Chapter VIII: Part 8

Joseph Addison, the second of the six children of Dr. Launcelot Addison and Jane Gulstone, was born May 1, 1672, at Milston in Wiltshire. The feebleness of his infancy seems to have impaired his spirit as a boy; for, in the General Dictionary, Dr. Birch relates, that when at school in the country, he was so afraid of punishment as to have absconded, lodging in a hollow tree in the fields, till a hue and cry restored him to his parents. At the Charter-House was formed that friendship between him and Sir Richard Steele, which led to their close alliance in a new kind of literary undertaking. Addison could not but feel his own superiority; and Spence intimates, that the one was too fond of displaying, and the other too servile in acknowledging it. Steele occasionally availed himself not only of his friend’s pen, but of his purse. Johnson has given currency to the story, that Addison enforced the repayment of 100_l._ by an execution, and the fact is said to have been related by Steele himself, with tears in his eyes. Hooke, the Roman historian, professed to have received it from Pope. The biographer sarcastically remarks, that the borrower probably had not much purpose of repayment; but the lender, who “seems to have had other notions of 100_l._, grew impatient of delay.” Now no date is assigned to this anecdote; and Addison’s finances were so low during the greater part of his life, that he might have suffered greatly by the disappointment; nor does it detract from the character of a man in narrow circumstances, that he entertains serious notions of 100_l._

In 1687 Addison was entered at Queen’s College, Oxford, where he took the degree of M.A., February 14, 1693. One of his early poetical attempts was ‘An Account of the greatest English Poets, inscribed to H. S.;’ initials which have been currently assigned to Dr. Henry Sacheverell, who is indebted, for no enviable place in history, to his trial and its consequences. But a college friend of Addison has left it on record, that the initials were the property of a gentleman bearing the same name, who died young, after having shown some promise in writing a history of the Isle of Man, and who bequeathed his papers to Addison, containing, among other things, the plan of a tragedy 011 the death of Socrates, which the legatee had some thoughts of working up himself. In this poem the writer tells his friend that Spenser can no longer charm an understanding age. Now the judgment of the present age disclaims this confident decision; nor would it be worth recording, but for Spence’s assertion, that the critic had never read the ‘Faery Queene,’ when he drew its character. In after life he spoke of his own poem as a “poor thing;” but his general level as a versifier was not high. The ‘Campaign’ is his masterpiece in rhyme.

He was indebted to Congreve for his introduction to Montague, then Chancellor of the Exchequer. Johnson says, that “he was then learning the trade of a courtier, and subjoined Montague as a poetical name to those of Cowley and of Dryden.” In 1695 he wrote a poem to King William, with an introduction addressed to Lord Somers, who is said by Tickell to have sent a message to the author to desire his acquaintance.

In 1699, he obtained an annual pension of 300_l._ to enable him to travel. He passed the first year in preparation at Blois, and then departed for Italy. That he was duly qualified to appreciate the attractions of “classic ground,”—his own phrase, sneered at for affectation by contemporary critics, but since sanctioned by general adoption,—appears by his ‘Travels,’ and by the letter from Italy to Lord Halifax. His ‘Dialogues on Medals’ were composed at this time. On the death of King William, in March, 1702, he became distressed for money by the stoppage of his pension. This compelled him to become tutor to a travelling squire. The engagement seems to have been for one year only, for he was at Rotterdam in June, 1703. In the ‘Gentleman’s Magazine’ for November, 1835, may be found three very curious, because characteristic, letters, from the Duke of Somerset, surnamed by his contemporaries the Proud, to old Jacob Tonson, forwarding a proposal to Addison to undertake the office of tutor to his son, then going abroad. We transcribe a passage from the second letter, as a sample of the proud Duke’s liberality. “I desire he may be more on the account of a companion in my son’s travels, than as a governor, and as such shall account him; my meaning is that neither lodging, travelling, nor diet, shall cost him sixpence, and over and above that, my son shall present him at the year’s end with a hundred guineas, as long as he is pleased to continue in that service to my son, by taking great care of him, by his personal attendance and advice, in what he finds necessary during his time of travelling.” It appears from the Duke’s quotation of the answer, in the third letter to Tonson, that Addison had “other notions” of this offer than the proposer entertained. “I will set down his own words, which are these:—‘As for the recompense that is proposed to me, I must confess I can by no means see my account in it,’ &c.” A hundred guineas and maintenance was, even in those days, a mean appointment from a Duke to a gentleman.

Addison returned to England at the latter end of 1703. In 1704, at the request of Lord Godolphin, to whom he was introduced by the Earl of Halifax, he undertook to celebrate the victory of Blenheim, and composed the first portion of his poem called the ‘Campaign.’ This proved his introduction into office. After filling some inferior appointments, he became, in 1706, Under-Secretary of State. About the same time, he wrote the comic opera of ‘Rosamond,’ which was neglected by the public, has been overpraised by Johnson, and is now deservedly forgotten.

