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Part II: 1672-1719
Part II: 1672-1719
He was not all this time an indifferent spectator of public affairs. He
wrote, as different exigencies required (in 1707), The Present State of the
War, and the Necessity of an Augmentation; which, however judicious, being
written on temporary topics, and exhibiting no peculiar powers, laid hold on
no attention, and has naturally sunk by its own weight into neglect. This
cannot be said of the few papers entitled The Whig Examiner, in which is
employed all the force of gay malevolence and humorous satire. Of this paper,
which just appeared and expired, Swift remarks, with exultation, that it is
now down among the dead men. He might well rejoice at the death of that which
he could not have killed. Every reader of every party, since personal malice
is past, and the papers which once inflamed the nation are read only as
effusions of wit, must wish for more of the Whig Examiners; for on no occasion
was the genius of Addison more vigorously exerted, and on none did the
superiority of his powers more evidently appear. His Trial of Count Tariff,
written to expose the Treaty of Commerce with France, lived no longer than the
question that produced it.
Not long afterwards an attempt was made to revive the Spectator, at a
time indeed by no means favourable to literature, when the succession of a new
family to the throne filled the nation with anxiety, discord, and confusion;
and either the turbulence of the times, or the satiety of the readers, put a
stop to the publication, after an experiment of eighty numbers, which were
afterwards collected into an eighth volume, perhaps more valuable than any one
of those that went before it. Addison produced more than a fourth part, and
the other contributors are by no means unworthy of appearing as his
associates. The time that had passed during the suspension of the Spectator,
though it had not lessened his power of humour, seems to have increased his
disposition to seriousness: the proportion of his religious to his comic
papers is greater than in the former series.
The Spectator, from its recommencement, was published only three times a
week; and no discriminative marks were added to the papers. To Addison,
Tickell has ascribed twenty-three.
The Spectator had many contributors; and Steele, whose negligence kept
him always in a hurry, when it was his turn to furnish a paper, called loudly
for the Letters, of which Addison, whose materials were more, made little use;
having recourse to sketches and hints, the product of his former studies,
which he now reviewed and completed: among these are named by Tickell the
Essays on Wit, those on the Pleasures of the Imagination, and the Criticism on
Milton.
When the House of Hanover took possession of the throne, it was
reasonable to expect that the zeal of Addison would be suitably rewarded.
Before the arrival of King George, he was made secretary to the regency, and
was required by his office to send notice to Hanover that the Queen was dead,
and that the throne was vacant. To do this would not have been difficult to
any man but Addison, who was so overwhelmed with the greatness of the event,
and so distracted by choice of expression, that the Lords, who could not wait
for the niceties of criticism, called Mr. Southwell, a clerk in the house, and
ordered him to dispatch the message. Southwell readily told what was
necessary, in the common style of business, and valued himself upon having
done what was too hard for Addison.
He was better qualified for the Freeholder, a paper which he published
twice a week, from Dec. 23, 1715, to the middle of the next year. This was
undertaken in defence of the established government, sometimes with argument,
sometimes with mirth. In argument he had many equals; but his humour was
singular and matchless. Bigotry itself must be delighted with the Tory-Fox-
hunter.
There are, however, some strokes less elegant, and less decent; such as
the Pretender`s Journal, in which one topic of ridicule is his poverty. This
mode of abuse had been employed by Milton against King Charles II.
"- - - - - Jacobaei.
Centum exulantis viscera Marsupii regis."
And Oldmixon delights to tell of some alderman of London, that he had
more money than the exiled princes; but that which might be expected from
Milton`s savageness, or Oldmixon`s meanness, was not suitable to the delicacy
of Addison.
Steele thought the humour of the Freeholder too nice and gentle for such
noisy times; and is reported to have said that the ministry made use of a
lute, when they should have called for a trumpet.
