ford, and there, before an audience which retained an affectionate remembrance of Addison's accomplishments and virtues, his tragedy was acted during several days. The gownsmen began to besiege the theatre in the forenoon, and by one in the afternoon all the seats were filled.

town were described by the Guardian | theatre twice the gains of an ordinary in terms which we might attribute to spring. In the summer the Drury Lane partiality, were it not that the Exami- company went down to the Act at Oxner, the organ of the Ministry, held similar language. The Tories, indeed, found much to sneer at in the conduct of their opponents. Steele had on this, as on other occasions, shown more zeal than taste or judgment. The honest citizens who marched under the orders of Sir Gibby, as he was facetiously called, probably knew better when to buy and when to sell stock then when to clap and when to hiss at a play, and incurred some ridicule by making the hypocritical Sempronius their favourite, and by giving to his insincere rants louder plaudits than they bestowed on the temperate eloquence of Cato. Wharton, too, who had the incredible effrontery to applaud the lines about flying from prosperous vice and from the power of impious men to a private station, did not escape the sarcasms of those who justly thought that he could fly from nothing more vicious or impious than himself. The epilogue, which was written by Garth, a zealous Whig, was severely and not unreasonably censured as ignoble and out of place. But Addison was described, even by the bitterest Tory writers, as a gentleman of wit and virtue, in whose friendship many persons of both parties were happy, and whose name ought not to be mixed up with factious squabbles.

Of the jests by which the triumph of the Whig party was disturbed, the most severe and happy was Bolingbroke's. Between two acts, he sent for Booth to his box, and presented him, before the whole theatre, with a purse of fifty guineas for defending the cause of liberty so well against a perpetual Dictator. This was a pungent allusion to the attempt which Marlborough had made, not long before his fall, to obtain a patent creating him Captain General for life.

It was April; and in April, a hundred and thirty years ago, the London season was thought to be far advanced. During whole month, however, Cato was performed to overflowing houses, and brought into the treasury of the

About the merits of the piece which had so extraordinary an effect, the public, we suppose, has made up its mind. To compare it with the masterpieces of the Attic stage, with the great English dramas of the time of Elizabeth, or even with the productions of Schiller's manhood, would be absurd indeed. Yet it contains excellent dialogue and declamation, and among plays fashioned on the French model, must be allowed to rank high; not indeed with Athalie, or Saul; but, we think, not below Cinna, and certainly above any other English tragedy of the same school, above many of the plays of Corneille, above many of the plays of Voltaire and Alfieri, and above some plays of Racine. Be this as it may, we have little doubt that Cato did as much as the Tatlers, Spectators, and Freeholders united, to raise Addison's fame among his contemporaries.

The modesty and good nature of the successful dramatist had tamed even the malignity of faction. But literary envy, it should seem, is a fiercer passion than party spirit. It was by a zealous Whig that the fiercest attack on the Whig tragedy was made. John Dennis published Remarks on Cato, which were written with some acuteness and with much coarseness and asperity. Addison neither defended himself nor retaliated. On many points he had an excellent defence; and nothing would have been easier than to retaliate; for Dennis had written bad odes, bad tragedies, bad comedies: he had, moreover, a larger share than most men of those infirmities and eccentricities which excite laughter; and Addison's power of turning either an absurd book or an absurd man into

gument there is not even the show; and the jests are such as, if they were introduced into a farce, would call forth the hisses of the shilling gallery. Dennis raves about the drama; and the nurse thinks that he is calling for a dram. "There is," he cries, "no peripetia in the tragedy, no change of fortune, no change at all." Pray, good sir, be not angry," says the old woman; "I'll fetch change." This is not exactly the pleasantry of Addison.

