, Shelley’s poem asks us to look at the nature of order in conjunction with the dynamics of power, particularly as that power figures in political authority. Shelley wrote the poem in response to the Peterloo Massacre, a working-class uprising on 16 August 1819 at St. Peter’s Fields that sought to protest the corn laws and galvanize Parliamentary Reform to expand the voting franchise to those who did not own land. Nearly 400 were wounded and 11 died after cavalry were let loose on them, but they were ordered to do so by the local magistrates not because they were disruptive or violent. In their attempt to change politics by doing politics differently—as Shelley espouses in A Defence of Poetry—their peaceful organization was conceived as a threat. While Shelley was in Italy at the time, his distance from the events did not prevent him from acting in the only way he could—by writing a poem. Not until after 1832—when the Reform Act was passed—was the poem published, its content deemed far too radical for public eyes. The poem’s title is a multileveled metaphor that refers to a masque as a celebration of political authority, locating the poem’s critique of power alongside John Milton’s similar repudiation of the excesses of King James and Charles I’s reigns. But the word “mask” also gestures toward the way in which public figures in Shelley’s time are cloaked as actors in a medieval morality play, layering literary conventions in order to amplify the poem’s ethical message.

Will Britain, in its current state of political turmoil, make it?

Richard Carlile, Peterloo Massacre, aquatint and etching, 1819, National Portrait Gallery

If you are looking for an interesting introduction to what might be seen as one of Shelley's most radical and intensely political poems, look no further than John Mullan’s “The Mask of Anarchy.” This article is produced by the British Library as part of their "Discovering Literature: Romantics and Victorians" series. Professor Mullan is Professor of English at University College London and is a specialist in 18th-century literature.  In 2012 he published "What Matters in Jane Austen?"  I am happy link to this wonderful series because virtually all of the articles, like this one, are written in an approachable, accessible style. 

From the article’s Introduction: 

Percy Bysshe Shelley was living in Italy when news reached him of the Peterloo Massacre. On 16 August 1819 a crowd of well over 50,000 had gathered at St. Peter’s Fields outside Manchester to support parliamentary reform. The radical orator Henry Hunt was to speak in favour of widening the franchise and reforming Britain’s notoriously corrupt system of political representation, with its ‘pocket’ and ‘rotten’ boroughs. Magistrates ordered the Manchester Yeomanry (recruited from amongst the local middle classes) to disperse the demonstration. The cavalry charged the crowd, sabres drawn. At least 15 demonstrators, including a woman and a child, were killed, and many more wounded.

Keats’ Annotated Copy of Paradise Lost is Now Online!!

Keats’ Annotated Copy of Paradise Lost is Now Online!!

Most of my focus at The Real Percy Bysshe Shelley is on Percy Shelley’s poetry and prose - and his radical politics in particular. But every now and then, it is important to draw attention to other poets in his circle; particularly those whom he admired. So today I want draw everyone’s attention to the recent digital publication of Keats’ two volume copy of Milton’s Paradise Lost. Why is this important?

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Image from Keats House

Well, owned by Keats House, the volumes are usually housed in the London Metropolitan Archives and were rarely available to the general public - folks like you and me. They could occasionally be seen by lucky visitors to Keats House if they visited during one of the rare public viewings. This was very disappointing because the annotations provide, in the words of the Keats Library, “a remarkable record, not just of the poet’s response to Milton’s epic poem, but of his reading practices, aesthetic tastes, and habits of mind more broadly.” It turns out the annotations are very detailed in some cases. Just check out the image below.

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Well, thanks to an extraordinary collaboration by some digital heroes, (as well as some seed funding from The Keats-Shelley Association of America and the Byron Society of America) the full text is now available for viewing online at the Keats Library.

Keats Parlour, Keats House

From my review of the wesbite, I am able to relay the following: Daniel Johnson, the Digital Humanities Librarian from the University of Notre Dame’s Hesburgh Libraries, “worked through technical and legal issues in the acquisition of the page scans from Keats House, established transcription practices, developed the TEI-XML encoding strategy and documentation, encoded the transcriptions and developed the web site.” Anna Brown helped with transcription while Alissa Doroh provided administrative support. Greg Kucich, a Professor of English at Notre Dame, acquired a major grant and liaised with Keats House regarding logistics. Beth Lau, a Professor of English at California State University (Long Beach), who is writing the scholarly introduction, also acquired a grant, helped transcribe the text and also communicated with Keats House about logistics for the edition. These folks are owed a great debt of gratitude.

The fact we have these volumes at all is something of a story in and of itself. According to the Keats Library,

“Keats gave these volumes to Maria Dilke before he left for Italy; the second volume is inscribed “Mrs Dilke from / her sincere friend / J. Keats.” Keats’s Paradise Lost remained in the Dilke family throughout the nineteenth century. Both volumes contain C. W. Dilke’s bookplate, and they eventually were donated to the Hampstead Libraries by his grandson Sir Charles Dilke as part of the valuable Dilke bequest.”

What this all means is that you can now see this all for yourself! It is to be observed that the designers of the Keats Library website note their site is in a “beta release” format - so there is much work to be done. However, while the website itself is extremely rudimentary, it is hard to understand what is yet to be done to the digital edition itself - so wonderful is the interface and so astonishing are the high resolution images.

Is there a connection to Shelley? Most certainly. Both poets clearly revered Milton and were intimately familiar with his work. According to James Bieri, Shelley “considered Paradise Lost superior to any other poem.” Compare this with Keats who said in his annotations, “There is a greatness which the Paradise Lost possesses over every other Poem.” Shelley refers to Milton many times and some of his most famous poetic creations are clearly drawn in a manner that sets Shelley up almost in competition with his great poetic forebearer. In the Preface to Prometheus Unbound, for example, Shelley notes that “the only imaginary being resembling in any degree Prometheus, is [Milton’s] Satan.” Going on to suggest Prometheus is a more “poetical character” than Satan, Shelley then sets out to explicitly distinguish the two, noting that in contrast to Prometheus, Satan had “taints of ambition, envy, revenge, and a desire for personal aggrandisement.”

Timothy Webb noted that:

“Shelley did not go so far as to claim with Blake that Milton ‘was of the Devil’s party without knowing it’, but he did claim that ‘Milton’s poem contains within itself a philosophical refutation of that system [presumably Christianity] of which, by a strange and natural antithesis, it has been a chief popular support.’ (Shelley: A Voice Not Understood, p 169).

Frankly, I think that Shelley’s analysis here is far more clever and intellectually subtle than Blake’s. My impression, from a fast review of Keats’ annotations, is that Keats was more concerned with the artistry of Milton’s poem than he was with its philosophical underpinnings. Shelley, as usual, always goes straight for the philosophical and political implications of what he is reading. Shelley was also highly competitive in his approach to even the greatest of poets - he wants to understand the essence of what he is reading and then to build upon it - if not our do it! Whatever the case, clearly both Keats and Shelley laid great store in the poetry of Milton. And YOU now have a chance to see first hand what Keats thought about Milton’s masterpiece!!

