BOHN'S. EDITION OF ADDISON'S WORKS..
Tan incessant though often imperceptible progress which goes on. in the material world is more rapid in life. Even in the darkest ages a century or two caused a wonderful difference in manners and opinions. What was undisputed truth to the Barons and people of the Conqueror, was no longer received in the time of John ; just as the ideas of John were mightily changed under the third Ed- ward. The experience of a single life, if teased amid the busy hum of men, will exhibit changes more startling than is shown by re- cords. It is not merely physical infirmity that overtakes the octo- genarian : "new forms arise, and different views engage." We are apt to think that our age is without example—that the world has never witnessed such changes as have taken place since the American Revolution up to this day. Yet the changes wereper- haps really as great between the accession of Charles the First (1625) and the establishment of the house of Brunswick ; or between the reign of Henry the Eighth and the accession of the Stuarts to the throne of England. A man born before the Jugur- thine war might have lived to the battle of Actium, in which time revolutions took place quite as numerous, as sudden, and as strik- ing, as any during the last eighty or ninety years.
Letters must share the fate of the life they profess to describe, and go out of fashion with the modes of thought and style of speech they reflected. Nay, as one great end of writing, even
• The Works of the Right Honourable Joseph Addison. With Notes by Richard Hurd, D.11.. late Bishop of Worcester. A new edition, with large Additions, chiefly( unpublished, collected and edited by Henry G. Bohn. In six volumes. Pub-
hheeddby Bolin.
when the writer seems to aim only at pleasing, is utility,—to teach something good or to reform something bad,—so he is liable to perish through his own success. As long as the evil he exposes exists, or the benefit remains to be achieved, the world reads and quotes the author, and disputes about him • but his mortal blow is struck in the moment of his triumph. Two ways only exist of escaping " the general doom," and they are mostly combined in the . same person. There must be a genius so large and penetrating that its delineations are true and its lessons just through all the changes of mortal life, or there must be some wonderful felicity of diction. A learned not a popular existence may be preserved by the observer of facts or the painter of manners. Indeed, it is only through literature that we can form any notions of the past, and exercise one half of the function that separates man from brutes—" looking before and after."
The works of Addison exhibit all these characteristics. In some of his essays there is a depth and justness of remark, so in- extricably associated with the nature of man, and expressed with such an easy grace and clearness, that the passages are applicable to all times. As an observer of contemporary life and delineator of manners, he must always be consulted by those who would gain an idea of society as it existed in " the Augustan age " of English literature,—that is, the reign of Anne and a few years earlier and later. How completely he perished in his own success cannot be told, unless we could revive the putrescent corruption of the po- lite of those days, and the coarseness of other classes whose morals perhaps were not better than the courtiers' though their manners were worse. The politics of Addison did not recommend him to Johnson, but the great critic has borne ample testimony to the merits of the great essayist.
"He not only made the proper use of wit himself, but taught it to others ; and from his time it has been generally subservient to the cause of reason and truth. He has dissipated the prejudice that had long connected gayety with vice, and easiness of manners with laxity of principles. He has re- stored virtue to its dignity, and taught innocence not to be ashamed. This is an elevation of literary character above all Greek, above all Roman fame.' No greater felicity can genius attain than that of having purified intellec- tual pleasure, separated mirth from indecency, and wit from licentiousness ; of having taught a succession of writers to bring elegance and gayety to the aid of goodness, and, if I may use expressions yet more awful, of having turned many to righteousness.'
Addison's great rival bears poetical testimony to the same effect.
" He from the taste obscene reclaims our youth, And sets the passions on the side of truth, Forms the soft bosom with the gentlest art, . And pours each human virtue in the heart."
Nor was it only as a literary and social reformer that Addison is to be celebrated. He may be said to have founded popular pe- riodical literature, as he certainly popularized criticism, stripped learning of its pedantry, and made its results accessible to the world at large. His dialogue on medals might not stand the tests of modern erudition, but we believe it was the first work in which currency was given to the conclusions of the learned by itiliesraces of a polite and, fashionable style. Ile genius of Addison, however, wants fire, strength, and in a certain sense comprehensiveness. His poetry was generally prosaic. Couplets and indeed passages may be found of force or of sustained elegance. Single lines arc often quoted, sometimes perhaps without the borrower knowing the original owner ; but the framework is common, and the execution upon the whole flat. " The Campaign " may not quite be what Wharton called it, a " gazette in rhyme," but the structure is something like a de- spatch. It tells too much of the proceedings of the army without the exactness attainable in prose. " Cato " is a work sui. generis : it is not a tragedy, hardly a play, but it stands at the head of the dramatic literature of the eighteenth century. It stands alone, perhaps, for the half-classical half-pedantic art of its structure, for the cold propriety or dignity of its sentiments, and the easy elevation of its language. The most remarkable passage in the piece, the soliloquy, is an essay.
