THOUGH the early years of the eighteenth century were not entitled to be regarded as the Augustan age of literature, as claimed, they enjoy the honor of marking the transition from the licentious characteristics of the Restoration period to the purer taste, ethical and literary, which owes so much to the influence of Addison. His standing is not merely that of a poet, nor even of an essayist. In both capacities he has left an enviable record, yet there is a personal quality which towers above the graceful charm of his literary creations; an Addisonian influence, to sum it briefly, which distinctly raised the tone of public writing to the courtly level as to style, and to that of gentlemanliness in spirit. He owed his rise to his poetry, but his fame rests on his dignified yet easy prose. Addison, born in 1672, came from a clerical stock, and spent his earliest efforts in penning Latin and English verse, beginning with an address of homage to Dryden. This he followed with "An Account of the Greatest English Poets," interesting only as showing how little even educated people then knew or cared about old English poetry. An opportune laudatory ode to the king won him a pension of £300 a year, on which he went traveling on the Continent. The "Poetical Letter from Italy" narrowly escaped being a great poem, and is the most pretentious of all he wrote. "The Campaign," his poem on the victory of Blenheim, has been justly called "a rhymed gazette," yet it won him a political office of emolument as a solace for the stoppage of the pension on the king's death. Addison was now launched on the sea of politics. He became Under-Secretary of State in 1706, entering Parliament in 1708, where he failed as a debater, though he held his seat for life. Next year he went to Ireland as secretary to the lord-lieutenant, where he met Swift. He wrote but little until his friend Steele brought out The Tatler, in 1709, to which Addison contributed largely, and raised its character tɔ the highest pitch of literary excellence. "Never, not even by Dryden, had the English language been written with such sweetness, grace and facility." It was by these dainty essays that Addison won Dr. Johnson's hackneyed tribute, counseling, "Whoever wishes to attain an English style, familiar, but not coarse, elegant but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to the study of Addison." The Tatler fluctuated in quality and appearance, and The Spectator took its place; the pair of friends writing the papers, each in his characteristic vein, the most famous of their creations being "Sir Roger de Coverley," forever the typical "fine old English gentleman, all of the olden time." Steele struck the outline, but to Addison the full-length portrait owes its exquisite fidelity and charm. This and the gallery of companion portraits, be it remembered, were produced before the novel had made its appearance. In the Tatler, Spectator and Guardian the contributions of Addison numbered nearly four hundred, not counting those written in collaboration with Steele. These form the body of his best work. In 1713 his tragedy of "Cato" was produced, its marked success being due to the Whigs, who hailed it as a timely argument for an extension of constitutional freedom. Its merits lie solely in the smooth diction and the loftiness of its moral reflections. Addison's critical articles on Milton are among his strongest essays. After Queen Anne's death, in 1714, Addison accepted another political appointment. His secretary was Tickell, a poet of some note, who published a translation of the "Iliad," disclaiming in his preface any rivalry with that of Pope. Addison had expressed his preference for Tickell's as the more faithful version, which enraged Pope into perpetrating the severe attack on Addison in the well-known lines on "Atticus." In 1716 Addison married the dowager Countess of Warwick, but it proved an unhappy venture. A handsome pension was given him in 1718, but in the next year he died, aged forty-seven, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. Despite the moral weakness which ruined his latter years (over-indulgence being a fashionable vice of the day) Addison lived a pure life in a corrupt age, and his "noble numbers" could not have emanated from a heart untuned to noble aspirations. The favorite hymns, "When all Thy mercies, O my God," and "The Spacious Firmament on high," with the paraphrases of the Psalms, are of themselves no ordinary monument to an exalted poetical taste expressing itself on sublime themes. A COUNTRY SUNDAY. First, in obedience to thy country's rites, I AM always very well pleased with a country Sunday, and think, if keeping holy the seventh day were only a human institution, it would be the best method that could have been thought of for the polishing and civilizing of mankind. It is certain the country people would soon degenerate into a kind of savages and barbarians were there not such frequent returns of a stated time, in which the whole village meet together with their best faces, and in their cleanliest habits, to converse with one another upon indifferent subjects, hear their duties explained to them, and join together in adoration of the Supreme Being. Sunday clears away the rust of the whole