If I have endeavoured, by thus grouping together all the Sussex names
which are connected with Shelley, to attract your personal and local
sympathy around the career of the poet, it is with no intention to
claim for him a provincial significance. Shelley does not belong to
any one county, however rich and illustrious that county may be; he
belongs to Europe--to the world. The tendency of his poetry and its
peculiar accent were not so much English as European. He might have
been a Frenchman, or an Italian, a Pole, or a Greek, in a way in which
Wordsworth, for instance, or even Byron, could never have been anything
but an Englishman. He passes, as we watch the brief and sparkling
record of his life, from Sussex to the world. One day he is a child,
sailing paper boats among the reeds in Warnham Pond; next day we look,
and see, scarcely the son of worthy Mr. Timothy Shelley of Field Place,
but a spirit without a country, "a planet-crested shape sweeping by
on lightning-braided pinions" to scatter the liquid joy of life over
humanity.
Into the particulars of this strange life I need not pass. You
know them well. No life so brief as Shelley's has occupied so much
curiosity, and for my part I think that even too minute inquiry has
been made concerning some of its details. The "Harriet problem" leaves
its trail across one petal of this rose; minuter insects, not quite
so slimy, lurk where there should be nothing but colour and odour.
We may well, I think, be content to-day to take the large romance
of Shelley's life, and leave any sordid details to oblivion. He
died before he was quite thirty years of age, and the busy piety of
biographers has peeped into the record of almost every day of the last
ten of those years. What seems to me most wonderful is that a creature
so nervous, so passionate, so ill-disciplined as Shelley was, should
be able to come out of such an unprecedented ordeal with his shining
garments so little specked with mire. Let us, at all events, to-day,
think of the man only as "the peregrine falcon" that his best and
oldest friends describe him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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