THE DEVIL IN MANUSCRIPT.docx

THE DEVIL IN MANUSCRIPT.docx

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THEDEVILINMANUSCRIPT

THEDEVILINMANUSCRIPT

OnabittereveningofDecember,Iarrivedbymailinalarge

town,whichwasthentheresidenceofanintimatefriend,oneof

thosegiftedyouthswhocultivatepoetryandthebelles-lettres,

andcallthemselvesstudentsatlaw.Myfirstbusiness,after

supper,wastovisithimattheofficeofhisdistinguished

instructor.AsIhavesaid,itwasabitternight,clear

starlight,butcoldasNovaZembla,--theshop-windowsalongthe

streetbeingfrosted,soasalmosttohidethelights,whilethe

wheelsofcoachesthunderedequallyloudoverfrozenearthand

pavementsofstone.Therewasnosnow,eitheronthegroundor

theroofsofthehouses.Thewindblewsoviolently,thatIhad

buttospreadmycloaklikeamain-sail,andscudalongthe

streetattherateoftenknots,greatlyenviedbyother

navigators,whowerebeatingslowlyup,withthegalerightin

theirteeth.OneoftheseIcapsized,butwasgoneonthewings

ofthewindbeforehecouldevenvociferateanoath.

Afterthispictureofaninclementnight,beholdusseatedbya

greatblazingfire,whichlookedsocomfortableanddelicious

thatIfeltinclinedtoliedownandrollamongthehotcoals.

Theusualfurnitureofalawyer'sofficewasaroundus,--rowsof

volumesinsheepskin,andamultitudeofwrits,summonses,and

otherlegalpapers,scatteredoverthedesksandtables.But

therewerecertainobjectswhichseemedtointimatethatwehad

littledreadoftheintrusionofclients,orofthelearned

counsellorhimself,who,indeed,wasattendingcourtinadistant

town.Atall,decanter-shapedbottlestoodonthetable,between

twotumblers,andbesideapileofblottedmanuscripts,

altogetherdissimilartoanylawdocumentsrecognizedinour

courts.Myfriend,whomIshallcallOberon,--itwasanameof

fancyandfriendshipbetweenhimandme,--myfriendOberonlooked

atthesepaperswithapeculiarexpressionofdisquietude.

"Idobelieve,"saidhe,soberly,"or,atleast,Icouldbelieve,

ifIchose,thatthereisadevilinthispileofblottedpapers.

Youhavereadthem,andknowwhatImean,--thatconceptionin

whichIendeavoredtoembodythecharacterofafiend,as

representedinourtraditionsandthewrittenrecordsof

witchcraft.Oh,Ihaveahorrorofwhatwascreatedinmyown

brain,andshudderatthemanuscriptsinwhichIgavethatdark

ideaasortofmaterialexistence!

Wouldtheywereoutofmy

sight!

"

"Andofmine,too,"thoughtI.

"Youremember,"continuedOberon,"howthehellishthingusedto

suckawaythehappinessofthosewho,byasimpleconcessionthat

seemedalmostinnocent,subjectedthemselvestohispower.Just

somypeaceisgone,andallbytheseaccursedmanuscripts.Have

youfeltnothingofthesameinfluence?

"

"Nothing,"repliedI,"unlessthespellbehidinadesireto

turnnovelist,afterreadingyourdelightfultales."

"Novelist!

"exclaimedOberon,halfseriously."Then,indeed,my

devilhashisclawonyou!

Youaregone!

Youcannotevenprayfor

deliverance!

Butwewillbethelastandonlyvictims;forthis

nightImeantoburnthemanuscripts,andcommitthefiendtohis

retributionintheflames."

"Burnyourtales!

"repeatedI,startledatthedesperationofthe

idea.

"Evenso,"saidtheauthor,despondingly."Youcannotconceive

whataneffectthecompositionofthesetaleshashadonme.I

havebecomeambitiousofabubble,andcarelessofsolid

reputation.Iamsurroundingmyselfwithshadows,whichbewilder

me,byapingtherealitiesoflife.Theyhavedrawnmeasidefrom

thebeatenpathoftheworld,andledmeintoastrangesortof

solitude,--asolitudeinthemidstofmen,-wherenobodywishes

forwhatIdo,northinksnorfeelsasIdo.Thetaleshavedone

allthis.Whentheyareashes,perhapsIshallbeasIwasbefore

theyhadexistence.Moreover,thesacrificeislessthanyoumay

suppose,sincenobodywillpublishthem."

"Thatdoesmakeadifference,indeed,"saidI.

"Theyhavebeenoffered,byletter,"continuedOberon,reddening

withvexation,"tosomeseventeenbooksellers.Itwouldmakeyou

staretoreadtheiranswers;andreadthemyoushould,onlythat

Iburntthemasfastastheyarrived.Onemanpublishesnothing

butschool-books;anotherhasfivenovelsalreadyunder

examination."

"WhatavoluminousmasstheunpublishedliteratureofAmerica

mustbe!

"criedI.

"Oh,theAlexandrianmanuscriptswerenothingtoit!

"saidmy

friend."Well,anothergentlemanisjustgivingupbusiness,on

purpose,Iverilybelieve,toescapepublishingmybook.Several,

however,wouldnotabsolutelydeclinetheagency,onmyadvancing

halfthecostofanedition,andgivingbondsfortheremainder,

besidesahighpercentagetothemselves,whetherthebooksells

ornot.Anotheradvisesasubscription."

