markable. "I am called," he said, "an enemy | Hobbes was mentioned, and was indeed su of the church. But I will never do it any other injury than keeping Mr. Addison out of it." This interference was successful; and in the summer of 1699, Addison, made a rich man by his pension, and still retaining his fellowship, quitted his beloved Oxford, and set out on his travels. He crossed from Dover to Calais, proceeded to Paris, and was received there with great kindness and politeness by a kinsman of his friend Montagu, Charles Earl of Manchester, who had just been appointed ambassador to the court of France. The countess, a whig and a toast, was probably as gracious as her lord; for Addison long retained an agreeable recollection of the impression which she at this time made on him, and, in some lively lines written on the glasses of the Kit-Cat club, described the envy which her cheeks, glowing with the genuine bloom of England, had excited among the painted beauties of Versailles. unjust as to call the author of the "Leviathan" a poor silly creature. Addison's modesty restrained him from fully relating, in his letter, the circumstances of his introduction to Boileau. Boileau, having survived the friends and rivals of his youth, old, deaf, and melancholy, lived in retirement, seldom went either to court or to the academy, and was almost in accessible to strangers. Of the English and of English literature he knew nothing. He had hardly heard the name of Dryden. Some of our countrymen, in the warmth of their patriotism, have asserted that this ignorance must have been affected. We own that we see no ground for such a supposition. English literature was to the French of the age of Louis XIV. what German literature was to our own grandfathers. Very few, we suspect, of the accomplished men who, sixty or seventy years ago, used to dine in Leicester Square with Sir Joshua, or at Streatham with Mrs. Thrale, had Louis XIV. was at this time expiating the the slightest notion that Wieland was one of vices of his youth by a devotion which had no the first wits and poets, and Lessing, beyond root in reason, and bore no fruit in charity. all dispute, the first critic in Europe. Boileau The servile literature of France had changed knew just as little about the "Paradise Lost," its character to suit the changed character of and about "Absalom and Ahitophel;" but he the prince. No book appeared that had not an had read Addison's Latin poems, and admired air of sanctity Racine, who was just dead, them greatly. They had given him, he said, had passed the close of his life in writing sa- quite a new notion of the state of learning and cred dramas; and Dacier was seeking for the taste among the English. Johnson will have Athanasian mysteries of Plato. Addison de- it that these praises were insincere. "Noscribed this state of things in a short but lively thing," says he, "is better known of Boileau and graceful letter to Montagu. Another letter, than that he had an injudicious and peevish written about the same time to the lord keeper, contempt of modern Latin; and therefore his conveyed the strongest assurances of gratitude profession of regard was probably the effect and attachment. "The only return I can make of his civility rather than approbation." Now, to your lordship," said Addison, "will be to nothing is better known of Boileau than that apply myself entirely to my business." With he was singularly sparing of compliments. this view he quitted Paris and repaired to Blois; We do not remember that either friendship or a place where it was supposed that the French fear ever induced him to bestow praise on any language was spoken in its highest purity, and composition which he did not approve. On where not a single Englishman could be found. literary questions, his caustic, disdainful, and Here he passed some months pleasantly and self-confident spirit rebelled against that auprofitably. Of his way of life at Blois, one of thority to which every thing else in France his associates, an abbé named Philippeaux, bowed down. He had the spirit to tell Louis gave an account to Joseph Spence. If this XIV. firmly, and even rudely, that his majesty account is to be trusted, Addison studied much, knew nothing about poetry, and admired verses mused much, talked little, had fits of absence, which were detestable. What was there in and either had no love affairs, or was too dis- Addison's position that could induce the sacreet to confi le them to the abbé. A man who, tirist, whose stern and fastidious temper had even when surrounded by fellow-countrymen been the dread of two generations, to turn sy. and fellow-students, had always been remark-cophant for the first and last time? Nor was ably shy and silent, was not likely to be loquacious in a foreign tongue, and among foreign companions. But it is clear from Addison's letters, some of which were long after published in the "Guardian," that while he appeared to be absorbed in his own meditations, he was really observing French society with that keen and sly, yet not ill-natured side-glance which was peculiarly his own. From Blois he returned to Paris; and having now mastered the French language, found great pleasure in the