Thomas Earl of Wharton was appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, December 4, 1708, and proceeded to his destination April 10, 1709, accompanied by Addison as his Secretary. Addison therefore left London two days before the commencement of the ‘Tatler,’ the first number of which came out April 12; and his own first contribution appeared May 26. His last was No. 267, and the work ended with No. 271, January 2, 1710–11. In No. 93 is an article on a ‘Letter from Switzerland, with Remarks on Travelling,’ and a sly hint that ‘Fools ought not to be exported,’ in Addison’s happiest style of playful satire. The praise of original design clearly belongs to the projector of the ‘Tatler.’ Tickell however was justified in saying, that Addison’s aid “did not a little contribute to advance its reputation;” and Steele candidly allows, that his coadjutor not only assisted but improved his original scheme. In his dedication of the comedy of the ‘Drummer,’ he says, “It was advanced indeed, for it was raised to a greater thing than I intended it; for the elegance, purity, and correctness, which appeared in his writings, were not so much to my purpose, as in any intelligible manner I could, to rally all those singularities of human life, through the different professions and characters in it, which obstruct any thing that was truly good and great.”

The first No. of the ‘Spectator’ appeared March 1, 1710–11, and the paper was discontinued December 6, 1712; No. 555 concluded the seventh volume, as first collected by the publishers. The work was resumed June 18, 1714, with No. 556, and the eighth volume closed with No. 635. Of the first forty-five papers of the revived ‘Spectator,’ Addison wrote twenty-three; more than half: he did not contribute to the last thirty-five. Notwithstanding the avowed purpose of exclusively treating general topics, Steele’s Whiggism once burst its bounds, by reprinting in the ‘Spectator’ a preface of Dr. Fleetwood to some sermons, for the purpose of attracting the Queen’s notice to it. Had the Number been published at the usual hour, the household might have devised means for its suppression, with some plausible excuse for its absence from the royal breakfast table; but the non-issue until twelve o’clock, the time fixed for that meal, left no opening for cabal, and her Majesty’s subjects were, for her sake, deprived of their morning’s speculation till that hour. In No. 10 Addison states the daily sale at three thousand: Johnson makes it sixteen hundred and eighty; apparently far below the real number. The latter number is given on calculation from the product of the tax; the assertion of the publisher was Addison’s authority; and he might, in the commencement of the work, have indulged in the puff oblique. No. 14, composed of Letters from the Lion—from an Under-Sexton—on the Masquerade—and Puppet Show, is selected by the annotators, as “meriting the attention of such as pretend to distinguish with wonderful facility between Addison’s and Steele’s papers.” It is wholly Steele’s. The ‘Guardian’ was published in the interval, between the ‘Spectator’s’ being laid down and taken up again. The first Number came out March 12, 1713; the last, October 1, 1713. Inattention to marks has sometimes subjected Addison to undeserved censure. Dr. Blair vindicates Tasso’s description of Sylvia against the ‘Guardian;’ but by a double inadvertence, he quotes No. 38 for a passage contained in 28, and ascribes to Addison what was written by Steele. The ‘Whig Examiner,’ and the ‘Freeholder,’ both exclusively Addison’s, have been enabled by their wit to survive the usual fate of party-writings. The former is so much more pungent than usual with the author, and excited so much alarm and jealousy in Swift, that he triumphantly remarks, “it is now down among the dead men;” part of the burthen of a popular Tory song. The humour of the latter, Steele thought too gentle for such blustering times; and is reported to have said, that the ministry made use of a lute, when they should have called for a trumpet.

On the demise of the other papers, Hughes formed a project of a society of learned men of various characters, who were to meet and carry on a conversation on all subjects, empowering their secretary to draw up any of their discourses, or publish any of their writings, under the title of Register. Addison, in answer, applauds the specimen, and approves the title; but adds, “To tell you truly, I have been so taken up with thoughts of that nature, for these two or three years last past, that I must now take some time _pour me délasser_, and lay in fuel for a future work. I am in a thousand troubles for poor Dick, and wish that his zeal for the public may not be ruinous to himself; but he has sent me word, that he is determined to go on, and that any advice I can give him, in this particular, will have no weight with him.”

Tickell says respecting Cato, “He took up a design of writing a play upon this subject, when he was very young at the university, and even attempted something in it there, though not a line as it now stands. The work was performed by him in his travels, and retouched in England, without any formal design of bringing it on the stage, till his friends of the first quality and distinction prevailed with him to put the last finishing to it, at a time when they thought the doctrine of liberty very seasonable.” Cibber says, that in 1704 he had the pleasure of reading the first four acts privately with Steele, who told him they were written in Italy. Oldmixon in his ‘Art of Criticism,’ 1728, talks about Addison’s reluctance to resume the work, and his request to Hughes to write the fifth act. According to Pope, the first packed audience was made to support the ‘Distressed Mother;’ the scheme was tried again for Cato with triumphant effect. The love-scenes are the weakest in the play, and are by some supposed to have been foisted on the original plan, to humour the false taste of the modern stage. When the tragedy was shown to Pope, he advised the author to print it, without committing it to the theatre, as thinking it better suited to the closet than representation.

