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diff --git a/4697-h/4697-h.htm b/4697-h/4697-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef7676b --- /dev/null +++ b/4697-h/4697-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1835 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Peter Bell the Third, by Miching Mallecho + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Peter Bell the Third, by Percy Bysshe Shelley + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Peter Bell the Third + +Author: Percy Bysshe Shelley + +Release Date: January 20, 2010 [EBook #4697] +Last Updated: February 6, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PETER BELL THE THIRD *** + + + + +Produced by Sue Asscher, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + PETER BELL THE THIRD. + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Percy Bysshe Shelley <br /> (Miching Mallecho) + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Is it a party in a parlour, + Crammed just as they on earth were crammed, + Some sipping punch—some sipping tea; + But, as you by their faces see, + All silent, and all—damned! + "Peter Bell", by W. WORDSWORTH. + + OPHELIA.—What means this, my lord? + HAMLET.—Marry, this is Miching Mallecho; it means mischief. + SHAKESPEARE. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> DEDICATION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PROL"> PROLOGUE. </a> + </p> + <br /> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART1"> PART 1. DEATH. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART2"> PART 2. THE DEVIL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART3"> PART 3. HELL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART4"> PART 4. SIN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART5"> PART 5. GRACE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART6"> PART 6. DAMNATION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART7"> PART 7. DOUBLE DAMNATION. </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DEDICATION. + </h2> + <h3> + TO THOMAS BROWN, ESQ., THE YOUNGER, H.F. + </h3> + <p> + DEAR TOM—Allow me to request you to introduce Mr. Peter Bell to the + respectable family of the Fudges. Although he may fall short of those very + considerable personages in the more active properties which characterize + the Rat and the Apostate, I suspect that even you, their historian, will + confess that he surpasses them in the more peculiarly legitimate + qualification of intolerable dulness. + </p> + <p> + You know Mr. Examiner Hunt; well—it was he who presented me to two + of the Mr. Bells. My intimacy with the younger Mr. Bell naturally sprung + from this introduction to his brothers. And in presenting him to you, I + have the satisfaction of being able to assure you that he is considerably + the dullest of the three. + </p> + <p> + There is this particular advantage in an acquaintance with any one of the + Peter Bells, that if you know one Peter Bell, you know three Peter Bells; + they are not one, but three; not three, but one. An awful mystery, which, + after having caused torrents of blood, and having been hymned by groans + enough to deafen the music of the spheres, is at length illustrated to the + satisfaction of all parties in the theological world, by the nature of Mr. + Peter Bell. + </p> + <p> + Peter is a polyhedric Peter, or a Peter with many sides. He changes + colours like a chameleon, and his coat like a snake. He is a Proteus of a + Peter. He was at first sublime, pathetic, impressive, profound; then dull; + then prosy and dull; and now dull—oh so very dull! it is an + ultra-legitimate dulness. + </p> + <p> + You will perceive that it is not necessary to consider Hell and the Devil + as supernatural machinery. The whole scene of my epic is in 'this world + which is'—so Peter informed us before his conversion to "White Obi"— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'The world of all of us, AND WHERE + WE FIND OUR HAPPINESS, OR NOT AT ALL.' +</pre> + <p> + Let me observe that I have spent six or seven days in composing this + sublime piece; the orb of my moonlike genius has made the fourth part of + its revolution round the dull earth which you inhabit, driving you mad, + while it has retained its calmness and its splendour, and I have been + fitting this its last phase 'to occupy a permanent station in the + literature of my country.' + </p> + <p> + Your works, indeed, dear Tom, sell better; but mine are far superior. The + public is no judge; posterity sets all to rights. + </p> + <p> + Allow me to observe that so much has been written of Peter Bell, that the + present history can be considered only, like the Iliad, as a continuation + of that series of cyclic poems, which have already been candidates for + bestowing immortality upon, at the same time that they receive it from, + his