Vivian_ would
not long retain his post; for I saw _Pelham_ and _Peregrine Pickle_,
and the terrible _Melmoth_ with his glaring eyes, coming together to
the assault, when a whirlwind seized them all four and carried them
away to a vast distance, leaving the elevation vacant for some other
competitor. "There is no peace to the wicked, you see," said my
Asmodeus. "These books are longing for repose, and they can get none
on account of the insatiable vanity of their authors, whose desire for
distinction made them careless of the sentiments they expressed and
the principles they advocated. The great characteristic of works of
this stamp is action, intense, painful action. They have none of that
beautiful serenity which shines in Scott and Edgeworth; and they are
condemned to illustrate, by an eternity of contest here, the restless
spirit with which they are inspired."

While I was looking on with fearful interest in the mad combat before
me, the horizon seemed to be darkened, and a vast cloud rose up in the
image of a gigantic eagle, whose wings stretched from the east to the
west till he covered the firmament. In his talons he carried an open
book, at the sight of which the battle around me was calmed; the
lightnings ceased to flash, and there was an awful stillness. Then
suddenly there glared from the book a sheet of fire, which rose in
columns a thousand feet high, and filled the empyrean with intense
light; the pillars of flame curling and wreathing themselves into
monstrous letters, till they were fixed in one terrific glare, and I
read--"BYRON." Even my companion quailed before the awful light, and I
covered my face with my hands. When I withdrew them, the cloud and the
book had vanished, and the contest was begun again--"You have seen the
Prince of this division of hell," said my guide.

We now began rapidly to descend into the bowels of the earth; and,
after sinking some thousand feet, I found myself on terra firma again,
and walking a little way, we came to a gate of massive ice, over which
was written in vast letters--"My heritage is despair." We passed
through, and immediately found ourselves in a vast basin of lead,
which seemed to meet the horizon on every side. A bright light shone
over the whole region; but it was not like the genial light of the
sun. It chilled me through; and every ray that fell upon me seemed
like the touch of ice. The deepest silence prevailed; and though the
valley was covered with book