DAMNATION. by Percy Bysshe Shelley: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
This poem is Shelley’s fierce comic critique of the poet Robert Southey, who is cleverly disguised as "Peter." Southey began as a radical writer but eventually conformed to the establishment, becoming Poet Laureate and defending the very powers he once opposed.
The poem
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 (1) 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 (2), 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. (1) 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(2). 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. (1)
This poem is Shelley’s fierce comic critique of the poet Robert Southey, who is cleverly disguised as "Peter." Southey began as a radical writer but eventually conformed to the establishment, becoming Poet Laureate and defending the very powers he once opposed. The Devil plays the role of puppet-master, using negative reviews, convoluted German philosophy, and flattery to corrupt Peter’s soul, transforming him from a poet of freedom into a spokesperson for tyranny. By the end, "Peter" is composing odes that glorify massacre and slaughter in the Devil's name — a powerful depiction of political and artistic betrayal.
Line-by-line
'O that mine enemy had written / A book!'—cried Job
When Peter's next new book found vent, / The Devil to all the first Reviews
Then seriatim, month and quarter, / Appeared such mad tirades.—One said—
Another—'Let him shave his head! / Where's Dr. Willis?
One more, 'Is incest not enough? / And must there be adultery too?
'By that last book of yours WE think / You've double damned yourself to scorn
All these Reviews the Devil made / Up in a parcel
'What!' cried he, 'this is my reward / For nights of thought, and days, of toil?
'What have I done to them?—and who / IS Mrs. Foy?
'Or,' cried he, a grave look collecting, / 'Is it my genius, like the moon
For Peter did not know the town, / But thought, as country readers do
All Peter did on this occasion / Was, writing some sad stuff in prose.
The Devil then sent to Leipsic fair / For Born's translation of Kant's book
Five thousand crammed octavo pages / Of German psychologics
I looked on them nine several days, / And then I saw that they were bad
When the book came, the Devil sent / It to P. Verbovale, Esquire
Fire, which ex luce praebens fumum, / Made him beyond the bottom see
Now Peter ran to seed in soul / Into a walking paradox
Furious he rode, where late he ran, / Lashing and spurring his tame hobby
This steed in vision he would ride, / High trotting over nine-inch bridges
After these ghastly rides, he came / Home to his heart, and found from thence
To Peter's view, all seemed one hue; / He was no Whig, he was no Tory
One single point in his belief / From his organization sprung
So thought Calvin and Dominic; / So think their fierce successors
His morals thus were undermined:— / The old Peter—the hard, old Potter—
In the death hues of agony / Lambently flashing from a fish
So in his Country's dying face / He looked—and, lovely as she lay
And coolly to his own soul said;— / 'Do you not think that we might make
'My wife wants one.—Let who will bury / This mangled corpse!
And so his Soul would not be gay, / But moaned within him; like a fawn
As troubled skies stain waters clear, / The storm in Peter's heart and mind
For he now raved enormous folly, / Of Baptisms, Sunday-schools, and Graves
Yet the Reviews, who heaped abuse / On Peter while he wrote for freedom
'He was a man, too great to scan;— / A planet lost in truth's keen rays
As soon as he read that, cried Peter, / 'Eureka! I have found the way
Then Peter wrote odes to the Devil;— / In one of which he meekly said:
'May Death and Damnation, / And Consternation
Tone & mood
The poem primarily employs a tone of savage comic satire, but it's more than mere mockery — there's an underlying current of real anger and moments of heartfelt sorrow. Shelley writes with the self-assurance of someone who sees his target as both absurd and threatening. The early stanzas feature broad, theatrical comedy (like the ridiculous reviews and the Devil's postal scheme), but the mood gradually darkens as Peter's soul deteriorates. By the time we reach the final odes, the laughter has soured into something resembling horror. The narrator's voice remains wry and conversational, occasionally breaking into the poem to offer a personal remark, making it feel like a clever friend recounting an extensive, pointed tale about someone they once held in high regard.
Symbols & metaphors
- The Devil as literary agent and postman — The Devil doesn't tempt Peter with fire and brimstone — he relies on the everyday workings of the literary marketplace: reviews, bribes, packages in the mail. This approach makes corruption seem routine and ingrained instead of theatrical, which is Shelley's point. Evil in the literary world doesn't make a grand entrance; it shows up with a tenpence delivery fee.
- The dying fish — The fish struggles in pain, its vibrant colors flashing, illustrating how we can turn suffering into something beautiful—appreciating art in pain without truly experiencing it. Peter's 'hungry wish' as he observes it marks the point when his empathy fades. In the next stanza, the fish transforms into a metaphor for England itself.
- The wounded fawn in the cave — Peter's soul, quietly suffering in darkness, stands out as one of the poem's rare moments of true tenderness. It symbolizes his original poetic self — open, alive, and capable of deep feelings — that is gradually eroded by the choices he makes. This soul is aware of what’s unfolding, even when Peter remains oblivious.