66

ridicule was unrivalled. Addison, how- | that on Atticus, or that on Sporus, the ever, serenely conscious of his supe- old grumbler would have been crushed. riority, looked with pity on his assail- But Pope writing dialogue resembled ant, whose temper, naturally irritable-to borrow Horace's imagery and his and gloomy, had been soured by want, own-a wolf, which, instead of biting, by controversy, and by literary failures. should take to kicking, or a monkey But among the young candidates for which should try to sting. The NarAddison's favour there was one dis-rative is utterly contemptible. Of artinguished by talents from the rest, and distinguished, we fear, not less by malignity and insincerity. Pope was only twenty-five. But his powers had expanded to their full maturity; and his best poem, the Rape of the Lock, had recently been published. Of his genius, Addison had always expressed high admiration. But Addison had early discerned, what might indeed have been discerned by an eye less penetrating than his, that the diminutive, crooked, sickly boy was eager to revenge himself on society for the unkindness of nature. In the Spectator, the Essay on Criticism had been praised with cordial warmth; but a gentle hint had been added, that the writer of so excellent a poem would have done well to avoid illnatured personalities. Pope, though evidently more galled by the censure than gratified by the praise, returned thanks for the admonition, and promised to profit by it. The two writers continued to exchange civilities, counsel, and small good offices. Addison publicly extolled Pope's miscellaneous pieces; and Pope furnished Addison with a prologue. This did not last long. Pope hated Dennis, whom he had injured without provocation. The appearance of the Remarks on Cato gave the irritable poet an opportunity of venting his malice under the show of friendship; and such an opportunity could not but be welcome to a nature which was implacable in enmity, and which always preferred the tortuous to the straight path. He published, accordingly, the Narrative of the Frenzy of John Dennis. But Pope had mistaken his powers. He was a great master of invective and sarcasm he could dissect a character in terse and sonorous couplets, brilliant with antithesis: but of dramatic talent he was altogether destitute. If he had written a lampoon on Dennis, such as

There can be no doubt that Addison saw through this officious zeal, and felt himself deeply aggrieved by it. So foolish and spiteful a pamphlet could do him no good, and, if he were thought to have any hand in it, must do him harm. Gifted with incomparable powers of ridicule, he had never, even in self-defence, used those powers inhumanly or uncourteously; and he was not disposed to let others make his fame and his interests a pretext under which they might commit outrages from which he had himself constantly abstained. He accordingly declared that he had no concern in the Narrative, that he disapproved of it, and that if he answered the Remarks, he would answer them like a gentleman; and he took care to communicate this to Dennis. Pope was bitterly mortified; and to this transaction we are inclined to ascribe the hatred with which he ever after regarded Addison.

In September 1713 the Guardian ceased to appear. Steele had gone mad about politics. A general election had just taken place: he had been chosen member for Stockbridge; and he fully expected to play a first part in Parliament. The immense success of the Tatler and Spectator had turned his head. He had been the editor of both those papers, and was not aware how

entirely they owed their influence and found the Tory party distracted by popularity to the genius of his friend. His spirits, always violent, were now excited by vanity, ambition, and faction, to such a pitch that he every day committed some offence against good sense and good taste. All the discreet and moderate members of his own party regretted and condemned his folly. "I am in a thousand troubles," Addison wrote, "about poor Dick, and wish that his zeal for the public may not be ruinous to himself. But he has sent me word that he is determined to go on, and that any advice I may give him in this particular will have no weight with him."

Steele set up a political paper called the Englishman, which, as it was not supported by contributions from Addison, completely failed. By this work, by some other writings of the same kind, and by the airs which he gave himself at the first meeting of the new Parliament, he made the Tories so angry that they determined to expel him. The Whigs stood by him gallantly, but were unable to save him. The vote of expulsion was regarded by all dispassionate men as a tyrannical exercise of the power of the majority. But Steele's violence and folly, though they by no means justified the steps which his enemies took, had completely disgusted his friends; nor did he ever regain the place which he had held in the public estimation.

internal feuds, and unprepared for any great effort. Harley had just been disgraced. Bolingbroke, it was supposed, would be the chief minister. But the Queen was on her death-bed before the white staff had been given, and her last public act was to deliver it with a feeble hand to the Duke of Shrewsbury. The emergency produced a coalition between all sections of public men who were attached to the Protestant succession. George the First was proclaimed without opposition. A Council, in which the leading Whigs had seats, took the direction of affairs till the new King should arrive. The first act of the Lords Justices was to appoint Addison their secretary.

