The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 12, August, 1835

In Short

This volume is the twelfth and final installment of the first year of the Southern Literary Messenger, a prominent 1830s American periodical. It functions as a cultural digest, collecting historical sketches of the Barbary states, travel journals from Mexico and France, philosophical essays on gender and society, and early fiction contributions—notably by a young Edgar Allan Poe. By balancing high-minded literary critique with practical concerns of the day, it offers a vivid, multifaceted look at the values, anxieties, and aspirations of its era.

The Story

The narrative arc of this issue is not found in a single plot, but in the progression of the reader’s engagement with the world as it was understood in 1835. The volume opens with a sober, historical look at Tripoli and the Barbary states, situating the reader within the geopolitical tensions of the early nineteenth century. This grounding in global reality transitions quickly into the realm of the exotic and the unexplained, with accounts of "Indian feats of legerdemain" that challenge the rational mind of the observer.

From these distant curiosities, the focus shifts to the intimate and the domestic. Through the eyes of a traveler named Leontine, the reader is ushered into the halls of Versailles and the ruins of Roman antiquity, experiencing both the grandeur of history and the mundane frustrations of insects at a picnic. This leads into the emotional lives of young characters like Lavinia and Drayton, whose struggles with youthful dissipation and the weight of moral expectation mirror the internal conflicts of the era’s "promising young men."

The middle portion of the issue turns toward a rigorous, if period-specific, exploration of philosophy and social hierarchy. The text engages in a lengthy, formal inquiry into the intellectual nature of women, weighing their capacities against those of men and debating whether their roles in society are the result of innate biology or the product of environment and education. This discourse is enriched by literary and historical anecdotes—references to Madame Junot, the Duchess de Longueville, and the courtly chivalry of the Middle Ages—which attempt to reconcile the "goodness of heart" often attributed to women with the "ruder arena" of political life.

As the issue nears its conclusion, the tone shifts again. The reader is presented with translations of Horace, offering a meditative, almost melancholic reflection on mortality and the fleeting nature of life. Finally, the volume turns inward, toward the magazine itself. It concludes with a proud assertion of its own mission to foster a uniquely "Southern character" in literature. By highlighting the critical acclaim awarded to the contributor Edgar Allan Poe, the editors finalize the issue not just as a collection of texts, but as a formal declaration of their intent to shape the future of American letters, grounding their ambition in the consensus of the literary elite of their day.

How It Unfolds

The historical foundation The volume begins by documenting the collapse of the Barbary states’ influence, detailing how piracy in the Mediterranean was ultimately managed by the major powers. This sets a tone of geopolitical transition, emphasizing the end of an era of lawlessness.

The encounter with the unknown The perspective shifts to the American frontier, where travelers report on impossible feats performed by indigenous groups. These accounts intentionally provoke the reader’s skepticism, highlighting the tension between observation and belief.

The European excursion Detailed letters from Paris describe visits to historical monuments and royal palaces, contrasting the weight of Roman antiquity with the vibrant, social life of modern French salons. This section serves as a bridge between the physical world and the intellectual pursuits of the day.

The moral and social debate The text moves into the lecture hall, with lengthy, formal essays examining the differences between the sexes. It navigates complex arguments regarding education, political influence, and the supposed "intellectual superiority" of men, relying heavily on historical exemplars.

The poetic and reflective turn The pace slows with melancholic translations of Latin poetry and original verses celebrating the natural world. These pieces invite the reader to pause and contemplate the cycle of life and the beauty of the American landscape.

The editorial self-assertion The volume concludes by defining its own identity, soliciting regional contributions, and championing the work of emerging writers. It leaves the reader with a clear sense of the publication’s emerging influence and literary trajectory.

The People

The volume features a mix of historical figures, fictional archetypes, and observers. Lavinia Loraine and Drayton serve as the emotional center of the fiction; Lavinia is portrayed as a saint-like figure of grace, while Drayton embodies the "wild and dissipated" youth struggling to reconcile his social habits with his sense of honor. Scipio, an unnamed narrator’s companion, appears briefly as a figure of quiet loyalty, whose tears for his friend’s drunken state underscore the moral gravity the text attaches to personal conduct. Leontine acts as the reader's guide through France, offering a blend of historical context and personal reaction. The Philosopher, a character who receives a strange, cadaverous visitor in a night scene, represents the intellectual who is both perplexed and fascinated by the uncanny. Finally, Edgar Allan Poe emerges as a figure of budding genius, framed by the editors as a transformative voice whose "wild, vigorous, and poetical imagination" marks him as the star of the magazine’s future.

In Its Own Voice

"The little respect which was paid to neutral rights at that period by France and England, rendered the transmission of the naval stores composing the tribute difficult and unsafe."

This explanation provides context for the diplomatic maneuvers and delays in the United States' payments to the Barbary states.

"The difference in education is fully sufficient to explain these differences, without looking to any other causes."

The author concludes a formal inquiry into the intellectual capacity of women by arguing that societal upbringing, rather than nature, dictates the observed disparities between men and women.

"The singular force and beauty of those sent by the author of the Tales of the Folio Club, leave us no room for hesitation in that department."

The editors quote a letter from a committee of literary men, establishing the early reputation of Edgar Allan Poe.

What It's Really About

This volume is an inquiry into the definition of civilization. It questions how a society balances the "ferocious ravages" of the past—such as the Mediterranean pirates—with the progress of law, commerce, and refined social intercourse. It is deeply preoccupied with the question of whether human character, particularly the differences between men and women, is an immutable product of nature or a malleable result of education. Underlying these discussions is a tension between the wild, "poetic" imagination and the disciplined, rational mind. The magazine is effectively trying to build a modern, Southern identity by cherry-picking values from European history and American experience, attempting to secure a place for its region within the broader, ongoing project of Western literature and moral philosophy.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the evolution of American literary identity will find this a fascinating, if occasionally challenging, document. It offers a rare, unfiltered look at the period's attitudes toward gender, race, and international relations. The prose is often formal and didactic, reflecting the intellectual fashions of 1835, and a modern reader must be prepared for the dense, sometimes long-winded arguments that characterize its essays. However, there is a genuine warmth in the travel writing and a palpable excitement in the editor’s championing of new, imaginative fiction.

The experience of reading it is much like exploring an attic filled with the concerns of one’s ancestors; you find the same anxieties about the moral state of youth and the same debates over social roles that persist today, even if the language used to express them has changed. It is not a book for those seeking a fast-paced plot, but for those who enjoy the "curious learning" and "fertile invention" that once earned the admiration of the nineteenth century’s most discerning critics, it remains a rewarding, if demanding, historical artifact.