It appears that for some time past Shelley had devoted his attention to Irish politics.  The persecution of Mr. Peter Finnerty, an Irish journalist and editor of “The Press” newspaper, who had been sentenced to eighteen months’ imprisonment in Lincoln jail (between February 7, 1811, and August 7, 1812) for plain speech about Lord Castlereagh, roused his hottest indignation.  He published a poem, as yet unrecovered, for his benefit; the proceeds of the sale amounting, it is said, to nearly one hundred pounds. (McCarthy, page 255.) The young enthusiast, who was attempting a philosophic study of the French Revolution, whose heart was glowing with universal philanthropy, and who burned to disseminate truth and happiness, judged that Ireland would be a fitting field for making a first experiment in practical politics.  Armed with the manuscript of his “Address to the Irish People” (It was published in Dublin.  See reprint in McCarthy, page 179.), he set sail with Harriet and Eliza on the 3rd of February from Whitehaven.  They touched the Isle of Man; and after a very stormy passage, which drove them to the north coast of Ireland, and forced them to complete their journey by land, the party reached Dublin travel-worn, but with unabated spirit, on the 12th.  Harriet shared her husband’s philanthropical enthusiasm.  “My wife,” wrote Shelley to Godwin, “is the partner of my thoughts and feelings.”  Indeed, there is abundant proof in both his letters and hers, about this period, that they felt and worked together.  Miss Westbrook, meantime, ruled the household; “Eliza keeps our common stock of money for safety in some nook or corner of her dress, but we are not dependent on her, although she gives it out as we want it.”  This master-touch of unconscious delineation tells us all we need to know about the domestic party now established in 7, Lower Sackville Street.  Before a week had passed, the “Address to the Irish People” had been printed.  Shelley and Harriet immediately engaged their whole energies in the task of distribution.  It was advertised for sale; but that alone seemed insufficient.  On the 27th of February Shelley wrote to a friend in England:  “I have already sent 400 of my Irish pamphlets into the world, and they have excited a sensation of wonder in Dublin.  Eleven hundred yet remain for distribution.  Copies have been sent to sixty public houses....  Expectation is on the tiptoe.  I send a man out every day to distribute copies, with instructions where and how to give them.  His account corresponds with the multitudes of people who possess them.  I stand at the balcony of our window and watch till I see a man who looks likely.  I throw a book to him.”

A postscript to this letter lets us see the propaganda from Harriet’s point of view.  “I am sure you would laugh were you to see us give the pamphlets.  We throw them out of the window, and give them to men that we pass in the streets.  For myself, I am ready to die of laughter when it is done, and Percy looks so grave.  Yesterday he put one into a woman’s hood of a cloak.”