From no living person could we have expected a more delightful biography of Goldsmith than from Washington Irving, and, accordingly, we have one, written closer to the heart and brain of its subject, than any other in English literature. There are two biographies of Goldsmith with which it will naturally be compared, Prior’s and John Forster’s, both of them works of merit, but neither equal to Irving’s in respect to felicity in conveying to the reader a living impression of Goldsmith’s character and life; and of depositing his image softly in the mind, as an object of good-natured affection. Prior is invaluable for materials, not only in regard to facts but epistolary correspondence, and displays in his style of composition no sign of being word-forsaken; but he has little juice in him, is hard and dry of mind, and exhibits no vision into the soul of Goldsmith, no capacity to clutch the living lineaments of his character. Forster’s biography is a work of more intellectual pretensions; and the narrative of Goldsmith’s life, the criticism on his various works, and the numerous anecdotes relating to the politics and literature of the time, are done with an ability we could not but expect from a man of Forster’s mental powers and accomplishments: but unfortunately the subject was one in which his mind had little real sympathy, and, accordingly, the whole book, as far as it refers to Goldsmith, is pervaded by affectation and sentimentality. The style is made up of Carlylisms and Macaulayisms, and further depraved by a sickly cant of sympathy with the poor—which cant bears evidence of being written by a man in extremely comfortable circumstances. But Irving is, in intellectual constitution, sufficiently like Goldsmith to comprehend him thoroughly, and his biography, therefore, has the truth and consistency of dramatic delineation, without any parade of knowledge or sentiment. With exquisite refinement of thought, and simplicity of narrative, it exhibits the gradual growth of Goldsmith’s mind and disposition under the tutorship of experience, and so clear is the representation, that the dullest eye cannot miss seeing the essential features of the character, and the dullest heart admiring them.
It is almost needless to say that the style is lucid, graceful and pure, with that “polished want of polish” in the selection of the words, which indicates a master in diction. The spirit breathed over the work is genial and sympathetic, and while it throws a charm around Goldsmith, makes the reader in love with Irving. The selections from Goldsmith’s letters and writings, introduced as illustrations of events in his life, and qualities of his character, do not stand apart from the biographer’s text, but rather seem to melt into it, and form a vital portion of the work. Irving has avoided the fault of the other biographers, in not admitting extraneous matter, and rejecting every thing which does not strictly relate to Goldsmith. The sketches of men, and descriptions of English life and manners, which he introduces, are all illustrative of the circumstances and position of his author. Among these, the remarks on Johnson, Langton and Topham Beauclerc, and the account of the Literary Club, are the most felicitous.
In the last chapter of the volume, Irving sums up, with great delicacy and discrimination, the various qualities of Goldsmith, and presents, with a loving pen, his claims upon the reader’s esteem. We cannot refrain from quoting the concluding remarks, both for their beauty and justice. “From the general tone of Goldsmith’s biography, it is evident that his faults, at the worst, were but negative, while his merits were great and decided. He was no one’s enemy but his own; his errors, in the main, inflicted evil on none but himself, and were so blended with humorous, and even affecting circumstances, as to disarm anger and conciliate kindness. Where eminent talent is united to spotless virtue, we are awed and dazzled into admiration, but our admiration is apt to be cold and reverential; while there is something in the harmless infirmities of a good and great, but erring individual, that pleads touchingly to our nature; and we turn more kindly toward the object of our idolatry, when we find that, like ourselves, he is mortal and frail. The epithet so often heard, and in such kindly tones, of ‘poor Goldsmith,’ speaks volumes. Few, who consider the real compound of admirable and whimsical qualities which form his character, would wish to prune away its eccentricities, trim its grotesque luxuriance, and clip it down to the decent formalities of rigid virtue. ‘Let not his frailties be remembered,’ said Johnson, ‘for he was a very great man.’ But, for our part, we rather say, ‘let them be remembered,’ since their tendency is to endear; and we question whether he himself would not feel gratified in hearing his reader, after dwelling with admiration on the proofs of his greatness, close the volume with the kind-hearted phrase, so fondly and so familiarly ejaculated, of Poor Goldsmith.”
Bulwer and Forbes on the Water Treatment. Edited, with Additional Matter, by Roland S. Houghton, M. D. New York; Geo. P. Putnam. 1 vol. 12mo.
This volume is published especially for the benefit of literary and professional men, to whom the editor dedicates it. As it is addressed “to those who think,” there is a natural disposition on the part of the reader to think with the editor. The most entertaining piece in the volume is Bulwer’s letter, in which the author of Pelham, after describing the melancholy condition of his health under the regular practice, gives his experience as a Water Patient. The other articles are more elaborate and learned disquisitions on Hydropathy, written by physicians; and whatever may be the opinion of the reader as to the merits of the water cure as a medical science, he cannot fail to obtain much valuable information about bathing, and many strong inducements to look after the health of his skin.
Story of a Genius, or Cola Monti. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 16mo.
This is a little story somewhat after the manner of Miss Sedgwick’s delicious juvenile tales, evidencing not merely a laudable purpose in the moral, but no mean powers of characterization, and a considerable knowledge of practical life. Cola, the slight dark-eyed Italian boy, the genius of the story, and Archibald McKaye, the youth marked out for a mercantile profession, are both well delineated; and the idea of bringing them together as natural friends is an anticipation of that union between artist and merchant which we trust will soon be more common in real life.