CHAPTER VI - GODWIN AND THE ROSICRUCIAN NOVEL.
When Miss Austen was asked to write a historical romance"illustrative of the house of Coburg," she airily dismissed thesuggestion, pleading mirthfully:
"I could not sit down seriously to write a serious romance under any other motive than to save my life, and if it were indispensable for me to keep it up and never relax into laughing at myself or at other people I am sure I should be hung before I had finished the first chapter."[73]
If Godwin had been confronted with the same offer, he would havesettled himself promptly to plot out a scheme, and within a fewmonths a historical romance on the house of Coburg, accompaniedperchance by a preface setting forth the evils of monarchy, wouldhave been in the hands of the publisher. Unlike Miss Austen,Godwin had neither a sense of humour nor a fastidious artisticconscience to save him from undertaking incongruous tasks. Heseems never even to have suspected the humour of life, and wouldhave perceived nothing ludicrous in the spectacle of the authorof _Political Justice_ embarking on such a piece of work. Thosedisquieting flashes of self-revelation that more imaginative mencatch in the mirror of their own minds and that awaken sometimeslaughter and sometimes tears, never disturbed Godwin's serenity.He brooded earnestly over his speculations, quietly ignoringinconvenient facts and never shrinking from absurd conclusions.In theory he aimed at disorganising the whole of human society,yet in actual life he was content to live unobtrusively,publishing harmless books for children; and though he abhorredthe principle of aristocracy, he did not scruple to accept asinecure from government through Lord Grey. Notwithstanding hisstolid inconsistency and his deficiency in humour, Godwin is afigure whom it is impossible to ignore or to despise. He was nota frothy orator who made his appeal to the masses, but the leaderof the trained thinkers of the revolutionary party, a politicalrebel who, instead of fulminating wildly and impotently after themanner of his kind, expressed his theories in clear, reasonableand logical form. It is easy, but unprofitable, to sneer at thefutility of some of Godwin's conclusions or to complain of thearidity of his style. His _Political Justice_ remains,nevertheless, a lucidly written, well-ordered piece ofintellectual reasoning. Shelley spoke of Godwin's _Mandeville_ inthe same breath with Plato's _Symposium_[74] and the ideasexpressed in _Political Justice_ inspired him to write not merely_Queen Mab_ but the _Revolt of Islam_ and _Prometheus Unbound_.Godwin's plea for the freedom of the individual and his belief inthe perfectibility of man through reason had a far-reachingeffect that cannot be readily estimated, but, as his theoriesonly concern us here in so far as they affect two of his novels,it is unnecessary to pursue the trail of his influence further.
That the readers of fiction in the last decade of the eighteenthcentury eagerly desired the mysterious and the terrible, Mrs.Radcliffe's widespread popularity proved unmistakably. To satisfythis craving, Godwin, who was ever on the alert to discover asubject which promised swift and adequate financial return,turned to novel-writing, and supplied a tale of mystery, _TheAdventures of Caleb Williams_ (1794), and a supernatural,historical romance, _St. Leon_ (1799). As he was a politicalphilosopher by nature and a novelist only by profession, heartfully inveigled into his romances the theories he wished topromote. The second title of _Caleb Williams_ is significant._Things As They Are_ to Godwin's mind was synonymous with "thingsas they ought not to be." He frankly asserts: "_Caleb Williams_was the offspring of that temper of mind in which the compositionof my _Political Justice_ left me"[75]--a guileless confessionthat may well have deterred many readers who recoil shudderingfrom political treatises decked out in the guise of fiction. Butalarm is needless; for, although _Caleb Williams_ attempts toreveal the oppressions that a poor man may endure under existingconditions, and the perversion of the character of an aristocratthrough the "poison of chivalry," the story may be enjoyed forits own sake. We can read it, if we so desire, purely for theexcitement of the plot, and quietly ignore the underlyingtheories, just as it is possible to enjoy Spenser's sensuousimagery without troubling about his allegorical meaning. Thesecret of Godwin's power seems to be that he himself was socompletely fascinated by the intricate structure of his storythat he succeeds in absorbing the attention of his readers. Hebestowed infinite pains on the composition of _Caleb Williams_,and conceived the lofty hope that it "would constitute an epochin the mind of every reader."[76] A friend to whom he submittedtwo-thirds of his manuscript advised him to throw it into thefire and so safeguard his reputation. The result of thiscriticism on a character less determined or less phlegmatic thanGodwin's would have been a violent reaction from hope to despair.But Godwin, who seems to have been independent of externalstimulus, was not easily startled from his projects, and ploddedsteadily forward until his story was complete. He would havescorned not to execute what his mind had conceived. Godwin'sbusinesslike method of planning the story backwards has beenadopted by Conan Doyle and other writers of the detective story.The deliberate, careful analysis of his mode of procedure, socharacteristic of his mind and temper, is full of interest:
"I bent myself to the conception of a series of adventures of flight and pursuit: the fugitive in perpetual apprehension of being overwhelmed with the worst calamities and the pursuer by his ingenuity and resources keeping the victim in a state of the most fearful alarm. This was the project of my third volume. I was next called upon to conceive a dramatic and impressive situation adequate to account for the impulse that the pursuer should feel incessantly to alarm and harass his victim, with an inextinguishable resolution never to allow him the least interval of peace and security. This I apprehended could best be effected by a secret murder, to the investigation of which the innocent victim should be impelled by an unconquerable spirit of curiosity. The murderer would thus have a sufficient motive to persecute the unhappy discoverer that he might deprive him of peace, character and credit, and have him for ever in his power. This constituted the outline of my second volume... To account for the fearful events of the third it was necessary that the pursuer should be invested with every advantage of fortune, with a resolution that nothing could defeat or baffle and with extraordinary resources of intellect. Nor could my purpose of giving an overpowering interest to my tale be answered without his appearing to have been originally endowed with a mighty store of amiable dispositions and virtues, so that his being driven to the first act of murder should be judged worthy of the deepest regret, and should be seen in some measure to have arisen out of his virtues themselves. It was necessary to make him ... the tenant of an atmosphere of romance, so that every reader should feel prompted almost to worship him for his high qualities. Here were ample materials for a first volume."[77]
Godwin hoped that an "entire unity of plot" would be theinfallible result of this ingenious method of constructing hisstory, and only wrote in a high state of excitement when the"afflatus" was upon him. So far as we may judge from hisdescription, he seems to have realised his story first as acomplex psychological situation, not as a series of disconnectedpictures. He thought in abstractions not in visual images, and hehad next to make his abstractions concrete by inventing figureswhose actions should be the result of the mental and moralconflict he had conceived. Godwin's attitude to his art forms astriking contrast to that of Mrs. Radcliffe. She has her set ofmarionettes, appropriately adorned, ready to move hither andthither across her picturesque background as soon as she hasdeftly manipulated the machinery which is to set them in motion.Godwin, on the other hand, first constructs his machinery, andafterwards, with laborious effort, carves the figures who are tobe attached to the wires. He cares little for costume or setting,but much for the complicated mechanism that controls the destinyof his characters. The effect of this difference in method isthat we soon forget the details of Mrs. Radcliffe's plots, butremember isolated pictures. After reading _Caleb Williams_ werecollect the outline of the story in so far
as it relates to thepsychology of Falkland and his secretary; but of the actualscenes and people only vague images drift through our memory.Godwin's point of view was not that of an artist but of ascientist, who, after patiently investigating and analysingmental and emotional phenomena, chose to embody his results inthe form of a novel. He spared no pains to make his narrativearresting and convincing. The story is told by Caleb Williamshimself, who, in describing his adventures, revives the passionsand emotions that had stirred him in the past. By this deviceGodwin trusted to lend energy and vitality to his story.
Caleb Williams, a raw country youth, becomes secretary toFalkland, a benevolent country gentleman, who has come to settlein England after spending some years in Italy. Collins, thesteward, tells Williams his patron's history. Falkland has alwaysbeen renowned for the nobility of his character. In Italy, wherehe inspired the love and devotion of an Italian lady, he avoided,by "magnanimity," a duel with her lover. On Falkland's return toEngland, Tyrrel, a brutal squire who was jealous of hispopularity, conceived a violent hatred against him. When MissMelville, Tyrrel's ill-used ward, fell in love with Falkland, whohad rescued her from a fire, her guardian sought to marry her toa boorish, brutal farm-labourer. Though Falkland's timelyintervention saved her in this crisis, the girl eventually diedas the result of Tyrrel's cruelty. As she was the victim oftyranny, Falkland felt it his duty at a public assembly todenounce Tyrrel as her murderer. The squire retaliated by makinga personal assault on his antagonist. As Falkland "had perceivedthe nullity of all expostulation with Mr. Tyrrel," and asduelling according to the Godwinian principles was "the vilest ofall egotism," he was deprived of the natural satisfaction ofmeeting his assailant in physical or even mental combat. Yet "hewas too deeply pervaded with the idle and groundless romances ofchivalry ever to forget the situation"--as Godwin seems to thinka "man of reason" might have done in these circumstances. Tyrrelwas stabbed in the dark, and Falkland, on whom suspicionnaturally fell, was tried, but eventually acquitted without astain on his character. Two men--a father and son calledHawkins--whom Falkland had befriended against the overbearingTyrrel, were condemned and executed for the crime. This is thestate of affairs when Caleb Williams enters Falkland's serviceand takes up the thread of the narrative. On hearing the story ofthe murder, Williams, who has been perplexed by the gloomy moodsof his master, allows his suspicions to rest on Falkland, and togratify his overmastering passion of curiosity determines to spyincessantly until he has solved the problem. One day, afterhaving heard a groan of anguish, Williams peers through thehalf-open door of a closet, and catches sight of Falkland in theact of opening the lid of a chest. This incident fans hissmouldering curiosity into flame, and he is soon after detectedby his master in an attempt to break open the chest in the"Bluebeard's chamber." Not without cause, Falkland is furiouslyangry, but for some inexplicable reason confesses to the murder,at the same time expressing his passionate determination at allcosts to preserve his reputation. He is tortured, not by remorsefor his crime, but by the fear of being found out, and seeks toterrorise Williams into silence by declaring:
"To gratify a foolishly inquisitive humour you have sold yourself. You shall continue in my service, but can never share my affection. If ever an unguarded word escape from your lips, if ever you excite my jealousy or suspicion, expect to pay for it by your death or worse."