When Lord Sunderland was sent as lord lieutenant to Ireland in 1714, Addison was appointed his secretary. This, as well as another step in his promotion, has been omitted by Johnson. In 1715 he was made a lord of trade. In 1716 he married the Countess Dowager of Warwick, to whom he had long paid his addresses. Johnson pleasantly suggests, that his behaviour might be not very unlike that of Sir Roger to his disdainful widow, and supposes that the lady might amuse herself by playing with his passion. Spence dates his first acquaintance with her from his appointment as tutor to the young earl; but as neither the time of that appointment is known, nor the footing on which he stood with the family, the first steps in this affair are left in obscurity. The result is better known. Mr. Tyers, in an unpublished essay on ‘Addison’s Life and Writings,’ says, “Holland House is a large mansion, but could not contain Mr. Addison, the Countess of Warwick, and one guest, peace.” He became possessed of this house by his marriage, and died in it. His last and great promotion was to the dignity of Secretary of State in 1717; but he was unfit for it, and gained no new laurels by it. He carried so much of the author into the office of the statesman, that he could not issue an order of mere routine without losing his time in hunting after unnecessary niceties of language. During his last illness he sent for Gay, and with a confession of having injured him, promised him a recompense if he recovered. He did not specify the nature of the injury; nor could Gay, either then or subsequently, guess at his meaning. Dr. Young furnished the received account of his interview with Lord Warwick on his death-bed; but there appears to be no ground for Johnson’s imputation on the young man’s morals or principles, or for supposing that it was a last effort on Addison’s part to reclaim him. Young mentions his lordship as a youth finely accomplished, without a hint of looseness either in opinions or conduct. Addison died June 17, 1719: his only child, a daughter, died at Bilton, in Warwickshire, at an advanced age, in 1797. Not many days before his death he commissioned Mr. Tickell to collect his writings; a gentleman of whom Swift said that Addison was a whig, but Tickell, _whigissimus_.

To ascertain the claim of short periodical papers to originality of design, we must look to the state of newspapers at an earlier date. As vehicles of information they are often mentioned in plays in the time of James and Charles the First. Carew, in his ‘Survey of Cornwall,’ first published in 1602, quotes ‘Mercurius Gallo-Belgicus.’ Till the beginning of the eighteenth century, the periodical press had been exclusively political; no class of writers but divines and theoretical reasoners had administered to the moral wants of society: certain gentlemen, therefore, of liberal education, and men of the world, combined to furnish practical instruction in an amusing form, by fictions running parallel with the political newspaper. Addison announces the design “to bring philosophy out of closets and libraries, schools and colleges, to dwell in clubs and assemblies, at tea-tables and in coffee-houses.” In the character of his fictitious friend the clergyman, he speaks of “the great use this paper might be of to the public, by reprehending those vices which are too trivial for the chastisement of the law, and too fantastical for the cognizance of the pulpit.” Another object was to allay party-violence by promoting literary taste; in Steele’s figurative language, to substitute the lute for the trumpet. On this subject Addison says, “I am amazed that the press should be only made use of in this way by news-writers, and the zealots of parties; as if it were not more advantageous to mankind to be instructed in wisdom and virtue than in politics, and to be made good fathers, husbands, and sons, than counsellors and statesmen.”

Dr. Beattie, who published an edition of Addison’s works in 1790, with a Life prefixed, says that he was once informed, but had forgotten on what authority, that Addison had collected three manuscript volumes of materials. He might have found this in Tickell’s Life. “It would have been impossible for Mr. Addison, who made little or no use of letters sent in by the numerous correspondents of the Spectator, to have executed his large share of this task in so exquisite a manner, if he had not ingrafted into it many pieces that had lain by him in little hints and minutes, which he from time to time collected, and ranged in order, and moulded into the form in which they now appear. Such are the essays upon wit, the pleasures of the imagination, the critique upon Milton, and some others.”

The original delineation of Sir Roger de Coverley, for the management and keeping of which character Addison has been highly extolled, must unquestionably be ascribed to Steele. He drew the outlines; Addison principally worked up the portrait. Johnson not only takes a false view of the character, but in contradiction to every judgment but his own, represents the author as sinking under the weight of it. “The irregularities in Sir Roger’s conduct seem not so much the effects of a mind deviating from the beaten track of life, by the 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.” This seems to be a mistake from beginning to end. Addison had no more design to impute incipient madness to Sir Roger, than to his contrast, Sir Andrew Freeport. Habitual rusticity is not the prevailing feature in a man who visited the metropolis every season: a main beauty of the picture is, that Sir Roger is always a gentleman, although an odd one. Hear Lord Orford on the subject. “Natural humour was the primary talent of Addison. His character of Sir Roger de Coverley, though inferior, is only inferior to Shakspeare’s Falstaff.” But however prejudiced or mistaken Johnson might be in this particular instance, when he deals in generalities, he traces the peculiar merits of Addison’s manner with the touch of a master. “He copies with so much fidelity, that he can be hardly said to invent; yet his exhibitions have an air so much original, that it is difficult to suppose them not merely the product of imagination.”

An attempt has been made to compare the humour of Addison with that of Molière, of whom Lord Chesterfield said that no man ever had so much. But a parallel between an essayist and a dramatic writer will not run straight; the construction of the drama gives so much greater latitude to the display of humour, and allows of so much nearer an approach to extravagance, that there can be no drawn game between them, and the essayist will almost always be the loser.