There is an idle tradition that he was directed to prepare a letter to the King, that he could not satisfy himself as to the style of this composition, and that the Lords Justices called in a clerk who at once did what was wanted. It is not strange that a story so flattering to mediocrity should be popular; and we are sorry to deprive dunces of their consolation. But the truth must be told. It was well observed by Sir James Mackintosh, whose knowledge of these times was unequalled, that Addison never, in any official document, affected wit or eloquence, and that his despatches are, without exception, remarkable for unpretending simplicity. Every body who knows Addison about this time conceived with what ease Addison's finest essays the design of adding an eighth volume were produced must be convinced that, to the Spectator. In June 1714 the if well turned phrases had been wanted, first number of the new series appeared, he would have had no difficulty in findand during about six months three ing them. We are, however, inclined papers were published weekly. No- to believe, that the story is not absothing can be more striking than the lutely without a foundation. It may contrast between the Englishman and well be that Addison did not know, the eighth volume of the Spectator, till he had consulted experienced clerks between Steele without Addison and who remembered the times when WilAddison without Steele. The English-liam the Third was absent on the Conman is forgotten; the eighth volume tinent, in what form a letter from the of the Spectator contains, perhaps, the Council of Regency to the King ought finest essays, both serious and playful, to be drawn. We think it very likely in the English language. that the ablest statesmen of our time, Lord John Russell, Sir Robert Peel, Lord Palmerston, for example, would, in similar circumstances, be found quite as ignorant. Every office has some

Before this volume was completed, the death of Anne produced an entire change in the administration of public affairs. The blow fell suddenly. It

little mysteries which the dullest man | loaded Addison with solid benefits. may learn by a little attention, and They praised Swift, asked him to which the greatest man cannot know dinner, and did nothing more for him. by intuition. One paper must be His profession laid them under a diffisigned by the chief of the depart- culty. In the State they could not proment; another by his deputy: to a mote him; and they had reason to fear third the royal sign manual is ne- that, by bestowing preferment in the cessary. One communication is to be Church on the author of the Tale of a registered, and another is not. One Tub, they might give scandal to the sentence must be in black ink, and an- public, which had no high opinion of other in red ink. If the ablest Secre- their orthodoxy. He did not make fair tary for Ireland were moved to the allowance for the difficulties which India Board, if the ablest President of prevented Halifax and Somers from the India Board were moved to the serving him, thought himself an ill War Office, he would require instruc- used man, sacrificed honour and contion on points like these; and we do sistency to revenge, joined the Tories, not doubt that Addison required such and became their most formidable instraction when he became, for the champion. He soon found, however, first time, Secretary to the Lords Jus- that his old friends were less to blame tices. than he had supposed. The dislike George the First took possession of with which the Queen and the heads of his kingdom without opposition. A the Church regarded him was insurnew ministry was formed, and a new mountable; and it was with the greatest Parliament favourable to the Whigs difficulty that he obtained an ecclesiaschosen. Sunderland was appointed tical dignity of no great value, on conLord Lieutenant of Ireland; and Ad-dition of fixing his residence in a dison again went to Dublin as Chief Secretary.

At Dublin Swift resided; and there was much speculation about the way in which the Dean and the Secretary would behave towards each other. The relations which existed between these remarkable men form an interesting and pleasing portion of literary history. They had early attached themselves to the same political party and to the same patrons. While Anne's Whig ministry was in power, the visits of Swift to London and the official residence of Addison in Ireland had given them opportunities of knowing each other. They were the two shrewdest observers of their age. But their observations on each other had led them to favourable conclusions. Swift did full justice to the rare powers of conversation which were latent under the bashful deportment of Addison. Addison, on the other hand, discerned much good nature under the severe look and manner of Swift; and, indeed, the Swift of 1708 and the Swift of 1738 were two very different men.

But the paths of the two friends diverged widely. The Whig statesmen

country which he detested.