I would be very interested to hear from readers about what this think Keats’ relationship to Milton was.

What if Shelley Didn't Drown?

What if Shelley Didn’t Drown??!!

The Orphan Angel by Elinor Wylie

Decades ago, while a student, I recall hearing rumours about a novel based on the premise that Shelley had not drowned in that terrible storm of 1822, instead he was rescued by a passing schooner and taken to America where he lived out his life. Had he faked his own death? What a tantalizing concept! Alas, I was never able to track it down. I searched high and low. Even after graduation I would ocassionally make a hopeful inquiry, but no one had ever heard of this book. My efforts led to nothing. And at last I gave up (perhaps too soon - the internet might have made the task easier!) And then fate stepped in.

To cut to the chase, as they say, the novel in question turns out to have been The Orphan Angel by the brilliant American poet and novelist Elinor Wylie (1885 - 1926). How I came to unravel the mystery and discover this wonderful novel is a tale that crisscrosses generations, opens windows into the past and underlines the value of books and personal libraries (there is even a moral).

“she knew every small incident in Shelley’s life...but without dryness of pretense. She knew them, not as one knows a lesson, but as one remembers a past. She would talk of them as casually as of a personal reminiscence.”

After my father died in 2007, I inherited many of his books. My goal had long been to build a special library to hold them all. This was for a specific reason. I believe that one's library is a reflection of one's mind. If you walk into someone's home - look for their library. A quick glance will tell you more about your host in a couple of minutes than you could glean in an hour of conversation. If there is no library, you can also draw conclusions. Books are also a fabulous talking point. Of course today, with so many people switching to digital readers, home libraries are increasingly rare. Many people also throw out their deceased parent's libraries. But you do so at your own peril. Libraries will tell even more about their owner if the owner was annotator or someone who underlines passages - if this is the case, you have hit the mother lode. Now you have not only a key to the general interests of the library owner, you have a chance to learn exactly what they thought about the books. You might think this to be a somewhat esoteric interest of mine - but just wait until your parents have died; wait until you feel the pang of loss; wait until questions you might like to ask them occur to you - questions that will now go unanswered forever. Then you might wish you had their library (and their letters and diaries, by the way). You parent's libraries hold a key to who they were and can be a great comfort.

My father in his prime, circa 1954.

Therefore, I felt that by keeping my father's books together, instead of melding them into my collection, I could create a representation of his personality. His books emerged from the shipping boxes in something of a disorderly mess. He had moved several times toward the end of his life, and with each "downsizing" there was less room for books, and so things became increasingly disorganized. In my youth his library was a thing of awe, meticulously organized by subject matter and author. Sorting and reorganizing them was quite laborious. It actually took months. And not just because of the sheer size of the library, not because of the complexity of sorting authors and subject matter. It took time because I quickly realized that the mind of more than one person was represented in the collection. Untangling these minds was not easy - having said that it was immensely satisfying.

Mary’s 1838 Edition of Shelley’s poetry

At first the familiar "portrait" of my father emerged - his interests were well known to me. There was of course masses of Shelley (three full shelves worth - see below), though the collection was somewhat frozen in time - he seemed to have stopped acquiring new material around the end of the 40s.  Having said that he had managed to acquire some beautiful first editions including The Revolt of Islam and Mary’s four volume 1838 Collected Works. He also had a lot of Keats but nothing from the rest of the Romantics. He had a vast collection of novels including collections of Arnold Bennett, Honore de Balzac, Thomas Hardy, Thomas Mann, Henry James, Joseph Conrad and Charles Dickens. I pulled out an extensive collection of books in French and Italian. Many novels by important (but perhaps less well known) writers of the last century. For example, Karen Blixen, Rumur Godden, Lord Dunsany, Andre Malraux, Antoine de Saint-Exupery, Jean Larteguy and Guiseppi di Lapedusa. There was an extraordinary amount of poetry as well as scads of art history books. Biographies of all his favourite writers and thinkers abounded. Russian literature was of particular interest and he seemed to have everything by the greats. Quaintly, there were a dozen or so books of haiku - a form of poetry he adored - a fact I had altogether forgotten until I found these books. There was also a surprisingly robust collection of early 20th Century economics texts. Curiously, for a man who had fought in the Second World War, there was very little military history related to that period, though the so-called "Cold War" was heavily represented.

About 1/3 of my father’s Shelley shelves.

And then there were the classics - hundreds of books on Greece, Rome and what we now call the Middle East. Among them was perhaps one of his favourite books: Alexander Pope's translation of The Iliad. There were no other versions nor were there any critical texts. My father was firmly of the opinion that Pope had produced the best translation and that there was therefore no point in reading any other. He became visibly upset late in life when he noticed I had approximately 12 different, heavily marked up translations. He considered this perverse and almost a repudiation of his own taste - my father always took things personally - including the translations one read. For example, I once gave him Fitzgerald's version of The Iliad, and it was returned unopened and unread. At one point, late in his life, we had also had a heated debate about Constance Garnett's translations of Dostoevsky. He was visiting us and was looking for something to read before bed.  I made the mistake of offering him a copy of the Pevear/Volokhonsky translation of Dostoevsky's Demons (Garnett translated the title as The Possessed). He came down the next morning absolutely incensed with the translation - the argument became heated and I actually walked away from it. Years later, as I thumbed through his collection of Garnett translations, this incident came back to me and the memory offered an opportunity to reconsider what had been going on in his mind. With the luxury of hindsight, I wondered if his reactions to my failure to adhere to his personal tastes were conditioned by a concern about his legacy - that his son was rejecting those things that he held dear. While this made some sense, it also struck me as desperately sad - instead of reveling in the satisfaction that I had taken up his interests and built on them, instead of contentedly seeing the seeds he had sown ripen and mature, instead of this he saw my evolution as a kind of repudiation. This is a path I hope I never go down. Which brings me to Turgenev's novel, Fathers and Sons.

As I sorted through his collection of Russian literature I chanced on a copy of Fathers and Sons. My father's habit was to record when (and often where) he read his books on the front title page. This is a habit of mine. Flicking to the title page I saw that my father’s copy of Turgenev's novel bore four different dates - dad had read it four times. Beside the final date (when he was 67) he wrote, "I have read this book four times, but not, I think, again." I pondered for some time what significance this book had in his life. Why was one of the few books he chose to read and re read at different stages of his life? He had a very difficult relationship with his father -- did it have something to do with that? He also had a very troubled, unhappy relationship with me. Were the repeated re-readings an effort on his part to unlock some answers? To find some solutions? I’ll never know.