As a critic, Addison’s merit is impartially and ably set forth in the notes to his Life in Dr. Kippis’s edition of the ‘Biographia Britannica.’ On that subject Johnson is just and liberal. “Addison is now despised by some who perhaps would never have seen his defects, but by the lights which he afforded them.” By some of these arrogant despisers he has been blamed for deciding by taste rather than by principles. To this Dr. Warton, who thought him superior to Dryden as a critic, briefly answers, taste must decide. Addison’s style has been universally admired and thought a model. Lord Orford says of Addison, Swift, Bolingbroke, and Dr. Middleton, “Such authors fix a standard by their writings.” Johnson says he did not wish to be energetic; Dr. Warton affirms that he is so, and that often. Steele describes his habits of composition. “This was particular in this writer, that, when he had taken his resolution, or made his plan for what he designed to write, he would walk about a room, and dictate it into language with as much freedom and ease as any one could write it down, and attend to the coherence and grammar of what he dictated.” Pope says that he wrote with fluency; but if he had time to correct, did it slowly and cautiously; but that many of the ‘Spectators’ were written rapidly, and sent to the press in the instant; and he doubts whether much leisure for revisal would have led to improvement. “He would alter any thing to please his friends, before publication, but would not retouch his pieces afterwards; and I believe not one word in Cato, to which I made an objection, was suffered to stand.” The last line of Cato was Pope’s; a substitute for the original.

We have neither room nor willingness to enter on the jealousy between these two eminent persons. Bowles vindicates Addison’s conduct, and relates the following fact to the credit of his disposition:—“Though attacked by Dennis as a critic, he never mentioned his name with asperity, and refused to give the least countenance to a pamphlet which Pope had written upon the occasion of Dennis’s stricture on Cato.” The piece here alluded to is the ‘Narrative of the Madness of John Dennis.’ Pope strangely imputed Addison’s pious compositions to the selfish motive of an intention to take orders and obtain a bishopric on quitting administration. Johnson cites this as the only proof that Pope retained some malignity from their ancient rivalship: with this opinion we cannot quite agree.

Addison’s defect of animal spirits condemned him to silence in general company; but his conversation, when set afloat by wine and the presence of confidential friends, was brilliant and delightful. Steele represents him as “having all the wit and nature of Terence and Catullus, heightened with humour more exquisite than any other man ever possessed.” This high flight is borne out by Pope’s less suspicious testimony. “Addison’s conversation had something in it more charming than I have found in any other man.” Tonson and Spence represent him as demanding to be the first name in modern wit; and with Steele as his echo, depreciating Dryden, whom Pope and Congreve defended against them. We close our account with the following summary of his character from Hutchinson’s ‘History of Cumberland’:—“Addison was modest and mild, a scholar, a gentleman, a poet, and a Christian.”

BRAMANTE.

The name of Bramante derives a marked distinction from its intimate connexion with the history of the famous church of St. Peter at Rome, and is further interesting in its association with the names of Michael Angelo, of Raphael, and of the pontiff Julius II. Bramante is justly noted among the _cinquecento_ architects, as a powerful co-operator in the great work of restoring, under certain modifications, the style of ancient Rome. The leader of this reformation is universally acknowledged to have been Brunelleschi; while Palladio is honoured as having effected its final and permanent establishment. Brunelleschi had evinced his daring and his taste in projecting the vast dome of Florence cathedral, the character of which, however, exhibited only a slight advance towards the regular architecture of antiquity; and it remained for a successor to emulate at once the majestic elevation of the Florentine cupola, and the more classic beauty of the Roman Pantheon.

Brunelleschi died in 1444, a circumstance which we mention as giving additional interest to the fact, that, in 1444, Bramante was born. The family of the latter, his birth-place, and even his name, are matters of some obscurity; but there is reason to believe that his parentage was humble, and that he was born in the territory of Urbino. Whether at Urbino the capital of the Duchy, or at Castel Durante, at Fermignano, or at Monte Asdrubale, there are no means of deciding, unless we admit as evidence in favour of the latter place an existing medal in the Museo Mazzachelliano, whereon are inscribed the words “Bramantes Asdruvaldinus.” He is variously called Bramante Lazzari, Lazzaro Bramante, and is spoken of as “Donato di Urbino, cognominato Bramante.”

_Engraved by J. Posselwhite._

BRAMANTE.

_From a Portrait by Alessandro D’Este in the Collection of the
Capitol, at Rome._

Under the Superintendence of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
Knowledge

_London, Published by Charles Knight, Ludgate Street._
]

He seems to have evinced, at an early age, a general feeling for poetry and art; and is said to have first studied painting assisted by the works of Fra. Bartolomeo Corradini. During a sojourn at Milan he obtained the friendship of the poet Gaspero Visconti, and in the capacity of a sonneteer and improvisatore exhibited an unusual facility of composition. Of his abilities as a painter in distemper and fresco, examples are to be seen in that city, and at other places in the Milanese territory. On his subsequent removal to Rome, he was employed to execute some paintings (which no longer exist) in the church of S. Giovanni Laterano.

Architecture, however, soon claimed Bramante as more particularly her own, and he manifested a zealous ardour in the study of classic examples. It does not appear that he published any volumes on the subject, but we are credibly informed that he industriously measured the ancient remains of Rome, and of Adrian’s villa at Tivoli.

The Cardinal Caraffa was among the first to form an estimate of his merits, and commissioned him to rebuild the cloisters of the Monastery della Pace at Rome. He also superintended the execution of the Trastevere Fountain for Pope Alexander VI., and erected great part of the palace della Cancellaria. The church of S. Lorenzo in Damaso, and the circular chapel in the cloister of S. Pietro in Montorio (where St. Peter is said to have been crucified) are also of Bramante’s architecture; nor should we omit to mention him as the designer of the palace in the Piazza di Scossacavalli, which for some time belonged to the English crown, and was presented by Henry VIII. to the Campeggi. Bramante’s designs for other palaces and churches were numerous. Several buildings in Milan are attributed to him, as well as an imperial palace for the Duke of Urbino (never finished), and the church dell’ Incoronata at Lodi.

The established fame of Bramante now recommended him to Pope Julius II., who had formed the idea of uniting the old Vatican palace with the Belvedere by means of a magnificent court, an engraving of which, as it was first executed by Bramante, is to be seen in the public library erected by the Corsini princes. The division of the court by the Vatican library, subsequently erected by Sixtus V., and other additions and alterations, have utterly destroyed the effect of Bramante’s design, though the principal architectural features still remain. Among these, in a lofty central pile of building, is a vast semicircular headed niche, the archivolt of which springs from the cornices of two lofty wing compartments, appearing, it must be confessed, more like the section of an interior, than an external elevation. It is as if the opposite walls in the length of a cathedral choir were taken away, the grand altar recess being alone suffered to remain; and it may be regarded as a very curious instance of a passion for the spherical vault, which thus prompted Bramante to turn it, as it were, inside out; and to take from the cellæ of the temples of Peace, and of Venus and Rome, the idea of the garden alcove.

Bramante was now high in favour with Julius II.; and, having invented an ingenious machine for stamping the leaden seals attached to the papal bulls, was rewarded with the office “_del Piombo_.” He attended the Pope to Bologna, when that city was united to the states pontifical in 1504, and served his Holiness in the capacity of military engineer.

Our account of Bramante now resolves itself into the history of St. Peter’s church, the antecedent progress of which may be thus briefly stated:—

St. Peter being buried within the site of Nero’s Circus, Constantine erected (A.D. 324) a magnificent church over the apostle’s remains. During the lapse of eleven centuries, it fell into decay, and in the pontificate of Nicholas V. (1450) a new building was commenced from designs by Alberti. On the death of Nicholas, the works were discontinued till Paul II. caused them again to proceed: but it must be understood that the structure then in course of erection was in a great measure mixed up with Constantine’s church, many remaining parts of which were to be incorporated in the new building.

The ascent of Julius II. to the papal throne was at that period, when the revived taste for classical architecture suddenly pervaded Italy, and left him assured of general support in his boldly formed resolution of demolishing the old building with all its subsequent amendments, and of erecting an entirely new structure, that should stand paramount in the modern world for vastness and splendour. It has been said, that the idea of the new church originated in a suggestion by San Gallo, that the gorgeous sepulchral monument which Julius, in honour of himself, had commissioned Michael Angelo to execute, should be placed in a church of corresponding grandeur, purposely built to receive it. Be this as it may, the new St. Peter’s was resolved on: designs were sent in by various architects, and several were submitted by Bramante, who proved, as might be expected, the successful competitor. His ideas were as colossal as the ambition of his patron:—“I will raise,” said the architect, “the Pantheon on the Temple of Peace!”

Bramante’s plan was a Latin cross. The area of intersection was to be surrounded with massive piers, having columns between as in the Pantheon; and the noble dome of the latter edifice, in the august novelty of its exalted position, was to be freely imitated. A medal struck in honour of Bramante shows the façade of his design, having two _campaniles_, or towers, flanking a central compartment. In examining the practicability of his plans, he failed not to inspect the quarries of Tivoli, and was confirmed by the discovery that they would yield him blocks of nine feet in diameter. Into the pecuniary means of construction he did not however so closely examine. The contributions of a world would have been necessary to the full realization of his plans, which were considerably reduced by succeeding architects.

The first stone of the new edifice was laid on the 18th of April, 1506; and the works proceeded with a rapidity more pleasing perhaps to the impatient spirit of Julius, than beneficial to the stability of so vast an edifice. Either to this haste on the part of the pontiff, or to a want of constructive care on his own part, must be attributed the failures which occurred to several of Bramante’s buildings; and it is said, that, in the fear of Michael Angelo’s superior scrutiny, he industriously sought to compass the removal of that great artist from Rome.

His jealousy had been excited by the high admiration with which Julius regarded Michael Angelo’s talent; and he strove to arrest the progress of the intended monument, by stimulating in the pope a superstitious dread of constructing his own tomb. He was, perhaps, not more envious of Michael Angelo as a rival, than of the art of sculpture as compared with his own; and it may have been with the view of diverting the pope’s mind from the engrossing subject of the tomb, that he suggested that Michael Angelo should be employed in painting the vault of the Sistine Chapel. Julius, adopting the suggestion, ordered Bramante to construct a scaffold for the painter’s purpose; but it was no sooner done than Michael Angelo rejected it as totally unfit, and invented one himself. If the opposition of these celebrated men had been hitherto restrained within bounds, it now assumed a more decided character of hostility. Half the painting of the chapel being completed, Bramante was desirous that Raphael, then rising into eminence, should finish the half remaining; expecting, no doubt, that the latter, being more exclusively a painter, would exhibit a superiority over one who had chiefly practised as a sculptor. At this, the indignation of Michael Angelo was naturally fired, and he arraigned at once, in the presence of the Pope, not only the architectural defects of Bramante’s buildings, but likewise the moral faults of his character. At a former period, however, he had paid full tribute to his rival’s exalted taste, saying, in his letter to a friend, “It cannot be denied that Bramante is superior in architecture to all others since the time of the ancients.”

Among the more pleasing passages of Bramante’s life, is that which relates to his friendship for the inimitable Raphael, who was his fellow-countryman, and, as it is reported, his relation. Certain it is that Raphael was his pupil in architecture, and that he entertained an affectionate regard for his master, whose portrait he introduced into his celebrated picture of the “School of Athens,” where Bramante is represented as describing with his compasses a geometrical figure to several youths who surround him.

Bramante died in 1514, one year after his patron Julius II., and eight years after the commencement of the new St. Peter’s. At this period the great arches over the central piers were turned, and the principal chapel opposite the entrance erected. Subsequent additions, however, to his portion of the building, and material deviations from his original design, have left us to regard the church in its complete state as deriving little else than its general idea from the genius of its first architect. His remains were deposited in it with great pomp, being attended by the Papal court, and the leading professors of art. He is described as lively and agreeable in manner, and, notwithstanding his quarrels with Michael Angelo, of a liberal and generous disposition. He seems rather to have been distinguished by a bold and fertile fancy, than by any great attainments in the mechanical department of his profession; and to form a just estimate of his designs, they should be considered with reference to the progressive state of architectural taste, and cautiously adopted as examples for imitation.

The best authorities to be consulted on this subject are Vasari, Tiraboschi, Milizia, and Condivi.

]

_Engraved by E. Scriven._

MADAME DE STAEL.

_From the original Picture by F. Gerard in the possession of M. de
Broglie, at Paris._

Under the Superintendence of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
Knowledge

_London, Published by Charles Knight, Ludgate Street._
]

MADAME DE STAEL.

Anne Louise Germaine Necker, the celebrated daughter of a celebrated father, was born at Paris, April 22, 1766. In her earliest years she manifested uncommon vivacity of perception and depth of feeling; and at the age of eleven, her sprightliness, her self-possession, and the eager and intelligent interest which she took in all the subjects of conversation, rendered her the pet and the wonder of the brilliant circle which frequented her father’s house. Necker himself, though he delighted in promoting the developement of his daughter’s talents, was a watchful critic of her faults: “I owe,” she said, “to my father’s penetration, the frankness of my disposition, and the simplicity of my mind. He exposed every sort of affectation; and, in his company, I formed the habit of thinking that my heart lay open to view.” She repaid his care and tenderness by a passionate and devoted affection, such as scarcely seems to belong to the relationship which existed between them. Throughout his life, the desire to minister to his pleasure was her first object, and his death threw a permanent shade of melancholy over her spirit.

Madlle. Necker paid the usual price of mental precocity, in its debilitating effects upon her bodily constitution. At the age of fourteen, serious apprehensions were entertained for her life; and she was sent to St. Ouen, in the neighbourhood of Paris, for the benefit of country air, with orders to abstain from every species of severe study. Thither her father repaired at every interval of leisure; and being withdrawn from the strict line of behaviour prescribed by her mother, who, having done much herself by dint of study, thought that no accomplishments graces could be worth possessing which were not the fruit of study, she passed her time in the unrestrained enjoyment of M. Necker’s society, in the indulgence of her brilliant imagination, and the spontaneous cultivation of her powerful mind. This course of life was more favourable to the developement of that poetical, ardent, and enthusiastic temper, which was the source of so much enjoyment, and so much distinction, than to the habits of self-control without which such a temper is almost too dangerous to be called a blessing. Her character at this period of life is thus described by her relation and biographer, Mad. Necker de Saussure: “We may figure to ourselves Mad. de Stael, in her early youth, entering with confidence upon a life, which to her promised nothing but happiness. Too benevolent to expect hatred from others, too fond of talent in others to anticipate the envy of her own, she loved to exalt genius, enthusiasm, and inspiration, and was herself an example of their power. The love of glory, and of liberty, the inherent beauty of virtue, the pleasures of affection, each in turn afforded subjects for her eloquence. Not that she was always in the clouds: she never lost presence of mind, nor was she run away with by enthusiasm.” In later life her good taste led her to abstain from this lofty vein of conversation, especially when it was forced upon her: “I tramp in the mire with wooden shoes, whenever they would force me to live always in the clouds.”

