“Who wants
A sequel, may read on. Th’ unvarnished tale
That follows, will supply the place of one.”
We finished, and were disappointed. We had expected something of genius—the rich, fervid style—the original thought—the bright and glowing paintings of natural beauty, or the thrilling description of high-wrought human energies, that stirs the soul. These we found not, and then we waited for the cunning delineation of the human heart—its workings, and—the “sequel.” Our reward was the “unvarnished tale.” The work bears no mark of a mind capable of original conceptions. The descriptions of natural scenery, throughout this and all the author’s works, are but imitations of the works of masters, served up in dim and changed colors. The thoughts are trite; and the sample piece, the tit-bit, that was served up to water the mouth of the public—we mean the description of the destruction of the Georgia guard, which occupies by far the fairest page of the work—is but a scene familiar in plot and story. Guy Rivers himself is but a sorry deformity of one of those dark spirits, which require the genius of a Byron or Bulwer to throw an interest around them, and the hero has hardly a character. We can only conceive of him as a love-sick somebody, to whom is given the name of Ralph Colleton.
The next work dealt out to the public is “The Yemassee,” and to this we can only afford a passing remark, as our principal business is with “The Partisan.” “The Yemassee” is the best production of this author. When speaking of the best of such works, we mean it has the fewest faults. The author advertises that he shall insist upon its being considered a romance, and (as near as we can gather from his remarks) that he has a right to say and do as he chooses. Some of the scenes might have been made exciting, did it not seem that the writer had measured his paper, and said “this description shall fill so much.” It might be read with some interest, perhaps, by one who had never read “The Last of the Mohicans.” But those who have, should wait until the memory of the latter has become faded and dim. There is enough in the story, to have made a pretty tale of fifty pages; at least, it then would have had one merit, which now it has not—brevity.
The last production from the pen of this author is “The Partisan, a tale of the Revolution.” As the author is very particular, and at times a little dictatorial in his advertisements, let us look there for what he promises, and then examine the tale for the fulfillment.
“The title of the work, indeed, will persuade the reader to look rather for a true description of that mode of warfare, (the partisan,) than for any consecutive story, comprising the fortunes of a single personage. This he is solicited to keep in mind.” Again, “I have entitled it ‘The Partisan, a tale of the Revolution’—it was intended to be particularly such. The characters, many of them are names in the nation, familiar as our thoughts; [the author’s thoughts are very familiar.] Gates, Marion, De Kalb, and the rest, are all the property of our country.” He says, “My aim has been to give a story of events, rather than of persons”—that “A sober desire for history—the unwritten, the unconsidered, but veracious history—has been with me, in this labor, a sort of principle.”
What, then, are we to presume from this, is to be the character of the work? Certainly, that it is to be almost entirely historical. Yet as it is entitled a tale, we might of course suppose that the fortunes of some individual, a fictitious person or one little known, was to be the chain, into which should be woven the adventures of the famous men—Marion, De Kalb, and others, whose names the author mentions. It is to be “a story of events, rather than of persons.” And what does the work prove to be? Not an event, in which either of these Generals was active, or in any great degree interested, is mentioned, except what is related in some of the one hundred pages, devoted to describing the battle and defeat of Gates by Cornwallis, which pages are almost the last of the work. To bring in this event, the author makes a long march with his hero, who, after all, was not engaged in the action. The story does not naturally bring us there: so, after all, it is only by a forced march, that any of the characters, set before us in the advertisement, are introduced. His censures upon Gates are severe. Since the laurels, won at Saratoga, were shed in the flight from Camden, that General has never been a favorite with his countrymen. There never were wanting hands to use the dagger against the fame of the fallen great; yet those are not to be envied, who thus can stab the slain.
We may now ask, are all the author’s promises but so much “ado about nothing?” Let us see, by examining further. The principal characters are, Major Singleton, the hero and ‘Partisan,’ an officer under Marion; Colonel Walton, uncle to the ‘hero,’ and father to the heroine; Dick Humphries, a co-partisan; and John Davis, the at first unsuccessful rival of a British sergeant, who is in love with the sister of Humphries. Besides these, there are a number of lesser characters, who figure not a little. The most conspicuous of these are, a mad man or devil-maniac, who has a most outlandish habit of haw-hawing, after the manner of a wolf, about his wife, who has been murdered most cruelly by the tories: his name is Frampton—and the glutton Porgy, who helps the author to no small quantity of matter, for filling his pages, while he helps himself, to fill his stomach. The female characters are, Katherine Walton,—the hero’s sister, Emily Singleton; and Bella Humphries. These are the principal dramatis personæ; of course, there are the soldiers, attendants, &c.
The story, which is without a plot, (and in this I suppose the great difference consists between a “history of events,” and novels generally,) amounts about to this: The hero is introduced towards the close of the day, makes one proselyte—John Davis—meets Humphries, and with him goes by night to the “Cypress Swamp;” in the morning suppresses with his “swamp suckers,” a party of tories, which had been sent against them; after which they cut off a supply of provisions, &c., destined for the camp of the enemy: then, placing his camp near the plantation of his uncle, he starts at night, and, with Humphries, visits “the Oaks,” the dwelling place of Col. Walton, and arriving, finds that Col. Proctor, who has also a love for the daughter of the Colonel, is already there; so, hiding in “the Oaks,” he overhears some conversation between the British officer and Kate, who are walking with Col. Walton and the sister, which conversation makes our hero feel better; and when the British officer is gone, the hiders come forth, and with their friends enter the mansion, make a visit, and shortly return to the camp; encounter a hurricane; meet Goggle, one of the tory prisoners, whom they had taken in the morning, and who had enlisted with them, and now escaped; and, after endeavoring in vain to take him, they pay a visit to his witch mother, all for no purpose; and finally reach their camp; while Goggle goes to his mother, and sends her to Proctor with information, and then returns to the camp of the “Partisan;” and this finishes the first volume, so far as the principal character is concerned.