AN APARTMENT IN THE CASTLE OF PETRELLA. by Percy Bysshe Shelley: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
This scene from Shelley’s verse drama *The Cenci* depicts the monstrous Count Cenci as he schemes to ruin his daughter Beatrice—physically, mentally, and socially—while his wife Lucretia tries unsuccessfully to intervene.
The poem
ENTER CENCI. CENCI: She comes not; yet I left her even now Vanquished and faint. She knows the penalty Of her delay: yet what if threats are vain? Am I not now within Petrella’s moat? Or fear I still the eyes and ears of Rome? _5 Might I not drag her by the golden hair? Stamp on her? keep her sleepless till her brain Be overworn? Tame her with chains and famine? Less would suffice. Yet so to leave undone What I most seek! No, ’tis her stubborn will _10 Which by its own consent shall stoop as low As that which drags it down. [ENTER LUCRETIA.] Thou loathed wretch! Hide thee from my abhorrence: fly, begone! Yet stay! Bid Beatrice come hither. NOTE: _4 not now edition 1821; now not edition 1819. LUCRETIA: Oh, Husband! I pray, for thine own wretched sake _15 Heed what thou dost. A man who walks like thee Through crimes, and through the danger of his crimes, Each hour may stumble o’er a sudden grave. And thou art old; thy hairs are hoary gray; As thou wouldst save thyself from death and hell, _20 Pity thy daughter; give her to some friend In marriage: so that she may tempt thee not To hatred, or worse thoughts, if worse there be. CENCI: What! like her sister who has found a home To mock my hate from with prosperity? _25 Strange ruin shall destroy both her and thee And all that yet remain. My death may be Rapid, her destiny outspeeds it. Go, Bid her come hither, and before my mood Be changed, lest I should drag her by the hair. _30 LUCRETIA: She sent me to thee, husband. At thy presence She fell, as thou dost know, into a trance; And in that trance she heard a voice which said, ‘Cenci must die! Let him confess himself! Even now the accusing Angel waits to hear _35 If God, to punish his enormous crimes, Harden his dying heart!’ CENCI: Why—such things are... No doubt divine revealings may be made. ’Tis plain I have been favoured from above, For when I cursed my sons they died.—Ay...so... _40 As to the right or wrong, that’s talk...repentance... Repentance is an easy moment’s work And more depends on God than me. Well...well... I must give up the greater point, which was To poison and corrupt her soul. [A PAUSE, LUCRETIA APPROACHES ANXIOUSLY, AND THEN SHRINKS BACK AS HE SPEAKS.] One, two; _45 Ay...Rocco and Cristofano my curse Strangled: and Giacomo, I think, will find Life a worse Hell than that beyond the grave: Beatrice shall, if there be skill in hate, Die in despair, blaspheming: to Bernardo, _50 He is so innocent, I will bequeath The memory of these deeds, and make his youth The sepulchre of hope, where evil thoughts Shall grow like weeds on a neglected tomb. When all is done, out in the wide Campagna, _55 I will pile up my silver and my gold; My costly robes, paintings, and tapestries; My parchments and all records of my wealth, And make a bonfire in my joy, and leave Of my possessions nothing but my name; _60 Which shall be an inheritance to strip Its wearer bare as infamy. That done, My soul, which is a scourge, will I resign Into the hands of him who wielded it; Be it for its own punishment or theirs, _65 He will not ask it of me till the lash Be broken in its last and deepest wound; Until its hate be all inflicted. Yet, Lest death outspeed my purpose, let me make Short work and sure... [GOING.] LUCRETIA [STOPS HIM]: Oh, stay! It was a feint: _70 She had no vision, and she heard no voice. I said it but to awe thee. CENCI: That is well. Vile palterer with the sacred truth of God, Be thy soul choked with that blaspheming lie! For Beatrice worse terrors are in store _75 To bend her to my will. LUCRETIA: Oh! to what will? What cruel sufferings more than she has known Canst thou inflict? CENCI: Andrea! Go call my daughter, And if she comes not tell her that I come. What sufferings? I will drag her, step by step, _80 Through infamies unheard of among men: She shall stand shelterless in the broad noon Of public