Milton dealt with the destiny of the whole world, they but with that of a single nation. His characters, though fewer in number, appear more varied and less earth-bound than theirs. The conception of sin and death contains 'a beautiful allegory' affecting all humanity. Adam and Eve typify different beings before and after their fall. Their 'conferences' are less mundane than the 'loves' of Dido and Aeneas; Satan is more wily and more travelled than Ulysses1. Besides, Paradise Lost was originally conceived as a tragedy, and, though the dramatic atmosphere which pervades its final form is rightly judged to be a blemish, it is, for this reason, more easily reducible to Aristotle's rules. After taking a bird's eye view of the action, the actors, the sentiments and the language3, Addison proceeds to consider each book separately. No greater service could have been rendered to the unformed taste of his time than to point out where Milton is to be admired, and Addison has the wisdom to illustrate his criticisms so copiously that these papers almost constitute a book of selected 'beauties.' Much that he praises is of permanent value, such as grandeur of style and loftiness of conception; but, in much again, his literary judgment is unconsciously biassed by a spirit of propaganda. In reality, The Spectator was continuing, after nearly two generations, the same reaction against restoration ideals which Milton had begun in his old age. Thus, Paradise Lost had a hold on Addison's admiration quite apart from its intrinsic merits. Milton's tumultuous and over-burdened similes seemed perfect, in contrast with the artifices of the little wits". Eve's purity and modesty exercised an exaggerated charm in view of contemporary looseness, and it was regarded as specially appropriate that her dream, inspired by Satan, should be full of pride and conceits. Moreover, the age saw that learning was its salvation and, in Paradise Lost, enjoyed the quite artificial pleasures of research. Addison no longer holds to Lionardi's, Fracastor's and Scaliger's' creed that all erudition is an ornament to poetry; but he experiences a subtle delight in tracing obscure parallels in inspiration-comparing the sword of Michael with the sword of Aeneas, or the golden compasses of the Creator with Minerva's aegis, or the repentance of Adam and Eve with the grief of Oedipus. And, finally, The Spectator was furthering

1 No. 297.

4 No. 303.

L'Arte Poetica, 1564.

5 Nos. 321, 345.

3 Nos. 267, 273, 279, 285. • No. 327.

7 See Lionardi, Dialogi della Inventione Poetica, 1554; Fracastor, Opera, 1555; Scaliger, Poetices Libri Septem, 5th ed. 1617. See Spingarn, J. E., Literary Criticism in the Renaissance, 1908.

Addison 'On the Pleasures of the Imagination' 61

a religious revival under the auspices of culture and, therefore, found in Paradise Lost the same kind of superiority that Harington1 had claimed for Orlando Furioso. Addison reconciles himself even to the speeches of the Almighty, though they are not 'so proper to fill the mind with sentiments of grandeur, as with thoughts of devotion2'; while the morning and evening hymns, and the use of scriptural phraseology throughout the poem, seemed like a touch of inspiration higher than any of which a pagan could boast.

These Milton papers met with an enthusiastic reception. They exercised an influence throughout the eighteenth century and only became obsolete when Sainte-Beuve had taught Europe that the critic should be less of a judge than a reconstructor-almost an artist who creates a picture of the author's mind and of the atmosphere in which he wrote. In any case, Addison never attempted to enlarge the bounds of thought. His aim was to gather up the best ideas of his time and put them within reach of the ordinary reader. The same is true of his successive papers on aesthetics, or, as he calls them, 'On the Pleasures of the Imaginations.' He wanted to show how the emotions can be raised and purified by what men see and read. So, he discussed the intellectual pleasure to be found, first, in landscapes and gardens, then, in statues, pictures and architecture, and, then, in the mirrored views of life which a descriptive writer can call up before the mind's eye. This difficult and intricate subject involved an enquiry into the psychology of the imagination and a scientific discrimination of the functions and limits of the different arts. Granted his limita

He draws on his

tions, Addison is more than equal to the task. own travels and experiences, he applies the wisdom of the ancients and the more recent discoveries of Descartes, Locke and Berkeley*; yet his exposition is lucid and complete within the compass of eleven short essays. But, though he popularises admirably the ideas of his time, he cannot investigate for himself. The thoughts of his contemporaries lead him to the very brink of Lessing's discovery concerning the relation of poetry to sculpture, but he does not take a step further when his guides leave him. Nevertheless, these papers must have awakened in many a new

Nos. 411-421, originally written as a single essay years before. See Some portions of Essays contributed to the Spectator by Mr Joseph Addison, Glasgow, 1864.

New Theory of Vision, 1709.

Nos. 416, 418; Addison was probably aware of Varchi's comparison of poetry with painting in Lezzioni, lette nell' Accademia Fiorentina, 1590; see Spingarn, ibid. Lessing's Laokoon, oder Über die Grenzen der Mahlerey und Poesie, appeared in 1766.

sense of aesthetic enjoyment1. Among other things, he protests against the artificiality of rococo gardens, and shows what a mine of wonder and reflection had been opened up by natural philosophy2.

