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and originated in that state of things, when authors, shafts of censure, and “adulation," "fawning," themselves unknown to fame, in conformity with office,” salute his ears. Managed with judg. public sentiment, were under the necessity of ment and delicacy, the dedicatory page becomes ushering their volumes into the world under the an altar devoted to friendship and honor, and as auspices of some eminent personage. For a cen- such, it should be suffered to remain. Abused, it tury or two ago, literature had to be endorsed by degrades literature to the mere vehicle of personal some great name (not necessarily learned) to be interest, or makes it alone, the channel of individureceived by the public. The endorser, or benign al vanity. person, who condescended to stand god-father to the The dedication of the Partisan is open only to bantling, was denominated the “ Patron of Lite- the application of those objections which relate to rature” in general, and the obliged author's pat- the epistolary form. The story of this novel ron in especial. As in duty bound, the author, in opens in the year 1780, in South Carolina, and well turned periods, and polished phrases, in which embracing the prominent events of the war of in“gratitude,” « bonor,"
," "condescension," "obliga- dependence, from the surrender of Charleston, tion,” “patronage,”“graciously pleased," et cetera, terminates about the commencement of the folare placed skilfully, and at proper intervals thanks lowing year. It is therefore like the two prehis lordship, his grace, or even his majesty, as the ceding works, by the same author, historical. It case may be, for the honor conferred upon him, abounds in stirring incidents, romantic adventure, the expression of his gratitude frequently extend- fine descriptive touches, and is, throughout, marking over many pages; for out of the abundance of ed by the author's best manner; it nevertheless their hearts, their pens spake. In process of time, has some blemishes which were found in his these dedicatory letters, which so often degraded earlier writings—blemishes, principally of style; the dignity of science, became curtailed in their it also bears evidence of being written with less dimensions, and books were often dedicated to care than the Yemassee. The historical characters private individuals, in testimony of the author's introduced into this romance are Generals Gates friendship. At the present time, the sort of pat- and Marion, De Kalb, Tarleton, Procter, Lord ronage which gave rise to dedications, except Cornwallis, and one or two others. The hero of the perhaps, in some cases in England, is entirely done novel is Major Robert Singleton, the Partizan, away in English literature, and elaborate dedica- who gives a name to it. The Southern Literary tory epistles have become obsolete. Dedications, Messenger, after dissecting the Partisan, with a however, still obtain, but are now used in their le- broad-axe in one hand and a handsaw in the other, gitimate character, as graceful expressions of an after a fashion of its own, thus closes its review : author's private friendship, or his respect for “ The Partisan is no ordinary work. The conpublic worth; and the most simple style of ex- cluding scenes are well drawn. Some passages, pressing the dedicatory compliment, is considered descriptive of swamp scenery, are exquisite. Mr. the most beautiful. In some instances, like the Simms has evidently the eye of a painter
. Perdedication to the Partisan, which gave rise to these haps, in sober truth, he would succeed better in digressive remarks, an author, at the risk of a rap sketching a landscape than in writing a novel.”over the knuckles, from the defenders of public The popularity of the Partisan was great, and taste, adopts the old epistolary mode. Some at- justly so. Few novels, recently published
, have tempts have been made by distinguished critics, been more extensively read and admired, and it to cry down, altogether, dedications, even in the will successfully sustain its claim to rank among chastest form, pleading their abuse. Considerable the standard American fictions. delicacy is certainly called for, in choosing a dedi- In the fall of 1836, be published the second catory subject, and it is the want of this savoir novel of his historical series, under the title of faire in authors, which has armed this opposition. Mellichampe.” Mr. Simms at this time beld If an author places on his dedicatory page, the so prominent an attitude as a novelist, that his name of a private individual, otherwise unknown works, however obnoxious to criticism, in the to fame, and who has but his private virtues to re-eyes of those who read only to criticise, were, by commend him to fill this station in the public eye, the public, who read to be pleased, looked for he awakens jealousy anong those who think they with the expectation of a renewed pleasure
. The have stronger claims to this kind of distinction, popularity of Mellichampe, but recently from the and moreover, the individual himself must have a press, is greater than its predecessors, and deservlarge share of philosophy, to wear gracefully an edly so. The style is chaste, easy and more honor to which he has no literary or individual finished than that of the Partisan, and in the depretensions. If an author seeks out a name al- lineations of character, Mr. Simms bas manifested ready distinguished, and dignifies his page there- a closer acquaintance with the heart and the with, merely because it is a name of eminence, springs of human action, than he bas hitherto diswithout ties of kindred, friendship, or gratitude to played. It is a continuation of the Partisan, the influence him, he at once lays himself open to the hero of which, with also some of its distinguished
characters, are, in this novel, again introduced.
