introduction of an Indian princess, who, of course, falls in love with
Bobadilla, and whom, of course, he does not marry. She, however,
accompanies Luis home to Spain, and is the cause of much jealousy on the
part of his mistress, of much anger on the part of the queen, and of
just sufficient clap-trap in the last few chapters, to satisfy the
conscience of your inveterate novel readers,—a class who think no novel
is good unless it has a pretty strong dose of jealousy, reconcilement,
and marriage, as a _finale_, much as Tony Lumpkin thought “that the
inside of a letter was the cream of the correspondence.”
In one thing we are disappointed in this novel. We did not look for
character in it, for that is not Cooper’s _forte_: nor did we expect
that his heroine would be aught better than the inanimate thing she
is,—but we did expect he would have given us another of those
magnificent sea-pictures for which, in all their sternness and
sublimity, he is so justly celebrated. We were mistaken. Excepting a
storm, which overtakes the Nina, we have nothing even approaching to the
grandeur of the Pilot and the Red Rover. If Columbus did not figure in
the romance,—and what, after all, has he to do personally with the
denouement?—Mercedes of Castile would be the most tame of romances. Cut
out the historical account of the voyage to San Salvador, by merely
stating in one, instead of a score of chapters, that the hero performed
his penance, and—we stake our grey goose-quill against the copy-right
on it—that not two out of every dozen, who read the novel, will
pronounce it even interesting.
It is but justice to the author to say that the necessity of adhering
closely to fact in his romance, is the true secret of its want of
interest; for how could any hero, no matter whom, awaken our sympathy
strongly, so long as Columbus figured in the same narrative? Besides,
the voyage which the hero undertakes to win his mistress, being a matter
of history, we are from the first without any curiosity as to its
result—we want, indeed, all that exciting suspense, without which a
novel is worthless. Our author appears to have been aware of this, and
therefore introduces Omenea, and makes Mercedes jealous, and the queen
suspicious, in order to create this suspense. For all the purposes of a
love-story, therefore, the novel might as well have begun toward the
close of the second volume, an introductory chapter merely being
affixed, narrating rapidly the events which, in the present work, are
diluted into a volume and a half. The interest of a romance should
continue, let it be remembered, throughout the whole story; but in
Mercedes of Castile it does not begin until we are about to close the
book.
* * * * *
_“American Melodies.” Containing a single selection from the
production of two hundred writers. Compiled by George P. Morris.
For sale by Henry Perkins, Philadelphia._
This is one of the prettiest little gift books of the season. The
typography is good as well as the binding. The title of the work has
been the subject of much captious criticism by the herd who are
constantly detecting spots in the sun, and who lack the calibre of
intellect necessary to a manly and liberal criticism of a literary
performance. The selections were originally made of _songs_ set to
music, but as this was found to narrow down, rather much, the limits
assigned for the work, the compiler took a wider range, and included in
the volume pieces _adapted_ to music also. He has been candid enough to
say in the dedication, that in making these selections he has not been
guided so much by the literary worth of the articles, as by their
admission into the musical world. A second volume is already under way,
in which many names of note, necessarily omitted in the first, will be
included.
The compiler has every reason to congratulate him self upon the happy
performance of his task. A more interesting or valuable little volume
has not been given to the public for many-a-day. If the second is like
unto it, General Morris will have added another to the long list of
obligations which the public owes him, in creating a taste for national
melody.
* * * * *
_“French Writers of Eminence.” By Mrs. Shelley, and others. 2
vols. Lea & Blanchard._
This compilation, for it is nothing more—has the merit of presenting
well-known Encyclopædia biographies of French authors, to the general
public, in a cheap and portable form,—thus bringing down much valuable
information within the means of those who could not afford to purchase
the larger and more comprehensive work. The design is praiseworthy.
The sketches of Rabelais, Racine, Corneille, Moliere, Voltaire,
Rochefoucald, and others, will prove highly interesting to those who
have not perused them before. A more valuable work, when considered
solely as an introduction to French literature, has not, for some time,
been issued from the American press. We would guard our readers,
however, from fancying that Mrs. Shelley was the principal author of
these sketches, as it would neither be truth, nor, in fact, add to her
reputation.
* * * * *
_“Poems.” By J. N. McJilton. Boston: Otis, Broaders & Co._
This volume is a compilation of pieces, most of which have appeared in
the prominent American Magazines. Many of them were written at the time
the author was connected, as editor, with the Baltimore Literary
Monument. Several pieces in this volume may take a high rank in American
poetry, and all of them do credit to the writer. The work is beautifully
printed.
* * * * *
_“The Literary Amaranth of Prose and Poetry.” By N. C. Brooks.
Author of Scripture Anthology, Philadelphia: Kay & Brother._
This is chiefly a collection of the fugitive pieces of Mr. Brooks, with
some emendation. Of the talents of the author we have had occasion
before to speak, both in the Magazine and elsewhere. His Scripture
Anthology established his claims as a writer. The work is beautifully
got up, in the annual style, and is worthy of a conspicuous place upon
the centre-table, among the presents of the season.
* * * * *
Reviews of the Third Volume of Bancroft’s History of the United States,
of Mrs. Gore’s volume of Tales, and of several of the Annuals, have been
crowded out by our press of matter. We shall, perhaps, be able to notice
Bulwer’s last novel,—Morning and Night,—in our next.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE LATEST FASHIONS, JANUARY 1841, FOR GRAHAM’S
MAGAZINE.]
* * * * *
Transcriber’s Notes:
Table of Contents has been added for reader convenience. Archaic
spellings and hyphenation have been retained. Obvious punctuation and
typesetting errors have been corrected without note. Other errors have
been corrected as noted below. For illustrations, some caption text may
be missing or incomplete due to condition of the originals available for
preparation of the eBook. A cover was created for this eBook and is
placed in the public domain.
page 22, ancestors where from Germany, ==> ancestors were from Germany,
page 37, vestment died with many colors ==> vestment dyed with many colors
page 47, or the Last of the Mohicians ==> or the Last of the Mohicans
[End of Graham’s Magazine, Vol. XVIII, No. 1, January 1841, George R.
Graham, Editor]