society of French philosophers and poets. He gave an account, in a letter to Bishop Hough, of two highly interesting conversations, one with Malebranche, the other with Boileau. Malebranche expressed great partiality for the English, and extolled ine genius of Newton, but shook his head when Boileau's contempt of modern Latin either n judicious or peevish. He thought, indeed, that no poem of the first order would ever be written in a dead language. And did he think amiss? Has not the experience of centuries confirmed his opinion? Boileau also thought it probable that, in the best modern Latin, a writer of the Augustan age would have de tected ludicrous improprieties. And who can think otherwise? What modern scholar can honestly declare that he sees the smallest impurity in the style of Livy? Yet is it not cer tain that, in the style of Livy, Pollio, whose taste had been formed on the banks of the Tiber, detected the inelegant idiom of the Po? Has any modern scholar understood Latin better than Frederick the Great understood French! Yet is it not notorious that Frederick the Great after reading, speaking, writing French, and Charles, second of the name, King of Spain nothing but French, during more than half a died; and bequeathed his dominions to Philip century-after unlearning his mother tongue Duke of Anjou, a younger son of the dauphin in order to learn French, after living familiarly | The King of France, in direct violation of his during many years with French associates-engagements both with Great Britain and with could not, to the last, compose in French, with- the states-general, accepted the bequest on be out imminent risk of committing some mistake half of his grandson. The house of Bourbon which would have moved a smile in the literary was at the summit of human grandeur. Eng. circles of Paris? Do we believe that Erasmus land had been outwitted, and found herself in and Fracastorius wrote Latin as well as Dr. a situation at once degrading and perilous. Robertson and Sir Walter Scott wrote English? The people of France, not presaging the calaAnd are there not in the Dissertation on India, mities by which they were destined to expiate (the last of Dr. Robertson's works,) in Waver- the perfidy of their sovereign, went mad with ley, in Marmion, Scotticisms at which a Lon- pride and delight. Every man looked as if a don apprentice would laugh? But does it great estate had just been left him. "The follow, because we think thus, that we can find French conversation," said Addison, "begins nothing to admire in the noble alcaics of Gray, to grow insupportable; that which was before or in the playful elegiacs of Vincent Bourne ? the vainest nation in the world, is now worse Surely not. Nor was Boileau so ignorant or than ever." Sick of the arrogant exultation of tasteless as to be incapable of appreciating the Parisians, and probably foreseeing that the good modern Latin. In the very letter to which peace between France and England could not Johnson alludes, Boileau says "Ne croyez be of long duration, he set off for Italy. pas pourtant que je veuille par là blâmer les vers Latins que vous m'avez envoyés d'un de vos illustres académiciens. Je les ai trouvés fort beaux, et dignes de Vida et de Sannazar, mais non pas d'Horace et de Virgile." Several poems, in modern Latin, have been praised by Boileau quite as liberally as it was his habit to praise any thing. He says, for example, of Père Fraguier's epigrams, that Catullus seems to have come to life again. But the best proof that Boileau did not feel the undiscerning contempt for modern Latin verses which has been imputed to him, is, that he wrote and published Latin verses in several metres. Indeed, it happens, curiously encugh, that the most severe censure ever pronounced by him on moden Latin, is conveyed in Latin hexameters. We allude to the fragment which begins "Quid numeris iterum me balbutire Latinis, Longe Alpes citra natum de patre Sicambro, Musa, jubes ?" For these reasons we feel assured that the praise which Boileau bestowed on the Machine Gesticulantes, and the Gerano-Pygmæomachiu, was sincere. He certainly opened himself to Addison with a freedom which was a sure indication of esteem. Literature was the chief subject of conversation. The old man talked on his favourite theme much and well; indeed, as his young hearer thought, incomparably well. Boileau had undoubtedly some of the qualities of a great critic. He wanted imagination; but he had strong sense. His literary code was formed on narrow principles; but in applying it, he showed great judgment and penetration. In mere style, abstracted from the ideas of which style is the garb, his taste was excellent. He was well acquainted with the great Greek writers; and, though unable fully to appreciate their creative genius, admired the majestic simplieity of their manner, and had learned from them to despise bombast and tinsel. It is easy, we think, to discover, in the "Spectator" and the "Guardian," traces of the influence, in part salutary and in part pernicious, which the mind of Boileau had on the mind of Addison. While Addison was at Paris, an event took place which made that capital a disagreeable residence for an