character and adventures. In this point of view I have violated no + rule of syntax in beginning my composition with a conjunction; the full + stop which closes the poem continued by me being, like the full stops at + the end of the Iliad and Odyssey, a full stop of a very qualified import. + </p> + <p> + Hoping that the immortality which you have given to the Fudges, you will + receive from them; and in the firm expectation, that when London shall be + an habitation of bitterns; when St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey shall + stand, shapeless and nameless ruins, in the midst of an unpeopled marsh; + when the piers of Waterloo Bridge shall become the nuclei of islets of + reeds and osiers, and cast the jagged shadows of their broken arches on + the solitary stream, some transatlantic commentator will be weighing in + the scales of some new and now unimagined system of criticism, the + respective merits of the Bells and the Fudges, and their historians. I + remain, dear Tom, yours sincerely, + </p> + <p> + MICHING MALLECHO. + </p> + <p> + December 1, 1819. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—Pray excuse the date of place; so soon as the profits of the + publication come in, I mean to hire lodgings in a more respectable street. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PROL" id="link2H_PROL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PROLOGUE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Peter Bells, one, two and three, + O'er the wide world wandering be.— + First, the antenatal Peter, + Wrapped in weeds of the same metre, + The so-long-predestined raiment 5 + Clothed in which to walk his way meant + The second Peter; whose ambition + Is to link the proposition, + As the mean of two extremes— + (This was learned from Aldric's themes) 10 + Shielding from the guilt of schism + The orthodoxal syllogism; + The First Peter—he who was + Like the shadow in the glass + Of the second, yet unripe, 15 + His substantial antitype.— + + Then came Peter Bell the Second, + Who henceforward must be reckoned + The body of a double soul, + And that portion of the whole 20 + Without which the rest would seem + Ends of a disjointed dream.— + And the Third is he who has + O'er the grave been forced to pass + To the other side, which is,— 25 + Go and try else,—just like this. + + Peter Bell the First was Peter + Smugger, milder, softer, neater, + Like the soul before it is + Born from THAT world into THIS. 30 + The next Peter Bell was he, + Predevote, like you and me, + To good or evil as may come; + His was the severer doom,— + For he was an evil Cotter, 35 + And a polygamic Potter. + And the last is Peter Bell, + Damned since our first parents fell, + Damned eternally to Hell— + Surely he deserves it well! 40 +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART1" id="link2H_PART1"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART 1. DEATH. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1. + And Peter Bell, when he had been + With fresh-imported Hell-fire warmed, + Grew serious—from his dress and mien + 'Twas very plainly to be seen + Peter was quite reformed. 5 + + 2. + His eyes turned up, his mouth turned down; + His accent caught a nasal twang; + He oiled his hair; there might be heard + The grace of God in every word + Which Peter said or sang. 10 + + 3. + But Peter now grew old, and had + An ill no doctor could unravel: + His torments almost drove him mad;— + Some said it was a fever bad— + Some swore it was the gravel. 15 + + 4. + His holy friends then came about, + And with long preaching and persuasion + Convinced the patient that, without + The smallest shadow of a doubt, + He was predestined to damnation. 20 + + 5. + They said—'Thy name is Peter Bell; + Thy skin is of a brimstone hue; + Alive or dead—ay, sick or well— + The one God made to rhyme with hell; + The other, I think, rhymes with you. 25 + + 6. + Then Peter set up such a yell!— + The nurse, who with some water gruel + Was climbing up the stairs, as well + As her old legs could climb them—fell, + And broke them both—the fall was cruel. 30 + + 7. + The Parson from the casement lept + Into the lake of Windermere— + And many an eel—though no adept + In God's right reason for it—kept + Gnawing his kidneys half a year. 35 + + 8. + And all the rest rushed through the door + And tumbled over one another, + And broke their skulls.—Upon the floor + Meanwhile sat Peter Bell, and swore, + And cursed his father and his mother; 40 + + 9. + And raved of God, and sin, and death, + Blaspheming like an infidel; + And said, that with his clenched teeth + He'd seize the earth from underneath, + And drag it with him down to hell. 45 + + 10. + As he was speaking came a spasm, + And wrenched his gnashing teeth asunder; + Like one who sees a strange phantasm + He lay,—there was a silent chasm + Between his upper jaw and under. 