This year (1716) he married the Countess Dowager of Warwick, whom he had
solicited by a very long and anxious courtship, perhaps with behaviour not
very unlike that of Sir Roger to his disdainful widow: and who, I am afraid,
diverted herself often by playing with his passion. He is said to have first
known her by becoming tutor to her son. "He formed," said Tonson, "the design
of getting that lady, from the time when he was first recommended into the
family." In what part of his life he obtained the recommendation, or how long,
and in what manner he lived in the family, I know not. His advances at first
were certainly timorous, but grew bolder as his reputation and influence
increased; till at last the lady was persuaded to marry him, on terms much
like those on which a Turkish princess is espoused, to whom the Sultan is
reported to pronounce, "Daughter, I give thee this man for thy slave." The
marriage, if uncontradicted report can be credited, made no addition to his
happiness; it neither found them nor made them equal. She always remembered
her own rank, and thought herself entitled to treat with very little ceremony
the tutor of her son. Rowe`s ballad of the Despairing Shepherd is said to have
been written, either before or after marriage, upon this memorable pair; and
it is certain that Addison has left behind him no encouragement for ambitious
love.
The year after (1717) he rose to his highest elevation, being made
secretary of state. For this employment he might be justly supposed qualified
by long practice of business, and by his regular ascent through other offices;
but expectation is often disappointed; it is universally confessed that he was
unequal to the duties of his place. In the House of Commons he could not
speak, and therefore was useless to the defence of the Government. In the
office, says Pope, he could not issue an order without losing his time in
quest of fine expressions. What he gained in rank, he lost in credit; and,
finding by experience his own inability, was forced to solicit his dismission,
with a pension of fifteen hundred pounds a year. His friends palliated this
relinquishment, of which both friends and enemies knew the true reason, with
an account of declining health, and the necessity of recess and quiet.
He now returned to his vocation, and began to plan literary occupations
for his future life. He purposed a tragedy on the death of Socrates; a story
of which, as Tickell remarks, the basis is narrow, and to which I know not how
love could have been appended. There would, however, have been no want either
of virtue in the sentiments, or elegance in the language.
He engaged in a nobler work, a defence of the Christian Religion, of
which part was published after his death; and he designed to have made a new
poetical version of the Psalms.
These pious compositions Pope imputed to a selfish motive, upon the
credit, as he owns, of Tonson; who having quarelled with Addison, and not
loving him, said, that, when he laid down the secretary`s office, he intended
to take orders, and obtain a bishopric; for, said he, I always thought him a
priest in his heart.
That Pope should have thought this conjecture of Tonson worth remembrance
is a proof, but indeed so far as I have found, the only proof, that he
retained some malignity from their ancient rivalry. Tonson pretended but to
guess it; no other mortal ever suspected it; and Pope might have reflected,
that a man who had been secretary of state, in the ministry of Sunderland,
knew a nearer way to a bishopric than by defending Religion, or translating
the Psalms.
It is related that he had once a design to make an English Dictionary,
and that he considered Dr. Tillotson as the writer of highest authority. There
was formerly sent to me by Mr. Locker, clerk of the Leathersellers` Company,
who was eminent for curiosity and literature, a collection of examples
selected from Tillotson`s works, as Locker said, by Addison. It came too late
to be of use, so I inspected it but slightly, and remember it in distinctly. I
thought the passages too short.
Addison, however, did not conclude his life in peaceful studies; but
relapsed, when he was near his end, to a political dispute.
It so happened that (1718-19) a controversy was agitated, with great
vehemence, between those friends of long continuance, Addison and Steele. It
may be asked, in the language of Homer, what power or what cause could set
them at variance. The subject of their dispute was of great importance. The
Earl of Sunderland proposed an act called the Peerage Bill, by which the
number of peers should be fixed, and the King restrained from any new creation
of nobility, unless when an old family should be extinct. To this the Lords
would naturally agree; and the King, who was yet little acquainted with his
own prerogative, and, as is now well known, almost indifferent to the
possession of the Crown, had been persuaded to consent. The only difficulty
was found among the Commons, who were not likely to approve the perpetual
exclusion of themselves and their posterity. The bill therefore was eagerly
opposed, and among others by Sir Robert Walpole, whose speech was published.
The Lords might think their dignity diminished by improper advancements,
and particularly by the introduction of twelve new peers at once, to produce a
majority of Tories in the last reign; an act of authority violent enough, yet
certainly legal, and by no means to be compared with that contempt of national
right, with which some time afterwards, by the instigation of Whiggism, the
Commons, chosen by the people for three years, chose themselves for seven.
But, whatever might be the disposition of the Lords, the people had no wish to
increase their power. The tendency of the bill, as Steele observed in a letter
to the Earl of Oxford, was to introduce an Aristocracy; for a majority in the
House of Lords, so limited, would have been despotic and irresistible.
To prevent this subversion of the ancient establishment, Steele, whose
pen readily seconded his political passions, endeavoured to alarm the nation
by a pamphlet called The Plebeian; to this an answer was published by Addison,
under the title of The Old Whig, in which it is not discovered that Steele was
then known to be the advocate for the Commons. Steele replied by a second
Plebeian; and, whether by ignorance or by courtesy, confined himself to his
question, without any personal notice of his opponent. Nothing hitherto was
committed against the laws of friendship, or proprieties of decency; but
controvertists cannot long retain their kindness for each other. The Old Whig
answered the Plebeian, and could not forbear some contempt of "little Dicky,
whose trade it was to write pamphlets." Dicky, however, did not lose his
settled veneration for his friend; but contented himself with quoting some
lines of Cato, which were at once detection and reproof. The bill was laid
aside during that session, and Addison died before the next, in which its
commitment was rejected by two hundred and sixty-five to one hundred and
seventy-seven.
Every reader surely must regret that these two illustrious friends, after
so many years past in confidence and endearment, in unity of interest,
conformity of opinion, and fellowship of study, should finally part in
acrimonious opposition. Such a controversy was Bellum plusquam civile, as
Lucan expresses it. Why could not faction find other advocates? But, among the
uncertainties of the human state, we are doomed to number the instability of
friendship.
Of this dispute I have little knowledge but from the Biographia
Britannica. The Old Whig is not inserted in Addison`s works, nor is it
mentioned by Tickell in his Life; why it was omitted the biographers doubtless
give the true reason; the fact was too recent, and those who had been heated
in the contention were not yet cool.
The necessity of complying with times, and of sparing persons, is the
great impediment of biography. History may be formed from permanent monuments
and records; but Lives can only be written from personal knowledge, which is
growing every day less, and in a short time is lost for ever. What is known
can seldom be immediately told; and when it might be told, it is no longer
known. The delicate features of the mind, the nice discriminations of
character, and the minute peculiarities of conduct, are soon obliterated; and
it is surely better that caprice, obstinacy, frolic, and folly, however they
might delight in the description, should be silently forgotten, than that, by
wanton merriment and unseasonable detection, a pang should be given to a
widow, a daughter, a brother or a friend. As the process of these narratives
is now bringing me among my contemporaries, I begin to feel myself walking
upon ashes under which the fire is not extinguished, and coming to the time of
which it will be proper rather to say nothing that is false, than all that is
true.
The end of this useful life was now approaching. - Addison had for some
time been oppressed by shortness of breath, which was now aggravated by a
dropsy; and, finding his danger pressing, he prepared to die conformably to
his own precepts and professions.
During this lingering decay, he sent, as Pope relates, a message by the
Earl of Warwick to Mr. Gay, desiring to see him: Gay, who had not visited him
for some time before, obeyed the summons, and found himself received with
great kindness. The purpose for which the interview had been solicited was
then discovered; Addison told him that he had injured him; but that, if he
recovered, he would recompense him. What the injury was he did not explain,
nor did Gay ever know; but supposed that some preferment designed for him,
had, by Addison`s intervention, been withheld.
Lord Warwick was a young man of very irregular life, and perhaps of loose
opinions. Addison, for whom he did not want respect, had very diligently
endeavoured to reclaim him; but his arguments and expostulations had no
effect. One experiment, however, remained to be tried: when he found his life
near its end, he directed the young Lord to be called; and when he desired,
with great tenderness, to hear his last injunctions, told him, I have sent for
you that you may see how a Christian can die. What effect this awful scene had
on the Earl I know not; he likewise died himself in a short time.
In Tickell`s excellent Elegy on his friend are these lines:
He taught us how to live; and oh! too high
The price of knowledge, taught us how to die.
In which he alludes, as he told Dr. Young, to this moving interview.