- Kant's book / German philosophy — Dense, untranslatable philosophy is the Devil's second weapon, following bad reviews. It embodies a kind of intellectual confusion turned into a weapon—a 'lottery-wheel' that mixes truth and falsehood until they blur together. Shelley employs it to challenge the notion that obscurity indicates depth.
- The shroud as bedsheet — Peter's idea to use England's funeral shroud as a bedsheet for his wife serves as the poem's most powerful symbol of political betrayal. It merges the public (national death) with the private (household linen), highlighting how entirely Peter has turned inward, neglecting any sense of shared responsibility.
- Flibbertigibbet and the visionary rides — Flibbertigibbet, the imp of pride from King Lear, takes Peter on wild journeys across impossible landscapes. These visions show how vanity corrupts the poetic imagination — the creative spirit that should reveal truth instead turns into a means of delusion, pride, and ultimately, spiritual fatigue.
Historical context
Shelley wrote *Peter Bell the Third* in 1819, fueled by intense political anger after reading Wordsworth's *Peter Bell* and Keats's parody. In Shelley's poem, the 'Peter' mainly represents Robert Southey, the Poet Laureate, who had started as a radical and republican but had become a staunch defender of the Crown and a vocal critic of parliamentary reform by 1819. In August of that year, the Peterloo Massacre took place, where cavalry charged a peaceful reform rally in Manchester, resulting in the deaths of at least 15 people. Living in political exile in Italy, Shelley was furious. The poem was never published during his lifetime and only appeared posthumously in 1839. It belongs to a tradition of political satire that includes Byron's *Don Juan* and the verse lampoons from the radical press, reflecting Shelley's deep understanding of the corrupt ties between the Tory government, the established church, and the literary reviews of that time, especially the *Quarterly Review*.
FAQ
Peter is mainly Robert Southey, the Poet Laureate, who began as a radical and republican in the 1790s but, by 1819, had become a strong supporter of the Crown and a critic of reform. Shelley loathed what he perceived as Southey's political betrayal. The poem also reflects aspects of Wordsworth, whose shift toward conservatism Shelley found just as disheartening — the title is a direct play on Wordsworth's *Peter Bell*.
In August 1819, cavalry charged into a peaceful crowd of about 60,000 people at St Peter's Field in Manchester who were demanding parliamentary reform. At least 15 people lost their lives, and hundreds were injured. The government justified this brutal action. Shelley, who was in exile in Italy at the time, wrote several furious poems in response, including *The Mask of Anarchy*. The cities mentioned in Peter's final odes — Manchester, Glasgow, Leeds, Chester — represent the industrial centers where working-class reform movements faced the harshest and most violent suppression.
Because Shelley argues that corruption in literature and politics doesn’t manifest as temptation — it resembles everyday professional life. Bad reviews, flattery, trendy philosophies, and the yearning for approval from the establishment are the true drivers of moral decline. The image of the Devil as a postman and bookseller is both funnier and more unsettling than the Devil as a tempter, precisely because it feels more familiar.
It's a Latin phrase that translates to 'giving smoke from light' — flipping Horace's ideal for poetry, which was to give light from smoke (to bring clarity by tackling challenging subjects). Shelley uses it to argue that Kant's philosophy, along with Peter's engagement with it, does the reverse: it takes something that could shed light and instead creates only obscurity and confusion.
It's genuinely both, and the two elements complement each other. The early stanzas — featuring the Devil bribing reviewers, the ridiculous charges of murder and incest, and Peter's bewildered question 'who IS Mrs. Foy?' — serve as broad comic set-pieces. However, the humor turns darker as the poem progresses, and by the time Peter is using England's shroud as a bedsheet and penning odes that glorify the massacre of workers, the laughter feels unsettling. Shelley employs comedy to disarm you before delivering something truly horrifying.
Obi (or Obeah) is a system of folk magic and spiritual practices that enslaved West Africans brought to the Caribbean. The term 'White Obi' probably refers to a type of superstition or occult belief that Shelley uses to illustrate Peter's intellectual decline. He has turned away from authentic radical politics and real philosophy, filling that gap with irrational beliefs instead. This indicates that Peter's mind is becoming unanchored.
The poem was highly controversial; it criticized specific public figures, ridiculed the Poet Laureate, and made accusations of involvement in state violence. If it had been published in 1819, both Shelley and his publisher could have faced charges for seditious libel. Shelley was already living in self-imposed exile in Italy, partly for political reasons. The poem was eventually published in 1839, seventeen years after his death.
The title promises damnation, and Shelley certainly delivers, though not in a supernatural way. Peter's damnation comes from writing odes that celebrate the very violence and tyranny he once fought against, and he does this willingly, even joyfully, after receiving praise in the reviews. His soul — that wounded fawn — has already perished. What remains is a hollow man crafting hollow verse in the service of power. For Shelley, damnation isn't about hellfire; it's about the utter extinction of the self that once cared about truth and freedom.