50 + + 11. + And yellow death lay on his face; + And a fixed smile that was not human + Told, as I understand the case, + That he was gone to the wrong place:— + I heard all this from the old woman. 55 + + 12. + Then there came down from Langdale Pike + A cloud, with lightning, wind and hail; + It swept over the mountains like + An ocean,—and I heard it strike + The woods and crags of Grasmere vale. 60 + + 13. + And I saw the black storm come + Nearer, minute after minute; + Its thunder made the cataracts dumb; + With hiss, and clash, and hollow hum, + It neared as if the Devil was in it. 65 + + 14. + The Devil WAS in it:—he had bought + Peter for half-a-crown; and when + The storm which bore him vanished, nought + That in the house that storm had caught + Was ever seen again. 70 + + 15. + The gaping neighbours came next day— + They found all vanished from the shore: + The Bible, whence he used to pray, + Half scorched under a hen-coop lay; + Smashed glass—and nothing more! 75 +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART 2. THE DEVIL. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1. + The Devil, I safely can aver, + Has neither hoof, nor tail, nor sting; + Nor is he, as some sages swear, + A spirit, neither here nor there, + In nothing—yet in everything. 80 + + 2. + He is—what we are; for sometimes + The Devil is a gentleman; + At others a bard bartering rhymes + For sack; a statesman spinning crimes; + A swindler, living as he can; 85 + + 3. + A thief, who cometh in the night, + With whole boots and net pantaloons, + Like some one whom it were not right + To mention;—or the luckless wight + From whom he steals nine silver spoons. 90 + + 4. + But in this case he did appear + Like a slop-merchant from Wapping, + And with smug face, and eye severe, + On every side did perk and peer + Till he saw Peter dead or napping. 95 + + 5. + He had on an upper Benjamin + (For he was of the driving schism) + In the which he wrapped his skin + From the storm he travelled in, + For fear of rheumatism. 100 + + 6. + He called the ghost out of the corse;— + It was exceedingly like Peter,— + Only its voice was hollow and hoarse— + It had a queerish look of course— + Its dress too was a little neater. 105 + + 7. + The Devil knew not his name and lot; + Peter knew not that he was Bell: + Each had an upper stream of thought, + Which made all seem as it was not; + Fitting itself to all things well. 110 + + 8. + Peter thought he had parents dear, + Brothers, sisters, cousins, cronies, + In the fens of Lincolnshire; + He perhaps had found them there + Had he gone and boldly shown his 115 + + 9. + Solemn phiz in his own village; + Where he thought oft when a boy + He'd clomb the orchard walls to pillage + The produce of his neighbour's tillage, + With marvellous pride and joy. 120 + + 10. + And the Devil thought he had, + 'Mid the misery and confusion + Of an unjust war, just made + A fortune by the gainful trade + Of giving soldiers rations bad— 125 + The world is full of strange delusion— + + 11. + That he had a mansion planned + In a square like Grosvenor Square, + That he was aping fashion, and + That he now came to Westmoreland 130 + To see what was romantic there. + + 12. + And all this, though quite ideal,— + Ready at a breath to vanish,— + Was a state not more unreal + Than the peace he could not feel, 135 + Or the care he could not banish. + + 13. + After a little conversation, + The Devil told Peter, if he chose, + He'd bring him to the world of fashion + By giving him a situation 140 + In his own service—and new clothes. + + 14. + And Peter bowed, quite pleased and proud, + And after waiting some few days + For a new livery—dirty yellow + Turned up with black—the wretched fellow 145 + Was bowled to Hell in the Devil's chaise. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART3" id="link2H_PART3"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART 3. HELL. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1. + Hell is a city much like London— + A populous and a smoky city; + There are all sorts of people undone, + And there is little or no fun done; 150 + Small justice shown, and still less pity. + + 2. + There is a Castles, and a Canning, + A Cobbett, and a Castlereagh; + All sorts of caitiff corpses planning + All sorts of cozening for trepanning 155 + Corpses less corrupt than they. + + 3. + There is a ***, who has lost + His wits, or sold them, none knows which; + He walks about a double ghost, + And though as thin as Fraud almost— 160 + Ever grows more grim and rich. + + 4. + There is a Chancery Court; a King; + A manufacturing mob; a set + Of thieves who by themselves are sent + Similar thieves to represent; 165 + An army; and a public debt. + + 5. + Which last is a scheme of paper money, + And means—being interpreted— + 'Bees, keep your wax—give us the honey, + And