PELAYO: The hero is Mellichampe, the son of a violent wbig of South Carolina, and a partisan associated
A ROMANCE OF THE GOTH. with General Marion. There is apparent, some resemblance between this novel and its predecessor, By the author of “ The Yemassee," “ Mellichampe,” “Guy
," “ The Partisan," &c. but not sufficient materially to diminish its interest or novelty. Mellichampe is undoubtedly the [We have been favored by the publishers, with the best of Mr. Simms' works. It is by this ascend- following passages, extracted from a new romance by the ing continually, that the author will ultimately author of “Guy Rivers,” which will soon be published. take a bigh place in American literature. It is We learn from them that it has been long printed, and the object of the writer of these hasty sketches, lo has only been delayed from publication by the late avoid as much as possible, entering critically into gloomy uncertainties of business
. The scene of the story the merits or demerits of a work-choosing rather is in Gothic-Spain, the time immediately preceding the to point to the landscape, and, without designating dethronement of Roderigo, and the subsequent posses
defection of Count Julian, the Royal Espatorio, the its deformities, leave the reader to admire its sion of his empire by the Mauritanians. The passage beauties.
which we furnish, is one of the domestic scenes of the Mr. Simms, besides his novels, has published work; inte
to convey a lively picture of that deseveral minor tales in the annuals, of great beauty pravation of morals in the land, which, perhaps, more and interest, and characterised for a more finished than anything beside, precipitated the Gothic dominion diction than is found in his more extensive produc- to the dust.)-Editor S. L. Mess. tions. “Logoochie, or the Branch of Sweet Water, a Legend of Georgia,” published in the Mag
When, on the ensuing morning, the attendant Zitta nolia of 1836, is in the happiest vein of the author. sought the chamber of her mistress, she was already
As a poet, be bas obtained considerable reputa-risen and dressed. At the first glance the slave was tion. Many of his lyrics are characterised by sure that she had not slept throughout the night; but great sweetness and chastened feeling. A vein of this conjecture was immediately dismissed from her pensiveness runs through nearly all his poetical mind, as she beheld the unruffled composure of her councompositions. Their moral tendency is pure and tenance. It was indeed grave and sad, but there was elevated, the versification smooth, and the images no visible emotion—no proof of unschooled, unsubdued, introduced, natural and pleasing.
or irrepressible feeling, such as she had looked to see ; At present he has in press a Spanish romance, have exercise without leaving its visible impress upon
and no single trace of that feverish grief which cannot founded, we believe, on the leading incidents of the haggard cheek and the drooping and desponding the career of Pelayo, whose name is associated
eye. She little knew how to judge of that sorrow which with the most romantic period of early Spanish passeth show—which disdains and dreads all ostentahistory; it will probably appear during the pre- tion. Yet was the slave right in the frst conjecture, sent year. He is now engaged on a new romance, which she had so suddenly dismissed. Urraca had not a sequel to Palayo, called “ The Fall of the Goth.” slept—the whole night had been passed in thought-in We are sorry to see Mr. Simms, like Mr. Cooper, that intense, self-searching, but not self-satisfying in bis later works, go out of his native land thought, which produces humiliation if it does not prompt for subjects of story. The American novelist, if to prayer. That humiliation had brought her strengthhe would be deserving of the name, should weave strength enough for resignation, if not for right. The his tales alone out of the fertile legends of the New crisis of her fate was passed, and she was now calm! World.
