**A portrait of Percy Bysshe Shelley by Alfred Clint, 1819**

A question often leveled at writers is ‘why do you write?’ It’s one I’ve mulled over myself often enough (a compulsion, a fascination with language, a head full of stories I want to share, and the conclusion I come to most often, a simple need for communication). As I was writing The Aziola’s Cry, I started wondering what Percy Bysshe Shelley’s answer to that question would be.

He has the compulsion from childhood, clearly, as he and his sister Elizabeth managed to publish a small collection of poetry in their youth. But where Elizabeth seems to have left the hobby aside, it became a lifetime’s vocation for Percy Bysshe.

There are two significant answers to why Shelley wrote, and I believe they can be summarized in two of his most famous quotes.

The first is a bold statement that occurs in his essay Defence of Poetry: “Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.”

This is perfect for a poet so political and philosophical. We see him picking up his pen time and again when he sees something amiss in the world. The publication of his that had the most impact in his lifetime was probably the pamphlet he published while at Oxford, The Necessity of Atheism, and the person it impacted most was himself, seeing him expelled from university and branded a dangerous radical for the rest of his life. On closer inspection, the title is probably the most shocking thing; Shelley talks earnestly about the dangers of corruption and hypocrisy in the structures of Christianity. Although he maintained an antagonistic relationship with the church, he greatly admired the actions and teachings of Jesus Christ, and was spiritual in his way, later saying he was a Pantheist rather than Atheist, and often talked of the ‘spirit of the universe.’

This early misadventure regrettably sets the tone for most of Shelley’s publishing career. He was intensely committed to his beliefs, and works like Queen Mab combine vivid fantastical images with his philosophical view on the world and its social structures. Many of his ideas were ahead of their time: He advocated for a vegetarian diet, and condemned the ‘slavery’ of marriage that put women at the mercy of their husbands.

When he heard of the great tragedy of the murder of peaceful protestors at the Peterloo Massacre, he instantly picked up his pen and wrote ‘The Masque of Anarchy,’ simultaneously condemning the corrupt lords of England (he name-checked several significant members of parliament) and providing a stirring philosophical cry to the people to resist such treatment.

“Rise like lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number,
Shake your chain to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you —
Ye are many — they are few.”

He sent this poem to his friend and publisher Leigh Hunt, urging a swift publication. But Hunt did not publish it until many years later. Hunt feared the consequences of publishing such impassioned anti-government rhetoric, and rightly so; he had previously spent time in prison for his criticisms of the Prince Regent.

Time after time, Shelley’s publications failed to find an audience. Most of his works were printed at his own expense, and many were left over unsold.

There are many creative figures whose brilliance wasn’t recognised in their time that now hold a kind of cult status: Van Gogh barely sold a painting; Emily Dickinson lived in obscurity and her work was much misunderstood by even her editors; I think we can add Shelley to that list. He had every privilege that could preordain him for success, but his wildness, his passion, and his commitment to his own beliefs kept him in obscurity.

His lack of readership definitely frustrated him, though, because he had something important to say, and longed for it to be heard.

His poem ‘Ode to the West Wind’ is one of my personal favorites, and runs through my book. In this he talks of how the wind takes dead leaves and seeds and sends them across the world, where they may one day find soil to grow in. In the final stanza he offers a hope that his words ideas might likewise be ‘scattered’ and that they might spark new ideas. He ends with a hopeful plea: ‘If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?’

Which brings me to the second reason he wrote, and a very different quote from Defence of Poetry: ‘A poet is a nightingale who sits in darkness, and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.’

Here the poet is separate from everyone else, and any listener would find the words remotely pretty, but not understand it. This is the lonely Shelley, the frustrated writer who sometimes simply pours his heart out in writing. These poems are often private, emotional, intense, and full of heightened imagery.

In total he sold only a few hundred books in his lifetime. Certainly far less than his wife Mary sold of her one book, Frankenstein, in the same period.

Soon after his death, though, public interest in his works began to grow. This was due in no small part to Mary’s activities. When she collected and reprinted his poetry, she did what he never could; she left out the passages that would get the book censored, or greatly offend readers. She presented a milder Shelley, and slowly introduced his more radical works, always emphasising his purity of intention, and desire to ameliorate the world. Having completed The Aziola’s Cry about the Shelleys’ lives together, I am currently writing the follow up, Mary After Shelley, which charts her life in the years after his death, and marvelling at all she did! So much of his great legacy was due to her determination to share his works.