Page images
PDF
EPUB

defray the expenses of the transit. This he demanded within two hours' time.

The Jew returned with several friends to his own home, and secretly arranged that one of them should follow his daughter at a distance, so as not to lose sight of her altogether. It was no easy matter to find one able and willing to undertake a mission of so much difficulty and danger, in defiance of the express commands of the governor; but at length a Jew, but little known in the town, was found to accept the charge, and having provided himself with money, he was sent on the way.

Whilst Haim and his son were busied in these preparations, the unhappy Simla lay on her bed in a state of utter prostration. When the tidings of her beloved Sol's intended departure reached her, she prepared to see her pass from a secure hiding-place, and thence to bid her farewell, as though she were to see her no more for ever. Not only, indeed, to the parents and brother of Sol were the hours of the night laden with tribulation and anguish, all their friends and neighbours shared their griefs. The unhappy victim alone, to whom the dreadful tidings were communicated at midnight, heard them with an unaltered countenance, though a deep sigh sufficiently proved her feelings in the terrible situation in which she was placed.

An hour before dawn was the time appointed for Sol's departure. At the moment fixed, a Moor, of a countenance most savage and repulsive, presented himself at the dungeon-gate, leading by their bridles two active mules. He was shortly followed by five soldiers, who were to form the escort, and when all were assembled, the muleteer, who was charged with the conduct of the affair, knocked at the door of the prison, and on its being opened, entered to bring the captive forth."

Meanwhile, her parents, her brother, and many of her friends, had concealed themselves at a certain distance, where they could remain undiscovered, to witness this sad scene, and compelled themselves to silence the groans and sighs by which their hearts were torn, so as to escape detection. The eyes of all were riveted on that spot where the victim was to emerge from the prison. Everything was distinctly visible in the clear morning air; and in a little time the object of their hopes came forth, and at sight of her, Simla fell fainting into the arms of her husband and son. Sol came forth with a slow and tremulous step, supported by the horrible muleteer, the pallor of her countenance contrasting with the ebony blackness of her bright and speaking eyes, whose glances fell searchingly around. Her hair, was gathered up beneath the humble white toca," which formed the graceful covering of her head, and her dark blue dress accorded well with the interesting cast of her fair features, giving a grave and imposing character to her whole figure. Her delicate feet were bound with heavy fetters, which scarce permitted her to move; and her whole appearance was so pathetic and interesting, that it is scarcely possible for the pen to describe the scene. All passed in silence; and the echo of sighs was the only language of this fearful drama.

[ocr errors]

The muleteer threw some cords over his beast's trappings, the better to secure his victim. Meanwhile, the beautiful Jewess, turning-as though instinctively towards the spot where her mourning parents stood, asked one of the soldiers who guarded her, to assist her to kneel. This being permitted, she folded her hands upon her breast,

and looking up to heaven, exclaimed, in broken accents :—“ God of Abraham! Thou who knowest the innocence of my heart, receive the sacrifice which I have made in abandoning the spot where I was born. Console my parents and brother for my loss. Strengthen my spirit, and abandon not this, Thy unhappy creature, who always trusted in Thee-make her one day happy in the mansions of the just, with those blessed souls whom Thou electest for Thy greater glory and adoration."

After she had remained a few moments longer in silent devotion, the muleteer, being apprized that it was time to start, rudely tore her from her knees, and with a brutal and reckless violence, capable of revolting the hardest hearts, placed her on the saddle. Lashing her already fettered feet with a thick cord, he bound it also around her wrists, bruising her delicate flesh; and tying a rope in numerous coils round her body, he lashed it to the harness of the mule. The savage Moor having made all secure, tightened the lashings, and seemed to delight above measure in the excruciating torture he thus inflicted upon his patient victim. Not a word, not a complaint, escaped her; nor did her grave and composed demeanour forsake her for an instant, though she regarded her tormentor with a look of suffering patience, unspeakably affecting. The soldiers, who had looked on in silence during this scene, now shouldered their arms; the muleteer mounting the baggage mule, and leading, by his right hand, that which carried the youthful prisoner, from whom the soldiers never for an instant withdrew their eyes, soon set the animals in motion by the well-known touch of the spur, and the journey commenced-when, for the first time, a piercing cry escaped the lips of the fair Sol:-" Adieu! adieu!" exclaimed she; "adieu for ever, my native land!" And soon they

entered on the road to Fez.