Her resolve was taken, and she had deliberately preMr. Simms is still a resident of South Carolina, pared to die! She had nothing now to live for. She was and is a married man. He is not more than twen- and she had been too narrowly selfish in her devotion
not sufficiently the christian to live for repentance, ty-eight or nine years of age. The expression of to a single object to live for hope. She lacked the nehis face is open, manly and somewhat stern: his cessary resources of life and having too fondly trusted forebead is full, broad and intellectual, and his her fortunes to one pilot, in his falsehood she had lost eyes a lively blue. In conversation, he is earnest, every thing—she was herself lost. easily animated, and seeks to convince rather than The nature of Zitta was too humble, and her own persuade. His colloquial powers are of a high sensibilities too coarse, to enable her to conjecture the order, his language is select and fluent, his ideas mental self-abandonment of her mistress. She saw noflowing, as it were in periods and with the ease of thing but composure in the seeming calm of her counteone who is reading rather than conversing. His nance. Alas! it was the composure which comes from address is pleasing, and invites confidence. His despair, like that which follows the storm, and which, manners are reserved, and his habits rather those significant of its former violence. But under that trea
though it speaks only of its own exhaustion, is not less of the student than the man of the world; and cherous surface, with all its treasures and its precious retirement would appear to be more congenial to freight, lie the wrecks and ruins of the goodly vessel. bis spirit, than the bustle and gaiety of a crowded It was thus in the mind, as upon the face of Urraca. metropolis.
The delusive calm was there--the treacherous quiet of composure, which, when the hurricane has gone by, jewels-thou wilt wear them for thy mistress, and overspreads the face and extends even to the bosom of think of her when thou dost so. In thy want-shouldst the insidious sea. The tempest of her soul was over thou suffer want at any time to come—which I pray blown, but the hope with which she had been crowned chou mayst not-they will provide thee, for their value and chartered, like some rich jewel, had been swept from is great among men. Take them--they are now thine. sight while it lasted, leaving her destitute of all-100 I will not need them again." destitute and too despairing even for complaint. “Oh, my lady—I deserve them not at thy hands.
She had no complaint—she uttered no sigh-no word Thou hast already given me but too much—thou hast of sorrow in the ear of her attendant. All was calm- been lavish upon me against reason." ness and self-reliance. All her accents were those of “Not so!” said Urraca ; "I give thee a great trust gentleness, and all her looks seemed to be peace. Yet and a heavy burden, when I bestow thy freedom upon she gave herself no time for repose--indeed, she dared thee, and I should not fix upon thee this burden, unless not-she seemed resolute to hurry through her crowd- I provide thee with the ability to bear it. Thou wilt ing toils at once, in order that she might secure the long find that with thy freedom will come new wants and slumber which she desired undisturbed. After a slight wishes, which did not belong to the condition of the refreshment, even more slight than usual, she command-slave-new responsibilities will press upon thee, and in ed the attendants hastily to perform their several duties, thy sickness or destitution thou wilt know that some diswhile she despatched Zitta for the proper officer through ference lies between the slave whom a watchful interest whom the emancipation of the slave was to be effected. beyond his own must provide for, and him who can This duty was soon performed, but as yet she held the only compel attention to his need in proportion to his parchment.
wealth and substance. Thou wilt need all the money “ Until to-morrow, Zitta, it must content thee to re- which I give thee, and more that I may not give thee main with me. Thou wilt serve me until then? I the wisdom from heaven to guide and direct thee aright shall not need thee much longer."
in a new state and progress to which thou hast not been Zitta professed her willingness to abide the commands accustomed, and for which thy education has not preof her mistress, with all the warmth and alacrity of one pared thee. Pray that thou mayst soon learn to shape who has just received so considerable a boon.
thy feelings and thy thoughts to thy new condition, else “I have much meanwhile for you to do,” said Urra- wo will fall upon thee and upon those around thee. To ca. “These lustres—you will instantly send them to have thoughts and desires which are unbecoming thy the Lord Edacer. I promised him last night that they place is wrong; he whose mind is below his condition should be his."
must be a tyrant, and he whose mind is above it-he “And greatly did it delight his mean soul, my lady, only, is the slave.” that you did so," exclaimed Zitta.