From this moment Williams is helpless. Turn where he will, thetoils of Falkland encompass him. Forester, Falkland'shalf-brother, tries to persuade Williams to enter his service.Williams endeavours to flee from his master, who prevents hisescape by accusing him, in the presence of Forester, of stealingsome jewellery and bank-notes which have disappeared in theconfusion arising from an alarm of fire. The plunder has beenplaced in Williams' boxes, and the evidence against him isoverwhelming. He is imprisoned, and the sordid horror of his lifein the cells gives Godwin an opportunity of showing "how manbecomes the destroyer of man." He escapes, and is sheltered by agang of thieves, whose leader, Raymond, a Godwinian theorist,listens with eager sympathy to his tale, which he regards as"only one fresh instance of the tyranny and perfidiousnessexercised by the powerful members of the community against thosewho are less privileged than themselves." When a reward isoffered for the capture of Williams, the thieves are persuadedthat they must not deliver the lamb to the wolf. After an oldhag, whose animosity he has aroused, has made a bloodthirstyattack on him with a hatchet, Williams feels obliged to leavetheir habitation "abruptly without leave-taking." He then assumesbeggar's attire and an Irish brogue, but is soon compelled toseek a fresh disguise. In Wales as in London, he comes acrosssomeone who has known Falkland, and is reviled for his treacheryto so noble a master, and cast forth with ignominy. He discoversthat Falkland has hired an unscrupulous villain, Gines, to followhim from place to place, blackening his reputation. Finallydesperation drives him to accuse Falkland openly, though, afterdoing so, he praises the murderer, and loathes himself for hisbetrayal:
"Mr. Falkland is of a noble nature ... a man worthy of affectionand kindness ... I am myself the basest and most odious ofmankind."
The inexorable persecutor in return cries at last:
"Williams, you have conquered! I see too late the greatness and elevation of your mind. I confess that it is to my fault and not yours that I owe my ruin ... I am the most execrable of all villains... As reputation was the blood that warmed my heart, so I feel that death and infamy must seize me together."
Three days later Falkland dies, but instead of experiencingrelief at the death of his persecutor, Williams becomes thevictim of remorse, regarding himself as the murderer of a noblespirit, who had been inevitably ruined by the corruption of humansociety:
"Thou imbibedst the poison of chivalry with thy earliest youth,and the base and low-minded envy that met thee on thy return tothy native seats, operated with this poison to hurry thee intomadness."
At the conclusion of the story, Godwin has not succeeded inmaking his moral very clear. The "wicked aristocrat" who figuresin the preface as "carrying into private life the execrableprinciples of kings and ministers" emerges at last almost as asaintly figure, who through a false notion of honour hasunfortunately become the victim of a brutal squire. But, if thestory does not "rouse men to a sense of the evils of slavery," or"constitute an epoch in the mind of every reader," it hascompensating merits and may be read with unfailing interesteither as a study of morbid psychology or as a spirited detectivestory. Godwin's originality in his dissection of human motive hashardly yet been sufficiently emphasised, perhaps because he is soscrupulous in acknowledging literary debts.[78] From Mrs.Radcliffe, whose _Romance of the Forest_ was published the yearbefore _Caleb Williams_, he borrowed the mysterious chest, thenature of whose contents is hinted at but never actuallydisclosed; but Godwin was no wizard, and had neither the gift northe inclination to conjure with Gothic properties. In leavingimperfectly explained the incident of the discovery of the heartin _The Monastery_, Scott shielded himself behind Godwin's IronChest, which gave its name to Colman's drama.[79] Godwin'speculiar interest was in criminal psychology, and he concentrateson the dramatic conflict between the murderer and the detective.An unusual turn is given to the story by the fact that thecriminal is the pursuer instead of the pursued. Godwin intendedlater in life to write a romance based on the story of EugeneAram, the philosophical murderer; and his careful notes on thescheme are said to have been utilised by his friend, BulwerLytton, in his novel of that name.[80] _Caleb Williams_ helped topopularise the criminal in fiction, and _Paul Clifford_, thestory of the chivalrous highwayman, is one of its literarydescendants.
Godwin was a pioneer breaking new ground in fiction; and, as hewas a man of talent rather than of genius, it is idle to expectperfection of workmanship. The story is full of improbabilities,but they are described in so matter-of-fact a style that we"soberly acquiesce." After an hour of Godwin's grave society aneffervescent sense of humour subsides. A mind open to suggestionis soon infect
ed by his imperturbable seriousness, whicheffectually stills "obstinate questionings." Even the brigandswho live with their philanthropic leader are accepted withoutdemur. After all, Raymond is only Robin Hood turned politicalphilosopher. The ingenious resources of _Caleb Williams_ when hestrives to elude his pursuer are part of the legitimatestock-in-trade of the hero of a novel of adventure. He is not asother men are, and comes through perilous escapades withmiraculous success. It is at first difficult to see why Falklanddoes not realise that his plan of ceaselessly harassing hisvictim is likely to force Williams to accuse him publicly, butgradually we begin to regard his mental obliquity as one of thedecrees of fate. Falkland's obtuseness is of the same nature asthat of the sleeper who undertakes a voyage to Australia todeliver a letter which anywhere but in a dream would have beendropped in the nearest pillar-box. The obvious solution thatwould occur to a waking mind is persistently evasive. The plot of_Caleb Williams_ hinges on an improbability, but so does that of_King Lear_; and if it had not been for Falkland's stupidity, thestory would have ended with the first volume. Godwin excels inthe analysis of mental conditions, but fails when he attempts totransmute passionate feeling into words. We are conscious that heis a cold-blooded spectator _ab extra_ striving to describe whathe has never felt for himself. It is not even "emotionrecollected in tranquillity." Men of this world, who are carriedaway by scorn and anger, utter their feelings simply anddirectly. Godwin's characters pause to cull their words fromdictionaries. Forester's invective, when he believes thatWilliams has basely robbed his master is astonishingly elegant:"Vile calumniator! You are the abhorrence of nature, theopprobrium of the human species and the earth can only be freedfrom an insupportable burthen by your being exterminated."[81]The diction is so elaborately dignified that the contempt whichwas meant almost to annihilate Caleb Williams, lies effectuallyconcealed behind a blinding veil of rhetoric. When he has leisureto adorn, he translates the simplest, most obvious reflectionsinto the "jargon" of political philosophy, but, drivenimpetuously forward by the excitement of his theme, he throws offjerky, spasmodic sentences containing but a single clause. Hisstyle is a curious mixture of these two manners.