week, not only as it refreshes in their minds the notions of religion, but as it puts both the sexes upon appearing in their most agreeable forms, and exerting all such qualities as are apt to give them a figure in the eye of the village. A country fellow distinguishes himself as much in the churchyard, as a citizen does upon the 'Change, the whole parishpolitics being generally discussed in that place either after sermon or before the bell rings. My friend Sir Roger [de Coverley], being a good churchman, has beautified the inside of his church with several texts of his own choosing. He has likewise given a handsome pulpit cloth and railed in the communion-table at his own expense. He has often told me that at his coming to his estate he found his parishioners very irregular; and that, in order to make them kneel and join in the responses, he gave every one of them a hassock and a Common Prayer-book; and at the same time employed an itinerant singing-master, who goes about the country for that purpose, to instruct them rightly in the tunes of the Psalms; upon which they now very much value themselves, and indeed outdo most of the country churches that I have ever heard. As Sir Roger is landlord to the whole congregation, he keeps them in very good order, and will suffer nobody to sleep in it besides himself; for if by chance he has been surprised into a short nap at sermon, upon recovering out of it he stands up and looks about him, and if he sees anybody else nodding, either wakes them himself or sends his servant to them. Several other of the old knight's particularities break out upon these occasions. Sometimes he will be lengthening out a verse in the singing Psalms half a minute after the rest of the congregation have done with it; sometimes when he is pleased with the matter of his devotion, he pronounces Amen three or four times to the same prayer; and sometimes stands up when everybody else is upon their knees, to count the congregation, or see if any of his tenants are missing. I was yesterday very much surprised to hear my old friend in the midst of the service calling out to one John Matthews to mind what he was about, and not disturb the congregation. This John Matthews, it seems, is remarkable for being an idle fellow, and at that time was kicking his heels for his diversion. This authority of the knight, though exerted in that odd manner which accompanies him in all circumstances of life, has a very good effect upon the parish, who are not polite enough to see anything ridiculous in his behavior; besides that the general good sense and worthiness of his character make his friends observe these little singularities as foils that rather set off than blemish his good qualities. As soon as the sermon is finished, nobody presumes to stir till Sir Roger is gone out of the church. The knight walks down from his seat in the chancel between a double row of his tenants that stand bowing to him on each side; and every now and then inquires how such a one's wife, or mother, or son, or father, do, whom he does not see at church; which is understood as a secret reprimand to the person that is absent. The chaplain has often told me that upon a catechising day, when Sir Roger has been pleased with a boy that answers well, he has ordered a Bible to be given him next day for his encouragement; and sometimes accompanies it with a flitch of bacon to his mother. Sir Roger has likewise added five pounds a year to the clerk's place; and, that he may encourage the young fellows to make themselves perfect in the church service, has promised, upon the death of the present incumbent, who is very old, to bestow it according to merit. The fair understanding between Sir Roger and his chaplain, and their mutual concurrence in doing good, is the more remarkable, because the very next village is famous for the differences and contentions that rise between the parson and the squire, who live in a perpetual state of war. The parson is always preaching at the squire; and the squire, to be revenged on the parson, never comes to church. The squire has made all his tenants atheists and tithe-stealers; while the parson instructs them every Sunday in the dignity of his order, and insinuates to them almost in every sermon that he is a better man than his patron. In short, matters are come to such an extremity that the squire has not said his prayers either in public or private this half year, and that the parson threatens him, if he does not mend his manners, to pray for him in the face of the whole congregation. Feuds of this nature, though too frequent in the country, are very fatal to the ordinary people, who are so used to be dazzled with riches that they pay as much deference to the understanding of a man of an estate, as of a man of learning; and are very hardly brought to regard any truth, how important soever it may be, that is preached to them, when they know there are several men of five hundred a year who do not believe it. SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY IN LOVE. Her looks were deep imprinted in his heart. It may be remembered that I mentioned a great affliction which my friend Sir Roger had met with in his youth, which was no less than a disappointment in love. It happened this |