With such good counsel as this, bestowed without au“Perhaps !” said Urraca, “perhaps ! I am glad that thority, and with a simple and persuasive grace, which I may so easily delight him. He is fortunate indeed, if was as strange in the sight of the slave as it was neve his soul can very highly esteem a thing of such slight born in the bosom of the mistress, Urraca continued to worth and poor attraction."
direct, and counsel, and employ her. In this manner “Oh, my lady, I wonder that you can think so mean- she despatched her to bestow sundry presents of money ly of that which is so beautiful. Sure l am there's and of goods upon the various attendants of the house. nothing like it in all Cordova, and the cost" hold, all of whom she instructed her to dismiss on the Urraca gently interrupted her:
ensuing morning. This done, she gave special direc“Alas! my poor girl, thy error is a sad, but a much tions to Zitta for the preparation of a chamber in an too common one for note. Thou wilt find, when thou upper story which had long been disused. The order hast more experience of thy freedom, that few things awakened some surprise and suspicion in the mind of possess a real value, in the estimation of the heart, which the hearer. wealth may purchase or flattery procure. Nothing is of “Wherefore, my lady," was the demand of Zittareal worth but the true, unyielding affections--nothing" it is so cold and damp, that chamber--and so gloomy is lastingly secure but truth-nothing always beautiful 100—with but a single window that lies free to the but that which is always good. Send the lustres to the street, and all the rest choked from light by the high Lord Edacer; and let it be said to him that they come houses around. Why wouldst thou employ that to him from Urraca, with the single wish that he may chamber?” soon learn to esteem them as I do who give them.”
"Is it thy new freedom, Zitta, that thus provokes “And thou regardest them as worth nothing,” said thee to question my desire ?” responded Urraca, firmış, Zitta.
but still mildly and with softness. “True,” replied Urraca, “but that need not be said “Oh, no, my lady-I question not;-but"She to him. Despatch them straight, for I have other offices paused, and the words and manner of her mistress, si. for thee to execute.”
lenced all farther opposition, if they did not overcome The lustres were soon sent to the greedy Goth, who her reluctance. received them with a loud delight; and the slave, bring- “Let the chamber be got in readiness, Zitta, as I bid ing back his thankful acknowledgments, again stood in thee. It is because it is cold and lonesome that I would the presence of her mistress awaiting her commands. employ it. But let it be so prepared, that it shall not These were few and soon and willingly performed. seem cold or lonesome to the eye. Transfer to the
“Here is money, and there are some jewels in this walls and to the couch the rich hangings of this chamcasket, Zitta, for thyself
. The money will serve thy ber; close all its windows, and see that many lights own and the wants of thy mother for a season. The are there to supply what else it might seem to lack of
cheering and gay character. When thou hast done prowled in a partial disguise around the neighborhood tbis, let a table be spread with fruits within it--and the in which the Hebrew Samuel had his abode, and cauwine--fil me a rich vase of silver with wine, and place tiously pointed out to the soldier the place where they it in readiness aniid the fruits—but one vase, Zitta- should enter. His disguise, however, was not equal one will soffice,” she murmured, as the slave disap- to his perfect security from detection, and quick eyes peared-—"one will suffice for Amri and-for me !" were as watchful to save the maiden and her sire, as IX.
those which strove for their undoing. Elate and satis
fied that the hour of his triumph was at hand, he reLet us return for a brief moment to Amri. That tired to the palace of Edacer, with whom he had a day he condescended to visit his father, whom he still farther conference on the subject of their common purmaintained within the dungeon to which he had con- suits; and towards nightfall, with beating heart and signed him. He carried him a sufficient supply of food, impatient spirit, Amri proceeded to the dwelling of but spoke nothing of his release. The old man simply Urraca, anxious to gain the intelligence which he so looked up to the opening above the door, through which much wished for, that she could no longer be to him an the youth let down the provisions in a small basket by object of fear, as she was no longer an object of desire. the aid of a string, but he said nothing to him either in In this hope, however, he was destined to be disapthe way of solicitation or complaint. This taciturnity pointed. The deadly work had not yet been done; irritated the youth, who addressed him somewhat and, cunningly advised, Zitta framed a story which tauntingly with certain inquiries touching his cap. satisfied him to await patiently for the events of the tivity-demanding to know upon what terms he would following day. A brief time only was allowed him be willing to procure his release. To all of which the for interview with the slave, ere he found it necessary old man deigned him nothing in answer ; but, with to ascend to the upper apartment in search of her declasped bands, he murmured his repeated prayer to voted mistress. heaven, imploring protection from the Most High, and preferring once more the terrible imprecation which the
