Title:  International Weekly Miscellany, Vol. 1, No. 2, July 8, 1850

Author:  Various

Release Date:  July 21, 2004 [EBook #12975]

Language:  English

Character set encoding:  ASCII

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INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY

Of Literature, Art, and Science.

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Vol.  I. New York, July 8, 1850.  No. 2.

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[Illustration:  Studies of the town.]

The lorgnette, the cleverest book of its kind (we were about to write, since the days of Addison, but to avoid possible disagreement say)—­since Irving and Paulding gave us Salmagundi, is still coming before us at agreeable intervals, and will soon be issued in a brace of volumes illustrated by Darley.  The Author keeps his promises, given in the following paragraphs some time ago: 

“It would be very idle to pretend, my dear Fritz, that in printing my letters, I had not some hope of doing the public a trifling service.  There are errors which need only to be mentioned, to be frowned upon; and there are virtues, which an approving word, even of a stranger, will encourage.  Both of these objects belong to my plan; yet my strictures shall not be personal, or invidious.  It will be easy, surely, to carry with me the sympathies of all sensible people, in a little harmless ridicule of the foibles of the day, without citing personal instance; and it will be vastly easier, in such Babylon as ours, to designate a virtue, without naming its possessor!  Still, you know me too well, to believe that I shall be frightened out of free, or even caustic remark, by any critique of the papers, or by any dignified frown of the literary coteries of the city....  This lorgnette of mine will range very much as my whim directs.  In morals, it will aim to be correct; in religion, to be respectful; in literature, modest; in the arts, attentive; in fashion, observing; in society, free; in narrative, to be honest; in advice, to be sound; in satire, to be hearty; and in general character, whatever may be the critical opinions of the small litterateurs, or the hints of fashionable patrons, to be only—­itself.”

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TENNYSON’S new poem.[1]

The popularity of Tennyson, in this country as well as in England, is greater than that of any other contemporary who writes verses in our language.  We by no means agree to the justness of the common apprehension in this case.  We think Bryant is a greater poet, and we might refer to others, at home and abroad, whom it delights us more to read.  But it is unquestionable that Tennyson is the favorite of the hour, and every new composition of his will therefore be looked for with the most lively interest.  His last work, just reprinted by Ticknor, Reed & fields, of Boston, is thus described in the London Spectator of June 8th: