satisfaction to hear that her majesty has graciously been pleased to peruse the manuscript of this opera, and given it her royal approbation. Poets, who subsist not but on the favour of sovereign princes and of great persons, may have leave to be a little vain, and boast of their patronage who encourage the genius that animates them; and therefore I will again presume to guess that her majesty was not displeased to find in this poem the praises of her native country, and the heroic actions of so famous a predecessor in the government of Great Britain as King Arthur.

All this, my lord, I must confess, looks with a kind of insinuation that I present you with somewhat not unworthy your protection. But I may easily mistake the favour of her majesty for her judgment: I think I cannot be deceived in thus addressing to your lordship, whom I have had the honour to know, at that distance which becomes me, for so many years. It is true that formerly I have shadowed some part of your virtues under another name; but the character, though short and imperfect, was so true, that it broke through the fable, and was discovered by its native light. What I pretend by this Dedication, is an honour which I do myself to posterity, by acquainting them that I have been conversant with the first persons of the age in which I lived, and thereby perpetuate my prose, when my verses may possibly be forgotten, or obscured by the fame of future poets. Which ambition, amongst my other faults and imperfections, be pleased to pardon in, my lord, your lordship's most obedient servant,

JOHN DRYDEN.

JOSEPH ADDISON.

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.

JOSEPH ADDISON, whose name is identified with pure and elegant English writing, was born at Milston, near Amesbury in Wiltshire, in the year 1672. His father, who was Rector of Milston, having been advanced to the Deanery or Lichfield, the family necessarily removed thither; and for some years Addison continued to receive his education in the Grammar School of that city. Thence he was transferred to the Charter-house, and in 1687 commenced residence at Queen's College, Oxford, where he very soon made for himself a distinguished reputation as a writer of Latin poetry. His acquaintance with the Latin poets was very intimate and extensive; but in other respects he never seems to have acquired or deserved the character of a profound scholar. By Congreve he was introduced to Mr. Montague, Chancellor of the Exchequer, who dissuaded him from taking holy orders, and induced him to make literature and politics his calling. At the outset he received a pension of £300, to enable him to travel; and in 1700 he visited France and Italy, remaining abroad about two years, and on his return publishing an elegant but somewhat superficial book of travels. The Whig party, to which he was attached, and to which he looked for patronage, was now out of office; but Addison was recommended by Halifax to Godolphin, the Treasurer, who employed him to write a poem on the Battle of Blenheim, and rewarded him with the post of Commissioner of Appeals, vacant through the death of Locke. Next year he was made Under Secretary of State; and, at a later period, accompanied the notorious Marquis of Wharton to Ireland as his Secretary. The accession of the House of Hanover, in 1713, opened the way to Addison's further advancement. Immediately on the death of the Queen a Provisional Regency was appointed, to which he was made Secretary; and it is in connection with this circumstance that the well known but unfounded story is told of the difficulty he found in drawing up the form of notice to be sent to Hanover announcing the vacancy of the throne-a task which (it is pretended) was done in a common-place, business-like style, by a clerk, while Addison was

weighing his words and selecting and polishing his phrases. In 1716 he married the Countess of Warwick; but the match was an ill-assorted one, and added nothing to his sum of earthly happiness. The highest position to which he ever rose was that of Secretary of State. This position he attained in 1717; but he did not prove very well qualified for the duties annexed to it. He was not a good speaker in Parliament; he was not a good administrator or man of business. He was diffident and reserved; and something of the unpractical character of the mere student and man of letters seems to have counter-balanced his experience and knowledge of mankind. He speedily surrendered office, and was content to accept instead of it a pension of £1,500 a year. The remainder of his life was devoted to literature; but the end was not far off; and in 1719 he expired at Holland House, sending, in his closing hours (as the affecting story is told), for his step-son, the young Earl of Warwick, "to see how a Christian could die."

WORKS.

Addison has a certain position, though not a very elevated one, among English poets. His tragedy of Cato was once famous; it is now very seldom referred to, and still more seldom read. His Campaign has long outlived the admiration once bestowed upon it; and if ever it receives attention, is very soberly and coolly estimated. His versions of certain psalms have established themselves in the popular favour, and are constantly sung by Christian congregations.

