HIS EMPLOYMENT IN AFFAIRS OF STATE.
Addison's fortunes were now at their lowest ebb. The party from which he
had looked for preferment was out of office; his chief political patron
was in particular discredit at Court; his means were so reduced that he
was forced to adopt a style of living not much more splendid than that of
the poorest inhabitants of Grub Street. Yet within three years of his
return to England he was promoted to be an Under-Secretary of State--a
post from which he mounted to one position of honour after another till
his final retirement from political life. That he was able to take
advantage of the opportunity that offered itself was owing to his own
genius and capacity; the opportunity was the fruit of circumstances which
had produced an entire revolution in the position of English men of
letters.
Through the greater part of Charles II.'s reign the profession of
literature was miserably degraded. It is true that the King himself, a man
of wit and taste, was not slow in his appreciation of art; but he was by
his character insensible to what was serious or elevated, and the poetry
of gallantry, which he preferred, was quite within reach of the courtiers
by whom he was surrounded. Rochester, Buckingham, Sedley, and Dorset are
among the principal poetical names of the period; all of them being well
qualified to shine in verse, the chief requirements of which were a
certain grace of manner, an air of fashionable breeding, and a complete
disregard of the laws of decency. Besides these "songs by persons of
quality," the principal entertainment was provided by the drama. But the
stage, seldom a lucrative profession, was then crowded with writers whose
fertile, if not very lofty, invention kept down the price of plays. Otway,
the most successful dramatist of his time, died in a state of indigence,
and as some say, almost of starvation, while playwrights of less ability,
if the house was ill-attended on the third night, when the poet received
all the profits of the performance, were forced, as Oldham says, "to
starve or live in tatters all the year."[15]
Periodical literature, in the shape of journals and magazines, had as yet
no existence; nor could the satirical poet or the pamphleteer find his
remuneration in controversial writing the strong reaction against
Puritanism having raised the monarchy to a position in which it was
practically secure against the assaults of all its enemies. The author of
the most brilliant satire of the period, who had used all the powers of a
rich imagination to discredit the Puritan and Republican cause, was paid
with nothing more solid than admiration, and died neglected and in want.
"The wretch, at summing up his misspent days,
Found nothing left but poverty and praise!
Of all his gains by verse he could not save
Enough to purchase flannel and a grave!
Reduced to want he in due time fell sick,
Was fain to die, and be interred on tick;
And well might bless the fever that was sent
To rid him hence, and his worse fate prevent."[16]
In the latter part of this reign, however, a new combination of
circumstances produced a great change in the character of English
literature and in the position of its professors. The struggle of Parties
recommenced. Wearied with the intolerable rule of the Saints, the nation
had been at first glad to leave its newly-restored King to his pleasures,
but, as the memories of the Commonwealth became fainter, the people
watched with a growing feeling of disgust the selfishness and extravagance
of the Court, while the scandalous sale of Dunkirk and the sight of the
Dutch fleet on the Thames made them think of the patriotic energies which
Cromwell had succeeded in arousing. At the same time the thinly-disguised
inclination of the King to Popery, and the avowed opinions of his brother,
raised a general feeling of alarm for the Protestant liberties of the
nation. On the other hand, the Puritans, taught moderation by adversity,
exhibited the really religious side of their character, and attracted
towards themselves a considerable portion of the aristocracy, as well as
of the commercial and professional classes in the metropolis--a
combination of interests which helped to form the nucleus of the Whig
party. The clergy and the landed proprietors, who had been the chief
sufferers from Parliamentary rule, naturally adhered to the Court, and
were nicknamed by their opponents Tories. Violent party conflicts ensued,
marked by such incidents as the Test Act, the Exclusion Bill, the
intrigues of Monmouth, the Popish Plot, and the trial and acquittal of
Shaftesbury on the charge of high treason.
Finding his position no longer so easy as at his restoration, Charles
naturally bethought him of calling literature to his assistance. The
stage, being completely under his control, seemed the readiest instrument
for his purpose; the order went forth, and an astonishing display of
monarchical fervour in all the chief dramatists of the time--Otway,
Dryden, Lee, and Crowne--was the result. Shadwell, who was himself
inclined to the Whig interest, laments the change:
"The stage, like old Rump pulpits, is become
The scene of News, a furious Party's drum."