The aim of _St. Leon: A Tale of the Sixteenth Century_, is toshow that "boundless wealth, freedom from disease, weakness anddeath are as nothing in the scale against domestic affection andthe charities of private life."[82] For four years Godwin haddesired to modify what he had said on the subject of privateaffections in _Political Justice_, while he asserted hisconviction of the general truth of his system. Godwin had arguedthat private affections resulted in partiality, and thereforeinjustice.[83] If a house were on fire, reason would urge a manto save Fenelon in preference to his valet; but if the rescuerchanced to be the brother or father of the valet, private feelingwould intervene, unreasonably urging him to save his relative andabandon Fenelon. Lest he should be regarded as a wrecker ofhomes, Godwin wished to show that domestic happiness should notbe despised by the man of reason. Instead of expressing his viewson this subject in a succinct pamphlet, Godwin, elated by thesuccess of _Caleb Williams_, decided to embody them in the formof a novel. He at first despaired of finding a theme so rich ininterest as that of his first novel, but ultimately decided that"by mixing human feelings and passions with incredible situationshe might conciliate the patience even of the severestjudges."[84] The phrase, "mixing human feelings," betrays in aflash Godwin's mechanical method of constructing a story. Hemakes no pretence that _St. Leon_ grew naturally as a work ofart. He imposed upon himself an unsuitable task, and, though hedoggedly accomplished it, the result is dull and laboured.
The plot of _St. Leon_ was suggested by Dr. John Campbell's_Hermippus Redivivus_,[85] and centres round the theories of theRosicrucians. The first volume describes the early life of theknight St. Leon, his soldiering, his dissipations, and his happymarriage to Marguerite, whose character is said to have beenmodelled on that of Mary Wollstonecraft. In Paris he is temptedinto extravagance and into playing for high stakes, with theresult that he retires to Switzerland the "prey of poverty andremorse." Misfortunes pursue him for some time, but he at lastenjoys six peaceful years, at the end of which he is visited by amysterious old man, whom he conceals in a summer-house, and whomhe refuses to betray to the Inquisitors in search of him. Inreturn the old man reveals to him the secret of the elixir vitae,and of the philosopher's stone. Marguerite becomes suspicious ofthe source of her husband's wealth: "For a soldier you present mewith a projector and a chemist, a cold-blooded mortal raking inthe ashes of a crucible for a selfish and solitary advantage."His son, Charles, unable to endure the aspersions cast upon hisfather's honour during their travels together in Germany, desertshim. St. Leon is imprisoned because he cannot account for thedeath of the stranger and for his own sudden acquisition ofwealth, but contrives his escape by bribing the jailor. Hetravels to Italy, but is unable to escape from misfortune.Suspected of black magic, he becomes an object of hatred to theinhabitants of the town where he lives. His house is burnt down,his servant and his favourite dog are killed, and he soon hearsof the death of his unhappy wife. He is imprisoned in thedungeons of the Inquisition, but escapes, and takes refuge with aJew, whom he compels to shelter him, until another dose of theelixir restores his youthful appearance, and he sets forth again,this time disguised as a wealthy Spanish cavalier. He visits hisown daughters, representing himself as the executor under theirfather's will. He decides to devote himself to the service ofothers, and is revered as the saviour of Hungary, untildisaffection, caused by a shortage of food, renders himunpopular. He makes a friend of Bethlem Gabor, whose wife andchildren have been savagely murdered by a band of marauders. St.Leon, we are told, "found an inexhaustible and indescribablepleasure in examining the sublime desolation of a mighty soul."But Gabor soon conceives a bitter hatred against him, and entrapshim in a subterranean vault, where he languishes for many months,refusing to yield up his secret. At length the castle isbesieged, and Gabor before his death gives St. Leon his liberty.The leader of the expedition proves to be St. Leon's long-lostson, Charles, who has assumed the name of De Damville. St. Leon,without at first revealing his identity, cultivates thefriendship of his son, but Charles, on learning of his dealingswith the supernatural, repudiates his father. Finally themarriage of his son to Pandora proves to St. Leon that despitehis misfortunes "there is something in this world worth livingfor."