"Thevillain!

"exclaimedI.

"Afact!

"saidOberon."Inshort,ofalltheseventeen

booksellers,onlyonehasvouchsafedeventoreadmytales;and

he--aliterarydabblerhimself,Ishouldjudge--hasthe

impertinencetocriticisethem,proposingwhathecallsvast

improvements,andconcluding,afterageneralsentenceof

condemnation,withthedefinitiveassurancethathewillnotbe

concernedonanyterms."

"Itmightnotbeamisstopullthatfellow'snose,"remarkedI.

"Ifthewhole'trade'hadonecommonnose,therewouldbesome

satisfactioninpullingit,"answeredtheauthor."But,there

doesseemtobeonehonestmanamongtheseseventeenunrighteous

ones;andhetellsmefairly,thatnoAmericanpublisherwill

meddlewithanAmericanwork,--seldomifbyaknownwriter,and

neverifbyanewone,--unlessatthewriter'srisk."

"Thepaltryrogues!

"criedI."Willtheylivebyliterature,and

yetrisknothingforitssake?

But,afterall,youmightpublish

onyourownaccount."

"AndsoImight,"repliedOberon."Butthedevilofthebusiness

isthis.Thesepeoplehaveputmesooutofconceitwiththe

tales,thatIloathetheverythoughtofthem,andactually

experienceaphysicalsicknessofthestomach,wheneverIglance

atthemonthetable.Itellyouthereisademoninthem!

I

anticipateawildenjoymentinseeingthemintheblaze;suchas

Ishouldfeelintakingvengeanceonanenemy,ordestroying

somethingnoxious."

Ididnotverystrenuouslyopposethisdetermination,being

privatelyofopinion,inspiteofmypartialityfortheauthor,

thathistaleswouldmakeamorebrilliantappearanceinthefire

thananywhereelse.Beforeproceedingtoexecution,webroached

thebottleofchampagne,whichOberonhadprovidedforkeepingup

hisspiritsinthisdolefulbusiness.Weswallowedeacha

tumblerful,insparklingcommotion;itwentbubblingdownour

throats,andbrightenedmyeyesatonce,butleftmyfriendsad

andheavyasbefore.Hedrewthetalestowardshim,witha

mixtureofnaturalaffectionandnaturaldisgust,likeafather

takingadeformedinfantintohisarms.

"Pooh!

Pish!

Pshaw!

"exclaimedhe,holdingthematarm's-length.

"ItwasGray'sideaofheaven,toloungeonasofaandreadnew

novels.Now,whatmoreappropriatetorturewouldDantehimself

havecontrived,forthesinnerwhoperpetratesabadbook,than

tobecontinuallyturningoverthemanuscript?

"

"Itwouldfailofeffect,"saidI,"becauseabadauthoris

alwayshisowngreatadmirer."

"Ilackthatonecharacteristicofmytribe,--theonlydesirable

one,"observedOberon."Buthowmanyrecollectionsthrongupon

me,asIturnovertheseleaves!

Thisscenecameintomyfancyas

Iwalkedalongahillyroad,onastarlightOctoberevening;in

thepureandbracingair,Ibecameallsoul,andfeltasifI

couldclimbthesky,andrunaracealongtheMilkyWay.Hereis

anothertale,inwhichIwraptmyselfduringadarkanddreary

night-rideinthemonthofMarch,tilltherattlingofthewheels

andthevoicesofmycompanionsseemedlikefaintsoundsofa

dream,andmyvisionsabrightreality.Thatscribbledpage

describesshadowswhichIsummonedtomybedsideatmidnight:

theywouldnotdepartwhenIbadethem;thegraydawncame,and

foundmewideawakeandfeverish,thevictimofmyown

enchantments!

"

"Theremusthavebeenasortofhappinessinallthis,"saidI,

smittenwithastrangelongingtomakeproofofit.

"Theremaybehappinessinafeverfit,"repliedtheauthor."And

thenthevariousmoodsinwhichIwrote!

Sometimesmyideaswere

likepreciousstonesundertheearth,requiringtoiltodigthem

up,andcaretopolishandbrightenthem;butoftenadelicious

streamofthoughtwouldgushoutuponthepageatonce,like

watersparklingupsuddenlyinthedesert;andwhenithad

passed,Ignawedmypenhopelessly,orblunderedonwithcoldand

miserabletoil,asiftherewereawalloficebetweenmeandmy

subject."

"Doyounowperceiveacorrespondingdifference,"inquiredI,

"betweenthepassageswhichyouwrotesocoldly,andthosefervid

flashesofthemind?

"

"No,"saidOberon,tossingthemanuscriptsonthetable."Ifind

notracesofthegoldenpenwithwhichIwroteincharactersof

fire.Mytreasureoffairycoinischangedtoworthlessdross.My

picture,paintedinwhatseemedtheloveliesthues,presents

nothingbutafadedandindistinguishablesurface.Ihavebeen

eloquentandpoeticalandhumorousinadream,--andbehold!

itis

allnonsense,nowthatIamawake."

Myfriendnowthrewsticksofwoodanddrychipsuponthefire,

andseeingitblazelikeNebuchadnezzar'sfurnace,seizedthe

champagnebottle,anddranktwoorthreebrimmingbumpers,

successively.Theheadyliquorcombinedwithhisagitationto

throwhimintoaspeciesofrage.Helaidviolenthandsonthe

tales.Inoneinstantmore,th