DOUBLE DAMNATION. by Percy Bysshe Shelley: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
This excerpt is the closing section of Shelley's lengthy satirical poem *Peter Bell the Third*.
The poem
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? NOTES: (_8 To those who have not duly appreciated the distinction between Whale and Russia oil, this attribute might rather seem to belong to the Dandy than the Evangelic. The effect, when to the windward, is indeed so similar, that it requires a subtle naturalist to discriminate the animals. They belong, however, to distinct genera.—[SHELLEY’s NOTE.) (_183 One of the attributes in Linnaeus’s description of the Cat. To a similar cause the caterwauling of more than one species of this genus is to be referred;—except, indeed, that the poor quadruped is compelled to quarrel with its own pleasures, whilst the biped is supposed only to quarrel with those of others.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) (_186 What would this husk and excuse for a virtue be without its kernel prostitution, or the kernel prostitution without this husk of a virtue? I wonder the women of the town do not form an association, like the Society for the Suppression of Vice, for the support of what may be called the ‘King, Church, and Constitution’ of their order. But this subject is almost too horrible for a joke.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) (_222 This libel on our national oath, and this accusation of all our countrymen of being in the daily practice of solemnly asseverating the most enormous falsehood, I fear deserves the notice of a more active Attorney General than that here alluded to.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) _292 one Fleay cj., Rossetti, Forman, Dowden, Woodberry; out 1839, 2nd edition. _500 Betty]Emma 1839, 2nd edition. See letter from Shelley to Ollier, May 14, 1820 (Shelley Memorials, page 139). (_512 Vox populi, vox dei. As Mr. Godwin truly observes of a more famous saying, of some merit as a popular maxim, but totally destitute of philosophical accuracy.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) (_534 Quasi, Qui valet verba:—i.e. all the words which have been, are, or may be expended by, for, against, with, or on him. A sufficient proof of the utility of this history. Peter’s progenitor who selected this name seems to have possessed A PURE ANTICIPATED COGNITION of the nature and modesty of this ornament of his posterity.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) _602-3 See Editor’s Note. (_583 A famous river in the new Atlantis of the Dynastophylic Pantisocratists.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) (_588 See the description of the beautiful colours produced during the agonizing death of a number of trout, in the fourth part of a long poem in blank verse, published within a few years. [“The Excursion”, 8 2 568-71.—Ed.] That poem contains curious evidence of the gradual hardening of a strong but circumscribed sensibility, of the perversion of a penetrating but panic-stricken understanding. The author might have derived a lesson which he had probably forgotten from these sweet and sublime verses:— ‘This lesson, Shepherd, let us two divide, Taught both by what she (Nature) shows and what conceals, Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.’—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.]) (_652 It is curious to observe how often extremes meet. Cobbett and Peter use the same language for a different purpose: Peter is indeed a sort of metrical Cobbett. Cobbett is, however, more mischievous than Peter, because he pollutes a holy and how unconquerable cause with the principles of legitimate murder; whilst the other only makes a bad one ridiculous and odious. If either Peter or Cobbett should see this note, each will feel more indignation at being compared to the other than at any censure implied in the moral perversion laid to their charge.—[SHELLEY’S NOTE.])
This excerpt is the closing section of Shelley's lengthy satirical poem *Peter Bell the Third*. In it, the Devil sets up a comfy government position for a sell-out poet named Peter, who then dies unexpectedly. Unfortunately for Peter, this reward becomes a curse: he becomes so incredibly dull that his boredom infects everyone and everything around him. Shelley uses this to illustrate that selling out your talent to the establishment doesn't grant you power — it simply makes you tedious. The "double damnation" mentioned in the title refers to Peter losing both his soul and his gift for writing anything worthwhile.
Line-by-line
The Devil now knew his proper cue.— / Soon as he read the ode, he drove
'Pray find some cure or sinecure; / To feed from the superfluous taxes
Stupid brains, while one might count / As many beads as he had boroughs,—
'It happens fortunately, dear Sir, / I can. I hope I need require
These words exchanged, the news sent off / To Peter, home the Devil hied,—
The Devil's corpse was leaded down; / His decent heirs enjoyed his pelf,
When Peter heard of his promotion, / His eyes grew like two stars for bliss:
He hired a house, bought plate, and made / A genteel drive up to his door,
But a disease soon struck into / The very life and soul of Peter—
And yet a strange and horrid curse / Clung upon Peter, night and day;
Peter was dull—he was at first / Dull—oh, so dull—so very dull!
No one could read his books—no mortal, / But a few natural friends, would hear him;
His sister, wife, and children yawned, / With a long, slow, and drear ennui,
But in his verse, and in his prose, / The essence of his dulness was
A printer's boy, folding those pages, / Fell slumbrously upon one side;
Even the Reviewers who were hired / To do the work of his reviewing,
And worse and worse, the drowsy curse / Yawned in him, till it grew a pest—
His servant-maids and dogs grew dull; / His kitten, late a sportive elf;
The earth under his feet—the springs, / Which lived within it a quick life,
The birds and beasts within the wood, / The insects, and each creeping thing,
And every neighbouring cottager / Stupidly yawned upon the other:
Yet all from that charmed district went / But some half-idiot and half-knave,
No bailiff dared within that space, / For fear of the dull charm, to enter;
Seven miles above—below—around— / This pest of dulness holds its sway;
Tone & mood
The tone is gleefully savage — this is political satire with the throttle fully open. Shelley writes with the energy of someone who is genuinely furious while also genuinely enjoying himself. The mock-epic style (treating dullness as a cosmic plague, invoking Aztec emperors and ancient legends) keeps the comedy alive even when the underlying argument is serious. There's a current of real contempt flowing beneath the jokes, especially in the later stanzas where the natural world dies around Peter — that's where the satirist turns into the elegist, mourning what creative compromise destroys.