we will plant, while skies are sunny, 170 + Flowers, which in winter serve instead.' + + 6. + There is a great talk of revolution— + And a great chance of despotism— + German soldiers—camps—confusion— + Tumults—lotteries—rage—delusion— 175 + Gin—suicide—and methodism; + + 7. + Taxes too, on wine and bread, + And meat, and beer, and tea, and cheese, + From which those patriots pure are fed, + Who gorge before they reel to bed 180 + The tenfold essence of all these. + + 8. + There are mincing women, mewing, + (Like cats, who amant misere,) + Of their own virtue, and pursuing + Their gentler sisters to that ruin, 185 + Without which—what were chastity? + + 9. + Lawyers—judges—old hobnobbers + Are there—bailiffs—chancellors— + Bishops—great and little robbers— + Rhymesters—pamphleteers—stock-jobbers— 190 + Men of glory in the wars,— + + 10. + Things whose trade is, over ladies + To lean, and flirt, and stare, and simper, + Till all that is divine in woman + Grows cruel, courteous, smooth, inhuman, 195 + Crucified 'twixt a smile and whimper. + + 11. + Thrusting, toiling, wailing, moiling, + Frowning, preaching—such a riot! + Each with never-ceasing labour, + Whilst he thinks he cheats his neighbour, 200 + Cheating his own heart of quiet. + + 12. + And all these meet at levees;— + Dinners convivial and political;— + Suppers of epic poets;—teas, + Where small talk dies in agonies;— 205 + Breakfasts professional and critical; + + 13. + Lunches and snacks so aldermanic + That one would furnish forth ten dinners, + Where reigns a Cretan-tongued panic, + Lest news Russ, Dutch, or Alemannic 210 + Should make some losers, and some winners— + + 45. + At conversazioni—balls— + Conventicles—and drawing-rooms— + Courts of law—committees—calls + Of a morning—clubs—book-stalls— 215 + Churches—masquerades—and tombs. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 15. + And this is Hell—and in this smother + All are damnable and damned; + Each one damning, damns the other; + They are damned by one another, 220 + By none other are they damned. + + 16. + 'Tis a lie to say, 'God damns'! + Where was Heaven's Attorney General + When they first gave out such flams? + Let there be an end of shams, 225 + They are mines of poisonous mineral. + + 17. + Statesmen damn themselves to be + Cursed; and lawyers damn their souls + To the auction of a fee; + Churchmen damn themselves to see 230 + God's sweet love in burning coals. + + 18. + The rich are damned, beyond all cure, + To taunt, and starve, and trample on + The weak and wretched; and the poor + Damn their broken hearts to endure 235 + Stripe on stripe, with groan on groan. + + 19. + Sometimes the poor are damned indeed + To take,—not means for being blessed,— + But Cobbett's snuff, revenge; that weed + From which the worms that it doth feed 240 + Squeeze less than they before possessed. + + 20. + And some few, like we know who, + Damned—but God alone knows why— + To believe their minds are given + To make this ugly Hell a Heaven; 245 + In which faith they live and die. + + 21. + Thus, as in a town, plague-stricken, + Each man be he sound or no + Must indifferently sicken; + As when day begins to thicken, 250 + None knows a pigeon from a crow,— + + 22. + So good and bad, sane and mad, + The oppressor and the oppressed; + Those who weep to see what others + Smile to inflict upon their brothers; 255 + Lovers, haters, worst and best; + + 23. + All are damned—they breathe an air, + Thick, infected, joy-dispelling: + Each pursues what seems most fair, + Mining like moles, through mind, and there 260 + Scoop palace-caverns vast, where Care + In throned state is ever dwelling. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART4" id="link2H_PART4"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART 4. SIN. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1. + Lo. Peter in Hell's Grosvenor Square, + A footman in the Devil's service! + And the misjudging world would swear 265 + That every man in service there + To virtue would prefer vice. + + 2. + But Peter, though now damned, was not + What Peter was before damnation. + Men oftentimes prepare a lot 270 + Which ere it finds them, is not what + Suits with their genuine station. + + 3. + All things that Peter saw and felt + Had a peculiar aspect to him; + And when they came within the belt 275 + Of his own nature, seemed to melt, + Like cloud to cloud, into him. + + 4. + And so the outward world uniting + To that within him, he became + Considerably uninviting 280 + To those who, meditation slighting, + Were moulded in a different frame. + + 5. + And he scorned them, and they scorned him; + And he scorned all they did; and they + Did all that men of their own trim 285 + Are wont to do to please their whim, + Drinking, lying, swearing, play. + + 6. + Such were his fellow-servants; thus + His virtue, like our own, was built + Too much on that indignant fuss 290 + Hypocrite Pride stirs up in us + To bully one another's guilt. + + 7. + He had a mind which was somehow + At once circumference and centre + Of all he might or feel or know; 295 + Nothing went ever out, although + Something did ever enter. + + 8. + He had as much imagination + As a pint-pot;—he never could + Fancy another situation, 300 + From which to dart his contemplation, + Than that wherein he stood. + + 9. + Yet his was individual mind, + And new created all he saw + In a new manner, and refined 305 + Those new creations, and combined + Them, by a master-spirit's law. + + 10. + Thus—though unimaginative— + An apprehension clear, intense, + Of his mind's work, had made alive 310 + The things it wrought on; I believe + Wakening a sort of thought in sense. + + 11. + But from the first 'twas Peter's drift + To be a kind of moral eunuch, + He touched the hem of Nature's shift, 315 + Felt faint—and never dared uplift + The closest, all-concealing tunic. + + 12. + She laughed the while, with an arch smile, + And kissed him with a sister's kiss, + And said—My best Diogenes, 320 + I love you well—but, if you please, + Tempt not again my deepest bliss. + + 13. + ''Tis you are cold—for I, not coy, + Yield love for love, frank, warm, and true; + And Burns, a Scottish peasant boy— 325 + His errors prove it—knew my joy + More, learned friend, than you. + + 14. + 'Boeca bacciata non perde ventura, + Anzi rinnuova come fa la luna:— + So thought Boccaccio, whose sweet words might cure a 330 + Male prude, like you, from what you now endure, a + Low-tide in soul, like a stagnant laguna. + + 15. + Then Peter rubbed his eyes severe. + And smoothed his spacious forehead down + With his broad palm;—'twixt love and fear, 335 + He looked, as he no doubt felt, queer, + And in his dream sate down. + + 16. + The Devil was no uncommon creature; + A leaden-witted thief—just huddled + Out of the dross and scum of nature; 340 + A toad-like lump of limb and feature, + With mind, and heart, and fancy muddled. + + 17. + He was that heavy, dull, cold thing, + The spirit of evil well may be: + A drone too base to have a sting; 345 + Who gluts, and grimes his lazy wing, + And calls lust, luxury. + + 18. + Now he was quite the kind of wight + Round whom collect, at a fixed aera, + Venison, turtle, hock, and claret,— 350 + Good cheer—and those who come to share it— + And best East Indian madeira! + + 19. + It was his fancy to invite + Men of science, wit, and learning, + Who came to lend each other light; 355 + He proudly thought that his gold's might + Had set those spirits burning. + + 20. + And men of learning, science, wit, + Considered him as you and I + Think of some rotten tree, and sit 360 + Lounging and dining under it, + Exposed to the wide sky. + + 21. + And all the while with loose fat smile, + The willing wretch sat winking there, + Believing 'twas his power that made 365 + That jovial scene—and that all paid + Homage to his unnoticed chair. + + 22. + Though to be sure this place was Hell; + He was the Devil—and all they— + What though the claret circled well, 370 + And wit, like ocean, rose and fell?— + Were damned eternally. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART5" id="link2H_PART5"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART 5. GRACE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1. + Among the guests who often stayed + Till the Devil's petits-soupers, + A man there came, fair as a maid, 375 + And Peter noted what he said, + Standing behind his master's chair. + + 2. + He was a mighty poet—and + A subtle-souled psychologist; + All things he seemed to understand, 380 + Of old or new—of sea or land— + But his own mind—which was a mist. + + 3. + This was a man who might have turned + Hell into Heaven—and so in gladness + A Heaven unto himself have earned; 385 + But he in shadows undiscerned + Trusted.—and damned himself to madness. + + 4. + He spoke of poetry, and how + 'Divine it was—a light—a love— + A spirit which like wind doth blow 390 + As it listeth, to and fro; + A dew rained down from God above; + + 5. + 'A power which comes and goes like dream, + And which none can ever trace— + Heaven's light on earth—Truth's brightest beam.' 395 + And when he ceased there lay the gleam + Of those words upon his face. + + 6. + Now Peter, when he heard such talk, + Would, heedless of a broken pate, + Stand like a man asleep, or balk 400 + Some wishing guest of knife or fork, + Or drop and break his master's plate. + + 7. + At night he oft would start and wake + Like a lover, and began + In a wild measure songs to make 405 + On moor, and glen, and rocky lake, + And on the heart of man— + + 8. + And on the universal sky— + And the wide earth's bosom green,— + And the sweet, strange mystery 410 + Of what beyond these things may lie, + And yet remain unseen. + + 