A Modern Mephistopheles

A Modern MephistophelesLouisa May AlcottLOUISA MAY ALCOTT WAS A 19TH CENTURY AMERICAN NOVELIST. HER NOVELS LITTLE WOMEN AND JOS BOYS ARE HER BEST-KNOWN WORKS. ALCOTT BECAME A STRONG FEMINIST AND ABOLITIONIST. IN 1862-63 SHE WORKED AS A NURSE IN THE UNION HOSPITAL IN GEORGETOWN D C. A MODERN MEPHISTOPHELES IS A STORY FULL OF PSYCHOLOGICAL TENSION AND DRAMA. IT EXPLORES A POOR FAILING WRITERS PRICE FOR GIVING HIS DEVOTION TO ANOTHER. THE NOVEL TOUCHES ON THE SUBJECTS OF SEXUALITY AND DRUG ABUSE. ALCOTT GIVES HER READER A STUDY IN HUMAN EVIL AND THE HORRIBLE CONSEQUENCES.A MODERN MEPHISTOPHELES WAS WRITTEN AMONG THE EARLIER VOLUMES OF THE NO NAME SERIES WHEN THE CHIEF IDEA OF THE AUTHORS WAS TO PUZZLE THEIR READERS BY DISGUISING THEIR STYLE AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE THAT THEY MIGHT ENJOY THE GUESSING AND CRITICISM AS EACH NOVEL APPEARED. THIS BOOK WAS VERY SUCCESSFUL IN PRESERVING ITS INCOGNITO AND MANY PERSONS STILL INSIST THAT IT COULD NOT HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR OF LITTLE WOMEN. AS I MUCH ENJOYED TRYING TO EMBODY A SHADOW OF MY FAVORITE POEM IN A STORY AS WELL AS THE AMUSEMENT IT HAS AFFORDED THOSE IN THE SECRET FOR SOME YEARS IT IS CONSIDERED WELL TO ADD THIS VOLUME TO THE FEW ROMANCES WHICH ARE OFFERED NOT AS FINISHED WORK BY ANY MEANS BUT MERELY ATTEMPTS AT SOMETHING GRAVER THAN MAGAZINE STORIES OR JUVENILE LITERATURE.WITHOUT A MIDWINTER TWILIGHT WHERE WANDERING SNOWFLAKES EDDIED IN THE BITTER WIND BETWEEN A LEADEN SKY AND FROST-BOUND EARTH. WITHIN A GARRET GLOOMY BARE AND COLD AS THE BLEAK NIGHT COMING DOWN. A HAGGARD YOUTH KNELT BEFORE A LITTLE FURNACE KINDLING A FIRE WITH AN EXPRESSION OF QUIET DESPERATION ON HIS FACE WHICH MADE THE SIMPLE OPERATION STRANGE AND SOLEMN. A PILE OF MANUSCRIPT LAY BESIDE HIM AND IN THE HOLLOW EYES THAT WATCHED THE WHITE LEAVES BURN WAS A TRAGIC SHADOW TERRIBLE TO SEE -FOR HE WAS OFFERING THE FIRST-BORN OF HEART AND BRAIN AS SACRIFICE TO A HARD FATE. SLOWLY THE CHARCOAL CAUGHT AND KINDLED WHILE A LIGHT SMOKE FILLED THE ROOM. SLOWLY THE YOUTH STAGGERED UP AND GATHERING THE TORN SHEETS THRUST THEM INTO HIS BOSOM MUTTERING BITTERLY OF ALL MY HOPES AND DREAMS MY WEARY WORK AND PATIENT WAITING NOTHING IS LEFT BUT THIS. POOR LITTLE BOOK WELL GO TOGETHER AND LEAVE NO TRACE BEHIND. THROWING HIMSELF INTO A CHAIR HE LAID HIS HEAD DOWN UPON THE TABLE WHERE NO FOOD HAD BEEN FOR DAYS AND CLOSING HIS EYES WAITED IN STERN SILENCE FOR DEATH TO COME AND TAKE HIM. NOTHING BROKE THE STILLNESS BUT THE SOFT CRACKLE OF THE FIRE WHICH BEGAN TO FLICKER WITH BLUE TONGUES OF FLAME AND CAST A LURID GLOW UPON THE MOTIONLESS FIGURE WITH ITS HIDDEN FACE. DEEPER GREW THE WINTRY GLOOM WITHOUT RUDDIER SHONE THE FATEFUL GLEAM WITHIN AND HEAVY BREATHS BEGAN TO HEAVE THE BREAST SO TIRED OF LIFE.