The Inquisition scenes of _St. Leon_ were undoubtedly colouredfaintly by those of Lewis's _Monk_ (1794) and Mrs. Radcliffe's_Italian_ (1798); but it is characteristic of Godwin that insteadof trying to portray the terror of the shadowy hall, he choosesrather to present the argumentative speeches of St. Leon and theInquisitor. The aged stranger, who bestows on St. Leon thephilosopher's stone and the elixir of life, has the piercing eyeso familiar to readers of the novel of terror: "You wished toescape from its penetrating power, but you had not the strengthto move. I began to feel as if it were some mysterious andsuperior being in human form;"[86] but apart from this trait heis not an impressive figure. The only character who would havefelt perfectly at home in the realm of Mrs. Radcliffe and "Monk"Lewis is Bethlem Gabor, who appears for the first time in thefourth volume of _St. Leon_. He is akin to Schedoni and hiscompeers in his love of solitude, his independence ofcompanionship, and his superhuman aspect, but he is a figure whoinspires awe and pity as well as terror. Beside this personagethe other characters pale into insignificance:
"He was more than six feet in stature ... and he was built as if it had been a colossus, destined to sustain the weight of the starry heavens. His voice was like thunder ... his head and chin were clothed with a thick and shaggy hair, in colour a dead-black. He had suffered considerable mutilation in the services through which he had passed ... Bethlem Gabor, though universally respected for the honour and magnanimity of a soldier, was not less remarkable for habits of reserve and taciturnity... Seldom did he allow himself to open his thoughts but when he did, Great God! what supernatural
eloquence seemed to inspire and enshroud him... Bethlem Gabor's was a soul that soared to a sightless distance above the sphere of pity."[87]
The superstitions of bygone ages, which had fired the imaginationof so many writers of romance, left Godwin cold. He was mildlyinterested in the supernatural as affording insight into the"credulity of the human mind," and even compiled a treatise on_The Lives of the Necromancers_ (1834).[88] But the hints andsuggestions, the gloom, the weird lights and shades which help tocreate that romantic atmosphere amid which the alchemist's dreamseems possible of realisation are entirely lacking in Godwin'sstory. He displays everything in a high light. The transferenceof the gifts takes place not in the darkness of a subterraneanvault, but in the calm light of a summer evening. No unearthlygroans, no phosphorescent lights enhance the horror and mysteryof the scene. Godwin is coolly indifferent to historicalaccuracy, and fails to transport us back far beyond the end ofthe eighteenth century. Rousseau's theories were apparentlydisseminated widely in 1525. _St. Leon_ is remembered now ratherfor its position in the history of the novel than for anyintrinsic charm. Godwin was the first to embody in a romance theideas of the Rosicrucians which inspired Bulwer Lytton's _Zicci_,_Zanoni_ and _A Strange Story_.
_St. Leon_ was travestied, the year after it appeared, in a workcalled _St. Godwin: A Tale of the 16th, 17th and 18th Century_,by "Count Reginald de St. Leon," which gives a scathing survey ofthe plot, with all its improbabilities exposed. The bombasticstyle of _St. Leon_ is imitated and only slightly exaggerated,and the author finally satirises Godwin bitterly:
"Thinking from my political writings that I was a good hand at fiction, I turned my thoughts to novel-writing. These I wrote in the same pompous, inflated style as I had used in my other publications, hoping that my fine high-sounding periods would assist to make the unsuspecting reader swallow all the insidious reasoning, absurdity and nonsense I could invent."[89]
The parodist takes Godwin almost as seriously as he took himself,and his attack is needlessly savage. Godwin's political opinionsmay account for the brutality of his assailant who doubtlessbelonged to the other camp. When Godwin attempts the supernaturalin his other novels, he always fails to create an atmosphere ofmystery. The apparition in _Cloudesley_ appears, fades, andreappears in a manner so undignified as to remind us of theCheshire Cat in _Alice in Wonderland_:
"I suddenly saw my brother's face looking out from among the trees as I passed. I saw the features as distinctly as if the meridian sun had beamed upon them... It was by degrees that the features showed themselves thus out of what had been a formless shadow. I gazed upon it intently. Presently it faded away by as insensible degrees as those by which it had become agonisingly clear. After a short time it returned."
Godwin describes a ghost as deliberately and exactly as he woulddescribe a house, and his delineation causes not the faintesttremor. Having little imagination himself, he leaves nothing tothe imagination of the reader. In his _Lives of theNecromancers_, he shows that he is interested in discovering theorigin of a belief in natural magic; but the life stories of themagicians suggest no romantic pictures to his imagination. Indealing with the mysterious and the uncanny, Godwin wasattempting something alien to his mind and temper.
In Godwin's _St. Leon_ the elixir of life is quietly bestowed onthe hero in a summer-house in his own garden. The poet, ThomasMoore, in his romance, _The Epicurean_ (1827), sends forth aGreek adventurer to seek it in the secret depths of the catacombsbeneath the pyramids of Egypt. He originally intended to tell hisstory in verse, but after writing a fragment, _Alciphron_,abandoned this design and decided to begin again in prose. Hisstory purports to be a translation of a recently discoveredmanuscript buried in the time of Diocletian. Inspired by a dream,in which an ancient and venerable man bids him seek the Nile ifhe wishes to discover the secret of eternal life, Alciphron, ayoung Epicurean philosopher of the second century, journeys toEgypt. At Memphis he falls in love with a beautiful priestess,Alethe, whom he follows into the catacombs. Bearing a glimmeringlamp, he passes through a gallery, where the eyes of a row ofcorpses, buried upright, glare upon him, into a chasm peopled bypale, phantom-like forms. He braves the terrors of a blazinggrove and of a dark stream haunted by shrieking spectres, andfinds himself whirled round in chaos like a stone shot in asling. Having at length passed safely through the initiation ofFire, Water and Air, he is welcomed into a valley of "unearthlysadness," with a bleak, dreary lake lit by a "ghostly glimmer ofsunshine." He gazes with awe on the image of the god Osiris, whopresides over the silent kingdom of the dead. Watching within thetemple of Isis, he suddenly sees before him the priestess,Alethe, who guides him back to the realms of day. At the close ofthe story, after Alethe has been martyred for the Christianfaith, Alciphron himself becomes a Christian.
