'I am the son of a man of fortune in Sussex.... It will be necessary, in order to elucidate this part of my history, to inform you, that I am heir by entail to an estate of 6000_l._ per annum. My principles have induced me to regard the law of primogeniture as an evil of primary magnitude.' In the musical egotisms of his poetry, the ear catches the same note of boastful arrogance and self-complacence. Whilst preaching the gospel of love, and proclaiming his determination to sacrifice himself for the good of others on the first convenient opportunity, Shelley knew how to remind his hearers that he would sacrifice a great deal more than the common sort of philanthropists; and there were moments when, not content with virtue's peculiar and sweetest reward,--an approving conscience, he was more eager to provoke, than avoid, the plaudits of the multitude. The reader of the epistle to Leigh Hunt may well smile at the youngster's announcement that, in the course of two years, he would probably occupy a seat in the House of Commons, through his father's timely retirement from political life. It is not the wont of even the most affectionate father to be so considerate for his heir-apparent; and though he was a much kindlier and more generous parent than the 'Shelleyan enthusiasts' like to admit, Mr. Timothy Shelley, of Field Place, was by no means a likely man to retreat into private life, in order that his eldest son might become Member of Parliament for New Shoreham in his twenty-second year. Delighting in the status of a member of elective assembly, the self-complacent and rather pompous gentleman plumed himself on standing well with his 'party' and 'Mr. Speaker,' and being so highly respected by 'the house' and 'the country' that he gave peculiar weight and moral influence to the committees to which he was appointed. By no means so destitute of imagination as numerous detractors have declared him, Mr. Timothy Shelley resembled his son in an aptitude for conceiving whatever tended for the moment to put him on good terms with himself. To hear Mr. Timothy Shelley repeat over his second bottle the compliments whispered into his ear by Mr. Speaker, was to infer that, if his words were reported accurately, Mr. Speaker was an habitual and extravagant flatterer, or had some unaccountable partiality for the Member for New Shoreham. To believe all the Member for New Shoreham said of himself, was to believe, that no committee was appointed in the Lower House until he and Ministers had spoken together respecting its constitution, that few nice questions of foreign policy were decided until Ministers had asked him what might, and what might not, be done. The kindly gentleman, who declared he had furnished Archdeacon Paley (or 'Palley,' as the Member for New Shoreham pronounced the name) with all the main arguments for the 'Evidences,' could persuade himself that his smile or frown determined the course of Ministers and Administrations.