If the unconcerned spectators were moved even to tears on witnessing this scene, what were the feelings of the parents who were eyewitnesses of all that passed! Love, tenderness, and sorrow, every emotion that could agitate them, struggled for utterance within their breasts. Haim and Simla, and the young Ysajar, fell on their knees, and sent up to Heaven their hearts' supplications; they followed with their eyes the departing cavalcade, their gaze riveted like those of a spectre; no need was there now to enjoin them to keep silence, for their utterance was stifled on their lips; a red-hot iron seemed to weigh upon their breasts; they raised their eyes to the heavens, to that beautiful African sky, pure and transparent as an arch of azure crystal, and it seemed to them like a roof of lead, in which the bright sun appeared a rolling ball of blood-red hue; their hands, with a convulsive grasp, tore the hair from their heads, and rending their garments in despair, they fell senseless to the earth. Their relatives and friends conveyed them, still insensible, to their homes, and applied restoratives to recall animation. But, alas! to what a consciousness were they restored! to the keener and keener sense of that grief which must follow them to the latest hour of their existence !

The beautiful Sol, meanwhile, travelled on, in the manner already described, silently enduring the separation from her native soil. About three miles of the journey were completed, when there encountered them, as though by accident, a man, who joined himself to the travellers. This was the Jew already mentioned, who being almost a stranger to

the Moors, had engaged himself to the friends of Sol not to lose sight of her during her journey. He entered into conversation with the soldiers, and feigning ignorance of the circumstances of the case, soon obtained from them an account both of their destination, and of the recent occurrences at Tangier.

The sagacious Hebrew, having thus gained the confidence of the escort, addressed a few words to the prisoner, giving her to understand that she ought to embrace the law of the Prophet, and become a Mahometan, as he himself had done. The beautiful Sol heard him with much tranquillity, but without giving any answer; but at a moment when the escort were off their guard, he succeeded in attracting her attention by signs, and in making known to her that he was there for her protection. The poor victim comprehended his meaning, and they were thus more than once enabled to communicate by stealth.

The journey to Fez occupied six days, the nights being spent at the different halting-places. All who saw the prisoner on the road, and were made acquainted with the particulars of her situation, earnestly exhorted, and even implored her to become a proselyte to their faith; she heard them with quiet diffidence, and replied modestly to all the arguments directed to her, that she would rather sacrifice her life than change her religion. So much courageous perseverance was the admiration of all who conversed with her, and her situation excited the greatest interest and sympathy wherever she passed.

The friendly Jew, who still associated himself with the escort, and protested that he was on his road to Fez for the purposes of commerce, obtained permission to speak with and exhort the prisoner, when, in the Hebrew tongue, of which the Moors were ignorant, he took occasion to tell the young Jewess the object of his commission; he communicated to her the prohibition of the Governor of Tangier to her parents to leave the city, and the trust reposed in him; for the better fulfilment of which he had assumed the language and disguise under which he appeared. Sol replied in the same manner by requesting him to be the bearer of a message to her parents, assuring them that she had not for a single instant forgotten them, and that the thoughts of their sufferings were more cruel to her than any that she herself experienced.

I would not unnecessarily dwell upon this melancholy history by a minute description of the various trials and sufferings endured by the youthful Sol upon the road; they can but too readily be inferred from the previous recital. At length, however, the day arrived on which the travellers reached Fez, the residence of the Emperor of Morocco. One of the soldiers of the escort was sent forward to give notice of their approach to the Emperor, who issued immediate orders that his son should go out upon the road, attended by a splendid retinue, to meet the young captive. Accordingly about evening, the Imperial Prince, escorted by more than three hundred of his court, went out on horseback, displaying, as they went, their skill in the feats of horsemanship by which the Moors do honour to the person they are escorting, and meeting the young prisoner on the road, he conducted her to his palace.

LITERARY NOVELTIES FOR THE WINTER SEASON.

To the critic who is not accommodated with nerves of iron, or whose sensibilities have not been entirely blunted by a long use of the literary dissecting instrument, it is no very pleasing task to sit down to the review of a dozen or more of novels. Amongst so many, that a handsome proportion shall be worthy of unqualified approbation is, of course, what no reviewer who has ever been brought to spectacles, can reasonably anticipate; and, although many a young (and, indeed, many a veteran), author, with the weakness of a scared wayfarer, who mistakes a serviceable finger-post on a common for a gallows on a heath, is apt to imagine that your innocent and much-enduring critic is a ruthless and anonymous monster, who

“Hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey,"

and is never so happy as when he is making a meal of his victim; yet the truth is, the pleasure the said critic derives from bestowing just and honest praise, however great and satisfactory it may be, by no means counterbalances the pain he feels when he is compelled to withhold it, or to inflict censure.

