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and heavy as before。 He drew the tales towards him； with a
mixture of natural affection and natural disgust； like a father
taking a deformed infant into his arms。
〃Pooh！ Pish！ Pshaw！〃 exclaimed he； holding them at arm's…length。
〃It was Gray's idea of heaven； to lounge on a sofa and read new
novels。 Now； what more appropriate torture would Dante himself
have contrived； for the sinner who perpetrates a bad book； than
to be continually turning over the manuscript？〃
〃It would fail of effect；〃 said I； 〃because a bad author is
always his own great admirer。〃
〃I lack that one characteristic of my tribe；the only desirable
one；〃 observed Oberon。 〃But how many recollections throng upon
me； as I turn over these leaves！ This scene came into my fancy as
I walked along a hilly road； on a starlight October evening； in
the pure and bracing air； I became all soul； and felt as if I
could climb the sky； and run a race along the Milky Way。 Here is
another tale； in which I wrapt myself during a dark and dreary
night…ride in the month of March； till the rattling of the wheels
and the voices of my companions seemed like faint sounds of a
dream； and my visions a bright reality。 That scribbled page
describes shadows which I summoned to my bedside at midnight：
they would not depart when I bade them； the gray dawn came； and
found me wide awake and feverish； the victim of my own
enchantments！〃
〃There must have been a sort of happiness in all this；〃 said I；
smitten with a strange longing to make proof of it。
〃There may be happiness in a fever fit；〃 replied the author。 〃And
then the various moods in which I wrote！ Sometimes my ideas were
like precious stones under the earth； requiring toil to dig them
up； and care to polish and brighten them； but often a delicious
stream of thought would gush out upon the page at once； like
water sparkling up suddenly in the desert； and when it had
passed； I gnawed my pen hopelessly； or blundered on with cold and
miserable toil； as if there were a wall of ice between me and my
subject。〃
〃Do you now perceive a corresponding difference；〃 inquired I；
〃between the passages which you wrote so coldly； and those fervid
flashes of the mind？〃
〃No；〃 said Oberon； tossing the manuscripts on the table。 〃I find
no traces of the golden pen with which I wrote in characters of
fire。 My treasure of fairy coin is changed to worthless dross。 My
picture； painted in what seemed the loveliest hues； presents
nothing but a faded and indistinguishable surface。 I have been
eloquent and poetical and humorous in a dream；and behold！ it is
all nonsense； now that I am awake。〃
My friend now threw sticks of wood and dry chips upon the fire；
and seeing it blaze like Nebuchadnezzar's furnace； seized the
champagne bottle； and drank two or three brimming bumpers；
successively。 The heady liquor combined with his agitation to
throw him into a species of rage。 He laid violent hands on the
tales。 In one instant more； their faults and beauties would alike
have vanished in a glowing purgatory。 But； all at once； I
remembered passages of high imagination； deep pathos； original
thoughts； and points of such varied excellence； that the vastness
of the sacrifice struck me most forcibly。 I caught his arm。
〃Surely； you do not mean to burn them！〃 I exclaimed。
〃Let me alone！〃 cried Oberon； his eyes flashing fire。 〃I will
burn them！ Not a scorched syllable shall escape！ Would you have
me a damned author？To undergo sneers； taunts； abuse； and cold
neglect； and faint praise； bestowed； for pity's sake； against the
giver's conscience！ A hissing and a laughing…stock to my own
traitorous thoughts！ An outlaw from the protection of the
grave；one whose ashes every careless foot might spurn；
unhonored in life； and remembered scornfully in death！ Am I to
bear all this； when yonder fire will insure me from the whole？
No！ There go the tales！ May my hand wither when it would write
another！〃
The deed was done。 He had thrown the manuscripts into the hottest
of the fire； which at first seemed to shrink away； but soon
curled around them； and made them a part of its own fervent
brightness。 Oberon stood gazing at the conflagration； and shortly
began to soliloquize； in the wildest strain； as if Fancy resisted
and became riotous； at the moment when he would have compelled
her to ascend that funeral pile。 His words described objects
which he appeared to discern in the fire； fed by his own precious
thoughts； perhaps the thousand visions which the writer's magic
had incorporated with these pages became visible to him in the
dissolving heat； brightening forth ere they vanished forever；
while the smoke； the vivid sheets of flame； the ruddy and
whitening coals； caught the aspect of a varied scenery。
〃They blaze；〃 said he； 〃as if I had steeped them in the intensest
spirit of genius。 There I see my lovers clasped in each other's
arms。 How pure the flame that bursts from their glowing hearts！
And yonder the features of a villain writhing in the fire that
shall torment him to eternity。 My holy men； my pious and angelic
women； stand like martyrs amid the flames； their mild eyes lifted
heavenward。 Ring out the bells！ A city is on fire。
See！destruction roars through my dark forests； while the lakes
boil up in steaming billows； and the mountains are volcanoes； and
the sky kindles with a lurid brightness！ All elements are but one
pervading flame！ Ha！ The fiend！〃
I was somewhat startled by this latter exclamation。 The tales
were almost consumed； but just then threw forth a broad sheet of
fire； which flickered as with laughter； making the whole room
dance in its brightness； and then roared portentously up the
chimney。
〃You saw him？ You must have seen him！〃 cried Oberon。 〃How he
glared at me and laughed； in that last sheet of flame； with just
the features that I imagined for him！ Well！ The tales are gone。〃
The papers were indeed reduced to a heap of black cinders； with a
multitude of sparks hurrying confusedly among them； the traces of
the pen being now represented by white lines； and the whole mass
fluttering to and fro in the draughts of air。 The destroyer knelt
down to look at them。
〃What is more potent than fire！〃 said he； in his gloomiest tone。
〃Even thought； invisible and incorporeal as it is； cannot escape
it。 In this little time； it has annihilated the creations of long
nights and days； which I could no more reproduce； in their first
glow and freshness； than cause ashes and whitened bones to rise
up and live。 There； too； I sacrificed the unborn children of my
mind。 All that I had accomplishedall that I planned for future
yearshas perished by one common ruin； and left only this heap
of embers！ The deed has been my fate。 And what remains？ A weary
and aimless life；a long repentance of this hour；and at last
an obscure grave； where they will bury and forget me！〃
As the author concluded his dolorous moan； the ext