One of those beauties, who are seen oftener on the walls than the floors of drawing-rooms, less a thing of real life than a picture, this girl of curious and memorable loveliness lived in the recollections of her Clapham schoolmates, when forty years and more had passed over her grave. Rather below the average stature of womankind, shapely as a sculptured Venus, graceful in her movements, she would have possessed all the finer elements of womanly loveliness, had she not lacked the air and style of mental force and moral dignity. In 1856 Miss Hellen Shelley recalled Harriett[6] Westbrook, whom she saw for the last time in 1811, as 'a very handsome girl, with a complexion quite unknown in these days--brilliant pink and white,--with hair quite like a poet's dream, and Bysshe's peculiar admiration.' It lived also in Miss Hellen's recollection that Mrs. Fenning, and her assistant-governesses, used to talk about Harriett's beauty, and even spoke of her as qualified to 'enact Venus' at a _fête champêtre_. In colour her eyes resembled Shelley's prominent blue eyes, and the profusion of hair, that was his 'peculiar admiration,' was light brown. When she committed to paper (in her fifty-seventh year, or thereabouts) whatever she could remember of the beautiful girl, whom she never beheld after they became sisters-in-law, it lived in Miss Hellen Shelley's recollection that her brother was said to have married her because her name was Harriett. It is in the way of lovers to delight in the names of those they idolize, even when their devotion is rewarded with coldness. To the last, Byron's ear discovered music in 'Mary,' the name of the wee Scotch lassie whom he loved in his tenth year. One can readily imagine that the charm of her name was the first influence to make Shelley an attentive listener to his sisters' gossip about 'the beauty' of their college friend. It is conceivable that their talk about this lovely Harriett of the Clapham boarding-school was accountable for the frame of mind in which Miss Harriett Grove's discarded suitor wrote from Field Place to Hogg on 28th December, 1810: '_At present_, a thousand barriers oppose any more intimate connexion, any union with another;' words that would scarcely have fallen from his pen within a fortnight of his final rejection by the Wiltshire 'belle,' had he not already recovered from the first and keenest misery of the misadventure, so far as to be capable of looking forward to a future time when his 'union with another' Harriett would be possible.