9. + For in his thought he visited + The spots in which, ere dead and damned, + He his wayward life had led; 415 + Yet knew not whence the thoughts were fed + Which thus his fancy crammed. + + 10. + And these obscure remembrances + Stirred such harmony in Peter, + That, whensoever he should please, 420 + He could speak of rocks and trees + In poetic metre. + + 11. + For though it was without a sense + Of memory, yet he remembered well + Many a ditch and quick-set fence; 425 + Of lakes he had intelligence, + He knew something of heath and fell. + + 12. + He had also dim recollections + Of pedlars tramping on their rounds; + Milk-pans and pails; and odd collections 430 + Of saws, and proverbs; and reflections + Old parsons make in burying-grounds. + + 13. + But Peter's verse was clear, and came + Announcing from the frozen hearth + Of a cold age, that none might tame 435 + The soul of that diviner flame + It augured to the Earth: + + 14. + Like gentle rains, on the dry plains, + Making that green which late was gray, + Or like the sudden moon, that stains 440 + Some gloomy chamber's window-panes + With a broad light like day. + + 15. + For language was in Peter's hand + Like clay while he was yet a potter; + And he made songs for all the land, 445 + Sweet both to feel and understand, + As pipkins late to mountain Cotter. + + 16. + And Mr. —, the bookseller, + Gave twenty pounds for some;—then scorning + A footman's yellow coat to wear, 450 + Peter, too proud of heart, I fear, + Instantly gave the Devil warning. + + 17. + Whereat the Devil took offence, + And swore in his soul a great oath then, + 'That for his damned impertinence 455 + He'd bring him to a proper sense + Of what was due to gentlemen!' +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART6" id="link2H_PART6"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART 6. DAMNATION. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1. + 'O that mine enemy had written + A book!'—cried Job:—a fearful curse, + If to the Arab, as the Briton, 460 + 'Twas galling to be critic-bitten:— + The Devil to Peter wished no worse. + + 2. + When Peter's next new book found vent, + The Devil to all the first Reviews + A copy of it slyly sent, 465 + With five-pound note as compliment, + And this short notice—'Pray abuse.' + + 3. + Then seriatim, month and quarter, + Appeared such mad tirades.—One said— + 'Peter seduced Mrs. Foy's daughter, 470 + Then drowned the mother in Ullswater, + The last thing as he went to bed.' + + 4. + Another—'Let him shave his head! + Where's Dr. Willis?—Or is he joking? + What does the rascal mean or hope, 475 + No longer imitating Pope, + In that barbarian Shakespeare poking?' + + 5. + One more, 'Is incest not enough? + And must there be adultery too? + Grace after meat? Miscreant and Liar! 480 + Thief! Blackguard! Scoundrel! Fool! hell-fire + Is twenty times too good for you. + + 6. + 'By that last book of yours WE think + You've double damned yourself to scorn; + We warned you whilst yet on the brink 485 + You stood. From your black name will shrink + The babe that is unborn.' + + 7. + All these Reviews the Devil made + Up in a parcel, which he had + Safely to Peter's house conveyed. 490 + For carriage, tenpence Peter paid— + Untied them—read them—went half mad. + + 8. + 'What!' cried he, 'this is my reward + For nights of thought, and days, of toil? + Do poets, but to be abhorred 495 + By men of whom they never heard, + Consume their spirits' oil? + + 9. + 'What have I done to them?—and who + IS Mrs. Foy? 'Tis very cruel + To speak of me and Betty so! 500 + Adultery! God defend me! Oh! + I've half a mind to fight a duel. + + 10. + 'Or,' cried he, a grave look collecting, + 'Is it my genius, like the moon, + Sets those who stand her face inspecting, 505 + That face within their brain reflecting, + Like a crazed bell-chime, out of tune?' + + 11. + For Peter did not know the town, + But thought, as country readers do, + For half a guinea or a crown, 510 + He bought oblivion or renown + From God's own voice in a review. + + 12. + All Peter did on this occasion + Was, writing some sad stuff in prose. + It is a dangerous invasion 515 + When poets criticize; their station + Is to delight, not pose. + + 13. + The Devil then sent to Leipsic fair + For Born's translation of Kant's book; + A world of words, tail foremost, where 520 + Right—wrong—false—true—and foul—and fair + As in a lottery-wheel are shook. + + 14. + Five thousand crammed octavo pages + Of German psychologics,—he + Who his furor verborum assuages 525 + Thereon, deserves just seven months' wages + More than will e'er be due to me. + + 15. + I looked on them nine several days, + And then I saw that they were bad; + A friend, too, spoke in their dispraise,— 530 + He never read them;—with amaze + I found Sir William Drummond had. + + 16. + When the book came, the Devil