But there was something else - this was not actually his book. It belonged to his mother, Edith Wills, and bore her signature as well in the front cover. This was my first clue to the presence of my grandmother lurking on the shelves of my father's library. Also, somewhat astonishingly, he had inserted his personal bookplate inside the cover.  Clearly dad had a different approach to his antecedent's libraries. Instead of maintaining them as a distinct presence on his shelves, not only did he merge them, but he claimed them as his own with his book plates. This was the first of many such books I was to find in his library.

My grandmother in her hay day, circa 1921 with my father.

I began to seek out books belonging to Edith. She was difficult to find for a very significant reason: her taste in books appeared to have been adopted by my father (the Turgenev referred to above, for example). This made her books almost indistinguishable from his. The only way to be certain who was who was by looking inside for names or bookplates. However, that would have spoiled the fun. I made it a game to guess which books belonged originally to her. As more books emerged (and went to their own shelves), patterns emerged and the task became somewhat easier. Those books of hers which my father had at the end of his life were not many in number, but they bore a distinctive stamp - she has her own shelves now. And her personality shines out from them.

My sophomoric annotations to Prometheus Unbound circa age 22.

Our entire family, as I discovered, were avid annotators. I do it, my dad did it and his mother did it!  This habit (controversial to some) can be incredibly useful to future generations - providing fascinating insights into our parent's personalities and clues about what they thought about different issues. It can also produce amusing results. As I plowed through the boxes, I chanced on a book of mine which I had loaned him many years before. I flicked through it (I had marked it up quite heavily) and discovered that in the front of the book (in red ink) he had written, "NOT MY MARKINGS!!!" God forbid someone might mistake my comments for his. In the case of Turgenev, I discovered not only his marginalia and underlining, but that of my grandmother. With considerable care I distinguished between each marking (using their initials) - and added my own!!

“not a communist”

My father's marginalia in Santayana's short monograph on Shelley. "not a communist." Incidentally, almost every statement Santayana makes on this page is incorrect.

In another amusing instance, I was browsing through his library and pulled a slim volume from the Shelley shelves; one I had not looked at before. It was George Santayana’s short (lunatic) monograph on Shelley: Shelley: Or the Poetic Value of Revolutionary Principles. I flipped through it to see what if anything dad had written in the margins. I often get into mental arguments with his comments and sometimes I even jot my own thoughts down beside his. Anyway, half way through the essay, in one of the margins, were the words , “NOT A COMMUNIST” in a bold, firm, triumphant hand. I laughed right out loud.

Now, my father was a big time anti-communist; he spent most of his life fighting the cold war and then re-fighting it after it was over. One of his great fears was that Shelley was some sort of communist! He was well aware that socialists like Shaw and Salt had claimed Shelley for the left. I don’t know whether he knew what Marx said of Shelley, but if he did, it would have driven him crazy:

"The real difference between Byron and Shelley is this: those who understand and love them rejoice that Byron died at 36, because if he had lived he would have become a reactionary bourgeois; they grieve that Shelley died at 29, because he was essentially a revolutionist and he would always have been one of the advanced guard of socialism."

But there, for my father, in the calming words of the great George Santayana, was solace and respite: no, Shelley was NOT after all a communist. Phew.

My grandfather circa 1926

There was another personality, however, that fairly jumped out at me: that of my maternal grandfather, James Annand. Jim, as he was known to his friends, was a man of the theatre, and salted in among my father's books were about two hundred volumes of plays and books about the theatre. He clearly loved Shaw most of all, but also less well known authors such as JM Barrie and Piniero. My father had founded the Royal Shakespeare Society in Canada and thus there were many volumes of Shakespeare. The interest in Shakespeare, however, came with a curious twist.

A selection of a few of dozens book related to an ongoing debate in the early 20th century about the authorship of Shakespeare's plays. This was a matter of considerable interest to my grandfather.

Also discovered a significant collection of books dating from the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th Century which dwelt on the authorship of Shakespeare's plays.  A quick check revealed these also belonged to my grandfather - this was a subject of apparently great interest to him. Jim's collection also includes a complete, edition of the collected diaries of James Agate, the famously irascible theatre critic of the early 20th Century. The books (titled Ego) are beautifully bound in red leather by my grandfather himself.  Evidence of the size of Agate's own ego appears in one of his more famous remarks: "I don't know very much, but what I do know I know better than anybody, and I don't want to argue about it. I know what I think about an actor or an actress and I am not interested in what anybody else thinks." By the way, if you take out the words "an actor or actress" and insert "Homer", and you have my father!

“I don’t know very much, but what I do know I know better than anybody, and I don’t want to argue about it.
- James Agate”

My world traveling mother in Greece, c 1951

My mother appeared in the form of travel guides, cookbooks and an extensive collection of books that offered instruction in French, Italian, German and even Swahili!  There were dozens and dozens of books filled with music - mute testament to her training as a vocalist at the Royal Conservatory of Music. To almost the end of her life my mother worked carefully and diligently on honing her foreign language skills. The travel books are a startling reminder of the vast distances she covered in the course of her life (much of that with my father) - a true world traveler who never let her crippling arthritis slow her down for a minute.

These people, represented by their books, now occupy a wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling library of their own in my home. There is yet another reason for keeping your ancestors libraries. It isn't just to look at them, it is to read them. In this way you can share their passions, preserve their memory and open new horizons for yourself. Thus, every now and then I visit this library and pick something out to read. In this manner I discovered the magic of Lampedusa's Il Gatopardo, Larteguy's Les Centurions, Malraux's La Condition Humaine and L'Espoir, and Godden's Black Narcissus. Then came The Venetian Glass Nephew by Elinor Wylie. 

Elinor Wylie, 1922. Wylie inscribed this photo to her friend Carl Van Vechten: “Carl from Elinor, For God’s sake, look at the hands!” Indeed, just LOOK at them - gorgeous.

It was a pretty random selection. I had never heard of her. Now, before I read a book by someone I know very little about, I usually do an online search on the author. And so I launched into a quick background check on Wylie and The Venetian Glass Nephew.  Who was she? Why would my father have her books? The answer appeared almost immediately. In addition to her poetry, Wylie had written four critically acclaimed novels, fully three of which were connected in one way or another with Shelley. Her third volume of verse, Trivial Breath (1928), was in fact dedicated to Shelley.   It was said she 'knew every small incident in Shelley's life...but without dryness of pretense. She knew them, not as one knows a lesson, but as one remembers a past. She would talk of them as casually as of a personal reminiscence." Despite her admiration for Shelley, she could "laugh at him with no diminution of love and make of him no less an immortal because he was sometimes preposterous." Such devotion was a subject of no small amusement among her admirers and derision among her critics. The Poetry Foundations entry, for example, refers to her fascination with Shelley as "idolatry".