Englishman and a whig. In December, 1700, he embarked at Marseilles. As he glided along the Ligurian coast, he was delighted by the sight of myrtles and olive-trees, which retained their verdure under the winter solstice. Soon, however, he encountered one of the black storms of the Mediterranean. The captain of the ship gave up all for lost, and confessed himself to a capuchin who happened to be on board. The English heretic, in the mean time, fortified himself against the terrors of death with devotions of a very different kind. How strong an impression this perilous voyage made on him, appears from the ode-"How are thy servants blest, O Lord!" which was long after published in the Spectator. After some days of discomfort and danger, Addison was glad to land at Savona, and to make his way, over mountains where no road had yet been hewn out by art, to the city of Genoa. At Genoa, still ruled by her own doge, and by the nobles whose names were inscribed on her book cf gold, Addison made a short stay. He admired the narrow streets overhung by long lines of towering palaces, the walls rich with frescoes, the gorgeous temple of the Annunciation, and the tapestries whereon_were recorded the long glories of the house of Doria. Thence he hastened to Milan, where he contemplated the Gothic magnificence of the cathe dral with more wonder than pleasure. He passed lake Benacus while a gale was blowing, and saw the waves raging as they raged when Virgil looked upon them. At Venice, then the gayest spot in Europe, the traveller spent the carnival, the gayest season of the year, in the midst of masques, dances, and serenades. Here he was at once diverted and provoked by the absurd dramatic pieces which then disgraced the Italian stage. To one of those pieces, however, he was indebted for a valuable hint. He was present when a ridiculous play on the death of Cato was performed. Cato, it seems, was in love with a daughter * It is strange that Addison should, in the first line of his travels, have misdated his departure from Marseilles by a whole year, and still more strange that this slip of the confusion, should have been repeated in a succession of pen, which throws the whole narrative into inextricable editions, and never detected by Tickell or by Hurd of Scipio. The lady had given her heart to Cæsar. The rejected lover determined to destroy himself. He appeared seated in his library, a dagger in his hand, a Plutarch and a Tasso before him; and, in this position he pronounced a soliloquy before he struck the blow. We are surprised that so remarkable a circumstance as this should have escaped the notice of all Addison's biographers. There cannot, we conceive, be the smallest doubt that this scene, in spite of its absurdities and anachronisms, struck the traveller's imagination, and suggested to him the thought of bringing Cato on the English stage. It is well known that about this time he began his tragedy, and that he finished the first four acts before he returned to England. On his way from Venice to Rome, he was drawn some miles out of the beaten road, by a wish to see the smallest independent state in Europe. On a rock where the snow still lay, though the Italian spring was now far advanced, was perched the little fortress of San Marino. The roads which led to the secluded town were so bad that few travellers had ever visited it, and none had ever published an account of it. Addison could not suppress a good-natured smile at the simple manners and institutions of this singular community. But he observed, with the exultation of a whig, that the rude mountain tract which formed the territory of the republic, swarmed with an honest, healthy, contented peasantry: while the rich plain which surrounded the metropolis of civil and spiritual tyranny, was scarcely less desolate than the uncleared wilds of America. At Rome, Addison remained on his first visit only long enough to catch a glimpse of St. Peter's, and of the Pantheon. His haste is the more extraordinary, because the holy week was close at hand. He has given no hint which can enable us to pronounce why he chose to fly from a spectacle which every year allures from distant regions persons of far less taste and sensibility than his. Possibly, travelling, as he did, at the charge of a government distinguished by its enmity to the church of Rome, he may have thought that it would be imprudent in him to assist at the most magnificent rite of that church. Many eyes would be upon him; and he might find it difficult to behave in such a manner as to give offence neither to his patrons in England, nor to those among whom he resided. Whatever his motives may have been, he turned his back on the most august and affecting ceremony which is known among men, and posted along the Appian way to Naples. Naples was then destitute of what are now, perhaps, its chief attractions. The lovely bay and the awful mountain were indeed there. But a farm house stood on the theatre of Herculaneum, and rows of vines grew over the streets of Pompeii. The temples of Pæstum had not indeed been hidden from the eye of man by any great convulsion of nature; but, strange to say, their existence was a secret even to artists and