The habit of attentive, sympathetic listening came to Addison early in life. From his twenty-first to his twenty-seventh year he lived a studious life—idle, his father called it—writing essays, political pamphlets and Latin verse. His political friends took care that some of the output was purchased, so that he was assured a comfortable living; but his success was not sufficient to inflate his cosmos with an undue amount of ego.
One small book of criticism which he produced about this time was entitled, "Account of the English Poets." A significant feature of the work is that Shakespeare is not mentioned, even once, while Dryden is placed as the standard of excellence, just as in "Modern Painters," Ruskin takes Turner and lets him stand for one hundred, and all other artists grade down from this.
Addison merely reflected the taste of his time. Shakespeare was not thought any more of two hundred years ago than we think of him now, with this difference—that he is the author we now talk about and seldom read, but then they did not discuss him any more than we now go to see him played.
An interesting character by the name of Jacob Tonson appears upon the scene, as a friend of Addison in his early days. Tonson enjoyed the distinction of being the father of the modern publishing business—the first man to bring out the works of authors at his own risk and then sell the product to bookstores. I believe it is Mr. Le Gallienne who has been so unkind as to speak of "Barabbas Tonson." Among Tonson's many good strokes was his act in buying the copyright of "Paradise Lost" from Simmons, the bookseller, who had purchased all rights in the manuscript from the bereaved widow on a payment of eight pounds.
Tonson appreciated good things in a literary way. He was on friendly terms with all the principal writers, and did much in bringing some shy writers to the front. Addison and Tonson laid great plans, few of which materialized, and some were carried out by other people—notably the compilation of an English Dictionary. In Sixteen Hundred Ninety-nine we find Addison, in possession of a pension of three hundred pounds a year, crossing the Channel into France with the object "to travel and qualify himself to serve His Majesty."
The diplomatic language of the world was French. With intent to learn the language, Addison made his home with a modest French family; and a better way of acquiring a language than this has never been devised. A young friend of mine, however, recently returned from Europe, tells me that the ideal plan is to make love to a vivacious French girl who can not speak English. Of the excellence of this plan I know nothing—it may be a mere barren ideality.
A little over a year in France and we are told that "Addison spoke the language like a native "—a glib expression, still able-bodied, that means little or much. From France Addison followed down into Italy, and spent a year there, residing in various small towns with the same object in view that took him to France.
And one of his admirers relates that "he learned to speak Italian perfectly, his pronunciation being marred only by a slight French accent." Addison's three years of foreign travel, and the friendly society of the highest and best wherever he journeyed, had caused him to blossom out into a most exceptional man. Nature had done much for him, but her best gift was the hospitable mind. Travel to many young men is the opportunity to indulge in a line of conduct not possible at home. But Addison, ripening slowly, appreciated the fact that the Puritan has a deal of truth on his side. There is a manly abstinence that is most becoming, and to moderate one's desires and partake of the good things of earth sparingly is the best way to garner their benefit. No doubt, too, Addison's modesty and tendency to shyness saved him from many a danger. "Bashfulness is the tough husk in which genius ripens," says Emerson.
Thus do we find our man at thirty, strong, manly, gifted, handsome, chivalrous, proud, yet tender, sympathetic, knowing—ready to serve his country in whatsoever capacity he could serve it best. When lo! the death of the King cut off his pension, a new party came in, his influential friends were thrown out of power, and Addison's prospects wilted in a single night.