But the political influence of the drama and the audience to which it
appealed being necessarily limited, the King sought for more powerful
literary artillery, and he found it in the serviceable genius of Dryden,
whose satirical and controversial poems date from this period. The wide
popularity of _Absalom and Achitophel_, written against Monmouth and
Shaftesbury; of _The Medal_, satirising the acquittal of Shaftesbury; of
_The Hind and Panther_, composed to advance the Romanising projects of
James II.; points to the vast influence exercised by literature in the
party struggle. Nevertheless, in spite of all that Dryden had done for the
Royal cause, in spite of the fact that he himself had more than once
appealed to the poet for assistance, the ingratitude or levity of Charles
was so inveterate that he let the poet's services go almost unrequited.
Dryden, it is true, held the posts of Laureate and Royal Historiographer,
but his salary was always in arrears, and the letter which he addressed to
Rochester, First Lord of the Treasury, asking for six months' payment of
what was due to him, tells its own story.
James II. cared nothing for literature, and was probably too dull of
apprehension to understand the incalculable service that Dryden had
rendered to his cause. He showed his appreciation of the Poet-Laureate's
genius by deducting £100 from the salary which his brother had promised
him, and by cutting off from the emoluments of the office the
time-honoured butt of canary!
Under William III. the complexion of affairs again altered. The Court, in
the old sense of the word, ceased to be a paramount influence in
literature. William III. derived his authority from Parliament; he knew
that he must support it mainly by his sword and his statesmanship. A
stranger to England, its manners and its language, he showed little
disposition to encourage letters. Pope, indeed, maliciously suggests that
he had the bad taste to admire the poetry of Blackmore, whom he knighted;
but, as a matter of fact, the honour was conferred on the worthy Sir
Richard in consequence of his distinction in medicine, and he himself
bears witness to William's contempt for poetry.
"Reverse of Louis he, example rare,
Loved to deserve the praise he could not bear.
He shunned the acclamations of the throng,
And always coldly heard the poet's song.
Hence the great King the Muses did neglect,
And the mere poet met with small respect."[17]
Such political verse as we find in this reign generally consists, like
Halifax's _Epistle to Lord Dorset_, or Addison's own _Address to King
William_, of hyperbolical flattery. Opposition was extinct, for both
parties had for the moment united to promote the Revolution, and the only
discordant notes amid the chorus of adulation proceeded from Jacobite
writers concealed in the garrets and cellars of Grub Street. Such an
atmosphere was not favorable to the production of literature of an
elevated or even of a characteristic order.
Addison's return to England coincided most happily with another remarkable
turn of the tide. Leaning decidedly to the Tory party, who were now
strongly leavened with the Jacobite element, Anne had not long succeeded
to the throne before she seized an opportunity for dismissing the Whig
Ministry whom she found in possession of office. The Whigs, equally
alarmed at the influence acquired by their rivals, and at the danger which
threatened the Protestant succession, neglected no effort to
counterbalance the loss of their sovereign's favour by strengthening their
credit with the people. Having been trained in a school which had at least
qualified them to appreciate the influence of style, the aristocratic
leaders of the party were well aware of the advantages they would derive
by attracting to themselves the services of the ablest writers of the day.
Hence they made it their policy to mingle with men of letters on an equal
footing, and to hold out to them an expectation of a share in the
advantages to be reaped from the overthrow of their rivals.
The result of this union of forces was a great increase in the number of
literary-political clubs. In its half-aristocratic, half-democratic
constitution the club was the natural product of enlarged political
freedom, and helped to extend the organisation of polite opinion beyond
the narrow orbit of Court society. Addison himself, in his simple style,
points out the nature of the fundamental principle of Association which he
observed in operation all around him. "When a set of men find themselves
agree in any particular, though never so trivial, they establish
themselves into a kind of fraternity, and meet once or twice a week upon
the account of such a fantastic resemblance."[18] Among these societies,
in the first years of the eighteenth century, the most celebrated was,
perhaps, the Kit-Kat Club. It consisted of thirty-nine of the leading men
of the Whig party; and, though many of these were of the highest rank, it
is a characteristic fact that the founder of the club should have been the
bookseller Jacob Tonson. It was probably through his influence, joined to
that of Halifax, that Addison was elected a member of the society soon
after his return to England. Among its prominent members was the Duke of
Somerset, the first meeting between whom and Addison, after the
correspondence that had passed between them, must have been somewhat
embarrassing. The club assembled at one Christopher Catt's, a pastry-cook,
who gave his name both to the society and the mutton-pies which were its
ordinary entertainment. Each member was compelled to select a lady as his
toast, and the verses which he composed in her honour were engraved on the
wine-glasses belonging to the club. Addison chose the Countess of
Manchester, whose acquaintance he had made in Paris, and complimented her
in the following lines:
"While haughty Gallia's dames, that spread
O'er their pale cheeks an artful red,
Beheld this beauteous stranger there,
In native charms divinely fair,
Confusion in their looks they showed,
And with unborrowed blushes glowed."