The order in which the works we have to notice stand upon our table has been prescribed by the merest chance, and we shall take them up accordingly, and give the reader as brief an abstract of our opinion of them as possible.

If we do not see, on the title-page of "The Fair Carew; or, Husbands and Wives," the name of some former work which might kindle a pleasant train of memory, and cause us to be prepossessed in favour of a younger sister, we are not, on the other hand, invited to peruse a preface, in which faults of inexperience, youth, &c., are pleaded, and indulgence is, with due modesty, bespoken. It is hard to believe that this is a first essay; for it is really a very superior novel, by which "for" we do not mean to insinuate that first essays are not sometimes instinct with genius, but, that they are as often full of spasmodic effort, and incorrect or exaggerated drawing,—and in "The Fair Carew" there is nothing of the kind. This work we take to be the production of a gentleman who is blest with an abundance of leisure, or who has, at all events, devoted a considerable portion of time to the construction of an extremely interesting plot, and to the elaboration of an unusual number of characters. The whole of the Luttrel family-some six or seven in number; their "cousin John," and his wife, Mrs. Carew, the parents of the heroine; the "fair Carew" herself,—a charming specimen of feminine grace and loveliness; Mr. and Mrs. Woolaston, Captain Romilly, and Mrs. Hamilton-all are finished with the nicest and most discriminating skill, and all do their part towards the due effect of one of the pleasantest, most sensible, and best-written works of fiction we have lately had to report upon. It is true that Mr. Fothergill, Mrs. Marsham, and her daughter are bores, and that the two children of Mr. Francis Luttrel are a little more warped from nature than even their artificial education would force them to become; but these are foils which, whether introduced for the purpose or not, serve to set off the other characters. We

promise a treat to such of our readers as enter upon a perusal of "The Fair Carew."

Schiller in his "History of the Thirty Years' War," and in his immortal trilogy, "Wallenstein," has made the reader acquainted with the historical characters that figure in the romance of "The Pappenheimers," edited by Captain Ashton. If we ventured to distrust the author's strength of wing, when he flew at such game as Count Tilly, Pappenheim, Gustavus Adolphus, and Wallenstein, our fears have been completely and most agreeably set at rest, for the manner in which these characters have been conjured from the canvas of history, so as to become life, or like life, once more, is worthy of no common praise. And then, not less admirable are the talent and skill with which fiction has been blended with fact, so that both become, for the time, one reality, and, for the purposes of the story, indivisible, "as water is in water." Every advantage has been taken of the contrast between the characters of Tilly and Pappenheim-the former the consummate captain, the latter the brave and ruthless soldier-to give the most impressive effect to the scenes between them. The sisters, Anna and Hedwig, demanded a more delicate and artful distribution of light and shade, and the labour that has been bestowed upon the delineation of them, has resulted in entire success. "The Pappenheimers" is a romance full of stirring life. There is no tameness, no relaxation of vigour; but scene succeeds scene with unflagging activity, and ever-present spirit.

If we have read some historical romances which have pleased us more than Miss Crumpe's "Death Flag; or, The Irish Buccaneers," we have met with many much worse which have attained popularity. This is a story in which the Irish adherents of Charles Edward Stuart, after the battle of Culloden, prominently figure. With the issue of that combat, so disastrous to his hopes, anything like a general knowledge of the history of the young Pretender ceases; and our authoress has wisely taken advantage of that circumstance to interweave into her story many interesting particulars concerning the unfortunate prince, and to lay before us pictures of the social state of Ireland in 1748, which are exceedingly curious, and give a novelty of effect to her pages. There are some striking scenes in this romance, boldly conceived, although, in one or two instances," writ large." We cannot recognise much good taste in thrusting into prominence such an infamous miscreant as Sullivan. His abduction of Miss O'Moore, with its horrible consequence, excites neither terror nor pity, but sheer, unmitigated pain. But for the unhappy devotion of space to this vulgar villain, we should have pronounced "The Death Flag" an excellent romance.

Every reader of fiction, who takes up a novel by the author of "Emilia Wyndham," will expect to find much vigorous writing, and to be introduced to many forcibly impressive scenes. His expectations, as to those particulars, will be fully realized in "Ravenscliffe," which, with regard to the amount of "intense," contained in it, may take rank with any of the lady's former productions.

Unhappily, whilst an abundance of strength is shown, it is strength that is worse than thrown away. The authoress does not heroically beat and vanquish the air,—she runs with mighty energy against a wall. Her great effort is, to cause us to feel respect for her principal character; and extraordinary pains are taken, which only precipitate the poor wretch into "a lower deep" of contempt.

« PreviousContinue »