A minute or two later, whilst the Squire was still delivering from notes his demonstration of the existence of a Deity, Shelley repeated to Hogg, ‘I have heard this argument before.’
‘They are Paley’s arguments,’ said Hogg.
‘Yes; you are right, sir,’ assented the Squire, as he folded his paper and restored it to his pocket;—adding with delicious frankness and self-complacence, ‘They are Palley’s arguments; I copied them out of Palley’s book this morning myself; but Palley had them originally from me; almost everything in Palley’s book he had from me.’
For a pleasant quarter-of-an-hour readers should refer to Hogg’s diffuse and piquant account of the meeting and talk at Miller’s Hotel, but enough has been taken from the humorous narrative to show how little reason Lady Shelley had for reprehending the severity, which distinguished the Squire’s treatment of Shelley, immediately after his expulsion from Oxford.
On Hogg, the born humourist, it is needless to say that Shelley’s father made a most agreeable impression,—none the less agreeable because his hearty air, grotesque speech, extravagant emotionality, and egregious self-complacence, afforded so much food and many occasions for merriment. To the young man from the north country it was manifested his friend’s father was by ‘no means a bad fellow!’ In later time Hogg used to think with cynical sadness and humorous regret how differently life might have gone with Shelley had he only borne himself to his sire as leal and loving sons are wont to bear themselves to their fathers. Thus thinking, it was small comfort to the biographer to reflect how impossible it was for a man of Shelley’s brilliant genius and poetic sensibility to pursue the path of homely filial duty. Small blame to Hogg that he refrained from reflecting severely on the failings of the son who, instead of gossiping sociably with his sire over the daily bottle or two of old port, was quick to show contempt for his understanding, and ‘to take umbrage at the poor man’s noise and nonsense.’ Loyalty to the former friend forbade the historian to utter all he knew and felt on this subject. It was enough for him to intimate lightly that Shelley was no less to blame than his father for their bitter severance. ‘It is,’ says Hogg, ‘only fair to the poor old governor to add that he was the kind master of old and attached servants, and that his surviving children speak of him at this hour with affection.’
It is, however, a matter of reproach to Hogg, that, taking this view of the elder Mr. Shelley in 1811, he never appears to have urged his friend to behave with filial loyalty and dutifulness to a substantially good father; that, on the contrary, he encouraged the son to make a jest of his sire, to exhibit him to the ridicule of his acquaintance, to write of him in terms of vulgar flippancy as ‘the old boy,’ ‘the old fellow,’ ‘the old buck,’ ‘old Killjoy,’ ‘the enemy,’ and ‘a practitioner of the most consummate hypocrisy,’—all which expressions are used to the Squire’s discredit in his son’s familiar letters to his especial friend, Mr. Thomas Jefferson Hogg.
Seven days had not passed since the dinner at Miller’s Hotel, before the conflict of the father and son resulted in distinct issues. To the paternal order that he should ‘go immediately to Field Place,’ Shelley replied that for the present it was his intention to stay in Poland Street. To the requirement that he should ‘abstain from all communication with Mr. Hogg for a considerable time,’ Shelley (ætat. 18) responded that he could not for a moment think of foregoing the pleasure of his friend’s society. To the requirement that he should submit to the government of the tutor to be selected for him, Shelley replied he would do no such thing. Rejecting his father’s requirements, and assuming that he was the person to offer the terms of reconciliation, Mr. Percy Bysshe Shelley demanded (1) unrestrained freedom of correspondence with Hogg, and (2) freedom to choose his own profession, as soon as Hogg should enter one of the Four Inns of Court, or apply to any other calling. On these terms, he would consent to visit Field Place and receive his father into favour. On receiving his son’s ultimatum, the Squire of Field Place wrote (14th April, 1811) in great excitement to Mr. C. (a gentleman who acted for Mr. Hogg the Elder) a letter of lively animadversion on the presumption of the two disrespectful, undutiful, ‘opinionated youngsters.’ To his son’s ultimatum, the Squire of Field Place replied by stopping his pocket-money, and bidding him keep away from his boyhood’s home. There being evidence of all this, surely there is good evidence that the future poet was not banished from his home, and denied the society of his mother and sisters, at the instigation of religious intolerance, because he published The Necessity of Atheism.