Symbols & metaphors
- The sinecure — The government position reflects the Faustian bargain that the establishment offers artists: financial stability in return for political allegiance and the sacrifice of their creativity. Shelley viewed many of his peers, particularly Robert Southey, the Poet Laureate, as having made this very deal.
- Dullness as plague — The growing contagion of Peter's boredom reflects how institutionalized mediocrity taints everything it encounters—not just poor writing, but also the social fabric, the natural world, and fundamental human emotions. This resonates with Alexander Pope's *Dunciad*, where Dulness is depicted as a goddess wielding cosmic destructive power.
- The Devil's death — The Devil's death right after securing Peter's reward serves as a grim commentary on corruption: once the agreement is made, the corruptor becomes redundant. It also implies that Peter's damnation is now self-perpetuating — he no longer requires the Devil because he's become his own captor.
- The gravel driveway — The sifted gravel and purchased silverware illustrate a façade of respectability that overshadows genuine artistic identity. Peter relies on these material displays to distance himself from his past and to project a new, establishment-sanctioned persona. However, the meticulous nature of the detail ("sifted" gravel) reveals the underlying anxiety behind this performance.
- The silent natural world — For Shelley, nature is filled with a vibrant energy that reflects and interacts with human imagination. When the birds stop singing and the animals cease to breed near Peter's house, it indicates that he has completely lost his imaginative ability — he can no longer see or engage with the living world that poetry is meant to honor.
- Lord MacMurderchouse — The satirical name — blending murder, house, and the Scottish aristocratic prefix Mac — represents the patronage system and corrupt borough politics that Shelley loathed. He isn’t just a character; he’s more like a living institution: foolish, powerful, and completely at ease with corruption.
Historical context
Shelley penned *Peter Bell the Third* in 1819, the same year as the Peterloo Massacre, and chose to publish it under a pseudonym. This work serves as a satirical take on Wordsworth's poem *Peter Bell*, which Shelley believed illustrated how Wordsworth — who was once a radical — transformed into a conservative figure after accepting the roles of Distributor of Stamps and later Poet Laureate. In Shelley's poem, the character "Peter" is a thinly disguised version of Wordsworth, and the Devil's offer of a sinecure reflects the actual patronage that Wordsworth enjoyed. The poem also draws inspiration from Pope's *Dunciad*, portraying Dullness as a pervasive supernatural force. Writing from Italy while in exile from England, Shelley observed what he perceived as a betrayal of the Romantic generation's radical ideals, infusing the satire with a mix of anger and sorrow.
FAQ
Peter is Shelley’s satirical take on William Wordsworth. By 1819, Wordsworth had taken a government job as the Distributor of Stamps for Westmorland, shifted away from his earlier radical views, and younger Romantics viewed him as a sellout. Shelley was directly reacting to Wordsworth’s poem *Peter Bell*, which he interpreted as a symbol of all that had gone wrong with his once-admired hero.
The double damnation describes two punishments happening at once: Peter is morally damned for betraying his principles and artistically damned for losing his ability to create meaningful work. He achieves the worldly success he craved—money, recognition, a comfortable home—but pays the price by forfeiting both his soul and his creativity. Neither hell nor heaven accepts him; he’s left in limbo, boring everyone indefinitely.
The Devil's sudden death serves as both a comedic punchline and a serious commentary. After orchestrating Peter's corruption, he becomes unnecessary — the system of patronage and political compromise operates without him. There's also a theological twist: after death, the Devil has nowhere to go; he can't head to hell since he manages it, and heaven is certainly off-limits. Shelley intentionally leaves this question unresolved.
Yes, directly. Wordsworth wrote *Peter Bell* in 1798 but didn't publish it until 1819. Shelley read it and quickly crafted this response. Around the same time, John Keats and Leigh Hunt also penned parodies. Shelley's version stands out for its political edge — he uses Wordsworth's own character to criticize what he viewed as Wordsworth's moral and creative decline.
A sinecure is a well-paid position in government or the church that demands little to no real work — basically, it's a paycheck for idleness, funded by taxpayer dollars. During Shelley's time, these roles were commonly given out as political favors to friends and their families. Shelley viewed accepting such a position as a clear form of corruption: you receive money from the government, and in exchange, you either create propaganda or keep silent about its wrongdoings. For a poet, this meant the death of genuine writing.
Guatimozin (also spelled Cuauhtémoc) was the last Aztec emperor, known for enduring torture at the hands of Spanish conquistadors who subjected him to a burning metal grill in an effort to extract the location of hidden gold. Shelley portrays him as the ultimate example of someone who cannot fall asleep — and then remarks that Peter's prose could even lull him to sleep. This absurdist exaggeration emphasizes that Peter's writing is more effective than physical pain, but only in a sedative sense.
Shelley is talking about the Struldbruggs from Jonathan Swift's *Gulliver's Travels* — a group of immortal beings who are not blessed, but rather cursed to age endlessly without dying. They become so frail and wretched that nobody wants to be around them. Shelley uses this imagery to illustrate Peter's social situation: he's alive, yet his company is so unbearable that even his family prefers to stay away.
For Shelley, the poet's imagination links people to the vibrant energy of nature. When that imagination fades—snuffed out by moral compromise—the connection is lost. The growing dullness that quiets birds, halts animal reproduction, and stifles the wind illustrates Shelley's point: a corrupted poet doesn't merely write poorly; he harms the world's ability to foster beauty and life. This is the Romantic view of imagination transformed into a chilling tale.