X. ears of Amri had already heard, but which now, unhappily, went by them unheeded. Secure, as the lat- A severer trial was at hand for the Hebrew than ter esteemed himself, in his triumphant position, he any through which he had ever passed before. He permiued himself to speak harsh words to his father in was conscious that Urraca expected from him a speedy return. His heart had become hardened within him, resolve to fly with her to Guadarrama, as he had aland he had no fears of overthrow. God was ripening ready promised, and he was only solicitous how best him for des'ruction! Confident of Edacer's success to frame his promises so as to satisfy and meet her prewith Melchior, and of his own with the lovely daughter sent exactions. Relying on the fulfilment by Zitta of of the outlaw, he was too buoyant in hope at this the crime to which she had pledged herself, he had no moment either to fear the wrath of Heaven, or to heed hesitation in this matter ; and he had resolved to prothe curse which his father had invoked upon his head. mise freely to his mistress for the future, assured that He bade the old man a scornful defiance, and departed ere he could be called upon for the fulfilment of his ungraciously from his presence. To Mahlon, however, pledges, the lips which had exacted them would have be gave directions for his release on the ensuing morn- lost all power of reproach. His misfortune was, as it ing, when he imagined that his projects would be fully is the misfortune too commonly of the young and parexecuted, and the events happily over, from which he tially endowed, to be too readily satisfied with his own hoped to derive so much.
powers of persuasion. His vanity misled bim into a "On the morrow, Mahlon,” said he, “thou shalt self-confidence, which the circumstances did not justify. release Adoniakin—not before. And, hear me, thou But we shall see in the sequel. That same day, and shalt not give entrance through the day to any who towards evening, when the coming of Amri was hourly may seek him. Say that he is gone forth, to those looked for, the resolve of Urraca began to assume a who ask for him-he is gone forth on pressing occasion, more distinct and unequivocal aspect. The chamber and will not return till the night. To-morrow we shall had been prepared by Ziua agreeably to the directions neither of us care whether his mood be pleasant or of her mistress. To this chamber, which was above angry. For thyself, Mahlon, here is the money thou and remote from the other apartments, the drapery and hast demanded—there is more for thee to-morrow when decorations belonging to that which she had formerly I return, if thou hast truly done as I bid thce.” occupied had been carefully transferred. The table
That day the plans of Amri were perfected with had been spread sumptuously with fruits, cakes, and Edacer—the latter had portioned out his men for the many delicacies brought freshly from the east, and in investment of the cave of Wamba, while the former the centre, as she had specially directed, a beautiful had received from his hands the desired authority in fountain-urn of the purest silver was elevated, conwriting, by which, in the name of the king, he should taining a full measure of the choicest wine. Having obtain access into the dwelling of the Hebrew Samuel, the room brilliantly lighted, and in every respect ready or any other dwelling in the Hebrew Quarter where and complete, the slave called upon her mistress to surthe maiden Thyrza might be concealed. Nor was he vey and to approve her work. She did approve of it, altogether content to await the hour of midnight, which and a smile of bitter pleasure overspread her countehe had himself set aside for the proposed search, when nance as she spoke. the probabilities were so much the greater of finding “It is well done, Zitta-thou hast omitted nothingher in the dwelling; but, attended by one of the offi- it is fitly designed for those who shall enjoy it. Leave cers who had been allotted to him by Edacer, he me now, my girl-leave me, and give fit reception when
BY A NOVICE.
Amri cometh. Deny me to all other persons, and seek before the appearance of Amri, her traitorous lover and me no more thyself to-night.”
the destined victim of her denied fondness and defeated “Should the Lord Edacer come, my lady, he may confidence, we behold her in an attitude to her, one of seek you to thank you for the lustres ?”
the most unwonted, but, at the same time, of the most "I can spare his thanks—I can understand them essential humiliation. Upon her knees she strives earunspoken. He may not see me—I am sick to all but nestly, but oh! how hopelessly, to pray for that mercy Amri; and, Zitta"
which she must forfeit for the crime which even then The slave returned. There was a pause before her she meditates. The unspoken supplication dies away mistress again spoke. Zitta advanced a pace inqui- in murmurs, and the murmurs—a vain and broken ringly, and Urraca bent down and addressed her, in breathing-are lost in the unheeding air. whisper, thus:-
“It may be thou wilt hear a noise to-night from my chamber-heed it not !" “Oh, my lady-what mean you ?” cried the slave,
FRANCIS ARMINE. beseechingly. A sudden suspicion of the meditated crime of her mistress, flashed for the first time upon
A ROMANCE. her mind.