How, then, did Mr. Timothy Shelley deal with his son on his expulsion from Oxford, when the eighteen-years-old boy was lodging in Poland Street? Did he denounce and discard him? On the contrary, he invited him and his friend in trouble to dinner. Did this hard-hearted, unnatural father at once forbid the boy to come into his presence, and order him to keep away from the home of his infantile years? On the contrary, he bade him go quickly to his mother and sisters, and resolve to be a better boy under the private tutor, who would soon be found to take charge of him, than he had been under his masters at Eton and his tutors at Oxford. Did he speak of the boy as hopelessly bad and unreasonable? By no means. Taking a cheery view of the case, he thought the boy could be brought out of his spiritual disease and mental disorder by a course of ‘Palley.’ And believing that the course of ‘Palley’ would operate more quickly and efficaciously if the reasonings of the divine were enforced by the luminous comments of an equally sagacious and affectionate father, the honest gentleman got down his copy of Paley’s Natural Theology and worked away at it so that he might be ready to be his boy’s preceptor. The absurdity of his proceedings and purpose must be admitted. No doubt, he went on strangely at Miller’s Hotel. His notion that with Paley’s help he could recover his son from infidelity, and bring him back safe and sound to orthodoxy, is exquisitely droll. But one looks in vain to discover unnatural harshness and cruelty in his measures for his son’s benefit. Urging that this troubled father should not be utterly condemned for his action to his son, and speaking of ‘some excuse’ that may be fairly made for his conduct, Lady Shelley (writing from those ‘authentic sources’ which afford her so little information) says:—‘Still, it is to be regretted that a milder course was not pursued towards one who was peculiarly open to the teachings of love.’ If Mr. Shelley did and said a few unreasonable things, when his conciliatory action was answered with unqualified rebellion, it cannot be denied that the line of action he proposed to take to his boy at the end of March and the beginning of April was reasonable, moderate, generous, and affectionate. What could be milder than his requirements, that the eighteen-years-old boy should go home to his mother and sisters, read with a tutor, and desist from intercourse with Hogg ‘for some considerable time,’—not for ever; not for many years; but for some considerable time,—say, till he should come of age and be master of his own actions?
Was this third requirement preposterous? Mr. Shelley had grounds for thinking Hogg a hurtful companion for his boy. Whatever his grounds for it, the opinion was just. Hogg’s influence had been very harmful to Shelley. But for Hogg, it is possible that Shelley would never have been an atheist. It is certain that if he had gone to atheism without Hogg’s help he would have gone to atheism at slower pace. It is certain that Hogg was the influence which moved him to the deed that had caused his expulsion from University College. The two youngsters had got into trouble and dark disgrace together. What was there harsh in the demand that the disastrous association, which had been fruitful of so much evil in less than six months, should be broken for ‘some considerable time?’ Paternal authority is an empty name, if a father in Mr. Timothy Shelley’s position may not say to an eighteen-years-old son in the future poet’s position, ‘Now, my boy, I will do my best for you; but, at least for some time, you must forbear from intercourse with that young scapegrace who was your associate in the ugly business which occasioned your expulsion from Oxford.’
When Lady Shelley speaks of Shelley as ‘one who was peculiarly open to the teachings of love,’ she is not writing true biography, but biographical romance. From the moment, when he comes clearly before us, to the moment when he sunk beneath the angry waves, Shelley never paid any heed to the teachings of the love, if they admonished him to do what he could not do, without sacrifice of his own strongest feelings. Like Byron he had no care for the feelings of the man or woman with whom he came into conflict. In his contention with his father it never seems to have occurred to him that his father had feelings to be considered, rights to be respected. As he wished to associate with the friend whom he was still set on marrying to his sister Elizabeth (without consulting her parents on the subject), he thought it monstrous that he should be required to cease from associating with him for a considerable time. He would not assent to so intolerable a demand. Hogg was everything to him,—his father nothing to him but a dolt, a fool, an ass, a tyrant. It was preposterous that his father should presume to offer him terms. It was for him to offer terms to his father. Mr. Percy Bysshe Shelley’s terms were that his father should make him a sufficient allowance; that he, Mr. Percy Bysshe Shelley, should live where he pleased and do what he pleased; and above all, that he should be free to maintain the closest intercourse with his dear friend, Mr. Thomas Jefferson Hogg. This was modest from a young gentleman (ætat. 18), immediately after his expulsion from his Oxford College!