Text: Anonymous, “[Review of Poe Biographies by Ingram and Stedman],” New-York Tribune (New York, NY), vol. XI, whole no. 12,392, October 19, 1880, p. 6, col. 1

[page 6, column 1:]

EDGAR ALLAN POE. HIS LIFE, LETTERS AND EDGAR ALLAN POE OPINIONS, By JOHN H. INGRAM, 2 vols. 8vo. London: John Hogg.

EDGAR ALLAN POE. By E. C. STEDMAN. 8vo. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin Company.

Here are further contributions to the still increasing bibliography of Poe. A critic himself, he seems the occasion of endless criticism in others. He is discussed summarily in magazines, and he is dissected at large in volumes. People show their own genius by writing about his. He is regarded as a sort of literary mystery, about whom it is fit that writers should have opinions and theories. We would not say, for that might appear ill-natured, that the problem of Poe's life and production is an easy one to be solved: but is it too soon to hint that we have had books enough upon the subject already? The bulk is out of proportion to the subject, nor is there any reason why Mr. Poe should have more “Lives” than John Milton. We suppose that the real origin of all this fecundity is to be found in the fact that while Poe's literary work, or much of it, challenges the intelligence of mankind and is not always easily comprehended, there is a degree of personal interest in his life and adventures. What Carlyle said of Madam Von Ense as true of Poe. He was and is “a biographic phenomenon.” He therefore piques persons who like to exhibit their cleverness by discussing their fellow-creatures; and the consequence is that we have had all these books about him, nor is there any certainty that we may not have many more.

Mr. Ingram's Life we may commend as “full and faithful.” The author has exhibited uncommon industry aud patience in the collection of his materials, The story of a fitful and unhappy career is told with extraordinary minuteness, from its beginning to its tragic close. Mr, Ingram is inclined evidently to the side of sympathy and extenuation but he conceals nothing of importance, and goes courageously on with the narrative of Poe's infirmities and misfortunes and errors, still asking us, ether directly or indirectly, to be lenient, and making the most of whatever was noble in the character of the poet. But those who read Mr. Ingram's memoir with the greatest interest will not perhaps greatly alter their estimate of Poe's character. That his mind was singularly ill-balanced that the vehemence of his critical faculty often led him into injustice; that he was a man for whom it was impossible to do much, and upon whose persistence in any established path of industry it was unsafe to rely; that he had combined with talents of an uncommon order, a tendency to literary trick and mystification — all this Mr. Ingram's book makes more certain, it possible, than it was before. What Poe might have been and might have done, if the way of his life had been wise, we know now better than ever; but we also know better that either he could not or would not employ his wonderful abilities to the best purpose, and that his remarkable talents were at the mercy of a nature which brooked no control, and of a temperament which led to intellectual waste and ill-regulated labor. We are sorry to say it, but such is the conclusion to which Mr. Ingram's most interesting book leads us.

Mr. Stedman's monograph has the advantage of being strictly critical; nor is the writer at any time betrayed into any undue admiration of his hero. There is no attempt at affectionate concealment. The nature of Poe is spoken of as “the most trying and uncontrollable that ever poet possessed; that ever possessed poet”; his temper as “unquiet and capricious.” There was a scornful pettiness that made him hard to help, and drove him “to quarrel with his patient, generous friends, and to wage ignoble conflicts with enemies of his own making,” and he frequently “resorted to stimulants which he knew would madden and besot him more than other men.” He had his misfortunes, but Mr. Stedman says that they were less than those of some men who have conquered misfortune. Others have been castaways in infancy and friendless in manhood, and have found no protectors such as came at his need. Others have struggled and suffered, and have declined to wear their hearts upon their sleeves. They have sought consolation in their work, and from their cruelest experiences have wrung its strength and glory. The literary criticism of Mr. Stedman's brochure is not behind that which is personal. Great praise is extended to Poe's short, purely ideal efforts, but it is acknowledged that “he lacked sustained power of invention,” this being proved not by his failure to complete an extended work, but by his underestimation of its value.” He lacked “the growing power and sustaining power of Hawthorne.” His literary criticisms were “waspish and unfair”; he had “small respect for the feeling that it is well tor a critic to discover beauties, since any one can pont out faults.” His satire an obvious ferocity,” so that “one instinctively takes part with the victim.” “With him,” it is said, “an end justified the means, and he had no conception of the law and limitations of liberty, no practical sense of right and wrong.” His “lack of will was inherent.” It “was weak from the beginning.” It became more and more reduced by those habits which, of all the defences of a noble mind, attack this stronghold first.”

It will be seen that Mr. Stedman's estimate of Poe is strictly critical, and not loosely laudatory. We might venture to add something of our own to it, but surely about this wayward and unfortunate man of letters there has been quite enough written already.