“What matters it to thee, Zitta-thou art free now.”
“But not happy, my lady, to see you thus,” replied the slave. “Hear me, and be assured. What I do I do for my
CHAPTER III. happiness, under the guidance of the only thought which can promise me the peace I seek. I am not
-Young, and of an age wild, Zitta, but what I do and contemplate, is done and
When youth is most attractive-with a look
He wins thy favor. considered with a deliberate mind, ungoverned by any passionate mood, such as, but too frequently, has misled
Be she fairer than the day, me into error. Obey me-leave me now; and-hear
Or the flowery meads in May;
If she be not so me—whatever cry thou hearest coming from my cham
What care I how fair she be? ber, whether of my voice or Amri, give it no heed
George Withers. stir not to inquire-suffer no one, not even thyself, to Pale Memory sits lone brooding o'er the past, approach. Think only, and rejoice as thou thinkest, at That makes her misery. such moments, that ihou art now free! It may be that
Letitia E. Landes even with thy thought I too shall be free, though after An artist sat alone in his studio. Around him lay a different fashion. Leave me now--thy toils for me colors, and pencils, and port-folios, in admirable conare all ended with this night!"
fusion. Here you would behold the dark face of a “But may I not come to thee, my lady--must I not, brigand scowling upon you, and there you would gate if thou shouldst call or cry out ?" demanded the slave. at a half finished psychema blooming child just emerg
“No-not even if I cry out shalt thou come,” was ing into loveliness--or some bright and beautiful creathe stern reply. “Nay,--if I should implore thee, in ture, scarce ever heard of, save in the poet's dreamy my moment of weakness, with my own voice--heed ne-and never seen, save on the artist's brilliant me nol---suffer me not to move thee-hearken not to canvass. On the high walls of the room could be seen my prayer. Away-good night !"
something for every taste. To the antiquary, there was The slave, immersed in tears, would have lingered; the fine expansive head, in imitation of the old masters; but, gently leading her to the door of the chamber, Urs to the lover of adventure, there was an old castle, in raca pushed her from the entrance and carefully fastened which it is presumed was immured some lovely creait behind her. When she had gone, and her steps were ture ; and to the observer of nature, there was the gorno longer heard, Urraca carefully inspected all the win-geous landscape, now rich with light, and now dim dows, and saw that, in compliance with commands pre- with the misty and indistinct hues of twilight But viously given, they were secured beyond the strength your attention would have been rivetted (as was bis of any one man, without fitting instruments, to unfasten. own) to a painting, which was placed immediately This done, she approached the table, and drawing the before him, in such a manner that the soft light of twi. packet of poison from her vest, emptied its contents into light streamed upon it, and gave it the appearance of the vase teeming with wine, and then carefully destroy- some fairy vision stealing upon the sleeper from the ed the parchment which contained it. She had now land of dreams. In the perspective arose a small white little more to do than to await the arrival of Amri-or, cottage, around which clustered many shrubs and vines; we may rather say—her fate. Her resolve was taken from the far and dim mountains a bright sparkling and her nature was of that impetuous and decisive char- stream came rushing down, and passed around the cot; acter, that we may regard her determination as unaltera- at one side a fountain gushed up, and threw its waters
. This was evident in the coolness which had like a shower of diamonds, on the grass
. Near that marked all her proceedings-her careful consideration fountain sat, what seemed to the spectator, the spirits of every subject in her household, however minute or of the place. One of them was a fair young girl, apoi unimportant, which might seem to challenge her atten- whose sweet and innocent countenance a lover-his tion—and the temperate and subdued demeanor with look told it-fondly gazed, as his arm was twined which she had dismissed and favored her domestics. around her waist, and her head was nestled in his Lifting the curtain of her privacy but a single moment I bosom. The girl was passing lovely. What a volup