“She could laugh at Shelley with no diminution of love and make of him no less an immortal because he was sometimes preposterous.””

What of the novels how do they relate to Shelley? Well, for starters, her second novel, The Venetian Glass Nephew is an intentional, allegorical update of Frankenstein. In the novel a childless Roman Catholic cardinal meets a Venetian glassblower who has the magical ability to endow his creations with life. The glassblower creates an exquisitely beautiful young man who enters the cardinal's life as his "nephew".  When a beautiful young woman falls in love with the artificial nephew the consequences are tragic. Her fourth novel, Mr. Hodge and Mr. Hazard, shows us the decline of a fictitious late-Romantic poet (clearly based on Shelley) living into the onset of the Victorian age.

It is the third novel which interests us here. As I read through one of the articles about Wylie, I discovered that in The Orphan Angel, she tells a story based on the idea that Shelley was rescued from the Bay of Lerici.  Rather than return to Italy, he sails under an assumed name (Shiloh) to America with the crew of the schooner that saved him.

When my research unearthed the existence of this novel, I had solved the decades long mystery which I mentioned at the outset of this article.  By chance, and entirely thanks to my father's library, I had found the novel about Shelley in America. Thinking back in time it occurred to me that it must have been my father who brought this book to my attention. I searched his library vainly for the book itself - alas, it was not in evidence. So it was off to the used book market to secure and excellent first edition which I read with rapt attention.

Now, as for my own literary judgement on The Orphan Angel, I have to begin by pointing out that Wylie was very much of my father's school when it came to Shelley: she hewed to the sentimental, somewhat mawkish view of Shelley as an "ineffectual angel". I wrote about this here.  When I first dipped in, I had high hopes that Wylie might have envisaged a more robust, vibrant political Shelley - but i was quickly disappointed. Wylie's prose is definitely from a different age, and it may not be to everyone's taste. The NY Times review ended by complimenting Wylie for her brilliant idea as well as its execution. However, the reviewer noted that "whether in a truly comparative sense it is a masterpiece, one cannot venture to say so soon." I will leave this judgement to you. For my part, I think there is yet another speculative novel to be written with a very different Shelley at the heart of it - the Shelley who lived and breathed revolution, the Shelley who wanted to change the world. Nonetheless, this for those who love Shelley, this falls somewhere on tyhe spectrum between “must” and “should probably” read - if only to partake of Wylie’s wonderful dream that he lived on.

Elinor Wylie

You can read more about Elinor Wylie here and will find a rave review of The Orphan Angel in the New York Times of 1926 here (you will need to scroll forward to page 35). There is a very good biography which you can buy here.  If you love the Shelleys, then you will find much joy in reading all Wylie's three Shelleyan novels. Just as rewarding would be a dip into the limpid pools of her poetry.

I guess the moral of this story relates to the power of literature and the complicated way it can condition and weave itself into our lives. But for my father I would most likely not have pursued a life long passion for Shelley, and but for his library I would never had found this book. If I may be allowed a pun, our books speak volumes about us.

“Carl, for god’s sake, look at the hands!!!”

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If you are interested, I have written two other articles dealing with the manner in which Shelley intersected the lives of me and my father: My Father's Shelley, A Tale of Two Shelleys and Shelleyana!! My Father's Shelley Part 2.

Mark Andresen and the Pan Review

The Pan Review

Mark Andresen is a long time follower of this blog and also the creator of his own excellent, long-running blogspot: The Pan Review Mark's blog is a delightfully eclectic and articulate review of issues current in the arts and literary scene. He regularly features author interviews and demonstrates an extraordinary range of interests and tastes. Hailing from Devon in the UK (one of my favourite places on earth!), Mark also has a pronounced affinity for music - tending toward dance, trance, ambient, some jazz, film soundtracks and the aural extremes of subtlety to noise! Not exactly my cup of tea - but fascinating nonetheless. As a fellow music fan, I can relate to his deep-seated love of music. Mark has demonstrated a longstanding interest in both Mary and Percy Shelley and regularly comments on posts to my companion FaceBook page, The Real Percy Bysshe Shelley.

Bryan Moore's bust of Mary Shelley.

A recent Mary Shelley-themed issue of The Pan Review, for example, featured an interview with the sculptor Bryan Moore who will soon unveil his bronze bust of Mary Shelley at the Museum of Pop Culture in Seattle, Washington! You can read more about Bryan here and follow him on twitter here. Bryan has also completed beautiful busts of Bram Stoker and Edgar Allan Poe and H.P Lovecraft. The only question I have is this: Bryan!! when is Percy Shelley coming???!!! The same issue also included Mark's review of Fiona Sampson's disappointingly adversarial (my opinion!) recent biography of Mary Shelley as well as an interview with yours truly in which I answered questions about how Shelley came into my life and what I think is important about him.

I have no hesitation in recommending this blogspot to my readers. Mark is a a very good writer and very accessible. I think you will thoroughly enjoy the breathtaking diversity in thought and opinion. My thanks to Mark for taking an interest in me and my passion for Percy Bysshe Shelley.

Shelley: Poet and Revolutionary by Jacqueline Mulhallen

For those of you with a desire to connect to the radical and revolutionary politics of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Jacqueline Mulhallen’s slim but trenchant volume Percy Bysshe Shelley: Poet and Revolutionary is the answer. First published in 2015 by Pluto Press Mulhallen’s book is in the grand tradition of those biographers who were primarily concerned with and inspired by Shelley’s reformist, even revolutionary ideas. Biographers such as Kenneth Neill Cameron (The Young Shelley: Genesis of a Radical. Paul Foot (The Red Shelley), Michael Scrivener (Radical Shelley: the Philosophical Anarchism and Utopian Thought of Percy Bysshe Shelley) and PMS Dawson (The Unacknowledged Legislator). Indeed, Shelley has of late been attracting increased attention from the writers and thinkers on the left and so her book is very much of its time. Just recently Paul Bond, writing on the World Socialist Web Site (published by the International Committee of the Fourth International which was founded by Leon Trotsky in 1938) published a thrilling account of the left’s reception of Shelley’s reaction to the Peterloo Massacre. I republished this article here with introductory comments.

Before we get to Mulhallen’s volume, let’s talk about the four books mentioned above. First, while there have been many books on the question of Shelley's radicalism, perhaps the most important is Kenneth Neill Cameron's The Young Shelley: Genesis of a Radical. 

