thought analogous to it, which, in the essays "On the Pleaaures of the Imagination," Addison prosecuted, not, indeed, with much of philosophical depth, but with a sagacity and comprehensiveness which we shall undervalue much unless we remember how little of philosophy was to be found in any critical views previously propounded in England. To Addison, further, belong those essays which (most frequently introduced in regular alternation in the papers of Saturday) rise into the region of moral and religious meditation, and tread the elevated ground with a step so graceful as to allure the reader irresistibly to follow; sometimes, as in the "Walk through Westminster Abbey," enlivening solemn thought by gentle sportiveness; sometimes flowing on with an uninterrupted sedateness of didactic eloquence; and sometimes shrouding sacred truths in the veil of ingenious allegory, as in the majestic "Vision of Mirza." While, in a word, the Spectator, if Addison had not taken part in it, would probably have been as lively and humorous as it was, and not less popular in its own day, it would have wanted some of its strongest claims on the respect of posterity, by being at once lower in its moral tone, far less abundant in literary knowledge, and much less vigorous and expanded in thinking. In point of style, again, the two friends resemble each other so closely as to be hardly distinguishable, when both are dealing with familiar objects, and writing in a key not rising above that of conversation. But in the higher tones of thought and composition, Addison showed a mastery of language raising him very decisively, not above Steele only, but above all his contemporaries. Indeed, it may safely be said, that no one, in any age of our literature, has united, so strikingly as he did, the colloquial grace and ease which mark the style of an accomplished gentleman, with the power of soaring into a strain of expression nobly and eloquently dignified.
On the cessation of the Spectator, Steele set on foot the Guardian, which, started in March 1713, came to an end in October, with its 175th number. To this series Addison gave 53 papers, being a very frequent writer during the latter half of its progress. None of his essays here aim so high as the best of those in the Spectator; but he often exhibits both his cheerful and well-balanced humour, and his earnest desire to inculcate sound principles of literary judgment. In the last six months of the year 1714, the Spectator received its eighth and last volume; for which Steele appears not to have written at all, and Addison to have contributed 24 of the 80 papers. Most of these form, in the unbroken seriousness both of their topics and of their manner, a contrast to the majority of his essays in the earlier volumes; but several of them, both in this vein and in one less lofty, are among the best known, if not the finest, of all his essays. Such are the "Mountain of Miseries;" the antediluvian novel of "Shallum and Hilpa; the "Reflections by Moonlight on the Divine Perfections."
In April 1713 Addison brought on the stage, very reluctantly, as we are assured, and can easily believe, his tragedy of Cato. Its success was dazzling; but this issue was mainly owing to the concern which the politicians took in the exhibition. The Whigs hailed it as a brilliant manifesto in favour of constitutional freedom. The Tories echoed the applause, to show themselves enemies of despotism, and professed to find in Julius Caesar a parallel to the formidable Marlborough. Even with such extrinsic aid, and the advantage derived from the established fame of the author, Cato could never have been esteemed a good dramatic work, unless in an age in which dramatic power and insight were almost extinct. It is poor even in its poetical elements, and is redeemed only by the finely solemn tone of its moral reflections, and the singular refinement and equable smoothness of its diction.
The literary career of Addison might almost be held as closed soon after the death of Queen Anne, which occurred in August 1714, when he had lately completed his 42d year. His own life extended only five years longer; and this closing portion of it offers little that is pleasing or instructive. We see him attaining the summit of his ambition, only to totter for a little and sink into an early grave. We are reminded of his more vigorous days by nothing but a few happy inventions interspersed in political pamphlets, and the gay fancy of a trifling poem on Kneller's portrait of George I.
The lord justices who, previously chosen secretly by the Elector of Hanover, assumed the government on the Queen's demise, were, as a matter of course, the leading Whigs. They appointed Addison to act as their secretary. He next held, for a very short time, his former office under the Irish lord-lieutenant; and, early in 1715, he was made one of the lords of trade. In the course of the same year occurred the first of the only two quarrels with friends, into which the prudent, good-tempered, and modest Addison is said to have ever been betrayed. His adversary on this occasion was Pope, who, only three years before, had received, with an appearance of humble thankfulness, Addison's friendly remarks on his Essay on Criticism; but who, though still very young, was already very famous, and beginning to show incessantly his literary jealousies, and his personal and party hatreds. Several little misunderstandings had paved the way for a breach, when, at the same time with the first volume of Pope's Iliad, there appeared a translation of the first book of the poem, bearing the name of Thomas Tickell. Tickell, in his preface, disclaimed all rivalry with Pope, and declared that he wished only to bespeak favourable attention for his contemplated version of the Odyssey. But the simultaneous publication was awkward; and Tickell, though not so good a versifier as Pope, was a dangerous rival, as being a good Greek scholar. Further, he was Addison's under-secretary and confidential friend; and Addison, cautious though he was, does appear to have said (quite truly) that Tickell's translation was more faithful than the other. Pope's anger could not be restrained. He wrote those famous lines in which he describes Addison under the name of Atticus; and, as if to make reconciliation impossible, he not only circulated these among his friends, but sent a copy to Addison himself. Afterwards, he went so far as to profess a belief that the rival translation was really Addison's own. It is pleasant to observe that, after the insult had been perpetrated, Addison was at the pains, in his Freeholder, to express hearty approbation of the Iliad of Pope; who, on the contrary, after Addison's death, deliberately printed the striking but malignant lines in the Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot. In 1715 there was acted, with little success, the comedy of The Dmmmer, or the Haunted House, which, though it appeared under the name of Steele, was certainly not his, and was probably written in whole or chiefly by Addison. It contributes very little to his fame. From September 1715 to June 1716, he defended the Hanoverian succession, and the proceedings of the Government in regard to the rebellion, in a paper called the Freeholder, which he wrote entirely himself, dropping it with the fifty-fifth number. It is much better tempered, not less spirited, and much more able in thinking, than his Examiner. The finical man of taste does indeed show himself to be some times weary of discussing constitutional questions; but he aims many enlivening thrusts at weak points of social life and manners; and the character of the Fox hunting Squire, who is introduced as the representative of the Jacobites, is drawn with so much humour and force that we regret not being allowed to see more of him.
In August 1716, when he had completed his 44th year, Addison married the Countess-Dowager of Warwick, a