It was, indeed, as an essayist and a painter of contemporary life and manners that Addison's literary merit chiefly consisted. In his travels, he is continually gliding from the present to the associa- tions of the past—from what is to what the ancient poets wrote about ; so that his account of Italy is on the whole inferior to Burnet's in information, though passages of thought or humour will be met. What would now be called his sketches would. be deemed lifeless, or " slow," to those whose taste is formed by the boldly " graphic) " style of the present day ; though it may be doubted whether our double, double, toil and trouble," impresses the manners more clearly on the mind than the delicate touches of Addison. But the manners have perished. To the mass their depiction reflects no original ; the satire is not apprehended. His moral essays are often as fresh as ever, and likely to retain their freshness. H' ere is a sample of an universal truth, of pretty general application.
" Nothing, that is not a real crime, makes a man appear so contemptible and liftle in the eyes of the world as inconstancy, especially when it regards religion or party. In either of these eases, though a man perhaps does but Ilia duty in changing his side, he not only makes himself hated by those he left, but is seldom heartily esteemed by those he comes over to.
" In these great articles of life, therefore, a man's conviction ought to be very strong, and, if possible, so well timed that worldly advantages may seem to have no share in it, or mankind will be ill-natured enough to think he does not change sides out of principle, but either out of levity of temper or prospects of interest. Converts and renegadoes of all kinds should take particular care to let the world see they act upon honourable motives ; or whatever approbations they may receive from themselves, and applauses from those they converse with, they may be very well assured that they are -the scorn of all good men, and the public marks of infamy and derision. " Irresolution on the schemes of life which offer themselves to our choice, and inconstancy iu pursuing them, are the greatest and most universal causes of all our disquiet and unhappiness. When ambition pulls one way, interest another, inclination a third, and perhaps reason contrary to all, a man is likely to pass his time but who has so many different parties to please. When the mind hovers among such a variety of allurements, one had better settle on a way of life that is not the very best we might have chosen, than grow old without determining our choice, and go out of the world, as the greatest part of mankind do, .before we have resolved how to live in it. There is but one method of setting ourselves at rest in this par- ticular, and that is, by adhering steadfastly to one great end, as the chief and
ultimate aim of all pursuits. If we are firmly resolved to live up to the dictates of reason, without any regard to wealth, reputation, or the like considerations, any more than as they fall in with our principal design, we may go through life with steadiness and pleasure ; but if we act by several broken views, and will not only be virtuous, but wealthy, popular, and everything that has a value set upon it by the world, we shall live and die in misery and repentance. • • • • "There is scarce a state of life, or stage in it, which does not produce changes and revolutions in the mind of man. Our schemes of thought in infancy are lost in those of youth ; these too take a different turn in man- hood, till old age often leads us back into our former infancy. A new title, or an unexpected success, throws us out of ourselves and in a manner de- stroys our identity. A cloudy day, or a little sunshine, have as great an influence on many constitutions as the most real blessings or misfortunes. A dream varies our being, and changes our condition while it lasts ; and every passion, not to mention health and sickness, and the greater altera- tions in body and mind, makes us appear almost different creatures. If a man is so distinguished among other beings by this infirmity, what can we think of such as make themselves remarkable for it even among their own species? It is a very trifling character to be one of the most variable beings of the most variable kind, especially if we consider that He who is the great standard of perfection has in him no shadow of change, but is the same yesterday, today, and for ever. "As this mutability of temper and inconsistency with ourselves is the greatest weakness of human nature, so it makes the person who is remark- able for it, in a very particular manner, more ridiculous than any other in- firmity whatsoever, as it sets him in a greater variety of foolish lights, and distinguishes him from himself by an opposition of parti-coloured charac- ters."
The edition of Addison's works that Mr. Bohn has sent forth is the most complete that has yet appeared. The original intention was to have reprinted Bishop Hurd's edition in four volumes. The work has now extended to six, in consequence of various ad- ditional matter, which Mr. Bohn judiciously included in his plan. The pamphlets touching the unfortunate controversy between Addison and Steele, respecting the proposal to limit the power of the Crown to create Peers, are now reprinted, we believe for the first time. The letters published by Miss Aikin in her Memoir are included, with a great many more, which private as- sistance and diligent inquiry and research have enabled the editor to discover. He has added some pieces attributed to Addison, and a variety of legal or official documents relating to him. The " Addisoniana" of Sir Richard Phillips has been very much en- larged. The new letters are mostly official, and rather tend to disprove Addison's alleged incapacity for business. They are easier instyle than the generality of letters on public matters: but there is no trace of the writer having wasted his time "in quest of fine expressions," as Pope told the story. His more pri- vate letters are curious, as tending to confirm the opinion of his attention to his money, and his insincerity—" so obliging that he ne'er obliged."
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