same time, Harriet’s father, an aged man, became so ill that his death might be regarded as approaching, and he had something to leave.  Poor, foolish Harriet had undoubtedly formed an attachment to Shelley, whom she had been allowed to marry; but she had then suffered herself to become a tool in the hands of others, and the fact accounted for the idle way in which she importuned him to do things repugnant to his feelings and convictions.  She thus exasperated his temper, and lost her own; they quarrelled, in the ordinary conjugal sense, and, from all I have learned, I am induced to guess, that, when she left him, it was not only in the indulgence of self-will, but also in the vain hope that her retreating would induce him to follow her, perhaps in a more obedient spirit.  She sought refuge in her father’s house, where she might have expected kindness; but, as the old man bent towards the grave, with rapid loss of faculties, he became more severe in his treatment of the poor woman; and she was driven from the paternal roof.  This Shelley did not know at the time; nor did he until afterwards learn the process by which she arrived at her fate.  Too late she became aware how fatal to her interests had been the intrigues of which she had been the passive instrument; and I suspect that she was debarred from seeking forgiveness and help partly by false shame, and partly by the terrible adaptability of weak natures to the condition of the society in which they find themselves.  I have said that there is not a trace of evidence or a whisper of scandal against her before her voluntary departure from Shelley, and I have indicated the most probable motives of that step; but subsequently she forfeited her claim to a return, even in the eye of the law.  Shelley had information which made him believe that she fell even to the depth of actual prostitution.  If she left him, it would appear that she herself was deserted in turn by a man in a very humble grade of life; and it was in consequence of this desertion that she killed herself.

The change in his personal aspect that showed itself at Marlow appeared also in his writings,—­the most typical of his works for this period being naturally the most complete that issued from his pen, the “Revolt of Islam.”  We find there identically the same doctrine that there is in “Queen Mab,”—­a systematic abhorrence of the servility which renders man captive to power, denunciation of the love of gain which blinds his insight and destroys his energy, of the prostitution of religious faith, and, above all, of the slavery of womanhood.  But by this time the doctrine has more distinct in its expression, and far more powerful in its utterance.

  “Man seeks for gold in mines, that he may weave
  A lasting chain for his own slavery;
  In fear and restless care that he may live,
  He toils for others, who must ever be
  The joyless thralls of like captivity;
  He murders, for his chiefs delight in ruin;
  He builds the altar, that its idol’s fee
  May be his very blood; he is pursuing,
  O blind and willing wretch! his own obscure undoing.