LIVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM-BENJAMIN B. MINOR, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. RICHMOND, JANUARY, 1844. NO. 1. Knowledge, rest content, whilst any scheme for Intellectual improvement and Literary honor is demanding their support ?! THE EDITOR TO HIS PATRONS. Hoping that a "merry Christmas" has gladdened your hearts, leaving them untouched by its frost, For the ensuing year, our own efforts shall be we again greet you with "a happy New Year." unremitting and we will receive the constant aid What matters it that chill Winter has come, binding of many of the ablest pens in the Union ;-Esall Nature in his icy chains, if he touch not with sayists, Poets, Novelists, Critics and Historians. his torpor the generous impulses of noble hearts? They have assured us of their good will and some Though his blasts howl around us, as now, making have given solid proof of their intention to sustain es almost idolize "our own fire side," where we so us. THEY DEEM IT ESSENTIAL TO THE SOUTH TO "tranquilly abide," it may still be sunshine and Spring HAVE SUCH A WORK AND CRY SHAME UPON HER SONS within our minds. Let the frosts of selfishness FOR NOT SPEEDING IT ON WITH MORE GENEROUS AID. Dever freeze the generous current of the soul; but Nothing is wanting, in order to sustain, in the heart let the genial warmth of kindred spirits, the ardor of the South and with the South in its heart, the of chaste Love and the fervor of devoted Friend- best toned, best printed and best filled Magazine in shup keep it limpid, flowing and sparkling forever. the whole Union, but Patrons; or, to speak more There is a glory and a use in Nature's winter, plainly, prompt, paying subscribers. with all its cold and storm. With what grandeur and splendor the mountain rears its snow-turbaned head! What Beauty spangles the gem-decked trees! What Joy fills the throng that glide, like spirits in a dream, over the surface of the shining lake! And beneath Winter's chilling robe spring the fowers and the grain. But what glory, what beauty, what good in the blasts of human passion, or the benumbing selfishness of Ignoble Natures? the " We foresee that the pretended, or supposed cheapness of lower priced Periodicals will be an obstacle in our way. Common honesty requires that those who do not furnish but three dollars' worth should demand no more. Is it not better, judicious and economical readers, to give a guinea for a guinea than a shilling for a sixpence; or, what is still worse, than imitate the gourmand, who gave his last guinea for an ortelan? Many think, that after The monarch of the sunny clime could not be their money has been changed into good Messenger persuaded that Winter ever laid his stiff hand upon paper, they get what is worth a premium. The flowing streams and made them bear the tramp existence of the Messenger, with its distinctive If he was as ignorant of the freezing tone, is and has been worth to the South more thouthe heart, what Bliss he knew! May sands than enough to establish it forever. The sunshine of Christmas mirth, New Messenger can not be too large for a month's readYear hap. nd every day joy keep you from ing. By reduction of size and loss of character, experiencing it, and make you as incredulous of it it could be brought to the level of three dollar as was the Eastern King of the existence of ice. cheapness,-but no true friend can desire to see Another year, with its hopes, its duties and its this done. You may lop the noble oak, until noaims, is opening before us. Different occupations thing is left but its unsightly trunk, fit only to invite the energy of our spirits. Go on with brave be burned; or you may cut it down and leave hearts and strong hands-the wilderness of Life only its misshapen stump; but, in order to enjoy will fall before you and smiling homes and spreading, its beauty and shade, you must extend its spreadteeming fields will reward and bless your efforts. ing branches, by watering its roots and fertilizing We approve the custom of the Editor commen-its soil. Sooner than see the Messenger dispareing each volume with a little friendly chat with aged and brought down from its present exalted pois patrons. He has to thank the firm and stead-sition, we had rather see it fall. Southerners, fast, to incite the