​     This is my fifth blog post about Mary Ann Hanway’s Andrew Stuart, or the Northern Wanderer (1800). I wanted to share an interesting episode in this forgotten novel because it echoes an event in the life of Percy Bysshe Shelley and it ties into the War of Ideas which raged in England the 1790s after the French Revolution.
     First, to understand the context: in those days, students and tutors at Cambridge and Oxford had to be Protestant Christians (No Jews or Catholics, thanks) and they had to explicitly subscribe to the 39 Articles, a list of doctrines of the Anglican Church.
    I previously discussed the 39 Articles a few years ago, when discussing whether Jane Austen was critiquing the Anglican Church with her portrait of Mr. Collins in Pride and Prejudice.
   All right. In the story, our hero Andrew is listening to the extended backstory of his new friend, John Carter, who was enrolled in Cambridge intending to become a clergyman. Carter is the son of a poor but virtuous clergyman and as such, he’s looked down upon by the more posh and wealthy students, such as Lord Buford.  I've trimmed this excerpt down because John Carter is pretty long-winded. Mind you, if you're on a six-months long voyage to India, I suppose it doesn't matter how long it takes to tell a backstory. Take it away, John!...

    On my trip to England this past summer, I had the privilege of spending a morning researching some old books at the Weston library at Oxford—books which, so far as I know, are unique, in that Oxford is the only library in the world that has a copy. These particular books are not Gutenberg bibles by any means—they are forgotten publications of the Regency era, the kind of books offered in subscription libraries or at bookstores for the average reading public. There is a quiet pleasure in stepping into the reading room at an Oxford library and being entrusted with a book more than two hundred years old that has been slumbering in an archive for who knows how long, and being allowed to open and read it.
     One of the books I examined was a book for children written by William Helme, the schoolteacher husband of the hard-working author Elizabeth Helme. His book is a typical example of the children’s literature of the day, and that’s why I want to talk about it—because it is so typical. It is a compilation of material plagiarized (as we would call it today) from authors of natural history, strung together with a narrative about some children and the wise adult who instructs them and judiciously corrects their faults. Other examples of children’s literature of this type discussed in this blog can be found here and also here. Authors of this type of book did not hold back on their opinions about social issues, as we will see.

Shelley's "singular stories"
    The morning after the mysterious attacks, the Shelleys fled to a nearby government official, the solicitor-general, who put them up until Shelley's publisher sent them some money to book passage to Ireland. (That's how broke Shelley was). Shelley was nearly prostrated with nerves. He and Harriet learned of the slanders from Tremadog accusing Shelley of fleeing to avoid his debts and reneging on his promises of financial support for the embankment project. Although it was true that Shelley was leaving unpaid debts behind him, including his rent, the Shelleys were highly offended that their veracity was called into question concerning the attacks.
​    As we have seen, it was Harriet who responded to the slur that Shelley had faked the attacks, writing a letter to Shelley’s publisher and to his other close friends, giving Shelley's version of events on his behalf. In her letter, Harriet also named the man Shelley blamed for instigating the attack, the chief labour contractor for the embankment project, Robert Leeson. William Madocks, booster of the Tremadog embankment project, had initially welcomed Shelley's involvement as a well-connected and well-spoken son of a baronet and member of parliament. But as Shelley made himself known to the small community of gentry in the area, they realized how radical his political views were. Leeson thought Shelley would bring discredit to the embankment project. Leeson was a High Tory; during Shelley’s brief stay in Tremadog, political and personal animosity had arisen between them. Harriet boasted that Leeson was refused entry into their house on account of his support for the politicians that Shelley despised. Leeson reciprocated the disdain, and in fact sent a copy of Shelley's printed speech about Irish emancipation to the authorities, to alert them to his radical views (they already knew).
   Would Leeson have hired English-speaking thugs to go up to the house and fire off their pistols at Shelley? He definitely wanted to drive Shelley out of Tremadog, but what would have been the best way of doing it, supposing that Leeson was a man of more than moderate intelligence, which he was?