Having given directions to Mr. Tickell for the publication of his works,
and dedicated them on his death-bed to his friend Mr. Craggs, he died June
17, 1719, at Holland-house, leaving no child but a daughter.
Of his virtue it is a sufficient testimony, that the resentment of party
has transmitted no charge of any crime. He was not one of those who are
praised only after death; for his merit was so generally acknowledged, that
Swift, having observed that his election passed without a contest, adds, that
if he had proposed himself for king, he would hardly have been refused.
His zeal for his party did not extinguish his kindness for the merit of
his opponents: when he was secretary in Ireland, he refused to intermit his
acquaintance with Swift.
Of his habits, or external manners, nothing is so often mentioned as that
timorous or sullen taciturnity, which his friends called modesty by too mild a
name. Steele mentions with great tenderness "that remarkable bashfulness,
which is a cloak that hides and muffles merit;" and tells us, that "his
abilities were covered only by modesty, which doubles the beauties which are
seen, and gives credit and esteem to all that are concealed." Chesterfield
affirms, that "Addison was the most timorous and awkward man that he ever
saw." And Addison, speaking of his own deficience in conversation, used to say
of himself, that, with respect to intellectual wealth, "he could draw bills
for a thousand pounds, though he had not a guinea in his pocket."
That he wanted current coin for ready payment, and by that want was often
obstructed and distressed; that he was oppressed by an improper and ungraceful
timidity, every testimony concurs to prove; but Chesterfield`s representation
is doubtless hyperbolical. That man cannot be supposed very unexpert in the
arts of conversation and practice of life, who, without fortune or alliance,
by his usefulness and dexterity became secretary of state; and who died at
forty-seven, after having not only stood long in the highest rank of wit and
literature, but filled one of the most important offices of state.
The time in which he lived had reason to lament his obstinacy of silence;
"for he was," says Steele, "above all men in that talent called humour, and
enjoyed it in such perfection, that I have often reflected, after a night
spent with him apart from all the world, that I had had the pleasure of
conversing with an intimate acquaintance of Terence and Catullus, who had all
their wit and nature, heightened with humour more exquisite and delightful
than any other man ever possessed." This is the fondness of a friend; let us
hear what is told us by a rival. "Addison`s conversation," says Pope, "had
something in it more charming than I have found in any other man. But this was
only when familiar: before strangers or perhaps a single stranger, he
preserved his dignity by a stiff silence."
This modesty was by no means inconsistent with a very high opinion of his
own merit. He demanded to be the first name in modern wit; and, with Steele to
echo him, used to depreciate Dryden, whom Pope and Congreve defended against
them. There is no reason to doubt that he suffered too much pain from the
prevalence of Pope`s poetical reputation; nor is it without strong reason
suspected, that by some disingenuous acts he endeavoured to obstruct it; Pope
was not the only man whom he insidiously injured, though the only man of whom
he could be afraid.
His own powers were such as might have satisfied him with conscious
excellence. Of very extensive learning he has indeed given no proofs. He seems
to have had small acquaintance with the sciences, and to have read little
except Latin and French; but of the Latin poets his Dialogues on Medals shew
that he had perused the works with great diligence and skill. The abundance of
his own mind left him little need of adventitious sentiments; his wit always
could suggest what the occasion demanded. He had read with critical eyes the
important volume of human life, and knew the heart of man from the depths of
stratagem to the surface of affectation.
What he knew he could easily communicate. "This," says Steele, "was
particular in this writer, that when he had taken his resolution, or made his
plan for what he designed to write, he would walk about a room, and dictate it
into language with as much freedom and ease as any one could write it down,
and attend to the coherence and grammar of what he dictated."
Pope, who can be less suspected of favouring his memory, declares that he
wrote very fluently, but was slow and scrupulous in correcting; that many of
his Spectators were written very fast, and sent immediately to the press; and
that it seemed to be for his advantage not to have time for much revisal.
"He would alter," says Pope, "any thing to please his friends, before
publication; but would not retouch his pieces afterwards: and I believe not
one word in Cato, to which I made an objection, was suffered to stand."
The last line of Cato is Pope`s, having been originally written
And, oh! `twas this that ended Cato`s life.
