t. Harriet's daughter was born early in the summer of 1813, and it
was before the close of that year that the couple began to disagree.
The wife was evidently under the dominion of a relative whose
influence was injurious to her. I do not find a hint of any imputation
upon what is usually called her "fidelity"; but the relative
manifestly desired to show her power over both. It is probable that at
an early day Shelley's disposition to see "sermons in stones and good
in everything" made him think better of that interloping lady than she
deserved,--and that consequently he not only gave her encouragement,
but committed himself to something which, to Harriet's mind, justified
her deference for ill-considered advice. It is very likely that she
was counselled to extend her power over Shelley in a manner which her
own simple nature would not have suggested; but, being as foolish as
it was cunning and vulgar, such conduct could no result but that of
repelling a man like Shelley. That he acquired a detestation of the
relative is a certain fact. He must have been expecting a second child
when he formally remarried Harriet in England on the twenty-fourth of
March, 1814; and that ceremony has been mentioned by several writers
to prove the most opposite conclusions,--that Shelley was devoted to
his first wife, and that he behaved to her with the basest hypocrisy.
It proves nothing but his desire to place the hereditary rights of the
second child, who might be a boy, beyond doubt; and the precaution
was justified by the event. Before the close of the same year Harriet
returned to her father's house, and there she gave birth to a son,
Charles, who would have inherited the baronetcy, if he had not died
in 1826, after his father's death. The parting took place about the
twenty-fourth of June, 1814; and at the same time Shelley wrote a
poem, of which fragments are given in the recently published "Relics."
The verse shows, first, that Shelley was suffering severely from the
chronic conflict which he had undergone, and, secondly, that he had
found some novel comfort in the intercourse with Mary.

"To sit and curb the soul's mute rage,
Which preys upon itself alone;
To curse the life which is the cage
Of fettered grief that dares not groan,
Hiding from many a careless eye
The scorned load of agony.

"Upon my heart thy accents sweet
Of peace and pity fell like dew
On flowers half dead....

"We are not happy, sweet!