itive delicacy and a modesty which amounted to bashfulness.

He was undoubtedly one of the most popular men of his time; and much of
his popularity he owed, we believe, to that very timidity which his
friends lamented. That timidity often prevented him from exhibiting his
talents to the best advantage. But it propitiated Nemesis. It averted
that envy which would otherwise have been excited by fame so splendid,
and by so rapid an elevation. No man is so great a favorite with the
public as he who is at once an object of admiration, of respect, and of
pity; and such were the feelings which Addison inspired. Those who
enjoyed the privilege of hearing his familiar conversation declared with
one voice that it was superior even to his writings. The brilliant Mary
Montagu said, that she had known all the wits, and that Addison was the
best company in the world. The malignant Pope was forced to own, that
there was a charm in Addison's talk, which could be found nowhere else.
Swift, when burning with animosity against the Whigs, could not but
confess to Stella that, after all, he had never known any associate so
agreeable as Addison. Steele, an excellent judge of lively conversation,
said that the conversation of Addison was at once the most polite, and
the most mirthful, that could be imagined; that it was Terence and
Catullus in one, heightened by an exquisite something which was neither
Terence nor Catullus, but Addison alone. Young, an excellent judge of
serious conversation, said that when Addison was at his ease, he went on
in a noble strain of thought and language, so as to chain the attention
of every hearer. Nor were Addison's great colloquial powers more
admirable than the courtesy and softness of heart which appeared in his
conversation. At the same time, it would be too much to say that he was
wholly devoid of the malice which is, perhaps, inseparable from a keen
sense of the ludicrous. He had one habit which both Swift and Stella
applauded, and which we hardly know how to blame. If his first attempts
to set a presuming dunce right were ill received, he changed his tone,
"assented with civil leer," and lured the flattered coxcomb deeper and
deeper into absurdity. That such was his practice we should, we think,
have guessed from his works. The Tatler's criticisms on Mr. Softly's
sonnet, and the Spectator's dialogue with the politician who is so
zealous for the honor of Lady Q--p--t--s, are excellent specimens of
this in