sent + It to P. Verbovale, Esquire, + With a brief note of compliment, 535 + By that night's Carlisle mail. It went, + And set his soul on fire. + + 17. + Fire, which ex luce praebens fumum, + Made him beyond the bottom see + Of truth's clear well—when I and you, Ma'am, 540 + Go, as we shall do, subter humum, + We may know more than he. + + 18. + Now Peter ran to seed in soul + Into a walking paradox; + For he was neither part nor whole, 545 + Nor good, nor bad—nor knave nor fool; + —Among the woods and rocks + + 19. + Furious he rode, where late he ran, + Lashing and spurring his tame hobby; + Turned to a formal puritan, 550 + A solemn and unsexual man,— + He half believed "White Obi". + + 20. + This steed in vision he would ride, + High trotting over nine-inch bridges, + With Flibbertigibbet, imp of pride, 555 + Mocking and mowing by his side— + A mad-brained goblin for a guide— + Over corn-fields, gates, and hedges. + + 21. + After these ghastly rides, he came + Home to his heart, and found from thence 560 + Much stolen of its accustomed flame; + His thoughts grew weak, drowsy, and lame + Of their intelligence. + + 22. + To Peter's view, all seemed one hue; + He was no Whig, he was no Tory; 565 + No Deist and no Christian he;— + He got so subtle, that to be + Nothing, was all his glory. + + 23. + One single point in his belief + From his organization sprung, 570 + The heart-enrooted faith, the chief + Ear in his doctrines' blighted sheaf, + That 'Happiness is wrong'; + + 24. + So thought Calvin and Dominic; + So think their fierce successors, who 575 + Even now would neither stint nor stick + Our flesh from off our bones to pick, + If they might 'do their do.' + + 25. + His morals thus were undermined:— + The old Peter—the hard, old Potter— 580 + Was born anew within his mind; + He grew dull, harsh, sly, unrefined, + As when he tramped beside the Otter. + + 26. + In the death hues of agony + Lambently flashing from a fish, 585 + Now Peter felt amused to see + Shades like a rainbow's rise and flee, + Mixed with a certain hungry wish. + + 27. + So in his Country's dying face + He looked—and, lovely as she lay, 590 + Seeking in vain his last embrace, + Wailing her own abandoned case, + With hardened sneer he turned away: + + 28. + And coolly to his own soul said;— + 'Do you not think that we might make 595 + A poem on her when she's dead:— + Or, no—a thought is in my head— + Her shroud for a new sheet I'll take: + + 29. + 'My wife wants one.—Let who will bury + This mangled corpse! And I and you, 600 + My dearest Soul, will then make merry, + As the Prince Regent did with Sherry,—' + 'Ay—and at last desert me too.' + + 30. + And so his Soul would not be gay, + But moaned within him; like a fawn 605 + Moaning within a cave, it lay + Wounded and wasting, day by day, + Till all its life of life was gone. + + 31. + As troubled skies stain waters clear, + The storm in Peter's heart and mind 610 + Now made his verses dark and queer: + They were the ghosts of what they were, + Shaking dim grave-clothes in the wind. + + 32. + For he now raved enormous folly, + Of Baptisms, Sunday-schools, and Graves, 615 + 'Twould make George Colman melancholy + To have heard him, like a male Molly, + Chanting those stupid staves. + + 33. + Yet the Reviews, who heaped abuse + On Peter while he wrote for freedom, 620 + So soon as in his song they spy + The folly which soothes tyranny, + Praise him, for those who feed 'em. + + 34. + 'He was a man, too great to scan;— + A planet lost in truth's keen rays:— 625 + His virtue, awful and prodigious;— + He was the most sublime, religious, + Pure-minded Poet of these days.' + + 35. + As soon as he read that, cried Peter, + 'Eureka! I have found the way 630 + To make a better thing of metre + Than e'er was made by living creature + Up to this blessed day.' + + 36. + Then Peter wrote odes to the Devil;— + In one of which he meekly said: 635 + 'May Carnage and Slaughter, + Thy niece and thy daughter, + May Rapine and Famine, + Thy gorge ever cramming, + Glut thee with living and dead! 640 + + 37. + 'May Death and Damnation, + And Consternation, + Flit up from Hell with pure intent! + Slash them at Manchester, + Glasgow, Leeds, and Chester; 645 + Drench all with blood from Avon to Trent. + + 38. + 'Let thy body-guard yeomen + Hew down babes and women, + And laugh with bold triumph till Heaven be rent! + When Moloch in Jewry 650 + Munched children with fury, + It was thou, Devil, dining with pure intent. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART7" id="link2H_PART7"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART 7. DOUBLE DAMNATION. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1. + The Devil now knew his proper cue.