Endowed with such qualities, the _effect_ which Madlle. Necker produced upon her introduction to society was as brilliant as her friends could desire, though the effervescence of imagination and youthful spirits sometimes led her to commit breaches of etiquette, which might have been fatal to the success of a less accomplished debutant. At the age of twenty, in 1786, she married the Baron de Stael Holstein, ambassador of Sweden at the court of France. He was much the elder, and the matter seems to have been arranged by her parents, with her acquiescence indeed, but without her heart being at all interested in the connexion. And we trace the effect of her ruling passion, love of her father, in the Baron de Stael’s engagement not to take her to reside in Sweden, without her free consent. During a large portion of their married life they were separated from each other by the baron’s absences from France; but when age and sickness weighed him down, she hastened to comfort him, and his last hours (in 1802) were soothed by her presence and watchful care. By this marriage Mad. de Stael had four children, of whom only a son and a daughter survived her: the latter became the wife of the Duc de Broglie; the former inherited his father’s title, and has won for himself a creditable place in the literature of the age.

At the beginning of the revolution, Mad. de Stael watched the new prospects opening 011 her country with joyful anticipation: but she was shocked and disgusted by the ferocious excesses which ensued. Her love of liberty was too sincere to let her justify the policy, or join the party of the court, but, with an admirable courage, she used the powerful influence of her talents and her connexions to save as many as possible of the victims of that frenzied time. She arranged a plan for the escape of the royal family from the Tuileries; and after the death of Louis XVI., she had the boldness (for so it must be called) to publish her ‘Défense de la Reine.’ It needed all the author’s tact and ingenuity, as well as eloquence, so to plead the queen’s cause, as, on the one hand, not to compromise the dignity of her innocence, and, on the other, not to aggravate the rage of those who clamoured for her destruction.

Having passed safely through the Reign of Terror, Mad. de Stael hailed the establishment of the Directory in 1795, as the commencement of a settled government. Through life she devoted a large portion of her attention to politics, which she designated as comprehending within their sphere, morality, religion, and literature; and at this period especially, while her fame in literature was not yet established, and the ardent enthusiasm of her temper was unchecked by misfortune, she not only took an eager interest in the course of affairs, but exerted her powers to gain some influence in the direction of them. Her brilliant conversation drew around her the ablest and most accomplished men of the French capital; and in Paris, where the public opinion of France is compressed into a narrow space, wit or beauty have always had an influence unknown to the more sedate nations of the north. To this period of her life belong the treatises,—more interesting as specimens of her genius, than important for the truth of her theories—‘De l’Influence des Passions sur le Bonheur des Individus et des Nations,’ published in 1796, of which only the first part, relating to individuals, was completed; and ‘De la Littérature considerée dans ses Rapports avec les Institutions Sociales,’ published in 1800: subjects, it has been truly said, which demand the observation and study of a whole life. It is not on these, therefore, that her fame is based. But the latter has the great merit, according to the testimony of Sir James Mackintosh, of being the first attempt to treat the philosophy of literary history upon a bold and comprehensive scale.

But she could not aspire to “direct the storm,” without running some danger of being caught in it; and it is probable, as indeed she herself admits, that if she had foreseen the troubles which political influence was to bring upon her, she would have been well pleased to resign all pretension to it. At the end of 1799, Bonaparte rose to power on the ruin of the Directory. That remarkable man inspired Mad. de Stael from the first with an indescribable fear and dislike, which she has expressed throughout her very interesting work, entitled ‘Dix Années d’Exil;’ and as she saw at once the danger to which the cause of rational liberty was exposed by his ambition, and feared not to express her sentiments, her house became the focus of discontent. Benjamin Constant, then one of her intimate associates, having prepared and communicated to her a speech to expose the dawning tyranny of the First Consul, warned her that, if spoken, it would necessarily be followed by the desertion of the brilliant society which she loved, and by which she was surrounded. She replied, “We must do as we think right.” It was accordingly pronounced on the following day, on the evening of which her favourite circle was to assemble at her own house. Before six o’clock she received ten notes of excuse. “The first and second I bore well enough, but as one note came after another, they began to disturb me. I appealed in vain to my conscience, which had bidden me resign the pleasures which depended on Bonaparte’s favour: so many good sort of persons blamed me, that I could not hold fast enough by my own view of the question.” And she says just before, with her usual candour, “If I had foreseen what I have suffered, dating from that day, I should not have been resolute enough to decline M. Constant’s offer to abstain from coming forward, for the sake of not compromising me.” The speech was followed by an intimation from Fouché, that Mad. de Stael’s retirement from Paris for a short time would be expedient.

In the spring of 1800, Bonaparte’s absence upon the campaign of Marengo, and the publication of her work on literature, brought Mad. de Stael again into fashion. From that time until 1802, she remained undisturbed, and divided her time chiefly between Paris, and her father’s residence at Coppet, on the Lake of Geneva. In the latter year (in which she published ‘Delphine’) her intimacy with Bernadotte caused the First Consul to regard her with suspicion, though the dread of being banished from the delights of Parisian society had taught her prudence. “They pretend,” he said, “that she neither talks politics, nor mentions me; but I know not how it happens, that people seem to like me less after visiting her.” Prudence, or the warning of her friends, detained Mad. de Stael at Coppet during the winter of 1802–3: but when war broke out, and she thought that Bonaparte’s attention was fully occupied by the proposed descent upon England, she could not resist the thirst of conversation which always drew her to Paris. She did not venture to enter the city; but she had not been long in its neighbourhood, when she was terribly disconcerted by a peremptory order not to appear within forty leagues of the metropolis. She candidly avows that “la conversation Française n’existe qu’à Paris, et la conversation a été, depuis mon enfance mon plus grand plaisir.” The rest of France, therefore, had no attraction for her, and she determined to visit Germany. Weimar was her first place of abode, where she became acquainted with Goethe, Wieland, and Schiller, and, under their auspices, commenced her study of the German language and literature. In 1804, she proceeded to Berlin; but she was suddenly recalled to Switzerland by the illness and death of M. Necker.

