The Psychology of the Poet Shelley
9781465677310
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
Late studies in the Psychology of Sex have led to some interesting speculations with regard to the poet Shelley; and it is with pleasure that I write a few lines by way of introduction to the following paper by my friend, George Barnefield, which puts very clearly, as I think, some points in Shelley’s temperament which have hitherto been neglected or misunderstood, and which call for renewed consideration. Not having myself made a special study of the Modern Psychology, I do not pretend to certify to the absolute truth of the theories put forward by Mr. Barnefield, but I do certainly think, after due consideration, that they are worthy of very careful study. The profound divergence of Shelley’s ideals from the accepted forms of our modern life is a subject which, though it has always attracted attention, has never, I think, been adequately explained or evenpresented for intelligent comprehension; and it is only perhaps in late years that it has become possible, through the great advances that have been made in psychological Science, to arrive at a valid understanding of the inner nature of our greatest modern poet. It has been a sort of commonplace of literary criticism to talk somewhat vaguely of Shelley’s feminine appearance and disposition, or to quote (in passing) Matthew Arnold’s remarks about his “ineffectual wings,” or again to dwell on the poet’s more or less proved liability to delusions; but there has (quite naturally) been no attempt to relate these peculiarities to each other or to see their real bearing on the subject under discussion. And this attitude has made it easy for hostile critics to spread exaggerated and unfounded ideas. The points which I wish to bring to notice in the present Introduction are (1) the degree to which the love-element and interest saturate all Shelley’s poetry; (2) how, while showing the utmost boldness in facing out certain problems connected with sex (incest, polygamy, etc.), he does at the same time treat with marked reserve and a kind of childlike innocence any direct reference to physical sex-acts; and (3) the modern or Freudian view that the origin of mental delusions can frequently be traced to some intimate disturbance or repression of a love-passion. With regard to (1) it has to be noted of course that while the love-interest occupies such a large part of the general field of Shelley’s poetry, it occurs almost always in a very diffused and abstract form. I need only refer in this connexion to three of his main poems, namely, to Prometheus Unbound, in which the love-invocations are strangely ethereal, extending directly and confessedly to all of Nature and Humanity, but never dwelling for a moment on the concrete corporeal charm of a single human being; or to Epipsychidion, in which there is a like diffusion and abstractness, though the confessed inspiration of the love is a known and acknowledged Woman (Emilia Viviani); or again to Adonais, in which the definitely portrayed and glorified object of the poem is a Man. In all these cases (I need hardly say) sex and the sex-contacts which play so conspicuous a part in quite modern literature, are kept well in the background. Whatever Shelley’s real sentiments may have been, these matters are certainly treated by him as quite subordinate and hardly demanding consideration.
