Text: Edgar Allan Poe (?), Literary, Broadway Journal (New York), March 1, 1845, vol. 1, no. 9, p. ???-???

[page 139, column 2, continued:]

GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.

WHATEVER may be the merits or demerits, generally, of the Magazine literature of America, there can be no question as to its extent or its influence. The topic — Magazine literature — is therefore, an important one. In a few years its importance will be found to have increased in geometrical ratio. The whole tendency of the age is Magazine-ward. The quarterly reviews have never been popular. Not only are they too stilted (by way of keeping up a due dignity), but they make a point, for the same reason, of discussing only topics which are caviare to the many, and which, for the most part, have only a conventional interest, even with the few. Their issues, also, are at too long intervals: their subjects get cold before being served up. In a word, their ponderosity is quite out of keeping with the movement — with the rush of the age. We now demand the light artillery of the intellect: we need the curt, the condensed, the pointed, the readily diffused — in place of the verbose, the detailed, the voluminous, the inaccessible. On the other hand, the lightness of the artillery must not degenerate into pop-gun-nery — by which character we may designate the character of the greater portion of the newspaper press; whose sole legitimate object is the discussion of ephemeral matters in an ephemeral manner. Whatever talent may be brought to bear upon our daily journals, (and in many cases this talent is very great) still the imperative necessity of catching, currente calamo, every topic as it flits before the eye of the public, must, of course, materially narrow the limits of their power. The bulk, and the period of issue of the Monthly Magazine, seem to be precisely adapted, if not to all the literary wants of the day, at least to the largest and most imperative, as well as the most consequential portion of them.

With these views, we shall, of course, regard attentively all that concerns our Magazines. It is our design to treat this class of journals with a consideration to which hitherto they have been unaccustomed. We propose neither to be laud nor to abuse them; but in regarding them as the most important arenas for our literary men, we shall he pardoned for sweeping them clean of all that is adventitious.

Keeping these intentions in mind, as points to be accomplished in the future, we shall content ourselves, this week, with a few observations, at random, on the March number of Graham's Magazine — reserving its general character, as well as the general character of its class, for more deliberate investigation hereafter.

The two first plates are capitally designed and engraved; the “Dacota Woman and Assiniboin Girl,” in especial, is worthy of all commendation. No annual has been issued in [page 140:] America which might not have been proud of these illustrations. The third plate, called the “Love-Letter,” is disgraceful in every respect. The flesh of the woman is sheep's wool, and the hand holding the love-missive, has the air of having been carved by a very small child, with a dull knife, from a raw potato. The essay on Egotism is well written and pointed. Miss Sedgwick's “Incidents at Rome” is only mediocre; it has little either of force or novelty. Mr. Simms’ “Boatman's Revenge” is a spirited tale, by one of our best narrators of similar things — a man whose literary interests have suffered by too pertinacious a residence in the South. Mr. Simms is full of fault, but he has a true vigor which more than redeems it. The division of his present story into chapters is without meaning, and has a stiffness which is objectionable. “Serenading” is only so-so. “Lucy Dutton,” by Fanny Forrester, is gracefully told. “Foreign Mysteries,” by Grund, and “Carry Carlisle” by Mrs. Osgood, are the best contributed prose articles in the number; the latter piece embodying also some of the best poetry. The editorial criticisms of “Graham” are in general vigorous and pungent — but the notice of “Lowell's Conversations” in the present number, by no means does justice, we think, to the very great and peculiar abilities of the author reviewed.