Circumstances seemed now to be conspiring in favour of the Whigs. The
Tories, whose strength lay mainly in the Jacobite element, were jealous of
Marlborough's ascendency over the Queen; on the other hand, the Duchess of
Marlborough, who was rapidly acquiring the chief place in Anne's
affections, intrigued in favour of the opposite faction. In spite, too, of
her Tory predilections, the Queen, finding her throne menaced by the
ambition of Louis XIV., was compelled in self-defence to look for support
to the party which had most vigorously identified itself with the
principles of the Revolution. She bestowed her unreserved confidence on
Marlborough, and he, in order to counterbalance the influence of the
Jacobites, threw himself into the arms of the Whigs. Being named
Captain-General in 1704, he undertook the campaign which he brought to so
glorious a conclusion on the 2d of August in that year at the battle of
Blenheim.
Godolphin, who, in the absence of Marlborough, occupied the chief place in
the Ministry, moved perhaps by patriotic feeling, and no doubt also by a
sense of the advantage which his party would derive from this great
victory, was anxious that it should be commemorated in adequate verse. He
accordingly applied to Halifax as the person to whom the _sacer vates_
required for the occasion would probably be known. Halifax has had the
misfortune to have his character transmitted to posterity by two poets who
hated him either on public or private grounds. Swift describes him as the
would-be "Mæcenas of the nation," but insinuates that he neglected the
wants of the poets whom he patronised:
"Himself as rich as fifty Jews,
Was easy though they wanted shoes."
Pope also satirises the vanity and meanness of his disposition in the
well-known character of Bufo. Such portraits, though they are justified to
some extent by evidence coming from other quarters, are not to be too
strictly examined as if they bore the stamp of historic truth. It is, at
any rate, certain that Halifax always proved himself a warm and zealous
friend to Addison, and when Godolphin applied to him for a poet to
celebrate Blenheim, he answered that, though acquainted with a person who
possessed every qualification for the task, he could not ask him to
undertake it. Being pressed for his reasons, he replied "that while too
many fools and blockheads were maintained in their pride and luxury at the
public expense, such men as were really an honour to their age and country
were shamefully suffered to languish in obscurity; that, for his own
share, he would never desire any gentleman of parts and learning to employ
his time in celebrating a Ministry who had neither the justice nor the
generosity to make it worth his while." In answer to this the Lord
Treasurer assured Halifax that any person whom he might name as equal to
the required task, should have no cause to repent of having rendered his
assistance; whereupon Halifax mentioned Addison, but stipulated that all
advances to the latter must come from Godolphin himself. Accordingly,
Boyle, Chancellor of the Exchequer, afterwards Lord Carleton, was
despatched on the embassy, and, if Pope is to be trusted, found Addison
lodged up three pair of stairs over a small shop. He opened to him the
subject, and informed him that, in return for the service that was
expected of him, he was instructed to offer him a Commissionership of
Appeal in the Excise, as a pledge of more considerable advancement in the
future. The fruits of this negotiation were _The Campaign_.
Warton disposes of the merits of _The Campaign_ with the cavalier
criticism, so often since repeated, that it is merely "a gazette in
rhyme." In one sense the judgment is no doubt just. As a poem, _The
Campaign_ shows neither loftiness of invention nor enthusiasm of personal
feeling, and it cannot therefore be ranked with such an ode as Horace's
_Qualem ministrum_, or with Pope's very fine _Epistle_ to the Earl of
Oxford after his disgrace. Its methodical narrative style is scarcely
misrepresented by Warton's sarcastic description of it; but it should be
remembered that this style was adopted by Addison with deliberate
intention. "Thus," says he, in the conclusion of the poem,
"Thus would I fain Britannia's wars rehearse
In the smooth records of a faithful verse;
That, if such numbers can o'er time prevail,
May tell posterity the wondrous tale.
When actions unadorned are faint and weak
Cities and countries must be taught to speak;
Gods may descend in factions from the skies,
And rivers from their oozy beds arise;
Fiction may deck the truth with spurious rays,
And round the hero cast a borrowed blaze.
