But liberty, when men act in bodies, is power. --Edmund Burke (1) OF THE MAJOR ROMANTIC WRITERS, PERCY SHELLEY IS MOST READILY associated with atheism. The word was still an epithet in the early nineteenth century, yet Shelley courted it. The Necessity of Atheism, the 1811 pamphlet that got Shelley and Thomas Jefferson Hogg kicked out of Oxford, recapitulated familiar arguments from Locke and Hume; the title itself, however, had the desired effect. Five years later, when Shelley signed himself in the hotel registers in Chamonix and Montanvert as "Democrat, Philanthropist, and Atheist," it was the final word that caused the uproar. (2) For in the history of early modern thought in the West "atheism" is an almost magical word. This essay is about Shelley's poem Mont Blanc, though I will have little to say about the content of that poem. This is only in part because a great many intelligent things have already been said about it. It is also because in this poem content is not really the issue. Indeed, the best gloss on Shelley's poem is an oft-quoted passage from Fredric Jameson's The Political Unconscious: History is therefore the experience of Necessity, and it is this alone which can forestall its thematization or reification as a mere object of representation or as one master code among many others. Necessity is not ... a type of content, but rather the inexorable form of events .... the formal effects of what Althusser, following Spinoza, calls an "absent cause." Conceived in this sense, History is what hurts, it is what refuses desire and sets inexorable limits to individual as well as collective prams .... [T]his history can be apprehended only through its effects .... This is indeed the ultimate sense in which History as ground and untranscendable horizon needs no particular theoretical justification: we may be sure that its alienating necessities will not forget us, however much we might prefer to ignore them. (3) Mont Blanc's obscure meditations on power, necessity, and death have sent critics scurrying for source texts, but Jameson suggests that "necessity is not a type of content." No content: only experience, which takes the form of history. To read history we look to its effects, what the poem calls the "flood of ruin" that spills down the mountain. Or, as Shelley puts it a few lines later, "the power is there, / The still and solemn power of many sights, / And many sounds, and much of life and death." (4) Atheism as Unbelief With Shelley's poem as my inspiration, I want to work my way back to Jameson's distinction between content and experience, particularly its reference to Spinoza and the milieu of the radical enlightenment. My argument will be that Shelley is actually superior to the radical enlightenment on this score because he is able to leave its atheism behind. In Chamonix's hotel register and in Prometheus Unbound, Shelley hints at a radical embodiment that goes some way toward undoing atheism's longstanding association with heroic freethought. Because this is a rather counter-intuitive argument, it will be best to begin on familiar ground. In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the heavily-touristed Vale of Chamonix was thought to facilitate religious awe, even perhaps to cure atheists of unbelief. Such notions inspired Coleridge's "Hymn Before Sunrise, in the Vale of Chamouni," which offered this thought as part of its lengthy headnote when it first appeared in 1802: "Who would be, who could be an Atheist in this valley of wonders!" (5) Notoriously, Coleridge had never in fact been to Chamonix; even more notoriously, his poem partly plagiarizes Sophie Christiane Friedericke Brun's much shorter poem on the same subject. (6) When Shelley signs the hotel register "Democrat, Philanthropist, and Atheist," then, he is not only resisting the conventional piety to which Coleridge had given voice; like the subtitle added for the poem's 1817 publication, "Lines Written in the Vale of Chamouni," Shelley's signature in the guest book marks the fact that he was there, and thinking for himself. …