In _The Epicurean_, Moore shows a remarkable power of describingscenes of gloomy terror, which he throws into relief byoccasionalglimpses of light and splendour. The journey of Alciphroninevitably challenges comparison with that of _Vathek_, but thespirit of mockery that animates Beckford's story is whollyabsent. Moore paints a theatrical panorama of effective scenes,but his figures are mere shadows.
The miseries of an existence, prolonged far beyond the allottedspan, are depicted not only in stories of the elixir of life, butin the legends centring round the Wandering Jew. Croly's_Salathiel_ (1829), like Eugene Sue's lengthy romance, _Le JuifErrant_, won fame in its own day, but is now forgotten. Some ofCroly's descriptions, such as that of the burning trireme, have acertain dazzling magnificence, but the colouring is often crudeand startling. The figure of the deathless Jew is apt to be lostamid the mazes of the author's rhetoric. The conception of a mandoomed to wander eternally in expiation of a curse is in itselfan arresting theme likely to attract a romantic writer, but therecord of his adventures may easily become monotonous.
The "novel of terror" has found few more ardent admirers than theyouthful Shelley, who saw in it a way of escape from the harshrealities and dull routine of ordinary existence. From hischildhood the world of ideas seems to have been at least as realand familiar to him as the material world. The fabulous beings ofwhom he talked to his young sisters--the Great Tortoise inWarnham Pond, the snake three hundred years old in the garden atField Place, the grey-bearded alchemist in his garret[90]--hadprobably for him as much meaning and interest as the livingpeople around him. Urged by a restless desire to evade thenatural and encounter the supernatural, he wandered by nightunder the "perilous moonshine," haunted graveyards in the hope of"high talk with the departed dead," dabbled in chemicalexperiments and pored over ancient books of magic. It was to beexpected that an imagination reaching out so eagerly towards theunknown should find refuge from the uncongenial life of SionHouse School in the soul-stirring region of romance. Transportedby sixpenny "blue books" and the many volumed novels in theBrentford circulating library, Shelley's imagination fledjoyously to that land of unlikelihood, where the earth yawns withbandits' caverns inhabited by desperadoes with bloody daggers,where the air continually resounds with the shrieks and groans ofmelancholy spectres, and where the pale moon ever gleams on darkand dreadful deeds. He had reached that stage of humandevelopment when fairies, elves, witches and dragons begin tolose their charm, when the gentle quiver of fear excited by anogre, who is inevitably doomed to be slain at the last, no longersuffices. At the approach of adolescence with its surgingemotions and quickening intellectual life, there awakens a demandfor more thrilling incidents, for wilder passions and moredesperate crimes, and it is at this period that the "novel ofterror" is likely to make its strongest appeal. Youth, with itsinexperience, is seldom tempted to bring fiction to the test ofreality, or to scorn it on the ground of its improbability, andwe may be sure that Shelley and his cousin, Medwin, as they hungspellbound over such treasures as _The Midnight Groan, TheMysterious Freebooter_, or _Subterranean Horrors_ did not pauseto consider whether the characters and adventures were true tolife. They desi
red, indeed, not to criticise but to create, andin the winter of 1809-1810 united to produce a terrific romance,with the title _Nightmare_, in which a gigantic and hideous witchplayed a prominent part. After reading Schubert's _Der EwigeJude_, they began a narrative poem dealing with the legend of theWandering Jew,[91] who lingered in Shelley's imagination in afteryears, and whom he introduced into _Queen Mab, PrometheusUnbound_, and _Hellas_. The grim and ghastly legends included in"Monk" Lewis's _Tales of Terror_ (1799) and _Tales of Wonder_(1801) fascinated Shelley;[92] and the suggestive titles_Revenge_;[93] _Ghasta, or the Avenging Demon_;[94] _St. Edmund'sEve_;[95] _The Triumph of Conscience_ from the _Poems by Victorand Cazire_ (1810), and _The Spectral Horseman_ from _ThePosthumous Poems of Margaret Nicholson_ (1810), all prove hispreoccupation with the supernatural. That Shelley's enthusiasmfor the gruesome and uncanny was not merely morbid andhysterical, the mad, schoolboyish letter, written while he was inthe throes of composing _St. Irvyne_, is sufficient indication.In a mood of grotesque fantasy and wild exhilaration, Shelleyinvites his friend Graham to Field Place. The postscript is inhis handwriting, but is signed by his sister Elizabeth:
"The avenue is composed of vegetable substances moulded in the form of trees called by the multitude Elm trees. Stalk along the road towards them and mind and keep yourself concealed as my mother brings a blood-stained stiletto which she purposes to make you bathe in the lifeblood of your enemy. Never mind the Death-demons and skeletons dripping with the putrefaction of the grave, that occasionally may blast your straining eyeballs. Persevere even though Hell and destruction should yawn beneath your feet.