Marlbro's exploits appear divinely bright,
And proudly shine in their own native light;
Raised in themselves their genuine charms they boast,
And those that paint them truest praise them most."
The design here avowed is certainly not poetical, but it is eminently
business-like and extremely well adapted to the end in view. What
Godolphin wanted was a set of complimentary verses on Marlborough.
Addison, with infinite tact, declares that the highest compliment that can
be paid to the hero is to recite his actions in their unadorned grandeur.
This happy turn of flattery shows how far he had advanced in literary
skill since he wrote his address _To the King_. He had then excused
himself for the inadequate celebration of William's deeds on the plea
that, great though these might be, they were too near the poet's own time
to be seen in proper focus. A thousand years hence, he suggests, some
Homer may be inspired by the theme, "and Boyne be sung when it has ceased
to flow." This could not have been very consolatory to a mortal craving
for contemporary applause, and the apology offered in _The Campaign_ for
the prosaic treatment of the subject is far more dexterous. Bearing in
mind the fact that it was written to order, and that the poet deliberately
declined to avail himself of the aid of fiction, we must allow that the
construction of the poem exhibits both art and dignity. The allusion to
the vast slaughter at Blenheim, in the opening paragraph--
"Rivers of blood I see and hills of slain,
An Iliad rising out of one campaign"--
is not very fortunate; but the lines describing the ambition of Louis XIV.
are weighty and dignified, and the couplet indicating, through the single
image of the Danube, the vast extent of the French encroachments, shows
how thoroughly Addison was imbued with the spirit of classical poetry:
"The rising Danube its long race began,
And half its course through the new conquests ran."
With equal felicity he describes the position and intervention of England,
seizing at the same time the opportunity for a panegyric on her free
institutions:
"Thrice happy Britain, from the kingdoms rent
To sit the guardian of the Continent!
That sees her bravest sons advanced so high
And flourishing so near her prince's eye;
Thy favourites grow not up by fortune's sport,
Or from the crimes and follies of a court:
On the firm basis of desert they rise,
From long-tried faith and friendship's holy ties,
Their sovereign's well-distinguished smiles they share,
Her ornaments in peace, her strength in war;
The nation thanks them with a public voice,
By showers of blessings Heaven approves their choice;
Envy itself is dumb, in wonder lost,
And factions strive who shall applaud them most."
He proceeds in a stream of calm and equal verse, enlivened by dexterous
allusions and occasional happy turns of expression, to describe the
scenery of the Moselle; the march between the Maese and the Danube; the
heat to which the army was exposed; the arrival on the Neckar; and the
track of devastation left by the French armies. The meeting between
Marlborough and Eugene inspires him again to raise his style:
"Great souls by instinct to each other turn,
Demand alliance, and in friendship burn,
A sudden friendship, while with outstretched rays
They meet each other mingling blaze with blaze.
Polished in courts, and hardened in the field,
Renowned for conquest, and in council skilled,
Their courage dwells not in a troubled flood
Of mounting spirits and fermenting blood;
Lodged in the soul, with virtue overruled,
Inflamed by reason, and by reason cooled,
In hours of peace content to be unknown,
And only in the field of battle shown:
To souls like these in mutual friendship joined
Heaven dares entrust the cause of human kind."
The celebrated passage describing Marlborough's conduct at Blenheim is
certainly the finest in the poem:
"'Twas then great Marlborough's mighty soul was proved
That in the shock of charging hosts unmoved,
Amidst confusion, horror, and despair,
Examined all the dreadful scenes of war;
In peaceful thought the field of death surveyed,
To fainting squadrons sent the timely aid,
Inspired repulsed battalions to engage,
And taught the doubtful battle where to rage.
So when an angel by divine command
With rising tempests shakes a guilty land,
Such as of late o'er pale Britannia past,
Calm and serene he drives the furious blast;
And pleased th' Almighty's orders to perform,
Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm."
Johnson makes some characteristic criticisms on this simile, which indeed,
he maintains, is not a simile, but "an exemplification." He says:
"Marlborough is so like the angel in the poem that the action of both is
almost the same, and performed by both in the same manner. Marlborough
'teaches the battle to rage;' the angel 'directs the storm;' Marlborough
is 'unmoved in peaceful thought;' the angel is 'calm and serene;'
Marlborough stands 'unmoved amid the shock of hosts;' the angel rides
'calm in the whirlwind.' The lines on Marlborough are just and noble; but
the simile gives almost the same images a second time."