scorn, for acts blazoned abroad, One among which shall be...What? Canst thou guess? She shall become (for what she most abhors _85 Shall have a fascination to entrap Her loathing will) to her own conscious self All she appears to others; and when dead, As she shall die unshrived and unforgiven, A rebel to her father and her God, _90 Her corpse shall be abandoned to the hounds; Her name shall be the terror of the earth; Her spirit shall approach the throne of God Plague-spotted with my curses. I will make Body and soul a monstrous lump of ruin. _95 [ENTER ANDREA.] ANDREA: The Lady Beatrice... CENCI: Speak, pale slave! What Said she? ANDREA: My Lord, ’twas what she looked; she said: ‘Go tell my father that I see the gulf Of Hell between us two, which he may pass, I will not.’ [EXIT ANDREA.] CENCI: Go thou quick, Lucretia, _100 Tell her to come; yet let her understand Her coming is consent: and say, moreover, That if she come not I will curse her. [EXIT LUCRETIA.] Ha! With what but with a father’s curse doth God Panic-strike armed victory, and make pale _105 Cities in their prosperity? The world’s Father Must grant a parent’s prayer against his child, Be he who asks even what men call me. Will not the deaths of her rebellious brothers Awe her before I speak? For I on them _110 Did imprecate quick ruin, and it came. [ENTER LUCRETIA.] Well; what? Speak, wretch! LUCRETIA: She said, ‘I cannot come; Go tell my father that I see a torrent Of his own blood raging between us.’ CENCI [KNEELING]: God, Hear me! If this most specious mass of flesh, _115 Which Thou hast made my daughter; this my blood, This particle of my divided being; Or rather, this my bane and my disease, Whose sight infects and poisons me; this devil Which sprung from me as from a hell, was meant _120 To aught good use; if her bright loveliness Was kindled to illumine this dark world; If nursed by Thy selectest dew of love Such virtues blossom in her as should make The peace of life, I pray Thee for my sake, _125 As Thou the common God and Father art Of her, and me, and all; reverse that doom! Earth, in the name of God, let her food be Poison, until she be encrusted round With leprous stains! Heaven, rain upon her head _130 The blistering drops of the Maremma’s dew, Till she be speckled like a toad; parch up Those love-enkindled lips, warp those fine limbs To loathed lameness! All-beholding sun, Strike in thine envy those life-darting eyes _135 With thine own blinding beams! LUCRETIA: Peace! Peace! For thine own sake unsay those dreadful words. When high God grants He punishes such prayers. CENCI [LEAPING UP, AND THROWING HIS RIGHT HAND TOWARDS HEAVEN]: He does his will, I mine! This in addition, That if she have a child... LUCRETIA: Horrible thought! _140 CENCI: That if she ever have a child; and thou, Quick Nature! I adjure thee by thy God, That thou be fruitful in her, and increase And multiply, fulfilling his command, And my deep imprecation! May it be _145 A hideous likeness of herself, that as From a distorting mirror, she may see Her image mixed with what she most abhors, Smiling upon her from her nursing breast. And that the child may from its infancy _150 Grow, day by day, more wicked and deformed, Turning her mother’s love to misery: And that both she and it may live until It shall repay her care and pain with hate, Or what may else be more unnatural. _155 So he may hunt her through the clamorous scoffs Of the loud world to a dishonoured grave. Shall I revoke this curse? Go, bid her come, Before my words are chronicled in Heaven. [EXIT LUCRETIA.] I do not feel as if I were a man, _160 But like a fiend appointed to chastise The offences of some unremembered world. My blood is running up and down my veins; A fearful pleasure makes it prick and tingle: I feel a giddy sickness of strange awe; _165 My heart is beating with an expectation Of horrid joy. [ENTER LUCRETIA.] What? Speak! LUCRETIA: She bids thee curse; And if thy curses, as they cannot do, Could kill her soul... CENCI: She would not come. ’Tis well, I can do both; first take what I demand, _170 And then extort concession. To thy chamber! Fly ere I spurn thee; and beware this night That thou cross not my footsteps. It were safer To