"Think of all this at the frightful hour of midnight, when the Hell-demon leans over your sleeping form, and inspires those thoughts which eventually will lead you to the gates of destruction... The fiend of the Sussex solitudes shrieked in the wilderness at midnight--he thirsts for thy detestable gore, impious Fergus. But the day of retribution will arrive. H + D=Hell Devil."[96]
That Shelley could jest thus lightly in the mock-terrific veinshows that his mind was fundamentally sane and well-balanced, andthat he only regarded "fiendmongering" as a pleasantly thrillingdiversion. His _Zastrozzi_ (1810) and _St. Irvyne_ (1811) wereprobably written with the same zest and spirit as his harrowingletter to "impious Fergus." They are the outcome of a boyishambition to practise the art of freezing the blood, and theircomposition was a source of pride and delight to their author. Aletter to Peacock (Nov. 9, 1818) from Italy re-echoes the note ofchild-like enjoyment in weaving romances:
"We went to see heaven knows how many more palaces--Ranuzzi,Marriscalchi, Aldobrandi. If you want Italian names for anypurpose, here they are; I should be glad of them if I was writinga novel."
_Zastrozzi_ was published in April, 1810, while Shelley was stillat Eton, and with the L40 paid for the romance, he is said tohave given a banquet to eight of his friends. Though the story islittle more than a _rechauffe_ of previous tales of terror, itevidently attained some measure of popularity. It was reprintedin _The Romancist and Novelist's Library_ in 1839. Like Godwin,Shelley contrived to smuggle a little contraband theory into hisnovels, but his stock-in-trade is mainly that of theterrormongers. The book to which Shelley was chiefly indebted was_Zofloya or the Moor_ (1806), by the notorious Charlotte Dacre or"Rosa Matilda," but there are many reminiscences of Mrs.Radcliffe and of "Monk" Lewis. The sources of _Zastrozzi_ and_St. Irvyne_ have been investigated in the _Modern LanguageReview_ (Jan. 1912), by Mr. A. M. D. Hughes, who gives a completeanalysis of the plot of _Zofloya_, and indicates many parallelswith Shelley's novels. The heroine of _Zofloya_ is clearly alineal descendant of Lewis's Matilda, though Victoria diLoredani, with all her vices, never actually degenerates into afiend. Victoria, it need hardly be stated, is nobly born, but shehas been brought up amid frivolous society by a worthless mother,and: "The wildest passions predominated in her bosom; to gratifythem she possessed an unshrinking, relentless soul that would notstartle at the darkest crime."
Zofloya, who spurs her on, is the Devil himself. The plot ishighly melodramatic, and contains a headlong flight, anearthquake and several violent deaths. In _Zastrozzi_, Shelleydraws upon the characters and incidents of this story veryfreely. His lack of originality is so obvious as to need nocomment. The very names he chooses are borrowed. Julia is thename of the pensive heroine in Mrs. Radcliffe's _SicilianRomance_. Matilda carries with it ugly memories of the lady inLewis's _Monk_; Verezzi occurs in _The Mysteries of Udolpho_;Zastrozzi is formed by prefixing an extra syllable to the nameStrozzi from _Zofloya_. The incidents are those which happenevery day in the realm of terror. The villain, the hero, themelancholy heroine, and her artful rival, develop no new traits,but act strictly in accordance with tradition. They neverinfringe the rigid code of manners and morals laid down for themby previous generations. The scenery is invariably appropriate asa setting to the incidents, and even the weather may be relied onto act in a thoroughly conventional manner. The characters areremarkable for their violent emotions and their marvellouslyexpressive eyes. When Verezzi's senses are "chilled with thefrigorific torpidity of despair," his eyes "roll horribly intheir sockets." When "direst revenge swallows up every otherfeeling" in the soul of Matilda, her eyes "scintillate with afiend-like expression." Incidents follow one another with a wildand stupefying rapidity. Every moment is a crisis. The style isstartlingly abrupt, and the short, disconnected paragraphs arefired off like so many pistol shots. The sequence of events ismystifying--Zastrozzi's motive for persecuting Verezzi is darklyconcealed until the end of the story, for reasons known only towriters of the novel of terror. Shelley's romance, in short, isno better and perhaps even worse than that of the other disciplesof Mrs. Radcliffe and "Monk" Lewis.
_St. Irvyne: or the Rosicrucian_ (1811), though it was written bya "Gentleman of the University of Oxford" and not by a schoolboy,shows slight advance on _Zastrozzi_ either in matter or manner.The plot indeed is more bewildering and baffling than that of_Zastrozzi_. The action of the story is double and alternate, thescene shifts from place to place, and the characters appear anddisappear in an unaccountable and disconcerting fashion. Thistime Godwin's _St. Leon_ has to be added to the list of Shelley'ssources. Ginotti, whose name is stolen from a brigand in_Zofloya_, is not the devil but one of his sworn henchmen, whohas discovered and tasted the elixir vitae. Like Zofloya, he issurrounded by an atmosphere of mystery. So that he may himselfdie, Ginotti, like the old stranger in _St. Leon_, is anxious toimpart his secret to another. He chooses as his victim,Wolfstein, a young noble who, like Leonardo in _Zofloya_, hasallied himself with a band of brigands. The bandit, Ginotti, aidsWolfstein to escape with a beautiful captive maiden, for whomShelley adopts the name Megalena from _Zofloya_. While the loversare in Genoa, Megalena, discovering Wolfstein with a lady namedOlympia, whose "character has been ruined by a false system ofeducation," makes him promise to murder her rival. In Olympia'sbedchamber Wolfstein's hand is stayed for a moment by the sightof her beauty--a picture which recalls the powerful scene in Mrs.Radcliffe's _Italian_, when Schedoni bends over the sleepingEllena. After Olympia's suicide, Megalena and Wolfstein fleetogether from Genoa. In the tale of terror, as in the modernfilm-play, a flight of some kind is almost indispensable.Ginotti, whose habit of disappearing and reappearing reminds usof the ghostly monk in the ruins of Paluzzi, tells his history toWolfstein, and, at the destined hour, bestows the prescriptionfor the elixir, and appoints a meeting in St. Irvyne's abbey,where Wolfstein stumbles over the corpse of Megalena. Wolfsteinrefuses to deny God. Both Ginotti and his victim are blasted bylightning, amid which the "frightful prince of terror, borne onthe pinions of hell's sulphurous whirlwind," stands before them.