This judgment would be unimpeachable if the force of the simile lay solely
in the likeness between Marlborough and the angel, but it is evident that
equal stress is to be laid on the resemblance between the battle and the
storm. It was Addison's intention to raise in the mind of the reader the
noblest possible idea of composure and design in the midst of confusion:
to do this he selected an angel as the minister of the divine purpose, and
a storm as the symbol of fury and devastation; and, in order to heighten
his effect, he recalls with true art the violence of the particular
tempest which had recently ravaged the country. Johnson has noticed the
close similarity between the persons of Marlborough and the angel; but he
has exaggerated the resemblance between the actions in which they are
severally engaged.
_The Campaign_ completely fulfilled the purpose for which it was written.
It strengthened the position of the Whig Ministry, and secured for its
author the advancement that had been promised him. Early in 1706 Addison,
on the recommendation of Lord Godolphin, was promoted from the
Commissionership of Appeals in Excise to be Under-Secretary of State to
Sir Charles Hedges. The latter was one of the few Tories who had retained
their position in the Ministry since the restoration of the Whigs to the
favour of their sovereign, and he, too, shortly vanished from the stage
like his more distinguished friends, making way for the Earl of
Sunderland, a staunch Whig, and son-in-law to the Duke of Marlborough.
Addison's duties as Under-Secretary were probably not particularly
arduous. In 1705 he was permitted to attend Lord Halifax to the Court of
Hanover, whither the latter was sent to carry the Act for the
Naturalisation of the Electress Sophia. The mission also included
Vanbrugh, who, as Clarencieux King-at-Arms, was charged to invest the
Elector with the Order of the Garter; the party thus constituted affording
a remarkable illustration of the influence exercised by literature over
the politics of the period. Addison must have obtained during this journey
considerable insight into the nature of England's foreign policy, as,
besides establishing the closest relations with Hanover, Halifax was also
instructed to form an alliance with the United Provinces for securing the
succession of the House of Brunswick to the English throne.
In the meantime his imagination was not idle. After helping Steele in the
composition of his _Tender Husband_, which was acted in 1705, he found
time for engaging in a fresh literary enterprise of his own. The
principles of operatic music, which had long been developed in Italy, had
been slow in making their way to this country. Their introduction had been
delayed partly by the French prejudices of Charles II., but more, perhaps,
by the strong insular tastes of the people, and by the vigorous forms of
the native drama. What the untutored English audience liked best to hear
was a well-marked tune, sung in a fine natural way: the kind of music
which was in vogue on the stage till the end of the seventeenth century
was simply the regular drama interspersed with airs; _recitative_ was
unknown; and there was no attempt to cultivate the voice according to the
methods practised in the Italian schools. But with the increase of wealth
and travel more exacting tastes began to prevail; Italian singers appeared
on the stage and exhibited to the audience capacities of voice of which
they had hitherto had no experience. In 1705 was acted at the Haymarket
_Arsinoe_, the first opera constructed in England on avowedly Italian
principles. The words were still in English, but the dialogue was
throughout in _recitative_. The composer was Thomas Clayton, who, though a
man entirely devoid of genius, had travelled in Italy, and was eager to
turn to account the experience which he had acquired. In spite of its
badness _Arsinoe_ greatly impressed the public taste; and it was soon
followed by _Camilla_, a version of an opera by Bononcini, portions of
which were sung in Italian, and portions in English--an absurdity on which
Addison justly comments in a number of the _Spectator_. His remarks on the
consequences of translating the Italian operas are equally humorous and
just.
"As there was no great danger," says he, "of hurting the sense of
these extraordinary pieces, our authors would often make words of
their own which were entirely foreign to the meaning of the passages
they pretended to translate; their chief care being to make the
numbers of the English verse answer to those of the Italian, that both
of them might go to the same tune. Thus the famous song in _Camilla_,
'Barbara si t'intendo,' etc.
'Barbarous woman, yes, I know your meaning,'
which expresses the resentment of an angry lover, was translated into
that English lamentation,
'Frail are a lover's hopes,' etc.
And it was pleasant enough to see the most refined persons of the
British nation dying away and languishing to notes that were filled
with the spirit of rage and indignation. It happened also very
frequently where the sense was rightly translated; the necessary
transposition of words, which were drawn out of the phrase of one
tongue into that of another, made the music appear very absurd in one
tongue that was very natural in the other. I remember an Italian verse
that ran thus, word for word:
'And turned my rage into pity,'
which the English, for rhyme's sake, translated,
'And into pity turned my rage.'
