Of these wits the most distinguished and respectable was Addison, born 1672. He was well educated, and distinguished himself at Oxford, and was a fellow of Magdalen College. His early verses, which would now be pronounced very inferior, however attracted the notice of Dryden, then the great autocrat of letters, and the oracle of the literary clubs. At the age of twenty-seven, Addison was provided with a pension from the Whig government, and set out on his travels. He was afterwards made secretary to Lord Halifax, and elected a member of the House of Commons, but was never able to make a speech. He, however, made up for his failure as an orator by his power as a writer, being a perfect master of elegant satire. He was also charming in private conversation, and his society was much sought by eminent statesmen, scholars, and noblemen. In 1708, he became secretary for Ireland, and, while he resided at Dublin, wrote those delightful papers on which his fame chiefly rests. Not as the author of Rosamond, nor of Latin verses, nor of the treatise on Medals, nor of Letters from Italy, nor of the tragedy of Cato, would he now be known to us. His glory is derived from the Tatler and Spectator--an entirely new species of writing in his age, original, simple, and beautiful, but chiefly marked for polished and elegant satire against the follies and bad taste of his age. Moreover, his numbers of the Spectator are distinguished for elevation of sentiment, and moral purity, without harshness, and without misanthropy. He wrote three sevenths of that immortal production, and on every variety of subject, without any attempt to be eloquent or _intense_, without pedantry and without affectation. The success of the work was immense, and every one who could afford it, had it served on the breakfast table with the tea and toast. It was the general subject of conversation in all polite circles, and did much to improve the taste and reform the morals of the age. There was nothing which he so severely ridiculed as the show of learning without the reality, coxcombry in conversation, extravagance in dress, female flirts and butterflies, gay and fashionable women, and all false modesty and affectation. But he blamed without bitterness, and reformed without exhortation, while he exalted what was simple, and painted in most beautiful colors the virtues of contentment, simplicity, sincerity, and cheerfulness. His latter days were imbittered by party animosity, and the malignant stings of literary rivals. Nor was he happy in his domestic life, having married a proud countess, who did not appreciate his genius. He also became addicted to intemperate habits. Still he was ever honored and respected, and, when he died, was buried in Westminster Abbey. [Sidenote: Swift.]