antiquaries. Though situated within a few hours' journey of a great capital, where Salvator had not long before painted, and where Vico was then lecturing, those noble remains were as litt.e known từ Europe as the ruined cities overgrown by the forests of Yucatan. What was to be seen at Naples, Addison saw. He climbed Vesuvius, explored the tunnel of Posilipo, and wandered among the vines and almond-trees of Capreæ. But neither the wonders of nature nor those of art could so occupy his attention as to prevent him from noticing, though cursorily, the abuses of the government and the misery of the people. The great kingdom which had just descended to Philip V. was in a state of paralytic dotage. Even Castile and Arragon were sunk in wretchedness. Yet, compared with the Italian dependencies of the Spanish crown, Castile and Arragon might be called prosperous. It is clear that all the observations which Addison made in Italy tended to confirm him in the political opinions which he had adopted at home. To the last he always spoke of foreign travel as the best cure for Jacobitism. In his Freeholder, the tory foxhunter asks what travelling is good for, except to teach a man to jabber French, and to talk against passive obedience. From Naples Addison returned to Rome by sea, along the coast which his favourite Virgil had celebrated. The felucca passed the headland where the oar and trumpet were placed by the Trojan adventurers on the tomb of Misenus, and anchored at night.under the shelter of the fabled promontory of Circe. The voy age ended in the Tiber, still overhung with dark verdure, and still turbid with yellow sand, as when it met the eyes of Encas. From the ruined port of Ostia, the stranger hurried to Rome; and at Rome he remained during those hot and sickly months when, even in the Augustan age, all who could make their escape fled from mad dogs and from streets black with funerals, to gather the first figs of the season in the country. It is probable that when he, long after, poured forth in verse his gratitude to the Providence which had enabled him to breathe unhurt in tainted air, he was thinking of the August and September which he passed at Rome. It was not till the latter end of October that he tore himself away from the masterpieces of ancient and modern art, which are collected in the city so long the mistress of the world. He then journeyed northward, passed through Sienna, and for a moment forgot his prejudices in favour of classic architecture as he looked on the magnificent cathedral. At Florence he spent some days with the Duke of Shrewsbury, who, cloyed with the pleasures of ambition, and impatient of its pains, fearing both parties, and loving neither, had determined to hide in an Italian retreat, talents and accomplishments which, if they had been united with fixed principles and civil courage, might have made him the foremost man of his age. These days, we are told, passed pleasantly; and we can easily believe it. For Addison was a delightful com. panion when he was at his ease; and the duke, though he seldom forgot that he was a Talbot, had the invaluable art of putting at ease al who came near him. Addison gave some time to Florence, and especially to the sculptures in the Museum. which he preferred even to those of the Va- | preparing to enter on his honourable functions tican. He then pursued his journey through when all his prospects were for a time dark a country in which the ravages of the last war ened by the death of William III. were still discernible, and in which all men were looking forward with dread to a still fiercer conflict. Eugene had already descended from the Rhætian Alps, to dispute with Catinat the rich plain of Lombardy. The faithless ruler of Savoy was still reckoned among the allies of Louis. England had not yet actually declared war against France. But Manchester had left Paris; and the negotiations which produced the grand alliance against the house of Bourbon were in progress. Under such circumstances, it was desirable for an English traveller to reach neutral ground without delay. Addison resolved to cross Mont Cenis. It was December; and the road was very different from that which now reminds the stranger of the power and genius of Napoleon. The winter, however, was mild, and the passage was, for those times, easy. To this journey Addison alluded, when, in the ode which we have already quoted, he said that for him the Divine goodness had "warmed the hoary Alpine hills." It was in the midst of the eternal snow that ac composed his Epistle to his friend Montagu, now Lord Halifax. That Epistle, once widely renowned, is now known only to curious readers; and will hardly be considered by those to whom it is known as in any perceptible degree heightening Addison's fame. It is, however, decidedly superior to any English composition which he had previously published. Nay, we think it quite as good as any poem in heroic metre which appeared during the interval between the death of Dryden and the publication of the "Essay on Criticism." It contains passages as good as the second rate passages of Pope, and would have added to the reputation of Parnell or Prior. Anne had long felt a strong