— + Soon as he read the ode, he drove + To his friend Lord MacMurderchouse's, 655 + A man of interest in both houses, + And said:—'For money or for love, + + 2. + 'Pray find some cure or sinecure; + To feed from the superfluous taxes + A friend of ours—a poet—fewer 660 + Have fluttered tamer to the lure + Than he.' His lordship stands and racks his + + 3. + Stupid brains, while one might count + As many beads as he had boroughs,— + At length replies; from his mean front, 665 + Like one who rubs out an account, + Smoothing away the unmeaning furrows: + + 4. + 'It happens fortunately, dear Sir, + I can. I hope I need require + No pledge from you, that he will stir 670 + In our affairs;—like Oliver. + That he'll be worthy of his hire.' + + 5. + These words exchanged, the news sent off + To Peter, home the Devil hied,— + Took to his bed; he had no cough, 675 + No doctor,—meat and drink enough.— + Yet that same night he died. + + 6. + The Devil's corpse was leaded down; + His decent heirs enjoyed his pelf, + Mourning-coaches, many a one, 680 + Followed his hearse along the town:— + Where was the Devil himself? + + 7. + When Peter heard of his promotion, + His eyes grew like two stars for bliss: + There was a bow of sleek devotion 685 + Engendering in his back; each motion + Seemed a Lord's shoe to kiss. + + 8. + He hired a house, bought plate, and made + A genteel drive up to his door, + With sifted gravel neatly laid,— 690 + As if defying all who said, + Peter was ever poor. + + 9. + But a disease soon struck into + The very life and soul of Peter— + He walked about—slept—had the hue 695 + Of health upon his cheeks—and few + Dug better—none a heartier eater. + + 10. + And yet a strange and horrid curse + Clung upon Peter, night and day; + Month after month the thing grew worse, 700 + And deadlier than in this my verse + I can find strength to say. + + 11. + Peter was dull—he was at first + Dull—oh, so dull—so very dull! + Whether he talked, wrote, or rehearsed— 705 + Still with this dulness was he cursed— + Dull—beyond all conception—dull. + + 12. + No one could read his books—no mortal, + But a few natural friends, would hear him; + The parson came not near his portal; 710 + His state was like that of the immortal + Described by Swift—no man could bear him. + + 13. + His sister, wife, and children yawned, + With a long, slow, and drear ennui, + All human patience far beyond; 715 + Their hopes of Heaven each would have pawned, + Anywhere else to be. + + 14. + But in his verse, and in his prose, + The essence of his dulness was + Concentred and compressed so close, 720 + 'Twould have made Guatimozin doze + On his red gridiron of brass. + + 15. + A printer's boy, folding those pages, + Fell slumbrously upon one side; + Like those famed Seven who slept three ages. 725 + To wakeful frenzy's vigil—rages, + As opiates, were the same applied. + + 16. + Even the Reviewers who were hired + To do the work of his reviewing, + With adamantine nerves, grew tired;— 730 + Gaping and torpid they retired, + To dream of what they should be doing. + + 17. + And worse and worse, the drowsy curse + Yawned in him, till it grew a pest— + A wide contagious atmosphere, 735 + Creeping like cold through all things near; + A power to infect and to infest. + + 18. + His servant-maids and dogs grew dull; + His kitten, late a sportive elf; + The woods and lakes, so beautiful, 740 + Of dim stupidity were full. + All grew dull as Peter's self. + + 19. + The earth under his feet—the springs, + Which lived within it a quick life, + The air, the winds of many wings, 745 + That fan it with new murmurings, + Were dead to their harmonious strife. + + 20. + The birds and beasts within the wood, + The insects, and each creeping thing, + Were now a silent multitude; 750 + Love's work was left unwrought—no brood + Near Peter's house took wing. + + 21. + And every neighbouring cottager + Stupidly yawned upon the other: + No jackass brayed; no little cur 755 + Cocked up his ears;—no man would stir + To save a dying mother. + + 22. + Yet all from that charmed district went + But some half-idiot and half-knave, + Who rather than pay any rent, 760 + Would live with marvellous content, + Over his father's grave. + + 23. + No bailiff dared within that space, + For fear of the dull charm, to enter; + A man would bear upon his face, 765 + For fifteen months in any case, + The yawn of such a venture. + + 24. + Seven miles above—below—around— + This pest of dulness holds its sway; + A ghastly life without a sound; 770 + To Peter's soul the spell is bound— + How should it ever pass away? +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Peter Bell the Third, by Percy Bysshe Shelley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PETER BELL THE THIRD *** + +***** This file should be named 4697-h.htm or 4697-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/6/9/4697/ + +Produced by Sue Asscher, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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