But it is to his prose that our author owes his literary immortality. And of all his prose writings, those on which his fame chiefly rests are his contributions to the Spectator. This, which was one of the earliest serials devoted to the improvement of the public taste and to the correction of popular follies ever published in this country, had its origin as follows:-In 1709, Steele, without any previous communication with his friend Addison, commenced the issue of a paper called the Tatler, which appeared thrice a week, and to which Addison, who soon discovered the secret, contributed a few numbers. This, however, seems to have suggested to Addison the design of the Spectator, which he undertook, with the assistance of Steele and other friends, and the first number of which made its appearance on the 1st of March 1710.

It was published every morning, on a single sheet, and very soon attracted much attention, and won for itself extensive popularity. The manners of the age were skilfully portrayed; the frivolities and extravagancies of fashion were lightly exposed and wittily censured. Points of etiquette were discussed, and questions of propriety and politeness were considered and adjusted. Essays of a higher aim and a more serious character were from time to time introduced; the subject-matter was diversified with allegories, narratives, descriptive pieces, and historical allusions; and articles of literary criticism, written, if not with

much depth, yet with judgment and elegance, did a good deal towards diffusing a more cultivated taste and awakening a love for letters.

The various essays in the Spectator are held together by a kind of plot; to which, however, no great prominence is given in the general conduct of the work. The author of No. 1 began by professing that the papers to be published from day to day would emanate from a Club, of which he was the founder and chief member. The first number contained a fancy sketch of himself, which was followed by descriptions, from the pen of Steele, of the several members of the Club. The most perfect and finished of these is the character of Sir Roger de Coverley, whose virtues and eccentricities are so admirably portrayed, that the old Worcestershire knight is as familiar to the reader as a living acquaintance. This character, the outline of which was probably drawn by Steele, was filled in and coloured by Addison, who wrote nearly half the papers which the Spectator contains, and to whose wit, elegance, tenderness, and knowledge of human nature, almost all the excellence and standard character of the work are due.

The style of Addison has long been referred to as the model of easy, graceful, idiomatic English. 'Whoever," says Dr. Johnson, "wishes to attain an English style, familiar but not coarse, and elegant but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to the volumes of Addison." Lord Macaulay is equally emphatic in his commendation. "Never," he says, "not even by Dryden, not even by Temple, had the English language been written with such sweetness, grace, and facility." About the ease, elegance, and smoothness of Addison's style there can certainly be no question. Sometimes, however, it must be felt that there is in it a want of force. With all its merits, it is a little too light and feminine for the gravest and loftiest subjects. Moreover, it is occasionally disfigured by grammatical inaccuracies, and by want of precision, both in the choice and arrangement of the words. Sometimes, too, there are turns of expression which to modern ears sound harsh or unfamiliar, and which indicate that considerable change of idiom has, in the lapse of a century and a half, taken place in our language.

EXTRACTS.

FROM "THE SPECTATOR."

No. 26.-MEDITATIONS IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.

When I am in a serious humour, I very often walk by myself in Westminster Abbey; where the gloominess of the place, and the use to which it is applied, with the solemnity of the building, and the condition of the people who lie in it, are apt to fill the mind with a kind of melancholy, or rather thoughtfulness, that is not disagreeable. I yesterday passed a whole afternoon in the church-yard, the cloisters,

and the church, amusing myself with the tombstones and inscriptions that I met with in those several regions of the dead. Most of them recorded nothing else of the buried person, but that he was born upon one day, and died upon another; the whole history of his life being comprehended in those two circumstances that are common to all mankind. I could not but look upon these registers of existence, whether of brass or marble, as a kind of satire upon the departed persons; who had left no other memorial of them, but that they were born, and that they died. They put me in mind of several persons mentioned in battles of heroic poems, who have sounding names given them, for no other reason but that they may be killed, and are celebrated for nothing but being knocked on the head,

The life of these men is finely described in Holy Writ by "the path of an arrow," which is immediately closed up and lost.

Upon my going into the church, I 'entertained myself with the digging of a grave; and saw in every shovelful of it that was thrown up, the fragment of a bone or skull intermixed with a kind of fresh mouldering earth, that some time or other had a place in the composition of an human body. Upon this I began to consider with myself, what innumerable multitudes of people lay confused together under the pavement of that ancient cathedral; how men and women, friends and enemies, priests and soldiers, monks and prebendaries, were crumbled amongst one another, and blended together in the same common mass; how beauty, strength, and youth, with old age, weakness, and deformity, lay undistinguished in the same promiscuous heap of matter.

After having thus surveyed this great magazine of mortality as it were in the lump, I examined it more particularly by the accounts which I found on several of the monuments which are raised in every quarter of that ancient fabric. Some of them were covered with such extravagant epitaphs, that if it were possible for the dead