aversion, personal, political, and religious, to the whig party. That aversion appeared in the first measures of her reign. Manchester was deprived of the seals after he had held them only a few weeks. Neither Somers nor Halifax was sworn cf the Privy Council. Addison shared the fate of his three patrons. His hopes of employment in the public service were at an end; his pension was stopped; and it was necessary for him to support himself by his own exertions. He became tutor to a young English traveller; and appears to have rambled with his pupil over great part of Switzerland and Germany. At this time he wrote his pleasing treatise on "Medals." It was not published till after his death; but several distinguished scholars saw the manuscript, and gave just praise to the grace of the style, and to the learning and ingenuity evinced by the quotations. From Germany Addison repaired to Holland, where he learned the news of his father's death After passing some months in the United Provinces he returned about the close of the year 1703 to England. He was there cordially received by his friends, and introduced by them into the Kit-Cat Club-a society in which were collected all the various talents and accomplishments which then gave lustre to the whig party. Addison was, during some months after his return from the Continent, hard pressed by pe. cuniary difficulties. But it was soon in the power of his noble patrons to serve him effect. ually. A political change, silent and gradual, but of the highest importance, was in daily progress.* The accession of Anne had been hailed by the tories with transports of joy and hope; and for a time it seemed that the whigs had fallen never to rise again. The throne was surrounded by men supposed to be attached to the prerogative and to the church; and among these none stood so high in the favour of the sovereign as the lord-treasurer Godolphin and the captain-general Marlborough. But, whatever be the literary merits or defects of the Epistle, it undoubtedly does honour to the principles and spirit of the author. Halifax had now nothing to give. He had fallen from power, had been held up to obloquy, had been impeached by the House of Commons; and, though his peers had dismissed The country gentlemen and country clergy. the impeachment, had, as it seemed, little men had fully expected that the policy of these chance of ever again filling high office. The ministers would be directly opposed to that Epistle, written at such a time, is one among which had been almost constantly followed by many proofs that there was no mixture of William; that the landed interest would be cowardice or meanness in the suavity and favoured at the expense of trade; that no addimoderation which distinguished Addison from tion would be made to the funded debt; that the all the other public men of those stormy times. privileges conceded to dissenters by the late At Geneva, the traveller learned that a par- king would be curtailed, if not withdrawn ; that tial change of ministry had taken place in the war with France, if there must be such a England, and that the Earl of Manchester had war, would, on our part, be almost entirely nabecome secretary of state.† Manchester ex-val; and that the government would avoid erted himself to serve his young friend. It was thought advisabie that an English agent should be near the person of Eugene in Italy; and Addison, whose diplomatic education was w finished, was the man selected. He was * We are sorry to say that in the account which Miss Aikin gives of the politics of this period, there are more errors than sentences. Rochester was the queen's uncle Miss Aikin calls him the queen's cousin. The battle of Blenheim was fought in Marlborough's third campaign; Miss Aikin says that it was fought in Marlborough's Miss Aikin says, (i. 121,) that the Epistle was writ-second campaign. She confounds the dispute which ten before Halifax was justified by the Lords. This is a mistake. The Epistle was written in December, 1701; the impeachment had been dismissed in the preceding June. +Miss Aikin misdates this event by a year, (i. 93.) arose in 1703, between the two Houses, about Lord Halifax, with the dispute about the Aylesbury men, which was terminated by the dissolution of 1705. These mistakes, and four or five others, will be found within the space of about two pages, (i. 165, 166, 167.) close connections with foreign powers, and, above all, with Holland. But the country gentlemen and country clergymen were fated to be deceived, not for the last time. The prejudices and passions which raged without control in vicarages, in cathedral closes, and in the manor-houses of fox-hunting squires, were not shared by the chiefs of the ministry. Those statesmen saw that it was both for the public interest, and for their own interest, to adopt a whig policy; at least as respected the alliances of the country and the conduct of the war. But if the foreign policy of the whigs were adopted, it was impossible to abstain from adopting also their financial policy. The natural consequences followed. The rigid tories were alienated from the government. The votes of the whigs became necessary to it. The votes of the whigs could be secured