One of the greatest Shelley scholars of all time, Neil Fraistat, recently told me that it was his favourite book on Shelley and that he was "in awe of it."  It is deserving of that accolade because it manages to put all of Shelley's youthful poetry and prose (often condemned as juvenile and not worth reading) into context and restores it to a place of respect and honour. But alas,The Young Shelley is out of print and almost impossible to get. 

The second is Paul Foot's extraordinary 1980 book, Red Shelley. Foot's style is polemical, uncompromising and intoxicating.  But this book too is out of print and hard to find.  I recently published for the first time the transcript of a speech Paul delivered to the London Marxism Conference in 1981.  The speech, Paul Foot Speaks!! The Revolutionary Percy Bysshe Shelley, was based on the book and is a must read; find it here.

PMS Dawson's book, The Unacknowledged Legislator, also published 1980, is another favourite. Unlike Foot, Dawson's style is dry and academic - but also shrewd and perceptive. And unlike a staggering number of academic texts from the post 1980 era, Dawson is immensely readable and approachable. He and Foot are two sides of the same stylistic coin and young members of the academy would do well to pay close attention to the ability of these writers to convey complex intellectual ideas in straightforward English that one does not require a thesaurus to understand.

Then there is Michael Scrivener’s book Radical Shelley: the Philosophical Anarchism and Utopian Thought of Percy Bysshe Shelley - also published in 1980 - making 1980 a sort of annus mirabilis for Shelley’s radicalism. Written in a vein similar to that of Dawson (although guilty of rather too much academic jargon) Scrivener seeks to place Shelley in a sort of “utopian-anarchist” tradition; whereas Dawson sought to rather "tone down" Shelley's radicalism and place him within the orbit of Whig reformers.

Now, if there is ONE thing I think Shelley is not, it is a utopian. And for this reason Scrivener got under my skin - much the same way as do writers who attempt to read a pure form of "idealism" into Shelley's thinking.  For me, Shelley was a life long skeptic in the tradition of Drummond, Hume and Cicero. In an article published in the Edinburgh Press (The Modern Disciple of the Academy: Hume, Shelley, and Sir William Drummond), Thomas Holdon demonstrated Drummond’s “decisive influence on Shelley’s philosophical development”. You can read it here.

For an excellent summary of these three books, Red Shelley, The Unacknowledged Legislator and Radical Shelley, look no further than the great Willian Keach's article Rise Like Lions: Shelley and the Revolutionary Left, which may be found here.

It is worth quoting Keach's typically trenchant summary in full:

The task of reclaiming Shelley’s poetry for the revolutionary left, most notably undertaken by Paul Foot in his book Red Shelley, inevitably raises difficulties and complications which I would like to address. I worried about some of these difficulties and complications several years ago in a 1985 review essay that considered Foot’s Red Shelley together with Michael Scrivener’s Radical Shelley and Paul Dawson’s The Unacknowledged Legislator. My judgement then was that, while Foot’s desire to claim Shelley for the real socialist left was deeply important, his book did not address some of the difficult questions of Shelley’s political writing as convincingly as Scrivener’s and Dawson’s had done. My perspective today has shifted substantially from what it was in 1985, when I had just finished an avowedly formalist study of Shelley’s style and was still a member of a social democratic group called the Democratic Socialists of America. I have come to have a much stronger commitment to the political tradition from which Foot’s work on Shelley springs, and I see strengths in Red Shelley that I had not seen or had not been able fully to realise before. However, I still think that the questions posed by Scrivener in his case for an anarchist and utopian Shelley, and by Dawson in his case for a reformist Shelley, need to be confronted.

All three of these incredibly important books are out of print and difficult to obtain.  So what is one to do?!  Obviously, we must turn to Jacqueline Mulhallen’s book, Shelley: Poet and Revolutionary. Mulhallen is very much in the tradition of Cameron, Foot, Dawson and Scrivener and her book has the advantage of being available! Here are just a few of the well-earned accolades:

A compelling and eye-opening study. Reminds us of Shelley's robust socio-political vision, that remains as relevant and vital for our own volatile times. (Stephen C. Behrendt; George Holmes Distinguished Professor of English, University of Nebraska)

Highly readable, this is an absorbing study of Shelley’s life, thought, and writing. Jacqueline Mulhallen has written a valuable book. (Michael O’Neill, Professor of English, Durham University)

A fresh and impassioned account of the significance of Shelley's radical life and writings. A fine and highly readable achievement. (Michael Rossington, Professor of Romantic Literature, Newcastle University)

[Mulhallen's book is] Fresh, clear and compelling, this is the best compact account of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s revolutionary life currently available. (Professor of English Literature at the University of St Andrews)

And when these professors say it is readable, they mean it is readable by the general public - a rare distinction in the modern era. Mulhallen, for this reason alone, would have earned my "Stamp of a Champ - Must Read" recommendation. But in addition to being readable it is an also an accurate and concise portrayal of the real Shelley: Shelley the revolutionary, the atheist, the skeptic, the leveler.  Mulhallen gives us a clear-eyed modern image of the Shelley the great Victorian Henry Salt described as follows:

"...there can be no mistake whatever about the attitude Shelley took up...in the whole body of his writing toward the established system of society, which, as he avowed in one of his later letters, he wished to see, "overthrown from the foundations with all of its superstructure, maxims and forms." His principles are utterly subversive of all that orthodoxy holds most sacred, whether in ethics or in religion..." (Salt, Percy Bysshe Shelley: Poet and Pioneer, 4)

As I cast my eye back over the chaotic political events of the past year I can see that Shelley's programmes of reform and resistance have enormous relevance.  Take for example two separate events: the election of Donald Trump and the near-election of Jeremy Corbyn. In the case of the former, Shelley's brand of revolutionary, non-violent resistance to authoritarianism provides important sign posts as to how best to oppose Trump.  You can find my take on this here: What Should We Do to Resist Trump" by Sandy Grant and here: Percy Bysshe Shelley in Our Time.

In the case of the latter, it is very clear to me that a general election was fought out in Britain in part on territory staked out by Shelley 200 years ago, as evidenced by the Labour Party's slogan: For the Many. Not the Few (a direct, intentional, lift from Shelley's The Mask of Anarchy).  And by the way, we know for a fact that Corbyn reads Mulhallen’s book prior to the 2017 election. You can read about this here: Jeremy Corbyn is Right: Poetry can Change the World.

