Your works, indeed, dear Tom, sell better; but mine are far superior.
The public is no judge; posterity sets all to rights.
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.
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,
MICHING MALLECHO.
December 1, 1819.
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.
PROLOGUE.
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
PART 1. DEATH.
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
PART 2. THE DEVIL.
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,
&
nbsp; 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.
PART 3. HELL.
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?(2)
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.
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’! (1)
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.
PART 4. SIN.
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.
Percy Bysshe Shelley Page 69
