rial of a friend of his youth. The character of the old man who
liberates Laon from his tower prison, and tends on him in sickness, is
founded on that of Doctor Lind, who, when Shelley was at Eton, had often
stood by to befriend and support him, and whose name he never mentioned
without love and veneration.

During the year 1817 we were established at Marlow in Buckinghamshire.
Shelley's choice of abode was fixed chiefly by this town being at no
great distance from London, and its neighbourhood to the Thames. The
poem was written in his boat, as it floated under the beech groves of
Bisham, or during wanderings in the neighbouring country, which is
distinguished for peculiar beauty. The chalk hills break into cliffs
that overhang the Thames, or form valleys clothed with beech; the wilder
portion of the country is rendered beautiful by exuberant vegetation;
and the cultivated part is peculiarly fertile. With all this wealth of
Nature which, either in the form of gentlemen's parks or soil dedicated
to agriculture, flourishes around, Marlow was inhabited (I hope it is
altered now) by a very poor population. The women are lacemakers, and
lose their health by sedentary labour, for which they were very ill
paid. The Poor-laws ground to the dust not only the paupers, but those
who had risen just above that state, and were obliged to pay poor-rates.
The changes produced by peace following a long war, and a bad harvest,
brought with them the most heart-rending evils to the poor. Shelley
afforded what alleviation he could. In the winter, while bringing out
his poem, he had a severe attack of ophthalmia, caught while visiting
the poor cottages. I mention these things,--for this minute and active
sympathy with his fellow-creatures gives a thousandfold interest to
his speculations, and stamps with reality his pleadings for the human
race.

The poem, bold in its opinions and uncompromising in their expression,
met with many censurers, not only among those who allow of no virtue but
such as supports the cause they espouse, but even among those whose
opinions were similar to his own. I extract a portion of a letter
written in answer to one of these friends. It best details the impulses
of Shelley's mind, and his motives: it was written with entire
unreserve; and is therefore a precious monument of his own opinion of
his powers, of the purity of his designs, and the ardour with which he
clung, in adversity and through the valley of the