Lives of the Poets | Page 7

track of life, by the perpetual
pressure of some overwhelming idea, as of habitual rusticity, and that
negligence which solitary grandeur naturally generates. The variable
weather of the mind, the flying vapours of incipient madness, which
from time to time cloud reason without eclipsing it, it requires so much
nicety to exhibit that Addison seems to have been deterred from
prosecuting his own design.
To Sir Roger (who, as a country gentleman, appears to be a Tory, or, as
it is gently expressed, an adherent to the landed interest) is opposed Sir
Andrew Freeport, a new man, a wealthy merchant, zealous for the
moneyed interest, and a Whig. Of this contrariety of opinions, it is
probable more consequences were at first intended than could be
produced when the resolution was taken to exclude party from the
paper. Sir Andrew does but little, and that little seems not to have
pleased Addison, who, when he dismissed him from the club, changed
his opinions. Steele had made him, in the true spirit of unfeeling
commerce, declare that he "would not build an hospital for idle
people;" but at last he buys land, settles in the country, and builds, not a
manufactory, but an hospital for twelve old husbandmen--for men with
whom a merchant has little
acquaintance, and whom he commonly
considers with little kindness.

Of essays thus elegant, thus instructive, and thus commodiously
distributed, it is natural to suppose the approbation general, and the sale
numerous. I once heard it observed that the sale may be calculated by
the product of the tax, related in the last number to produce more than
twenty pounds a week, and therefore stated at oneand -twenty pounds,
or three pounds ten shillings a day: this, at a halfpenny a paper, will
give sixteen hundred and eighty for the daily number. This sale is not
great; yet this, if Swift be credited, was likely to grow less; for he
declares that the Spectator, whom he ridicules for his endless mention
of the FAIR sex, had before his recess wearied his readers.
The next year (1713), in which Cato came upon the stage, was the
grand climacteric of Addison's reputation. Upon the death of Cato he
had, as is said, planned a tragedy in the time of his travels, and had for
several years the four first acts finished, which were shown to such as
were likely to spread their admiration. They were seen by Pope and by
Cibber, who relates that Steele, when he took back the copy, told him,
in the despicable cant of literary modesty, that, whatever spirit his
friend had shown in the composition, he doubted whether he would
have courage sufficient to expose it to the censure of a British audience.
The time, however, was now come when those who affected to think
liberty in danger affected likewise to think that a stage-play might
preserve it; and Addison was
importuned, in the name of the tutelary
deities of Britain, to show his courage and his zeal by finishing his
design.
To resume his work he seemed perversely and unaccountably unwilling;
and by a request, which perhaps he wished to be denied, desired Mr.
Hughes to add a fifth act. Hughes supposed him serious; and,
undertaking the supplement, brought in a few days some scenes for his
examination; but he had in the meantime gone to work himself, and
produced half an act, which he afterwards completed, but with brevity
irregularly disproportionate to the foregoing parts, like a task
performed with reluctance and hurried to its conclusion.
It may yet be doubted whether Cato was made public by any change of
the author's purpose; for Dennis charged him with raising prejudices in

his own favour by false positions of preparatory criticism, and with
POISONING THE TOWN by contradicting in the Spectator the
established rule of poetical justice, because his own hero, with all his
virtues, was to fall before a tyrant. The fact is certain; the motives we
must guess.
Addison was, I believe, sufficiently disposed to bar all avenues against
all danger. When Pope brought him the prologue, which is properly
accommodated to the play, there were these words,
"Britains, arise!
be worth like this approved;" meaning nothing more than--Britons,
erect and exalt yourselves to the approbation of public virtue. Addison
was frighted, lest he should be thought a promoter of insurrection, and
the line was liquidated to "Britains, attend."
Now "heavily in clouds came on the day, the great, the important day,"
when Addison was to stand the hazard of the theatre. That there might,
however, be left as little hazard as was possible, on the first night
Steele, as himself relates, undertook to pack an audience. "This," says
Pope, "had been tried for the first time in favour of the Distressed
Mother; and was now, with