The International Weekly Miscellany - Volume I, No. 2

Weekly Miscellany,
by Various

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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: ISO-8859-1
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INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY ***

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INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY
Of Literature, Art, and Science.

* * * * *
Vol. I. NEW YORK, JULY 8, 1850. No. 2.
* * * * *
[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 littérateurs, or the hints of fashionable patrons, to
be only--itself."
* * * * *
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:
"'IN MEMORIAM.'
"Although only these words appear on the title-page of this volume of
poetry, it is well known to be from the pen of Alfred Tennyson. It is
also known that the inscription
'IN MEMORIAM A.H.H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII.'
refers to Mr. Arthur Hallam, a son of the historian. It may be gleaned
from the book, that the deceased was betrothed to a sister of Tennyson,
while the friendship on the poet's part has 'passed the love of women.'
Feeling, especially in one whose vocation it is to express sentiments, is
not, indeed, always to be measured by composition; since the earnest
artist turns everything to account, and when his theme is mournful it is
his cue to make it as mournful as he can: but when a thought
continually mingles with casual observation, or incident of daily life, or
larger event that strikes attention, as though the memory of the past
were ever coloring the present, and that over a period of seventeen
years, it must be regarded as a singular instance of enduring friendship,
as it has shown itself in a very singular literary form. There is nothing
like it that we remember, except the sonnets of Petrarch; for books of
sportive and ludicrous conceits are not to be received into the same
category.
"The volume consists of one hundred and twenty-nine separate poems,
numbered but not named, and which in the absence