Of all Shelley's poems that I think we might turn our attention to at this point, I am increasingly wondering if it should not be Queen Mab. Every single one of the authors I have just written about place Queen Mab at or near to the heart of his radicalism. It is the poem that was most influential on the radical reformists of the 19th century and those people are the ones largely responsible for preserving his radicalism.  Roland Duerksen said of Queen Mab,

"...so far as overt, discernible effects are concerned, [Queen Mab] appears historically to have had as great effect on society as any of his other works. It touched an inspired the Chartists of the mid-nineteenth century in a kinetic way and to an effect whose importance no amount of aesthetic condemnation of this work has been able to diminish" The source of this effect must lie in the genuineness of feeling and the correlation of the poem's successful artistic devices with the human condition of its nineteenth century readers....they responded enthusiastically to what their experience told them was true an genuine in the poem". (Duerksen, Shelley's Poetry of Involvement, 68)

In other words, ignore the critics and read with your heart.  Kenneth Neill Cameron also offers a valuable comment on the appeal of Queen Mab:

If at times the language, in its revolutionary bluntness, short-circuits finer aesthetic transmutations, its cascading sincerity gives it a rugged intensity of power unique in English poetry. In spite of the higher harmonies and soaring visionariness of Prometheus Unbound, Queen Mab, dealing with the same theme cannot simple be regarded as a juvenile precursor. It is a great poem in its own right. (Cameron, Young Shelley, 254)

Shelley's themes revolved around the correct response to authoritarians and tyrants, political and religious repression, massive concentration of wealth, and exploitation of the working class and the environment.  Reading Shelley today engenders a very disturbing feeling of deja vu; his concerns appear to be eerily familiar to us.  How much have things changed?  Are they in fact worse? Certainly Paul Foot seemed to think so in 1981 when he gave his famous speech, The Revolutionary Percy Bysshe Shelley. Read it all here. He shrewdly perceived the importance of Shelley to the modern world, saying,

Of all the things about Shelley that really inspired people [in the] a hundred and sixty years since his death, the thing that matters above all is [his] enthusiasm [for the idea] that the world can be changed. It shapes all his poetry. And when you come to read [Ode to the West Wind] where he writes about the “pestilence stricken multitudes” and the leaves being blown by the wind; [then you understand that] he sees the leaves as multitudes of people stricken by a pestilence. You begin to see his ideas, his enthusiasm and his love of life. He believed in life and he really felt that life is what mattered. That life could and should be better than it is. Could be better and should be better. Could and should be changed. That was the thing he believed in most of all.

I think readers of this blog share Shelley's enthusiasm. Foot believed that our job as activists, as people who care about our world, was to "unlock the enthusiasm, the excitement that exists in every human being." He and I believe that Shelley can provide us with an inspiration and a vocabulary to help us do this. Mulhallen is a kindred spirit:

The Universe,

In nature's silent eloquence, declares

That all fulfil the works of love and joy -

All but the outcast man. He fabricates

The sword which stabs his peace; he cherisheth

The snakes that gnaw his heart; he raiseth up

The tyrant, whose delight is his woe,

Whose sport is his agony.

Shelley, Queen Mab, 3. 196-203

I hate to end with a quibble, but I know Mulhallen shares my concern. The one thing I find troubling about this book is the selection of the cover image. This child-like, effeminate image is a misrepresentation; it bears no relation to what he must have looked like. It is not a portrait. This plays directly into the stubbornly resistant narrative of the "ineffectual angel" created over a century ago by Matthew Arnold. People are surprisingly influenced by visual images; therefore this is the wrong one to have chosen. Apparently this was a choice made by the publisher and NOT the author.

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Jacqueline Mulhallen wrote and performed in the plays Sylvia and Rebels and Friends. She is the author of The Theatre of Shelley (Open Book Publishers, 2010) and contributed a chapter on Shelley to The Oxford Handbook to Georgian Theatre (OUP, 2014), which was shortlisted for the Theatre Book Prize 2015. Click the button above and order her wonderful book, Percy Bysshe Shelley: Poet and Revolutionary. You will thank me. You can visit her website here.

Eleanor Marx Speaks!!! The Revolutionary Percy Shelley

"We claim him as a socialist" - Eleanor Marx to the Shelley Society, 1888.

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Eleanor Marx with her husband Edward Aveling (R) and William Liebknecht (L). c. 1886.

With these words Eleanor Marx concluded her 1888 address on the politics of Percy Bysshe Shelley. I strongly recommend this essay to those who want to understand the Real Percy Bysshe Shelley. Marx offers a perceptive, shrewd analysis of the political philosophy that underpinned Shelley's thought.  And she offered it in 1888 at a time when English society was doing its level best to wipe out all memory of Shelley's radicalism - a process that has continued in some quarters until this very day.

One excerpt to whet your appetite:

More than anything else that makes us claim Shelley as a Socialist is his singular understanding of the facts that today tyranny resolves itself into the tyranny of the possessing class over the producing, and that to this tyranny in the ultimate analysis is traceable almost all evil and misery.

In her speech she also relays a now famous reference anecdote regarding the opinion her father had of Shelley and Byron:

The real difference between Byron and Shelley is this: those who understand them and love them rejoice that Byron died at thirty-six, because if he had lived he would have become a reactionary bourgeois; they grieve that Shelley died at twenty-nine, because he was essentially a revolutionist, and he would always have been one of the advanced guard of Socialism.

If you want to read more about Victorian attitudes to Shelley, I suggest you watch Tom Mole's presentation on his new book, What Victorians Made of Romanticism. You can buy it here. If you want to get to the crux of the issue, look no further than this brilliant encapsulation by Friedrich Engels:

"Shelley, the genius, the prophet, finds most of [his] readers in the proletariat; the bourgeouise own the castrated editions, the family editions cut down in accordance with the hypocritical morality of today”

Eleanor Marx (front centre) in 1864 with her sisters Laura and Jenny. Behind are Frederick Engels and their father Karl Marx

During these times, there was a struggle for Shelley that was fought out between what in modern terms could be called the "left" and the "right". The "hypocrites" of whom he spoke, the Victorian bourgeoisie, owned the sort of anthologies which Tom Mole talks about in his book and an engaging and accessible lecture you can watch here. Exactly who was the Shelley that the anthologies presented to the Victorian reading public?  Professor Mole provides an astonishingly well researched overview of over two hundred different anthologies dating from the years 1822-1900.

Eleanor Marx and her husband Edward Aveling delivered their speech at the height of this struggle.  It was a struggle the leftists largely lost. Shelley's radicalism gradually receded from the public eye and has really never recovered despite pioneering books such as "The Young Shelley: Genesis of a Radical (by another Marxist, Kenneth Neil Cameron) and The Red Shelley by Paul Foot. This is not to say there was not a robust tradition on the left that continued to be inspired by Shelley.  Foot was a good example of this. Reading Marx's essay it is easy to understand why Foot, the greatest crusading journalist of his generation, revered Shelley.  Here is his gravestone!

Read more about Eleanor Marx here. You can also read Rachel Holmes terrific biography.

Follow this link to enjoy her speech:

Tempest in a Teapot! How Dare Mary and Percy Use Pet Names!!

Many years ago, while reading Anne Mellor's biography of Mary Shelley, I encountered her opinion of Percy’s use of a pet name for Mary. In Mellor’s opinion, this demonstrated “that he did not regard his wife altogether seriously as an author.”  She then went on to opine upon Mary’s “deference to his superior mind” asserting that this was “intrinsic to the dynamics of their marriage, a marriage in which the husband played the dominant role”.  Cue my head exploding. Now we need some context.  The pet name appeared in the margins of the manuscript of Frankenstein and Nora Crook, one of the foremost Shelley scholars alive today, supplies to details:

“On the manuscript of Frankenstein are two comments by P. B. Shelley which have become infamous. Writing quickly, Mary Shelley had left off the first syllable of 'enigmatic' and ended up with 'igmmatic' (she was prone to double the letter 'm' while her husband had an ie/ei problem with words like 'viel' and 'thier'). Later she confused Roger Bacon with Francis Bacon. He scribbled 'o you pretty Pecksie' beside the first and 'no sweet Pecksie—twas friar Bacon the discoverer of gunpowder.'”

And so it came to pass that PB’s use of a pet name for his wife become “infamous”. Lovers of the world! Beware lest literary critics read your missives.  Now, it is also true that PB’s use of a pet name has its defenders.  No less a scholar that EB Murray described the use of the term as “endearing.” Then, there is the fact that Mary’s pet name for PB was………….. “elf”.

At this point I think we all need to pause and give our collective heads a shake.  Are we really having this conversation?  Or can we all take a deep breathe and think "deep blue ocean".  In effect that is what Nora Crooks asks us all to do in her brilliant, accessible, and sensitive essay on this subject. If you would like to gain an insight into the nature of PB’s relationship with MW, you need look no further.  She begins:

“Whether, however, a young woman who at nineteen could read Tacitus in the original would have felt intimidated by this may be doubted, especially one who called her spouse her 'Sweet Elf'.  [3] Between Pecksie and Elf, in terms of diminution, there is, prima facie, little to choose, any more than there is between the protagonists in the Valentine's Day newspaper advertisements where Snuggle Bum pledges love to Fluffkins. Intimate pet-names are almost invariably embarrassing to read. We do not know enough about the contexts in which these arose, whether they pleased or annoyed at the time, whether 'Pecksie' and 'Elf' were pleasant banterings or counters in underground hostilities. It would seem wise to suspend judgement and use them as evidence neither of an unproblematically equal relationship nor of one in which Mary Shelley was subordinated.”

I might also add here that the “young woman” in question was the daughter of no less a personage that Mary Wolstonecraft (the author of “Vindication of the Rights of Women.”) and William Godwin (the author of Political Justice).  Intellectually she was PB’s match.

Now before we move on, it is worth pausing for a moment to look at the origin of the term "Pecksie".  Crooks tells us that it is "the name of the industrious bird in Mrs Sherwood's The History of the Robins."  Sherwood was an incredibly influential, best selling writer of children's literature in 19th-century England. She authored hundreds of books and magazine articles. I imagine that it was a rare child who would have grown up without having been steeped in her writings; including Shelley whose early childhood was very traditional.

But Crooks is unfortuanetl mistaken.  Sherwood wrote no such book.  The author of The History of Robins was in fact Sarah Trimmer who was in her own right an extremely famous children's author.  Originally titled "Fabulous Histories", Trimmers books was continuously in print and a favourite of parents and children alike until after the first world war. An the content of the book makes it a far more interesting source

What characterizes Crook’s intelligent and thoughtful essay is her humanity and her common sense.  So with no further adieu, I invite you to click on the link and immerse yourself in her wonderful, lucid prose.

"What Should We Do to Resist Trump" by Sandy Grant. Comment by Graham Henderson

There has been a development of late in the world of "self-help" books and that is the promotion of stoicism as the philosophy we need for our modern times. When I was growing up, stoicism was something I inherited from my father.  I think the appeal for him, as I look back, was its comforting nature.  My dad was a man who, though fully engaged in the cut and thrust of the political world, nonetheless felt as if he were perpetually on the losing side. His go to text was The Enchiridion by Epictetus.  The Enchiridion is a sort of manual, a collection of aphorisms and sayings collected and presented in a way to help people order their lives in a world that seemed overwhelming: we are talking about one of the most chaotic periods in history: the second century of the common era. You can find it here.

Oddly, as a young man at university, it became very important to me as well.  Looking back, I think I can see why.  I was young, and stepping out into a world that felt alien and threatening.  Young people, particularly today I would think, feel that they live in a world controlled by others. Our modern "helicoptering parenting" may have a lot to do with this, it may exacerbate it, but I actually think it was ever thus. But at the end of the day, I realized that its allure was dangerous; it was like a siren call to complacency, to accepting the way things are.  So in the end, I chose something very different, something revolutionary and radical.  I chose Percy Bysshe Shelley.

Cambridge's Sandy Grant is a readable, accessible philosopher who can be found on Twitter here.  Professor Grant has been engaged in rather public debate with some folks who are promoting stoicism as a panacea for our times. That may sound a little goofy, but it is actually happening. It is actually important and there is a direct connection to Shelley as you will see. Sandy recently published an excellent article summing up the debate and you can find it here.  This is her argument in a nutshell.

"According to Stoicism, an ancient school of philosophy now experiencing a popular resurgence, we should attempt to curb our emotions when faced with things we can do nothing about. Historically, the Stoics believed in a strict “dichotomy of control”—that is, they divided the world into things that lie within one’s power to change and things that do not. Most suffering, they said, comes from our mistaken belief that we have power over things we actually cannot control. Their solution is to focus on what we can control: our opinions, impulses, desires and aversions, instead of external events. Stoics concluded that we should accept the rest, saying, “as God wills.”

But the problem with this attitude is that it can lead us to accept things that we shouldn’t. As we confront the global rise of authoritarianism, we should not respond by attempting to gain control over our emotions. Instead, we must let our emotions guide us to action."

Shelley would not disagree with this and throughout his life adhered to the skepticism he learned from the Greeks, his beloved Cicero, David Hume and Sir William Drummond. Skepticism is a critically important tool for those who wish to challenge power, be it religious or political. It allows the outsider to challenge and undermine truth claims; and make no mistake about it those in power rely for their power on the truth claims they make and the willingness of the people to accept them. No wonder Shelley called religion the "hand-maiden of tyranny". 

Today we saw Trump adviser Kellyanne Conway respond to an NBC reporter's criticisms of Sean Spicer's bare-faced lies about the attendance numbers at Trump's inauguration (Spicer claimed there were 1.5 million people in attendance!!) by shrugging and saying they were not lies, merely "alternative facts". The reporter forceful challenged her on this saying that "alternative facts" were nothing more than lies. Good for him, but we will need more, much, much more of this. The quest for truth has become ever more important.