By this means the soft notes that were adapted to pity in the Italian
fell upon the word 'rage' in the English; and the angry sounds that
were turned to rage in the original were made to express pity in the
translation. It oftentimes happened likewise that the finest notes in
the air fell upon the most insignificant word in the sentence. I have
known the word 'and' pursued through the whole gamut; have been
entertained with many a melodious 'the;' and have heard the most
beautiful graces, quavers, and divisions bestowed upon 'then,' 'for,'
and 'from,' to the eternal honour of our English particles."[19]
Perceiving these radical defects, Addison seems to have been ambitious of
showing by example how they might be remedied. "The great success this
opera (_Arsinoe_) met with produced," says he, "some attempts of forming
pieces upon Italian plans, which should give a more natural and reasonable
entertainment than what can be met with in the elaborate trifles of that
nation. This alarmed the poetasters and fiddlers of the town, who were
used to deal in a more ordinary kind of ware, and therefore laid down an
established rule, which is received as such to this day, 'That nothing is
capable of being well set to music that is not nonsense.'"[20] The
allusion to the failure of the writer's own opera of _Rosamond_ is
unmistakable. The piece was performed on the 2d of April, 1706, but was
coldly received, and after two or three representations was withdrawn.
The reasons which the _Spectator_ assigns for the catastrophe betray
rather the self-love of the author than the clear perception of the
critic. _Rosamond_ failed because, in the first place, it was very bad as
a musical composition. Misled by the favour with which _Arsinoe_ was
received, Addison seems to have regarded Clayton as a great musician, and
he put his poem into the hands of the latter, thinking that his score
would be as superior to that of _Arsinoe_ as his own poetry was to the
words of that opera. Clayton, however, had no genius, and only succeeded
in producing what Sir John Hawkins, quoting with approbation the words of
another critic, calls "a confused chaos of music, the only merit of which
is its shortness."[21]
But it may be doubted whether in any case the most skilful composer could
have produced music of a high order adapted to the poetry of _Rosamond_.
The play is neither a tragedy, a comedy, nor a melodrama. It seems that
Eleanor did not really poison Fair Rosamond, but only administered to her
a sleeping potion, and, as she takes care to explain to the King,
"The bowl with drowsy juices filled,
From cold Egyptian drugs distilled,
In borrowed death has closed her eyes."
This information proves highly satisfactory to the King, not only because
he is gratified to find that Rosamond is not dead, but also because, even
before discovering her supposed dead body, he had resolved, in consequence
of a dream sent to him by his guardian angel, to terminate the relations
existing between them. The Queen and he accordingly arrange, in a
business-like manner, that Rosamond shall be quietly removed in her trance
to a nunnery; a reconciliation is then effected between the husband and
wife, who, as we are led to suppose, live happily ever after.
The main motive of the opera in Addison's mind appears to have been the
desire of complimenting the Marlborough family. It is dedicated to the
Duchess; the warlike character of Henry naturally recalls the prowess of
the great modern captain; and the King is consoled by his guardian angel
for the loss of Fair Rosamond with a vision of the future glories of
Blenheim:
"To calm thy grief and lull thy cares,
Look up and see
What, after long revolving years,
Thy bower shall be!
When time its beauties shall deface,
And only with its ruins grace
The future prospect of the place!
Behold the glorious pile ascending,
Columns swelling, arches bending,
Domes in awful pomp arising,
Art in curious strokes surprising,
Foes in figured fights contending,
Behold the glorious pile ascending."
This is graceful enough, but it scarcely offers material for music of a
serious kind. Nor can the Court have been greatly impressed by the
compliment paid to its morality, as contrasted with that of Charles II.,
conveyed as it was by the mouth of Grideline, one of the comic characters
in the piece--
"Since conjugal passion
Is come into fashion,
And marriage so blest on the throne is,
Like a Venus I'll shine,
Be fond and be fine,
And Sir Trusty shall be my Adonis."
The ill success of _Rosamond_ confirmed Addison's dislike to the Italian
opera, which he displayed both in his grave and humorous papers on the
subject in the _Spectator_. The disquisition upon the various actors of
the lion in _Hydaspes_ is one of his happiest inspirations; but his
serious criticisms are, as a rule, only just in so far as they are
directed against the dramatic absurdities of the Italian opera. As to his
technical qualifications as a critic of music, it will be sufficient to
cite the opinion of Dr. Burney: "To judges of music nothing more need be
said of Mr. Addison's abilities to decide concerning the comparative
degrees of national excellence in the art, and the merit of particular
masters, than his predilection for the productions of Clayton, and
insensibility to the force and originality of Handel's compositions in
_Rinaldo_."[22]
In December, 1708, the Earl of Sunderland was displaced to make room for
the Tory Lord Dartmouth, and Addison, as Under-Secretary, following the
fortunes of his superior, found himself again without employment.
