saddle but, for all that, a bold and enterprisingrnsoldier. Porgy—Robin Hood,rnFriar Tuck, and Falstaff rolled into one—rnis probably the most original character inrn19th-century American literature andrna gauge of defiance against anyonernwho thinks Simms “conventional.”rnSimrns’ most enduring legacy is hisrnuneven series of novels written on thernRevolutionary W4ir as it was plaved outrnin South Carolina; it is an “epic story ofrnAmerica’s battle for freedom and selfidentity,”rnas John Caldwell Guilds sumsrnup the theme of Woodcraft. ProfessorrnGuilds has devoted much of his careerrnto rehabilitating Simms’ reputation, andrnthis volume is a solid and lasting contributionrnto the scholarship on Simms andrnto American literary history. His judgmentrnon the comparative worth ofrnSimms’ numerous and varied works isrnjudicious and penetrating, and whilernGuilds is ruthless in detecting flaws, hernis also just the sort of critic that Simmsrnhimself found in his friend James I lenryrnHammond, who could pick out the deficienciesrnin a work while admiring itsrngeneral design and overall excellence.rnIf Guilds as an interpreter of Simmsrnhas a weakness, it is his attempt to portrayrnthe writer as a somewhat eoldheart-rnLET US KNOWrnBEFORE YOU GO !rnTo assure uninterrupted delivery ofrnCHRONICLES please notify us inrnadvance. Send change of address on thisrnform with the mailing label from yourrnlatest issue of CHRONICLES to:rnSubscription DepartmentrnCHRONICLESrnP.O. Box 800rnMount Morris, Illinois 61054rnNAMErncd egotist, insufficiently attentive to hisrnwife:rnThough unconditionally lovedrnand revered for almost threerndecades by his wife, Simms was sornself-centered, and so preoccupiedrnwith his own disappointmentsrnand frustrations, that he oftenrnfailed to be thoughtful andrnconsiderate in his relationshiprnwith her.rnMost, if not all writers, have a streakrnof egotism and vanity—why else do theyrnwaste their time writing when they couldrnbe selling shoes or fleecing the public asrnjournalists and politicians? Simms is notrnpersonally effusive, either in his lettersrnor in his novels, but he is grief-stricken atrnthe death of each of his children, givingrnthe lie to social historians who have declaredrnthat the frequency of infant mortalityrndeadened the hearts of parents. Ifrnhe was not the perfect model of uxoriousness,rnby what standard are we judgingrnhim? Hemingway’s? In truth, Guilds’rnevidence of coldness and neglect are almostrnall argumenta ex silentio, and onrnthis basis few husbands could escaperncensure. One of Simms’ really interestingrnqualities—and he shared it withrnHammond as well as with certain otherrnSoutherners of the time—is a certainrnmanliness and frankness. They wererntheir own men in everything, freethinkingrnChristians in religion, reluctantrnto follow any man’s lead, even Calhoun’s.rnIt falsifies our knowledge of therntimes to describe such men as sharingrn”a sense of alienation from Southern society,”rnexcept in the etiolated sense thatrnno first-rate man is a herd animal.rnThere is an 18th-century quality tornSimms and Hammond, and like JudgernPcttigrew and Hugh Legare (to namernonly two other Charlestonians) theyrnbelong as much to the world of Johnsonrnand Gibbon as to the Romantic era.rnToo much, in fact, has been writtenrnof Southern romanticism, and likernall provincial cultures. South Carolinarnhas always remained at least two generationsrnbehind the fashions. Europeanrnvisitors frequently noticed an austere,rnalmost Puritanical streak in Charlestonrnlife, a sense of reserve that might be mistakenrnfor coldness in a people less passionate.rnEven at the beginning of thisrncentury, Owen Wister instilled a strangerncombination of aloofness and heartinessrninto the central characters of his novelrnLady Baltimore.rnGuilds’ principal mistake lies in hisrnrefusal to take Simms’ poetry seriously.rnIn a superbly concise introduction to hisrnfirst selection of Gilmore Simms’ verse,rnJames Kibler sets out to counter thernwell-entrcnehcd opinion that the writerrn”did not use his experiences as thernsource of his work.” Kibler’s answer isrnthe poetry: “No poems could be anyrnmore honest or intensely personal. . . .rnClearly art for Simms was not an escapernfrom reality but a way of facing it.”rnSimms is, in general, a competent versifierrnby American standards of the time,rnwhich is not saying a great deal, sincernAmerican writers and critics have a veryrnhigh degree of tolerance for incompetentrnverse. As is the case with his novels,rnwhat first strikes the reader about hisrnpoetry is the great range of Simms’ work:rnsocial and political satire, love poetry,rndescriptive verse, and some of the mostrnmelancholy reflections that saw print inrna melancholy age. In “What’s Left”—rnhitherto published only as an anonymousrnlyric in a newspaper—the coldheartedrnpoet muses on the death of hisrnwife (he had also lost nine children tornsay nothing of every worldly possession,rnincluding his plantation house with a libraryrnof ncady 11,000 books). He thinksrnof the possibility of another love, anotherrnmarriage, but concludes:rnWho, with his metnories of thernpast.rnIn midnight hours, a mournfulrnthrong,rnBut trembles lest the tempestrnblast,rnShall hush the sweetest spellsrnof song!rnWho, with each soft, subsidingrnstrain.rnBut feels some memory, sternrnand sharp,rnNor hears anew the shriek of pain,rnin all the pauses of the harp!rnSimms does not always touch chords sornprofound in his verse, but as a Horatianrnsatirist he is frequently memorable.rnHere is a cynical apology for an evening’srnflirtation:rnThe fact is, dear Fanny, I’mrnhuman,rnVery weak, I may say, on a spree:rnAnd no matter of what sort thernwoman.rn26/CHRONlCLESrnrnrn