The stoic would have us, in effect, grin and bear the next four years.  The skeptic on the other hand would plunge into the debate with emotion and a quest for the truth.

As Grant points out:

"Stoic author Ryan Holiday, for example, told Quartz that “a Stoic wouldn’t spend time complaining about whether Trump deserves to be president and worrying about the uncertain terrible effects of his leadership.” Instead, Holiday opined, Stoics would focus on affecting the next presidential election."

Now it depends, I suppose, on what Holiday means by this.  Certainly, if he means focusing on the next election the way women did yesterday around the world, that would be one thing. But I suspect he does not.

And, as usual,  this is where Shelley comes in. Shelley's toolbox for world reform started with skepticism, and it also involved a dramatic reordering of the way we perceive the world - through the cultivation of our imaginative faculty.  In this he aligns himself with skeptical thinkers like David Hume and Drummond in the sense that he understands the crucial role our imagination plays in ordering our understanding of the world. But Shelley, as always, had his eye on a real world prize: a revolution in the political order. And the means to that end was the sort of massive, non-violent passive resistance we witnessed yesterday. I have written about this elsewhere. Sandy Grant for her part goes straight to the Shelleyan answer as well:

What do you do about things you can’t do anything about? You resist, you protest, you create with others the possibilities of change. You put your emotions to work.

And what of Shelley? What did he say about this? Many of us will know the famous concluding words of Mask of Anarchy:

'And these words shall then become
Like Oppression's thundered doom
Ringing through each heart and brain,
Heard again-again-again-

XC.
'Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number-
Shake your chains to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you-
Ye are many-they are few.'

These words have formed the basis of many a rallying cry for centuries. But most will not know the words Shelley used to describe what massive, non-violent protest might look like.  Shelley called for a "great assembly" of the people that would literally dare the authorities to attack.  He saw them coming from every corner of the land and from every class of society. Here is what he wrote:

'Let a great Assembly be
Of the fearless and the free
On some spot of English ground
Where the plains stretch wide around.

'Let the blue sky overhead,
The green earth on which ye tread,
All that must eternal be
Witness the solemnity.

'From the corners uttermost
Of the bounds of English coast;
From every hut, village, and town
Where those who live and suffer moan
For others' misery or their own,

'From the workhouse and the prison
Where pale as corpses newly risen,
Women, children, young and old
Groan for pain, and weep for cold-

'From the haunts of daily life
Where is waged the daily strife
With common wants and common cares
Which sows the human heart with tares-

'Lastly from the palaces
Where the murmur of distress
Echoes, like the distant sound
Of a wind alive around

'Those prison halls of wealth and fashion,
Where some few feel such compassion
For those who groan, and toil, and wail
As must make their brethren pale-

'Ye who suffer woes untold,
Or to feel, or to behold
Your lost country bought and sold
With a price of blood and gold-

'Let a vast assembly be,
And with great solemnity
Declare with measured words that ye
Are, as God has made ye, free-

As the famous French proverb says, "plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose": the more things change the more they stay the same. This oft repeated truism seems to have real relevance in 2017.  If Shelley was to drop in on us today, I think what would surprise him most would not be rockets and computers, but rather that in two hundred years so little has changed. Wealth is, if any thing, more concentrated in the hands of the few. We are a priest-ridden society and authoritarian regimes are not in recession, they are advancing. Entire civilizations are dominated by theocracies.

That should be a sobering message to all of us.  What progress we make is wrung from the entrenched power-brokers at great cost and can just as easily be snatched away.  Sandy Grant is not wrong: we must resist, protest and create with others the possibilities of change. We must harness our emotions for the eternal struggle. Oh, and we must read Shelley!

"Google, democracy and the Truth about Internet Search" by Carole Cadwalladr

This is the first in Cadwalladr's series on the corruption of the internet by bad actors - with advertising dollars lying at the root of the problem. I wonder what those early internet pioneers would say if we went back in time and told then that the internet architecture they were designing would lead to a future in which an advertising company with was THE big winner. Jaron Lanier once told me that they would have laughed in our faces. What has happened is a mistake. As Astra Taylor has pointed out, the internet was supposed to be the "people's platform" - and it has been stolen from us.  Our democracy is at risk as well, as techno-utopian libertarian models which would give Ayn Rand a wet dream proliferate.

"Shelley’s Prometheus Unbound and the Opera Buffa" by Jessica Quillin

I recently reviewed Jessica Quillin's wonderful and important book, "Shelley at the Musico-Poetics of Romanticism" and received a deluge of interest - over 150 likes, 26 shares and 6,000 interactions.  Wow.  This underlined for me the vast amount of interest there is in this topic. The problem is that while Jessica's book is brilliant, it is something of a specialist's text and not necessarily for the lay person.  I have asked Jessica if should could put together a precis for the Shelley Nation - and she agreed!!  Jessica - you are officially on the hook.  In the meantime, I am excited to link to an earlier article of hers in which she discusses the incredible influence opera had on Prometheus Unbound.

My first introduction to this idea was through fellow Canadian Ronald Tetrault who wrote a wonderful article called "Shelley at the Opera" in 1981. This is also deserving of a link in this section, which will come.  in the meantime, here is what Jessica has to say:

While critics and reviewers of the past two hundred years have struggled to find a suitable analogy for Prometheus Unbound in literature, it seems possible that Shelley had non-literary models in mind when he was writing what he described to Thomas Love Peacock as "a lyric & classical drama" (PSL, II, 43). Indeed, the world of music provides a clear parallel to Shelley’s lyrical drama in the form of the Italian opera buffa that so delighted the poet and his friends during the London seasons in 1817 and 1818. Ronald Tetreault remarks that Prometheus Unbound is a "lyrical drama whose form derives ultimately from the union of poetry and music in Greek tragedy, but whose closest contemporary equivalent was the opera, especially the musical comedy of Mozart" (145).  Taking Tetreault’s observation one step further, I would like to argue that the organization of discourse and the specific dramatic arrangement of Shelley’s Prometheus Unbound have strong affinities with the Italian operas of his day, particularly the works of Mozart and Rossini.

I find this sensational.  Prometheus Unbound is a very difficult poem - and it is a goal of mine to eventually provide interested readers with keys to unlocking its magical, transformative power. The realization that operatic motifs and styles influenced not just the design of the poem, but its content is, well, breathtaking. I hope it will encourage opera fans to add Shelley not just to their artistic vocabulary but perhaps even their repertoire.

Jessica's article is longish but thrilling.  So you need the following tools to read it: glass of whiskey, cheese plate, logs on the fire and Don Giovanni on the stereo (plus optional cats or dogs curled up nearby). Got it?  Good. Now get to it, Shelley Nation.