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meant, than possessed with a real understanding why nobody was willing to play with me. I remember I went into the room where his body lay, and my mother sat weeping alone by it. I had my battledoor in my hand, and fell a-beating the coffin, and calling “Papa," for I know not how I had some slight idea that he was locked up there.

My mother catched me in her arms, and transported beyond all patience of the silent grief she was before in, she almost smothered me in her imbrace, and told me, in a flood of tears, papa could not hear me, and would play with me no more, for they were going to put him under ground, whence he could never come to me again. She was a very beautiful woman, of a noble spirit, and there was a dignity in her grief amidst all the wildness of her transport, which methought struck me with an instinct of sorrow, which, before I was sensible what it was to grieve, seized my very soul, and has made pity the weakness of my heart ever since. The mind in infancy is, methinks, like the body in embryo, and receives impressions so forcible that they are as hard to be removed by reason as any mark with which a child is born to be taken away by any future application.' From the Spectator :

•M. St. Evremond has concluded one of his essays with affir ming that the last sighs of a handsome woman are not so much for the loss of her life as of her beauty. Perhaps this raillery is pursued too far, yet it is turned upon a very obvious remark, that woman's strongest passion is for her own beauty, and that she values it as her favorite distinction. From hence it is that all arts which pretend to improve or preserve it meet with so general a reception among the sex. To say nothing of many false helps and contraband wares of beauty which are daily vended in this great mart, there is not a maiden gentlewoman of a good family in any country of South Britain who has not heard of the virtues of May-dew, or is unfurnished with some receipt or other in favor of her complexion; and I have known a physician of learning and sense, after eight years' study in the University, and a course of travels in most countries in Europe, owe the first raising of his fortunes to a cosmetic wash.

This has given me occasion to consider how so universal a disposition in womankind, which springs from a laudable motive, the desire of pleasing, and proceeds upon an opinion not altogether groundless, that nature may be helped by art, may be turned to their advantage. And, methinks, it would be an acceptable service to take them out of the hands of quacks and pretenders, and to prevent their imposing on themselves, by discovering to them the true art and secret of preserving beauty.

In order to do this, before I touch upon it directly, it will be necessary to lay down a few preliminary maxims, viz:

That no woman can be handsome by the force of features alone, any more than she can be witty only by the help of speech.

That pride destroys all symmetry and grace, and affectation is a more terrible enemy to fine faces than the small-pox.

That no woman is capable of being beautiful, who is not incapable of being false. And, that what would be odious in a friend, is deformity in a mistress.

From these few principles thus laid down, it will be easy to prove that the true art of assisting beauty consists in embellishing the whole person by the proper ornaments of virtue and commendable qualities. By this help alone it is that those who are the favorite works of nature, or, as Mr. Dryden expresses it, the porcelain clay of humankind, become animated, and are in a capacity of exerting their charms, and those who seem to have been neglected by her, like models wrought in haste, are capable in a great measure of finishing what she has left imperfect.

It is, methinks, a low and degrading idea of that sex which was created to refine the joys, and soften the cares of humanity, to consider them merely as objects of sight. This is abridging them of the natural extent of their power, to put them on a level with the pictures at Kneller's. How much nobler is the contemplation of beauty, heightened by virtue, and commanding our esteem and love, while it draws our observation! How faint and spiritless are the charms of a coquette, when compared with the loveliness of Sophronia's innocence, piety, good humor, and truth; virtues which add a new softness to her sex, and even beautify her beauty! That agreeableness which must otherwise have appeared no longer in the modest virgin is now preserved in the tender mother, the prudent friend, and the faithful wife. Colours artfully spread upon canvas may entertain the eye, but not affect the heart; and she who takes no care to add to the natural graces of her person any excelling qualities, may be allowed to amuse as a picture, but not to triumph as a beauty.' Estimate the civilization of an individual or a people by the prevailing tone of feeling and opinion with regard to womanhood.

Style.—Like the man himself,— easy, familiar, vivacious, and humane, mingling good sense and earnestness with merriment and burlesque.

Rank. He excelled as a satirist, a humorist, and a storyteller, who must, like the poet, be born. He had a knowledge of the world, and a dramatic skill by which the serials profited largely. Some of his papers equal anything Addison ever wrote. Occupying a more elevated plane than many of his contemporaries, he is paled in his powers by the overshadowing presence of his illustrious friend. His writings have been compared to those light wines which, though deficient in body and flavor, are yet a pleasant small drink, if not kept too long or carried too far.

Character.—So good-natured that it was impossible to hate him, and difficult to be seriously angry with him; so rollicking and improvident that it was impossible to respect him; of sweet temper, of noble aspiration, but of strong passions and of weak principles; inculcating what was right and doing what was wrong; spending his life in resolving and re-resolving, then dying without carrying into effect his resolution. An irregular thinker, as well an irregular liver.

Influence.- His aim in projecting the Tatler does not appear to have been higher than to publish a paper containing the foreign news, notices of theatrical representations, the literary gossip of the clubs, remarks on current topics of fashion, compliments to beauties, satires on noted sharpers, and criticisms on popular preachers. He did much to ennoble the prevalent conceptions of female character. While his purpose (more or less vaguely realized) was reformatory and corrective, his service was chiefly indirect, in calling to the support and development of his enterprises Addison, to whom it was reserved to make the periodical a true revolutionary power in literature and society.

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What shall we expect of a man who forever gathers the pleasures that lie on the border-land of evil, tearfully casts them away, then recklessly gathers them again?

ADDISON.