To this most painful loss Mad. Necker de Saussure attributes a deep and beneficial influence on her friend’s character. It inspired a melancholy which perhaps never was entirely dissipated, it raised her thoughts to a more exalted strain of meditation, and gave vigour and consistency to those reverential feelings, which before were perhaps hardly definite enough to be termed religion. At this time she composed her account of the private life of M. Necker, of which B. Constant has said, that no other of her works conveys so good a notion of the author. Shortly after she visited Italy for the first time. The grand and solemn remains of antiquity harmonized with the melancholy of her mind; and in this journey was developed a love of art, and, in a less degree, a taste for scenery, of which up to this time she seems to have been strangely deficient. The fruit of her travels appeared in ‘Corinne,’ written after her return to Coppet in 1805, and published at Paris early in 1807, which raised her to the first class of living writers. Mad. Necker de Saussure says, in the strain of high panegyric, “Il n’eut qu’une voix, qu’un cri d’admiration dans l’Europe lettrée; et ce phénomène fut partout un événement;” and Sir James Mackintosh, who read it in India, in a translation, says, “I swallow Corinne slowly, that I may taste every drop. I prolong my enjoyment, and really dread the termination.” Dictated by the same leading idea as ‘Delphine,’ but far superior in depth and truth of sentiment, as well as eloquence, and genuine poetic ardour, it was also free from the moral objections to the former novel. Each heroine, according to the lively author first quoted, is a transcript from the author herself. “‘Corinne’ is the ideal of Mad. de Stael; ‘Delphine’ is her very self in youth.” A similar idea occurred to Mackintosh,—“In the character of ‘Corinne,’ Mad. de Stael draws an imaginary self—what she is, what she had the power of being, and what she can easily imagine that she might have become. Purity, which her sentiments and principles teach her to love; talents and accomplishments, which her energetic genius might easily have acquired; uncommon scenes, and incidents fitted for her extraordinary mind; and even beauty, which her fancy contemplates so constantly, that she can scarcely suppose it to be foreign to herself, and which, in the enthusiasm of invention, she bestows on this adorned as well as improved self,—these seem to be the materials out of which she has formed ‘Corinne,’ and the mode in which she reconciled it to her knowledge of her own character.... The grand defect is the want of repose—too much, and too ingenious reflection—too uniform an ardour of feeling. The understanding is fatigued, the heart ceases to feel.”

Before the publication of ‘Corinne.’ Mad. de Stael had ventured into the neighbourhood of Paris. The book contained nothing hostile to Napoleon; but the new wreath of fame which the author had woven for herself revived his spleen, and she soon received a peremptory order to quit France. This was a bitter mortification. We have mentioned her ruling love of conversation: and to her Paris was the world; beyond its limits life was vegetation. “Give me the Rue du Bac,” she said to those who extolled the Lake of Geneva; “I would prefer living in Paris on a fourth story, with a hundred louis a year.” The chief studies of her exile were German literature and metaphysics. In the autumn of 1807 she visited Vienna, where she spent a year in tranquil enjoyment, soothed by the respect and admiration, and gratified by the polished manners and conversation of the exalted circles in which she moved, and undisturbed by the petty tyranny which, in her stolen visits to France, always hung over her head. In 1808 she returned to Coppet, to arrange the materials for her great work on Germany. Having devoted nearly two years to this task, she went to France in the summer of 1810, the decree of exile being so far relaxed, that she was permitted, as before, to reside forty leagues from the capital. Her principal object was to superintend the printing of her work, which was to be published at Paris. After passing safely, though with many alterations, through the censorship, the last proof was corrected, September 23. Scarcely was this done, and 10,000 copies struck off, when the whole impression was seized and destroyed. Mad. de Stael fortunately was enabled, by timely warning, to secrete the manuscript. This blow was accompanied by an order to quit France without delay. America, which she had expressed a desire to visit, and Coppet, were the only places offered to her choice: an attempt to reach England, which was her secret wish, would have been followed by immediate arrest. She chose to return to her paternal home. There the Emperor’s persecution, and her hatred of him, reached their height; and though not to be ranked with the graver offences of tyranny, his treatment of her was of a most irritating character, and unbecoming any but a low-minded despot. It was intimated that she had better confine her excursions to a circle of two leagues; her motions were watched, even within her own house; to be regarded as her friend was equivalent to a sentence of disgrace or dismissal, to any person dependent on the government; her sons were forbidden to enter their native country; M. Schlegel, their domestic tutor, was ordered to quit Coppet; and worst of all, her two dearest friends, M. de Montmorency and Mad. Recamier, were banished France for having presumed to visit her. These, and more trifling delinquencies are set forth with most stinging sarcasm, in her ‘Ten Years of Exile.’