Edgar Allan Poe. By E. C. Steadman. (Sampson Low and
Co.) —This elegant little volume, in its hundred or so tiny pages, contains much, a just and discriminating criticism of Poe's genius and work, and an account, which is at once kindly and just, of his character. Poe has not had always fair treatment. His errors and sins, which were in truth quite serious enough, have been exaggerated. On the other hand, apologies have been made for him which really strike at all social moralities. Mr. Steadman holds the balance, it seems to us, firmly and fairly. We may quote a fine passage from the concluding chapter :—" He loved his share of pain, and was an instance of the fact that man is the one being that takes delight in the tragedy of its own existence, and for whom joy is deepest when it springs from woe. Wandering among the graves of those he had cherished, invoking the spectral midnight skies, believing himself to be the Orestes of his race,—in all this he was fulfilling his nature."
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