faltering, to arouse the supine you can preserve it, as it stands; and who had not and invoke anew the aid of all the friends of Literary Enterprise. He has to congratulate his readers upon the delight he has afforded them, to unfold to them his plans, and to commune with them about his prospects-ah! and he has to regret that many are so indifferent to the noble cause, in which he is What are the few thousand patrons of the Mesengaged, as to withdraw, or withhold their encour-senger to the vast number of those to whose inagement and support. How can any, whose hearts terest, to whose patriotism and appreciation of and minds have been visited by the "Day-star" of laudable enterprise it strongly appeals? We can VOL. X-1 rather see the proud monument, reared in honor of some noble achievement, shattered by the lightning, or uprooted by the earthquake, than suffered to moulder and decay, by the neglect of those who should have cherished and perpetuated it. not rest satisfied, nor feel proud of the South until she has sent us TEN THOUSAND subscribers. 66 IPHIGENIA AT TAURIS. A DRAMATIC POEM. IN FIVE ACTS. · (Translated from the German of Goëthé.) the ships freighted with heros and all the munitions of war; We are almost ready to resolve that we will have this number if we have to go through the land, a second Peter the Hermit. Come then, ye sons of the South, who love your own land, and ye sons of the North, who wish a bond of union with The Grecian host, destined for the destruction of Troy, was assembled at Aulis. All was now ready and each Greyour brethren-who wish to reciprocate that gene-cian bosom burned to avenge the injured Helen. There lay rous patronage which your every effort receives from us;-Come and enroll your names in behalf of the Messenger. To you, most generous and steady Patrons, we owe unbounded thanks, and shall strive, unremittingly, to requite you for your favors, by sending you a work worthy of yourselves. Calchas "disclosed the fates" and demanded the costly To effect this, let none be Patrons in name only-sacrifice of Iphigenia, Agamemnon's cherished daughter, but all in deed and in truth. Let every friend en- to appease "the Queen dispensing light." The father's list his friends; every gifted pen pour fourth its love hardly yields to the Greek's devotion; but the wiley treasures and all unite to rear a monument of talent Ulysses is sent to lure the dedicated victim and her mother to the camp, under the pretence of marrying Iphigenia to worthy of the Fathers we have buried, of the land the Great Achilles. The hour arrives, the Altar is prewhich they left us, of the privileges we possess pared and the victim, now willing, is ready to die; but and the destiny that awaits us. Diana ransoms the maiden, and enshrouding her in a cloud, bears her away to Tauris, in the present Crimea, and makes her priestess of her Temple there. What happened there the play will best unfold. Oh! but we must confine ourselves to saying, that it has been highly approved by a German scholar and by an excellent judge of its English Dress.-Ed. Mess. At this season of Christmas Gifts and New Year Presents, it may be expected that we should offer you something more substantial than sentiment, or Euripides, in his works, has celebrated Iphigenia both exhortation. Alas! alas!! we have neither" Mys-at Aulis and at Tauris. The German poet has represented teries of Paris," Newspaper " Annuals," nor any some incidents differently from him. The name of the other unrivalled "Premiums," to offer you. A author of the following translation would give it weight; cordial greeting and our Messenger's stores--our "heart and lute"-are all we can give you. ye grown up children, will not these suffice? If not, then sincerely do we hope, that St. Nicholas has well filled your hanging socks with sugar plums and fire-crackers. But ye, whose devotion did not propitiate the bountiful Nicholas, be not disconso-THOAS, King of Tauris. late; for your fond mothers have, or will, no doubt, ARCAS, his Minister. award you the portion of that "big boy," "Little Jack Horner, Who sat in a corner, DRAMATIS PERSONE. IPHIGENIA, Priestess of the Temple of Diana at Tauris and ORESTES, Brother of Iphigenia. grove before Diana's Temple. ACT I.