Although Addison varied these dissertations with humorous and satirical essays3, the tone of The Spectator became more and more serious as the numbers continued to appear. At the outset, he had declared, in two papers, that his practice was to put his thoughts together without premeditation; but, towards the close, he admitted the need of methodical discourses". He had other things to teach besides the appreciation of literature and art. In the latter half of the seventeenth century, England had exchanged a civilization of war for a civilization of peace and needed a religion to match. Martial patriotism, of course, still ran high; but the typical man of culture was a peaceful Londoner, busy with his family and his profession, and the only battles which he fought were those with himself. As has been shown, the votaries of the old régime continued the tradition of atheism. But the middle classes were still devout and only needed to bring into their worship that cult of urbanity at which they aimed in their daily lives. No one could be more susceptible to this tendency than a man of Addison's character, and, when he set himself to lead a social reform, it was inevitable that he should write on religion. He is no more original on this theme than on others. Humanised Christianity is to be found, in all its sweetness, in Jeremy Taylor and had already proved itself in John Webster's great book of sufficient power to end the witch persecution. But, though Addison was not the first to proclaim the gospel of peace and goodwill, he was the first who could bring it into the hearts and homes of London citizens. Like the earlier puritans, he held that religion should govern every thought and action, but not to the exclusion of the world. His creed was one of acquiescence and inward piety. Zeal was often a cloak for pride, self-interest or ill-nature; enthusiasm led to bigotry and superstition. A Christian's devotion should be

1 E.g. Akenside's Pleasures of the Imagination, 1764.

2 Nos. 414, 420.

3 E.g. nos. 81 (party patches), 102 (the use of the fan), 205 (the woman of fashion in church), 247 (women as talkers), 265 (the head dress), 275 (a beau's head), 281 (a coquette's heart), 343 (the Pythagorean monkey), 361 (catcalls), 377 (bill of mortality through love).

• The Displaying of supposed Witchcraft, 1677. See ante, vol. vII, chap. xvi, pp. 396-7.

self-contained, with just enough fervour to prevent religion from becoming a mere philosophy1. Addison held, also, to the need of self-examination, but not of despondency or self-contempt. To him, everything was under the direction of a Supreme Being2, who, as the Stoics and Juvenal had long before taught, knew better than man what was good for him3. The duty of human beings was to be reconciled to their lot, to forget the differences and humiliations of this life in the expectation of eternity, and to seek a sober happiness in a sense of doing right. These lay sermons are accompanied by a few verse paraphrases of the Psalms, rendered with polished simplicity, and are varied by allegories, among which The First Vision of Mirza is justly celebrated for its tranquil, lofty style.

The Spectator's last number appeared on 6 December 1712. Both writers had cultivated to a surprising degree the art of the flâneur and knew how to turn innumerable and generally unnoticed episodes of city life into charming sketches. Such things as a sensation in a coffeehouse, a fencing-match, an argument in a bookshop, an old beggar, or a man who applauds with a stick in a theatre gallery, are among their best studies of character'. But, apparently, both editors had written themselves out. Addison, at the instigation of his friends, set to work on Cato, the first four acts of which had been written before the beginning of The Tatler, perhaps as early as 1703. With many misgivings, he allowed the tragedy to be produced at Drury lane on 14 April 1713. It was a time of great political excitement; and, when so prominent a public man as Addison produced a drama on Cato's last stand for liberty, against the usurpation of Caesar, both parties turned the situation against their opponents and applauded furiously. In any event, the play was bound to have been a success. It pictures the last of the Roman republicans, a statuesque outline magnanimous and unmoved, surrounded by a treachery which is baffled by the loyalty of his sons and Juba, accepting death rather than dishonour and, in his last moments, taking thought for those around him. The plot is twofold. Side by side with the study in public virtue and high politics, a drama of the tender passion occupies the stage. When Cato's son Marcius dies gallantly fighting against the traitor Syphax, his brother wins the hand of Lucia, for which they had

1 Nos. 185, 201, 483.

Nos. 120, 121, 387, 489, 494, 495, 531, 543.

Nos. 186, 213, 219, 381, 483.

• See respectively nos. 403 and 481, 436, 438, 376, 235.

s Nos. 207, 237, 391, 441.

both been honourable rivals, and Juba, the once rejected suitor of Marcia, Cato's daughter, romantically rescues her from the clutches of Sempronius in disguise and finds that she has loved him all the time. Thus, in the consecrated form of a Roman tragedy, the public enjoyed that grandiose, if unsubstantial, projection of character which they admired in Milton, together with the sentimental chivalry of a French romance. To modern taste, the diction is hopelessly declamatory, and the plot full of absurdities. But the ordinary reader of the eighteenth century would almost regard such artificiality as inevitable in a play which has strictly observed the unities, contains a 'reversal of intention' and a 'recognition" and abounds in crisp and quotable epigrams.

Meanwhile, Steele plunged into politics and, after much pamphleteering, was expelled from the House of Commons for uttering seditious libels. In 1714, he returned to literature and started several periodicals, especially The Guardian, to which Addison contributed fifty-one papers; and, in 1722, he produced his last complete comedy, The Conscious Lovers. Though the plot is largely borrowed from Terence's Andria and, where original, abounds in more glaring improbabilities than his earlier work, the play is remarkable because it resumes in brief all Steele's best ideas on life and character. We have the sketch of servants whose natural freshness is being gradually tainted by the corrupt and contagious air of lackeydom2; we have satire on marriages of convenience, duelling and the chicanery of the law; a glance at the opposition between the hereditary gentry and the rising commercial class; while, in Bevil junior, Steele portrays his ideal of a gentleman, chivalrous and honourable to women, considerate to men, respectful to his father and self-controlled amid the riotous pleasures of the capital.

Steele and Addison produced other work separately. But, when they ceased to collaborate in The Spectator, which was subsequently continued by one of their circle, both became authors of secondary importance. Their task was already done. The peculiar circumstances of their lives gave them an unrivalled opportunity of observing the movement of their time. Thanks to a certain conventionality of intellect, coupled with amazing

1 The wepiwéreia and drayvŵpiois of Aristotle; see Politics, ed. Butcher, S. H., 3rd ed. 1902.

2 Besides the scenes in which Tom and Phillis appear, see the episode of the footboy newly arrived in London, act v, sc. 2.

8 See bibliography.