ndon with Swift ripened into a generous friendship, which for a
time resisted political differences when such differences were the
constant occasion of personal animosity and bitterness. The two men
represented the age in an uncommonly complete way. Swift had the greater
genius: he was, indeed, in respect of natural endowment, the foremost
man of his time; but his nature was undisciplined, his temper uncertain,
and his great powers quite as much at the service of his passions as of
his principles. He made himself respected, feared, and finally hated;
his lack of restraint and balance, his ferocity of spirit when opposed,
and the violence with which he assailed his enemies, neutralized his
splendid gifts, marred his fortune, and sent him into lonely exile at
Dublin, where he longed for the ampler world of London. Few figures in
literary history are more pathetic than that of the old Dean of St.
Patrick's, broken in spirit, failing in health, his noble faculties gone
into premature decay, forsaken, bitter, and remorseful. At the time of
Addison's stay in Ireland, the days of Swift's eclipse were, however,
far distant; both men were in their prime. That Swift loved Addison is
clear enough; and it is easy to understand the qualities which made
Addison one of the most deeply loved men of his time. He was of an
eminently social temper, although averse to large companies and shy and
silent in their presence. "There is no such thing," he once said, "as
real conversation but between two persons." He was free from malice,
meanness, or jealousy, Pope to the contrary notwithstanding. He was
absolutely loyal to his principles and to his friends, in a time when
many men changed both with as little compunction as they changed wigs
and swords. His personality was singularly winning; his features
regular, and full of refinement and intelligence; his bearing dignified
and graceful; his temper kindly and in perfect control; his character
without a stain; his conversation enchanting, its charm confessed by
persons so diverse in taste as Pope, Swift, Steele, and Young. Lady Mary
Montagu declared that he was the best company she had ever known. He had
two faults of which the world has heard much: he loved the company of
men who flattered him, and at times he used wine too freely. The first
of these defects was venial, and did not blind his judgment either of
himself or his friends; the second defect was so common among the men of
his time that