nius of his age.'

Addison's patrons had now lost their power, and he was left to his own
exertions. His difficulties did not last long. In 1704 the battle of
Blenheim called forth several weak efforts from the poetasters, and as
the Government required verse more worthy of the occasion, the
Chancellor of the Exchequer, on the recommendation of Montague, now Earl
of Halifax, applied to Addison, who, in answer to the appeal, published
_The Campaign_, in 1705. The poem contains the well-known similitude of
the angel, and also an apt allusion to the great storm that had lately
destroyed fleets and devastated the country.

'So when an angel by divine command
With rising tempests shakes a guilty land,
Such as of late o'er pale Britannia past,
Calm and serene he drives the furious blast;
And, pleased the Almighty's orders to perform,
Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm.'

_The Campaign_, which has no other passage worth quoting, proved a happy
hit, and was of such service to the Ministry, that Addison found the way
to fame and fortune. He was appointed Commissioner of Appeals, and not
long after Under Secretary of State. In 1707 he accompanied his friend
and patron, Halifax, on a mission to Hanover, and two years later he was
appointed Chief Secretary to the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. In Dublin
he gained golden opinions. 'I am convinced,' Swift writes, 'that
whatever Government come over, you will find all marks of kindness from
any parliament here with respect to your employment; the Tories
contending with the Whigs which should speak best of you. In short, if
you will come over again when you are at leisure, we will raise an army
and make you king of Ireland.' When the Whig Ministry fell in 1710, and
Addison lost his appointment, he must have gained a fortune, for he was
able to purchase an estate for L10,000.

In the early years of the century the Italian opera, which had been
brought into England in the reign of William and Mary, excited the mirth
and opposition of the wits. Lord Chesterfield, who called it 'too absurd
and extravagant to mention,' said, 'Whenever I go to the opera I leave
my sense and reason at the door with my half-guinea, and deliver myself
up to my eyes and ears.' Steele, Gay, and Pope ridiculed the new-fangled
entertainment, and Colley Cibber, too, pointed his jest at these
'poetical drams, these gin-shops of the stage that intoxicate its
auditors, and dishonour