come between the tiger and his prey. [EXIT LUCRETIA.] It must be late; mine eyes grow weary dim _175 With unaccustomed heaviness of sleep. Conscience! Oh, thou most insolent of lies! They say that sleep, that healing dew of Heaven, Steeps not in balm the foldings of the brain Which thinks thee an impostor. I will go _180 First to belie thee with an hour of rest, Which will be deep and calm, I feel: and then... O, multitudinous Hell, the fiends will shake Thine arches with the laughter of their joy! There shall be lamentation heard in Heaven _185 As o’er an angel fallen; and upon Earth All good shall droop and sicken, and ill things Shall with a spirit of unnatural life, Stir and be quickened...even as I am now. [EXIT.] SCENE 4.2:
This scene from Shelley’s verse drama *The Cenci* depicts the monstrous Count Cenci as he schemes to ruin his daughter Beatrice—physically, mentally, and socially—while his wife Lucretia tries unsuccessfully to intervene. Driven by a deep hatred, Cenci even prays to God, asking for Beatrice to be afflicted with illness, deformity, and an evil child. By the scene's conclusion, he has convinced himself to commit an unspeakable act, one he won’t even utter aloud.
Line-by-line
She comes not; yet I left her even now / Vanquished and faint.
Thou loathed wretch! / Hide thee from my abhorrence: fly, begone!
What! like her sister who has found a home / To mock my hate from with prosperity?
She sent me to thee, husband. At thy presence / She fell, as thou dost know, into a trance;
Ay...Rocco and Cristofano my curse / Strangled: and Giacomo, I think, will find
When all is done, out in the wide Campagna, / I will pile up my silver and my gold;
Oh, stay! It was a feint: / She had no vision, and she heard no voice.
The Lady Beatrice... / My Lord, 'twas what she looked; she said:
She said, 'I cannot come; / Go tell my father that I see a torrent
God, / Hear me! If this most specious mass of flesh,
He does his will, I mine! This in addition, / That if she have a child...
I do not feel as if I were a man, / But like a fiend appointed to chastise
Tone & mood
The tone is unyielding and oppressive—there’s no escape, no irony, no hint of brightness. Cenci expresses himself in lengthy, winding sentences that constantly loop back, as if his thoughts are a snare that keeps snapping shut. Lucretia's interruptions provide the only warmth in the scene, but they are methodically stifled. By the end, the mood shifts from a sense of threat to something akin to cosmic horror: Cenci no longer sounds like a man; he has transformed into a malevolent force of nature that has chosen to embody evil.
Symbols & metaphors
- The father's curse — Cenci's curses aren't merely emotional outbursts; he views them as legally binding contracts with God, pointing to the deaths of his sons as evidence of their effectiveness. The curse symbolizes a twisted form of paternal authority: the power a father has over his children, directed entirely toward destruction instead of their protection.
- The bonfire of possessions — Cenci's plan to burn all his wealth and leave only his name embodies pure nihilism. To him, wealth, art, and life records hold no value; he aims to leave behind infamy itself — a name that leaves its bearer exposed. It's a representation of a man who has opted for a legacy that is a wound rather than a gift.
- The sepulchre of hope — Cenci's vision for Bernardo's youth — a tomb where hope is buried and evil thrives like weeds — encapsulates his project in a nutshell. He doesn't merely wish to hurt his children; he aims to turn their inner lives into graveyards.
- The tiger and his prey — Cenci's warning to Lucretia not to cross his path paints him as a predator on the prowl. It removes any last shred of pretense about their human connection: in this moment, he is neither a husband nor a father, but rather a creature driven by instinct toward his prey.
- The gulf and torrent of blood — Beatrice's two refusals evoke images of unbridgeable distance—a chasm of Hell, a rush of Cenci's own blood. These symbols are hers, not his, and they indicate that she anticipates what lies ahead and has established a moral boundary she won't cross, even if it costs her life.