Fortunately for him the Earl of Wharton was almost immediately afterwards
made Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, and offered him the lucrative post of
Secretary. The Earl, who was subsequently created a Marquis, was the
father of the famous Duke satirised in Pope's first _Moral Essay_; he was
in every respect the opposite of Addison--a vehement Republican, a
sceptic, unprincipled in his morals, venal in his methods of Government.
He was nevertheless a man of the finest talents, and seems to have
possessed the power of gaining personal ascendency over his companions by
a profound knowledge of character. An acquaintance with Addison, doubtless
commencing at the Kit-Kat Club, of which both were members, had convinced
him that the latter had eminent qualifications for the task, which the
Secretary's post would involve, of dealing with men of very various
conditions. Of the feelings with which Addison on his side regarded the
Earl we have no record. "It is reasonable to suppose," says Johnson, "that
he counteracted, as far as he was able, the malignant and blasting
influence of the Lieutenant; and that, at least, by his intervention some
good was done and some mischief prevented." Not a shadow of an imputation,
at any rate, rests upon his own conduct as Secretary. He appears to have
acted strictly on that conception of public duty which he defines in one
of his papers in the _Spectator_. Speaking of the marks of a corrupt
official, "Such an one," he declares, "is the man who, upon any pretence
whatsoever, receives more than what is the stated and unquestioned fee of
his office. Gratifications, tokens of thankfulness, despatch money, and
the like specious terms, are the pretences under which corruption very
frequently shelters itself. An honest man will, however, look on all these
methods as unjustifiable, and will enjoy himself better in a moderate
fortune, that is gained with honour and reputation, than in an overgrown
estate that is cankered with the acquisitions of rapine and exaction. Were
all our offices discharged with such an inflexible integrity, we should
not see men in all ages, who grow up to exorbitant wealth, with the
abilities which are to be met with in an ordinary mechanic."[23] His
friends perhaps considered that his impartiality was somewhat
overstrained, since he always declined to remit the customary fees in
their favour. "For," said he, "I may have forty friends, whose fees may be
two guineas a-piece; then I lose eighty guineas, and my friends gain but
two a-piece."
He took with him as his own Secretary, Eustace Budgell, who was related to
him, and for whom he seems to have felt a warm affection. Budgell was a
man of considerable literary ability, and was the writer of the various
papers in the _Spectator_ signed "X," some of which succeed happily in
imitating Addison's style. While he was under his friend's guidance his
career was fairly successful, but his temper was violent, and when, at a
later period of his life, he served in Ireland under a new Lieutenant and
another Secretary, he became involved in disputes which led to his
dismissal. A furious pamphlet against the Lord-Lieutenant, the Duke of
Bolton, published by him in spite of Addison's remonstrances, only
complicated his position, and from this period his fortunes steadily
declined. He lost largely in the South Sea Scheme; spent considerable sums
in a vain endeavour to obtain a seat in Parliament; and at last came under
the influence of his kinsman, Tindal, the well-known deist, whose will he
is accused of having falsified. With his usual infelicity he happened to
rouse the resentment of Pope, and was treated in consequence to one of
the deadly couplets with which that great poet was in the habit of
repaying real or supposed injuries:
"Let Budgell charge low Grub Street on his quill,
And write whate'er he pleased--except his will."
The lines were memorable, and were doubtless often quoted, and the
wretched man finding his life insupportable, ended it by drowning himself
in the Thames.
During his residence in Ireland Addison firmly cemented his friendship
with Swift, whose acquaintance he had probably made after _The Campaign_
had given him a leading position in the Whig party, on the side of which
the sympathies of both were then enlisted. Swift's admiration for Addison
was warm and generous. When the latter was on the point of embarking on
his new duties, Swift wrote to a common friend, Colonel Hunter, "Mr.
Addison is hurrying away for Ireland, and I pray too much business may not
spoil _le plus honnete homme du monde_." To Archbishop King he wrote: "Mr.