only by further concessions; and further concessions the queen was induced to make. rescued from oblivion by the exquisite absurdity of three lines: "Think of two thousand gentlemen at least, And each man mounted on his capering beast; Into the Danube they were pushed by shoals. Where to procure better verses the treasurer did not know. He understood how to negotiate a loan, or remit a subsidy. He was also well versed in the history of running horses and fighting cocks; but his acquaintance among the poets was very small. He consulted Hali fax; but Halifax affected to decline the office of adviser. He had, he said, done his best, when he had power, to encourage men whose abilities and acquirements might do honour to their country. Those times were over. Other maxims had prevailed. Merit was suffered to pine in obscurity; the public money was squandered on the undeserving. "I do know," he added, "a gentleman who would celebrate the battle in a manner worthy of the subject. But I will not name him." Godolphin, who was expert at the soft answer which turneth away wrath, and who was under the necessity of paying court to the whigs, gently replied, that there was too much ground for Halifax's complaints, but that what was amiss should in time be rectified; and that in the mean time the services of a man such as Halifax had described should be liberally rewarded. Halifax then mentioned Addison, but, mindful of the dignity as well as of the pecuniary inte rest of his friend, insisted that the minister should apply in the most courteous manner to Addison himself; and this Godolphin promised to do. At the beginning of the year 1704, the state of parties bore a close analogy to the state of parties in 1826. In 1826, as in 1704, there was a tory ministry divided into two hostile sections. The position of Mr. Canning and his friends in 1826, corresponded to that which Marlborough and Godolphin occupied in 1704. Nottingham and Jersey were, in 1704, what Lord Eldon and Lord Westmoreland were in 1826. The whigs of 1704 were in a situation resembling that in which the whigs of 1826 stood. In 1704, Somers, Halifax, Sunderland, Cowper, were not in office. There was no avowed coalition between them and the moderate tories. It is probable that no direct communication Addison then occupied a garret up thre tending to such a coalition had yet taken place; pair of stairs, over a small shop in the Hay yet all men saw that such a coalition was in- market. In this humble lodging he was sur evitable, nay, that it was already half formed. prised, on the morning which followed the Such, or nearly such, was the state of things conversation between Godolphin and Halifax, when tidings arrived of the great battle fought by a visit from no less a person than the Righ at Blenheim on the 13th August, 1704. By the Honourable Henry Boyle, then chancellor of whigs the news was now hailed with transports the exchequer, and afterwards Lord Carleton.* of joy and pride. No fault, no cause of quar- This high-born minister had been sent by the rel, could be remembered by them against the lord-treasurer as ambassador to the needy commander whose genius had, in one day, poet. Addison readily undertook the proposed changed the face of Europe, saved the impe- task, a task which, to so good a whig, was rial throne, humbled the House of Bourbon, probably a pleasure. When the poem was and secured the act of settlement against foreign little more than half finished, he showed it to hostility. The feeling of the tories was very Godolphin, who was delighted with it, and par different. They could not, indeed, without im- ticularly with the famous similitude of the prudence, openly express regret at an event so angel. Addison was instantly appointed to a glorious to their country; but their congratula- commissionership, with about two hundred tions were so cold and sullen as to give deep dis- pounds a year, and was assured that this apgust to the victorious general and his friends.pointment was only an earnest of greater fa Godolphin was not a reading man. What-vours. ever time he could spare from business he The "Campaign" came forth, and was as was in the habit of spending at Newmarket or much admired by the public as by the minis at the card-table. But he was not absolutely ter. It pleases us less on the whole than the indifferent to poetry; and he was too intelli- "Epistle to Halifax." gent an observer not to perceive that literature was a formidable engine of political warfare; and that the great whig leaders had strengthened their party, and raised their character, by extending a liberal and judicious patronage to good writers. He was mortified, and not without reason, by the exceeding badness of the poems which appeared in honour of the battle of Blenheim. One of these poems has been Yet it undoubtedly ranks high among the poems which appeared Guring the interval between the death of Dryden and the dawn of Pope's genius. The chief merit of the "Campaign," we think, is that which was noticed by Johnson-the manly and rational rejection of fiction. The first great poet whose works have come down to us sang This is a mistake, (i. 170.) Miss Aikin says that he was afterwards Lord Orrery |