He lived in abundance, activity, and honors, wisely and nsefully.-Taine. Biography.--The son of an English dean, born at Milston, in 1672. Learned his rudiments in the schools of his father's neighborhood, and was then sent to Charter-House, London. Entered Oxford at the age of fifteen, where he was distinguished by the delicacy of his feelings, by the shyness of his manners, by the assiduity with which he often prolonged his studies far into the night, by his knowledge of the Latin poets, and by his skill in Latin versification. Leaving the University in the summer of 1699, he travelled long in the two most polished countries in the world,-France and Italy, to prepare himself for the diplomatic service of the Crown, and to perfect his tastes by contact with the elegance and refinements of life and art. His pension stopped by the death of William III, he was obliged to return to England, hard pressed by pecuniary difficulties. But his poem on Blenheim quickly placed him in the first rank of the Whigs, and again started him on a brilliant and prosperous career.

Became a member of Parliament, but lacked the ready resource, “the small change, as he himself expressed it, of an effective parliamentary orator. Married Lady Warwick in 1716, a beautiful, imperious woman, with more pride of rank than sincerity of character, whom he is said to have first known by becoming tutor to

She probably took him on terms like those on which a Turkish princess is espoused, to whom the Sultan is reported to say: Daughter, I give thee this man for thy slave.' The marriage neither found nor made them equal, and he was glad to escape from the chilling splendor of Holland House to the more congenial society of the club-room, where he could enjoy a laugh, a smoke, and a bottle of claret. Rose to his highest elevation in 1717, being made Secretary of State - an elevation due to his popularity, his stainless probity, and his literary fame. Unequal to the duties of his place by reason of his diffidence and fastidiousness, he was forced to resign, and retired to literary occupations, with a pension of fifteen hundred pounds. In the office, says Pope, he could not issue an order without losing his time in quest of fine expressions. Many years seemed to be before him, and he meditated many works- a tragedy on the death of Socrates, a translation of the Psalms, and a treatise on the evidences of Christianity - but the fatal complaint of asthma, aggravated by dropsy, terminated his life on the 17th of June, 1719. He was buried in the Abbey at dead of night, an eminent Tory leading the procession by torchlight round the shrine of Saint Edward and the graves of the Plantagenets, to the chapel of Henry VII.

her son.

Writings.- Address to Dryden (1694), his first attempt in English verse. The Campaign, or Victory of Blenheim, whose chief merit consists in the praise of those qualities which make a general truly great,- energy, sagacity, serene firmness, and military science, a manly rejection of the traditional custom of celebrating, in heroes, strength of muscle and skill in fence. Cato (1713), a tragedy, and the noblest production of his genius; a classic play, observing the unities strictly and avoiding all admixture of comedy; applauded by both political parties,— the Whigs cheering the frequent allusions to liberty, as a satire on the Tories; and the Tories echoing the cheer, to show that the satire was unfelt. During a whole month, it was performed to overflowing houses; but its representation was too far removed from any state probable or possible in human life to sustain itself when unsupported by the emulation of factious praise. Exciting neither joy nor sorrow, it is replete with noble sentiments in noble language, such as the reader must wish to impress upon his memory, as in the following lines from Cato's soliloquy:

The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years;
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amid the war of elements,

The wreck of matter, and the crash of worlds.' His Hymns are songs of adoration and prayer, fervent, tender, and calm. The serene rapture of his soul's Sabbath shines in these star-like verses:

"Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,

And, nightly to the list'ning earth,
Repeats the story of her birth:
While all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole. to pole.
What though, in solemn silence, all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball?
What though no real voice, nor sound,
Amid their radiant orbs be found?
In Reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice;
Forever singing as they shine,

“ The hand that made us is divine."! Essays, being contributions to the Spectator chiefly, and in part to the Tatler, the Guardian, and the Freeholder (1715), a political journal. Their aim was primarily to instruct; secondarily, to please. For the literary lounger, there were comic sketches of society, exposures of social follies, in letters or allegories; for the novel-reader, stories, portraits of character woven into interesting narratives; for the sage and serious, essays on the Immortality of the Soul, Pleasures of the Imagination, critical papers on Paradise Lost, etc. All subjects were discussed on which party spirit had produced no diversities of sentiment, the object being to render instruction pleasing, to widen the circle of readers, and to accomplish a social regeneration without inflicting a wound. Addison is the Spectator.

For the first time, duty was taught without pretension or effort, and pleasure was made subservient to reason. Take his dissection of a beau's brain as an instance of his mode:

"The pineal gland, which many of our modern philosophers suppose to be the seat of the soul, smelt very strong of essence and orange-flower water, and was encompassed with a kind of horny substance, cut into a thousand little faces or mirrors, which were imperceptible to the naked eye, insomuch that the soul, if there had been any here, must have been always taken up in contemplating her own beauties.

We observed a large antrum or cavity in the sinciput, that was filled with ribbons, lace, and embroidery. . ... There was a large cavity on each side of the head, which I must not omit. That on the right side was filled with fictions, flatteries, and falsehoods, vows, promises, and protestations: that on the left, with oaths and imprecations. There issued out a duct from each of these cells, which ran into the root of the tongue, where both joined together, and passed forward in one common duct to the tip of it. We discovered several little roads or canals running from the car into the brain, and took particular care to trace them out through their several passages. One of them extended itself to a bundle of sonnets and little musical instruments. Others ended in several bladders which were filled either with wind or froth. But the large canal entered into a great cavity of the skull, from whence there went another canal into the tongue. This great cavity was filled with a kind of spongy substance, which the French anatomists call gallimatias, and the English nonsense. ...

We did not find anything very remarkable in the eye, saving only, that the musculi

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