-SCENE 1. Iphigenia alone. Through your deep shades, ye high and waving summits, Of this old consecrated leafy grove, I As in Diana's silent sanctuary, But indeed we are disposed to be liberal-yes we To think rightly is of Knowledge; to speak fluently is of Wo to the wretch, who, far from home and kindred, Must mourn in solitude life's dearest joys To read with profit is of care; but to write aptly is of Dashed from his lip. His thronging thoughts still roam practice. Back to his Father's halls, back to the scenes, To be accurate, write; to remember, write; to know thine Where first the fair Sun to his eye disclosed own mind, write. The silken bands that heart to heart unite. Her duty and her only consolation. And oh! How wretched should a hostile fate To strangers in strange lands consign her. Here, The darling of his heart brought to thine altar, SCENE 2. Iphigenia. Arcas. Arcas. Greeting and hail to great Diana's Priestess Iphigenia. We are prepared to give them fit reception; Aye, but not the thanks Arcas. Still so unhappy! Pardon my presumption! According to time-consecrated custom. Iphigenia. Breath is not life; and what a life is this, Chained to this holy spot, as if a ghost Were doomed around its grave ever to wander. Is this a life conscious of life and joy, And such is Woman's fate-such most is mine. Of what thou prizest most, and well hast purchased. And often has sent back from certain death Arcas. And thine, much-honored Priestess! Were thy While he, rejoicing in thy presence, takes smile, On holy virgin, also clear and bright, Iphigenia. As best becomes the Exile and the Orphan. still bleeds. In Life's first dawn, while yet the unpractised heart To Father, Mother, Kindred; while the scions, Then perished Youth's best joys; then withering shrunk What am I, but a shadow to myself, Wherein no flush of joy again can bloom. Of what thou dost, and what is best for thee. Dost thou from him thy origin conceal? Anger against me.? Arcas. Does he then cherish So it almost seems. The heart of youthful blood drives not the King My People's praises. All that I have gained Of my lone dwelling. Now-my rage appeased- Iphigenia. Too much thou offerest to one unknown, Oh King! The exile stands abashed before thee, Who, on this shore, sought nothing but repose, And the protection thou hast kindly granted. Thoas. And is it right, from me as from a Peasant, The secret of thy origin to hide? In any country this would be ungrateful: But here, where strangers tremble to encounter A guest received with favor, one who lives Oh, King! the name of Parents and of race, 'Twas in perplexity and not distrust. Did'st thou but know who stands before thee here, Whose the accursed head thy pity shelters, Horror, perchance, would seize thy noble heart, And shuddering, thou wouldest drive me from thy realm, Instead of asking me to share thy throne; Thrusting me forth, ere yet occasion offers To end my wanderings in a blest return To all I love ;-forth to the misery Which, hovering round the exile, clings to him Thoas. Whate'er the counsels of the Gods decree Iphigenia. Thy bounty wins the blessing, not thy guest. Then lay aside thy coy reserve, and give Thy confidence to one too just to wrong it, Holy to me thou art, as unto her The Goddess, who to me delivered thee, To home and friends, that moment thou art free. The deep hid secret, which, when once disclosed, E'en as the Gods decree. Know then my lineage. Thos. A word of Power! And yet thou speakest it Was he thy ancestor, whom all the world That Tantalus, whom, of old, to his high councils He, in whose time-earned wisdom and experience, Iphigenia. In joint authority the subject State. He seems composed-indifferent-reconciled, 'Tis the same. But Gods should not The visage grim in death, and severed limbs Converse with men, as with their equals hold. But bears it Iphigenia. Ah, True! The mighty mind and Titan strength By treacherous murder won. She to his love Of either victim. Shuddering, thy face, Oh King! thou turnest away. And so the Sun Thoas. Let them rest in silence. Enough of horrors. Say now, by what wonder Iphigenia. My Father Was Agamemnon, oldest son of Atreus. A son was wanting. Soon that wish was granted, Thoas. Silent! Speak on. Thou hast no cause to rue By their great chief offended, thus detained Thy confidence. Proceed. The eager host, and by the mouth of Kalchas |