Difference of political opinion had produced, not indeed a quarrel, but a coolness between Swift and Addison. They at length ceased altogether to see each other. Yet there was between them a tacit compact like that between the hereditary guests in the Iliad. "Εγχεα δ' ἀλλήλων ἀλεώμεθα καὶ δι ̓ ὁμίλου Πολλοὶ μὲν γὰς ἐμοὶ Τρῶες κλειτοί τ' ἐπίκουροι, Κτείνειν, ον κε θεός γε πόρῃ καὶ ποσσὶ κιχείω, Πολλοὶ δ ̓ αὖ σοὶ ̓Αχαιοί, ἐναίρεμεν, ὃν κε δύνηαι. It is not strange that Addison, who calumniated and insulted nobody, should not have calumniated or insulted Swift. But it is remarkable that Swift, to whom neither genius nor virtue was sacred, and who generally seemed to find, like most other renegades, a peculiar pleasure in attacking old friends, should have shown so much respect and tenderness to Addison.

Fortune had now changed. The accession of the House of Hanover had secured in England the liberties of the people, and in Ireland the dominion of the Protestant caste. To that caste Swift was more odious than any other man. He was hooted and even pelted in the streets of Dublin; and could not

venture to ride along the strand for his | number of a paper called the Freehealth without the attendance of armed holder. Among his political works the servants. Many whom he had formerly Freeholder is entitled to the first place. served now libelled and insulted him. At this time Addison arrived. He had been advised not to show the smallest civility to the Dean of St. Patrick's. He had answered, with admirable spirit, that it might be necessary for men whose fidelity to their party was suspected, to hold no intercourse with political opponents; but that one who had been a steady Whig in the worst times might venture, when the good cause was triumphant, to shake hands with an old friend who was one of the vanquished Tories. His kindness was soothing to the proud and cruelly wounded spirit of Swift; and the two great satirists resumed their habits of friendly intercourse.

Those associates of Addison whose political opinions agreed with his shared his good fortune. He took Tickell with him to Ireland. He procured for Budgell a lucrative place in the same kingdom. Ambrose Phillipps was provided for in England. Steele had injured himself so much by his eccentricity and perverseness, that he obtained but a very small part of what he thought his due. He was, however, knighted; he had a place in the household; and he subsequently received other marks of favour from the Court.

Even in the Spectator there are few serious papers nobler than the character of his friend Lord Somers, and certainly no satirical papers superior to those in which the Tory foxhunter is introduced. This character is the original of Squire Western, and is drawn with all Fielding's force, and with a delicacy of which Fielding was altogether destitute. As none of Addison's works exhibit stronger marks of his genius than the Freeholder, so none does more honour to his moral character. It is difficult to extol too highly the candour and humanity of a political writer whom even the excitement of civil war cannot hurry into unseemly violence. Oxford, it is well known, was then the stronghold of Toryism. The High Street had been repeatedly lined with bayonets in order to keep down the disaffected gownsmen; and traitors pursued by the messengers of the Government had been concealed in the garrets of several colleges. Yet the admonition which, even under such circumstances, Addison addressed to the University, is singularly gentle, respectful, and even affectionate. Indeed, he could not find it in his heart to deal harshly even with imaginary persons. His foxhunter, though ignorant, stupid, Addison did not remain long in Ire- and violent, is at heart a good fellow, land. In 1715 he quitted his secreta- and is at last reclaimed by the cleryship for a seat at the Board of Trade. mency of the King. Steele was dissaIn the same year his comedy of the tisfied with his friend's moderation, Drummer was brought on the stage. and, though he acknowledged that the The name of the author was not an- Freeholder was excellently written, nounced; the piece was coldly received; complained that the ministry played and some critics have expressed a on a lute when it was necessary to blow doubt whether it were really Addi- the trumpet. He accordingly deter son's. To us the evidence, both ex- mined to execute a flourish after his ternal and internal, seems decisive. It own fashion, and tried to rouse the is not in Addison's best manner; public spirit of the nation by means of but it contains numerous passages a paper called the Town Talk, which which no other writer known to us is now as utterly forgotten as his Encould have produced. It was again glishman, as his Crisis, as his Letter to performed after Addison's death, and, the Bailiff of Stockbridge, as his Reader, being known to be his, was loudly ap-in short, as every thing that he wrote plauded. without the help of Addison.

Towards the close of the year 1715, while the Rebellion was still raging in Scotland, Addison published the first

In the same year in which the Drummer was acted, and in which the first numbers of the Freeholder appeared,