nce surprised and charmed by the passionate eloquence and earnest
enthralling interest that pervade this work. There was something in the
character of Saint-Preux, in his abnegation of self, and in the worship
he paid to Love, that coincided with Shelley's own disposition; and,
though differing in many of the views and shocked by others, yet the
effect of the whole was fascinating and delightful.
"Mont Blanc" was inspired by a view of that mountain and its surrounding
peaks and valleys, as he lingered on the Bridge of Arve on his way
through the Valley of Chamouni. Shelley makes the following mention of
this poem in his publication of the "History of a Six Weeks' Tour, and
Letters from Switzerland": 'The poem entitled "Mont Blanc" is written by
the author of the two letters from Chamouni and Vevai. It was composed
under the immediate impression of the deep and powerful feelings excited
by the objects which it attempts to describe; and, as an undisciplined
overflowing of the soul, rests its claim to approbation on an attempt to
imitate the untamable wildness and inaccessible solemnity from which
those feelings sprang.'
This was an eventful year, and less time was given to study than usual.
In the list of his reading I find, in Greek, Theocritus, the
"Prometheus" of Aeschylus, several of Plutarch's "Lives", and the works
of Lucian. In Latin, Lucretius, Pliny's "Letters", the "Annals" and
"Germany" of Tacitus. In French, the "History of the French Revolution"
by Lacretelle. He read for the first time, this year, Montaigne's
"Essays", and regarded them ever after as one of the most delightful and
instructive books in the world. The list is scanty in English works:
Locke's "Essay", "Political Justice", and Coleridge's "Lay Sermon", form
nearly the whole. It was his frequent habit to read aloud to me in the
evening; in this way we read, this year, the New Testament, "Paradise
Lost", Spenser's "Faery Queen", and "Don Quixote".
NOTE ON POEMS OF 1817, BY MRS. SHELLEY.
The very illness that oppressed, and the aspect of death which had
approached so near Shelley, appear to have kindled to yet keener life
the Spirit of Poetry in his heart. The restless thoughts kept awake by
pain clothed themselves in verse. Much was composed during this year.
The "Revolt of Islam", written and printed, was a great
effort--"Rosalind and Helen" was begun--and the fragments and poems I
can trace to the same period show how full of passio
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