"On a sudden Ginotti's frame, mouldered to a gigantic skeleton, yet two pale and ghastly flames glared in his eyeless sockets. Blackened in terrible convulsions, Wolfstein expired; over him had the power of hell no influence. Yes, endless existence is thine, Ginotti-
-a dateless and hopeless eternity of horror."
Interspersed with this somewhat inconsequent story are theadventures of Eloise, who is first introduced on her return home,disconsolate, to a ruined abbey. We are given to understand thatthe story is to unfold the misfortunes which have led to herdownfall, but she is happily married ere the close. Sheaccompanies her dying mother on a journey, as Emily in _TheMysteries of Udolpho_ accompanied her father, and meets amysterious stranger, Nempere, at a lonely house, where they takerefuge. Nempere proves to be a less estimable character thanValancourt, who fell to Emily's lot in similar circumstances. Hesells her to an English noble, Mountfort, at whose house shemeets Fitzeustace, who, like Vivaldi in _The Italian_, overhearsher confession of love for himself. Nempere is killed in a duelby Mountfort. At the close, Shelley states abruptly that Nempereis Ginotti, and Eloise is Wolfstein's sister. In springing asecret upon us suddenly on the last page, Shelley was probablyemulating Lewis's _Bravo of Venice_; but the conclusion, which isintended to forge a connecting link between the tales, isunsatisfying. It is not surprising that the publisher, Stockdale,demanded some further elucidation of the mystery. Ginotti,apparently, dies twice, and Shelley's letters fail to solve theproblem. He wrote to Stockdale: "Ginotti, as you will see, did_not_ die by Wolfstein's hand, but by the influence of thatnatural magic, which, when the secret was imparted to the latter,destroyed him."[97] A few days later he wrote again, evidently inreply to further questions: "On a re-examination you willperceive that Mountfort physically did kill Ginotti, which mustappear from the latter's paleness." The truth seems to be thatShelley was weary of his puppets, and had no desire to extricatethem from the tangle in which they were involved, though he wasimpatient to see _St. Irvyne_ in print, and spoke hopefully ofits "selling mechanically to the circulating libraries."
Shelley took advantage of the privilege of writers of romance topalm off on the public some of his earliest efforts atversification. These poems, distributed impartially among thevarious characters, are introduced with the same laboriousartlessness as the songs in a musical comedy. Megalena, thoughsuffering from excruciating mental agony, finds leisure toscratch several verses on the walls of her cell. It would indeedbe a poor-spirited heroine who could not deftly turn a sonnet tonight or to the moon, however profound her woes. Superhumanstrength and courage is an endowment necessary to all who woulddwell in the realms of terror and survive the fierce struggle forexistence. Peacock, in _Nightmare Abbey_, paints the Shelley of1812 in Scythrop, who devours tragedies and German romances, andis troubled with a "passion for reforming the world." "He sleptwith _Horrid Mysteries_ under his pillow, and dreamed ofvenerable eleutherarchs and ghastly confederates holding midnightconventions in subterranean caves... He had a certain portion ofmechanical genius which his romantic projects tended to develop.He constructed models of cells and recesses, sliding panels andsecret passages, that would have baffled the skill of theParisian police." His bearing was that of a romantic villain: "Hestalked about like the grand Inquisitor, and the servants flittedpast him like familiars."
Although Shelley outgrew his youthful taste for horrors, hisearly reading left traces on the imagery and diction of hispoetry. There is an unusual profusion in his vocabulary of suchwords as ghosts, shades, charnel, tomb, torture, agony, etc., andsupernatural similes occur readily to his mind. In _Alastor_ hecompares himself to
"an inspired and desperate alchymist Staking his very life on some dark hope,"
and cries:
"O that the dream Of dark magician in his visioned cave Raking the cinders of a crucible For life and power, even when his feeble hand Shakes in its last decay, were the true law Of this so lonely world."
In the _Ode to the West Wind_ his memories of an older and finerkind of romance suggested the fantastic comparison of the deadleaves to
"ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,"
and in _Prometheus Unbound_ Panthea sees
"unimaginable shapes Such as ghosts dream dwell in the lampless deeps."
The poem _Ginevra_, which describes an enforced wedding and thedeath of the bride at the sight of her real lover, may well havebeen inspired by reading the romances of terror, where suchevents are an everyday occurrence. The gruesome descriptions in_The Revolt of Islam_, the decay of the garden in _The SensitivePlant_, the tortures of Prometheus, all show how Shelley stroveto work on the instinctive emotion of fear. In _The Cenci_ hetouches the profoundest depths of human passion, and shows hispower of finding words, terrible in their simple grandeur, for asoul in agony. In the tragedies of Shakespeare and of hisfollowers--Ford, Webster and Tourneur--Shelley had heard the truelanguage of anguish and despair. The futile, frenzied shriekingof Matilda and her kind is forgotten in the passionate nobilityor fearful calm of the speeches of Beatrice Cenci.