Addison, who goes over our first secretary, is a most excellent person,
and being my intimate friend I shall use all my credit to set him right in
his notions of persons and things." Addison's duties took him occasionally
to England, and during one of his visits Swift writes to him from Ireland:
"I am convinced that whatever Government come over you will find all marks
of kindness from any parliament here with respect to your employment, the
Tories contending with the Whigs which should speak best of you. In short,
if you will come over again when you are at leisure we will raise an army
and make you King of Ireland. Can you think so meanly of a kingdom as not
to be pleased that every creature in it, who hath one grain of worth, has
a veneration for you?" In his _Journal to Stella_ he says, under date of
October 12, 1710: "Mr. Addison's election has passed easy and undisputed;
and I believe if he had a mind to be chosen king he would hardly be
refused." On his side Addison's feelings were equally warm. He presented
Swift with a copy of his _Remarks on Several Parts of Italy_, inscribing
it--"To the most agreeable companion, the truest friend, and the greatest
genius of his age."
This friendship, founded on mutual respect, was destined to be impaired by
political differences. In 1710 the credit of the Whig Ministry had been
greatly undermined by the combined craft of Harley and Mrs. Masham, and
Swift, who was anxious as to his position, on coming over to England to
press his claims on Somers and Halifax, found that they were unable to
help him. He appears to have considered that their want of power proceeded
from want of will; at any rate, he made advances to Harley, which were of
course gladly received. The Ministry were at this time being hard pressed
by the _Examiner_, under the conduct of Prior, and at their instance
Addison started the _Whig Examiner_ in their defence. Though this paper
was written effectively and with admirable temper, party polemics were
little to the taste of its author, and, after five numbers, it ceased to
exist on the 8th of October. Swift, now eager for the triumph of the
Tories, expresses his delight to Stella by informing her, in the words of
a Tory song, that "it was down among the dead men." He himself wrote the
first of his _Examiners_ on the 2d of the following November, and the
crushing blows with which he followed it up did much to hasten the
downfall of the Ministry. As was natural, Addison was somewhat displeased
at his friend's defection. In December Swift writes to Stella, "Mr.
Addison and I are as different as black and white, and I believe our
friendship will go off by this d---- business of party. He cannot bear
seeing me fall in so with the Ministry; but I love him still as much as
ever, though we seldom meet." In January, 1710-11, he says: "I called at
the coffee-house, where I had not been in a week, and talked coldly awhile
with Mr. Addison; all our friendship and dearness are off; we are civil
acquaintance, talk words, of course, of when we shall meet, and that's
all. Is it not odd?" Many similar entries follow; but on June 26, 1711,
the record is: "Mr. Addison and I talked as usual, and as if we had seen
one another yesterday." And on September 14, he observes: "This evening I
met Addison and pastoral Philips in the Park, and supped with them in
Addison's lodgings. We were very good company, and I yet know no man half
so agreeable to me as he is. I sat with them till twelve."
It was perhaps through the influence of Swift, who spoke warmly with the
Tory Ministry on behalf of Addison, that the latter, on the downfall of
the Whigs in the autumn of 1710, was for some time suffered to retain the
Keepership of the Records in Bermingham's Tower, an Irish place which had
been bestowed upon him by the Queen as a special mark of the esteem with
which she regarded him, and which appears to have been worth £400 a
year.[24] In other respects his fortunes were greatly altered by the
change of Ministry. "I have within this twelvemonth," he writes to Wortley
on the 21st of July, 1711, "lost a place of £2000 per ann., an estate in
the Indies worth £14,000, and, what is worse than all the rest, my
mistress.[25] Hear this and wonder at my philosophy! I find they are going
to take away my Irish place from me too; to which I must add that I have
just resigned my fellowship, and that stocks sink every day." In spite of
these losses his circumstances were materially different from those in
which he found himself after the fall of the previous Whig Ministry in
1702. Before the close of the year 1711 he was able to buy the estate of
Bilton, near Rugby, for £10,000. Part of the purchase money was probably
provided from what he had saved while he was Irish Secretary, and had
invested in the funds; and part was, no doubt, made up from the profits of
the _Tatler_ and the _Spectator_. Miss Aikin says that a portion was
advanced by his brother Gulston; but this seems to be an error. Two years
before, the Governor of Fort St. George had died, leaving him his executor
and residuary legatee. This is no doubt "the estate in the Indies" to
which he refers in his letter to Wortley, but he had as yet derived no
benefit from it. His brother had left his affairs in great confusion; the
trustees were careless or dishonest; and though about £600 was remitted to
him in the shape of diamonds in 1713, the liquidation was not complete
till 1716, when only a small moiety of the sum bequeathed to him came into
his hands.[26]