Addison Part 3

"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."

Circ.u.mstances 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 d.u.c.h.ess 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.

G.o.dolphin, 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 "Maecenas 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 G.o.dolphin 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 a.s.sured Halifax that any person whom he might name as equal to the required task, should have no cause to repent of having rendered his a.s.sistance; whereupon Halifax mentioned Addison, but stipulated that all advances to the latter must come from G.o.dolphin himself. Accordingly, Boyle, Chancellor of the Exchequer, afterwards Lord Carleton, was despatched on the emba.s.sy, 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 Commissioners.h.i.+p 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 rehea.r.s.e 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; G.o.ds 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 s.h.i.+ne 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 G.o.dolphin 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 cla.s.sical 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 inst.i.tutions:

"Thrice happy Britain, from the kingdoms rent To sit the guardian of the Continent!

That sees her bravest sons advanced so high And flouris.h.i.+ng 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 friends.h.i.+p'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 friends.h.i.+p burn, A sudden friends.h.i.+p, 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 friends.h.i.+p joined Heaven dares entrust the cause of human kind."

The celebrated pa.s.sage 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 n.o.ble; 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 n.o.blest 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 G.o.dolphin, was promoted from the Commissioners.h.i.+p 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 const.i.tuted affording a remarkable ill.u.s.tration 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 establis.h.i.+ng 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 pa.s.sages 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 languis.h.i.+ng 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_ a.s.signs 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 d.u.c.h.ess; 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 pa.s.sion Is come into fas.h.i.+on, And marriage so blest on the throne is, Like a Venus I'll s.h.i.+ne, 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.