- The broken whip / scourge — Cenci envisions his soul as a scourge—a whip—that God has given him to punish an unnamed transgression, which he will return only after it has inflicted its final wound. This perspective casts his cruelty as a form of divine tool, providing the self-justification that makes him so perilous.
Historical context
Shelley wrote *The Cenci* in 1819, drawing inspiration from the real-life story of Beatrice Cenci, a young Roman noblewoman who was executed in 1599 for killing her abusive father, Francesco Cenci. This case had been a sensational topic in Italy for centuries, and during Shelley's visit, a portrait long thought to be by Guido Reni—believed to depict Beatrice on the night before her execution—was displayed in Rome. Shelley viewed the story as a means to delve into themes of tyranny, the corruption of institutional power (including the Church, family, and state), and the moral tragedy of a victim pushed to commit violence. Act 3, Scene 1—this pivotal scene—depicts the night Cenci carries out the act (implied to be rape) that leads Beatrice to plot his murder. Although Shelley wrote the play for the stage, Covent Garden refused to stage it, partly due to its controversial subject matter. It was first publicly performed in 1886.
FAQ
Shelley doesn't state it explicitly, but the play clearly shows that Cenci plans to rape his daughter. The clues are abundant: he claims that her "coming is consent," discusses taking "what I demand" by force while also extorting concessions, and every character treats the act as something too horrific to utter. Historically, Beatrice Cenci accused her father of this very crime.
That's exactly what makes the prayer so unsettling. Cenci doesn't turn away from God — he thinks God has already answered his curses by taking his sons' lives. He views his own cruelty as a sort of divine duty, a punishment carried out on God's behalf. Shelley illustrates how religious language and paternal authority can be twisted to justify abuse. Cenci isn't an atheist antagonist; he's a believer who has persuaded himself that God is on his side.
Lucretia finds herself caught in a tough spot: she can’t safeguard Beatrice without going against Cenci, and opposing Cenci could cost her life. Her efforts to step in—like the bluff about the vision and her desperate pleas—are all in vain. She illustrates the constraints faced by a woman with no legal rights in a patriarchal home. Ultimately, her inability to protect Beatrice drives Beatrice to take matters into her own hands.
*The Cenci* is a verse drama—a play crafted entirely in blank verse (unrhymed iambic pentameter). This excerpt is from Act 3, Scene 1. It has a poetic quality due to its elevated language and carefully structured speeches, similar to lyric poems, yet it was intended for performance on stage by actors.
He means he no longer feels like a human. The term 'unremembered world' hints at a lingering guilt—as if he’s punishing sins from a past life, in some forgotten time. It externalizes his own malevolence: he’s not choosing to be monstrous; he’s been *assigned* to it. Shelley provides him this self-justification to illustrate how deeply Cenci has built a belief system around his own cruelty.
It's an act of pure nihilism. Cenci has chosen that the only inheritance worth leaving is his name — a name so notorious that it ruins anyone who bears it. By burning his wealth, art, and records, he guarantees that nothing positive or neutral remains after him. He aims for his legacy to be a wound, not a gift.
After the assault suggested in this scene, Beatrice orchestrates her father's murder. She and Lucretia hire assassins who kill Cenci at the castle of Petrella. They are later arrested, tried, and — despite significant public sympathy — executed by Pope Clement VIII in 1599. Shelley's play concludes with Beatrice facing her death with remarkable calmness, highlighting the moral complexity of the tragedy: she did the right thing for questionable reasons, or the wrong thing for noble reasons, depending on your interpretation.
Both images come through messengers, meaning Beatrice never shows up in this scene—she's just a symbol of resistance. The 'gulf of Hell' represents a moral boundary she won't cross. The 'torrent of his own blood' carries a more foreboding message: it hints at his murder. Together, these two messages illustrate Beatrice shifting from spiritual defiance to something resembling a death sentence. In her mind, she's already on the other side of what's about to unfold.