Pope might have made more objections to the six concluding lines. In the
first couplet the words from hence are improper; and the second line is taken
from Dryden`s Virgil. Of the next couplet, the first verse being included in
the second, is therefore useless; and in the third Discord is made to produce
Strife.
Of the course of Addison`s familiar day, before his marriage, Pope has
given a detail. He had in the house with him Budgell, and perhaps Philips. His
chief companions were Steele, Budgell, Philips, Carey, Davenant, and Colonel
Brett. With one or other of these he always breakfasted. He studied all
morning; then dined at a tavern, and went afterwards to Button`s.
Button had been a servant in the Countess of Warwick`s family, who, under
the patronage of Addison, kept a coffee-house on the south side of Russell -
street, about two doors from Covent-garden. Here it was that the wits of
that time used to assemble. It is said, that when Addison had suffered any
vexation from the countess, he withdrew the company from Button`s house.
From the coffee-house he went again to a tavern, where he often sat
late, and drank too much wine. In the bottle, discontent seeks for comfort,
cowardice for courage, and bashfulness for confidence. It is not unlikely that
Addison was first seduced to excess by the manumission which he obtained from
the servile timidity of his sober hours. He that feels oppression from the
presence of those to whom he knows himself superior, will desire to set loose
his powers of conversation; and who, that ever asked succor from Bacchus, was
able to preserve himself from being enslaved by his auxiliary?
Among those friends it was that Addison displayed she elegance of his
colloquial accomplishments, which may easily be supposed such as Pope
represents them. The remark of Mandeville, who, when he had passed an evening
in his company, declared that he was a parson in a tye-wig, can detract
little from his character; he was always reserved to strangers, and was not
incited to uncommon freedom by a character like that of Mandeville.
From any minute knowledge of his familiar manners, the intervention of
sixty years has now debarred us. Steele once promised Congreve and the public
a complete description of his character; but the promises of authors are like
the vows of lovers. Steele thought no more on his design, or thought on it
with anxiety that at last disgusted him, and left his friend in the hands of
Tickell.
One slight lineament of his character Swift has preserved. It was his
practice when he found any man invincibly wrong, to flatter his opinions by
acquiescence, and sink him yet deeper in absurdity. This artifice of mischief
was admired by Stella; and Swift seems to approve her admiration.
His works will supply some information. It appears from his various
pictures of the world, that, with all his bashfulness, he had conversed with
many distinct classes of men, had surveyed their ways with very diligent
observation, and marked with great acuteness the effects of different modes of
life. He was a man in whose presence nothing reprehensible was out of danger;
quick in discerning whatever was wrong or ridiculous, and not unwilling to
expose it. There are, says Steele, in his writings many oblique strokes upon
some of the wittiest men of the age. His delight was more to excite merriment
than detestation, and he detects follies rather than crimes.
If any judgment be made, from his books, of his moral character, nothing
will be found but purity and excellence. Knowledge of mankind indeed, less
extensive than that of Addison, will shew, that to write, and to live, are
very different. Many who praise virtue, do not more than praise it. Yet it is
reasonable to believe that Addison`s professions and practice were at no great
variance, since, amidst that storm of faction in which most of his life was
passed, though his station made him conspicuous, and his activity made him
formidable, the character given him by his friends was never contradicted by
his enemies: of those with whom interest or opinion united him, he had not
only the esteem, but the kindness; and of others whom the violence of
opposition drove against him, though he might lose the love, he retained the
reverence.
It is justly observed by Tickell, that he employed wit on the side of
virtue and religion. He not only made the proper use of wit himself, but
taught it to others; and from his time it has been generally subservient to
the cause of reason and of truth. He has dissipated the prejudice that had
long connected gaiety with vice, and easiness of manners with laxity of
principles. He has restored virtue to its dignity, and taught innocence not to
be ashamed. This is an elevation of literary character, above all Greek, above
all Roman fame. No greater felicity can genius attain than that of having
purified intellectual pleasure, separated mirth from indecency, and wit from
licentiousness; of having taught a succession of writers to bring elegance and
gaiety to the aid of goodness; and, if I may use expressions yet more awful,
of having turned many to righteousness.
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