[Educated at Oxford University, Joseph Addison (1672-1719) tried his hand in a number of vocations: foreign diplomacy, politics (he was secretary of state and held several other high offices in the British government as well), poetry, and drama. It was as a critic and essayist that Addison truly excelled, and he is a cornerstone of eighteenth-century British letters, one of the founders and pioneers of the English essay. In collaboration with another literary celebrity, Richard Steele (1672-1729), Addison published the periodicals The Tatler (1709-11), The Spectator (1711-12, 1714), and The Guardian (1713). These periodicals, which were very influential and much in vogue in their time, were forerunners of the weekly newspaper and of weekly or monthly magazines. Addison was admirably productive in his share in their production, writing 46 of the 271 Tatlers, 293 of the 635 Spectators, and 51 of the 175 Guardians; he also contributed 55 essays of The Freeholder and other essays to various periodicals.

        Although he could be moralizing and serious, Addison is more often characterized by common sense, geniality, and humor in his essays. His style was held up in his time as a model for others to follow (his colloquial preference for sometimes ending sentences with prepositions was noted and termed the "Addisonian termination"), and remains commendable in its ease, clarity, and good humor.

        In the following essay, Addison makes use of a good deal of humorous irony (look up irony in your composition handbook and collegiate dictionary)-satirizing whom or what? He also makes use of the following stylistic elements (frequent in good writing of the eighteenth and nineteenth century), all of which should be looked up in your composition handbook and collegiate dictionary: parallelism, antithesis (antithetical sentences), balanced sentences, and balanced antithetical sentences. How does Addison use these stylistic elements for satire and for comparison-contrast?

        In addition, where and how does Addison use the stylistic or literary devices--often thought of (with some simplistic inaccuracy) only in connection with prose fiction, poetry, and drama-of allusion, hyperbole, metonymy, metaphor, pun, and personification? Look up these terms in your collegiate dictionary and composition handbook. How does alliteration enhance the antithesis in the last sentence of par. 7? Nonfiction prose does not preclude the use of stylistic and literary devices found in prose fiction, poetry, and drama, as can be demonstrated by looking for such devices in such widespread nonfiction as the articles in Time and Newsweek magazines.

        As you read the following essay, and afterwards, ponder the questions of the importance of clothes in your life or the lives of your friends or family, the contrast of superficial values versus weighty ones in your life or in the lives of those around you, and lastly differences or similarities between the genders in these matters. Addison heads his essay with an epigraph (a term that should be looked up in your collegiate dictionary) from Ovid. Who was Ovid (start with your collegiate dictionary), and how does the epigraph apply to the essay?

        [1] When I was in France, I used to gaze with great astonishment at the splendid equipages and parti-colored habits* of that fantastic* nation. I was one day in particular contemplating a lady who sat in a coach adorned with gilded cupids and finely painted with the loves of Venus and Adonis. The coach was drawn by six milk-white horses and loaded behind with the same number of powdered footmen. Just before the lady were a couple of beautiful pages, who were stuck among the harness, and, by their gay dresses and smiling features, looked like the elder brothers of the little boys that were carved and painted in every corner of the coach.

        [2] The lady was the unfortunate Cleanthe, who afterwards gave an occasion to a pretty* melancholy novel. She had, for several years, received the addresses of a gentleman, whom, after a long and intimate acquaintance, she forsook upon the account of this shining equipage, which had been offered to her by one of great riches but a crazy constitution*. The circumstances in which I saw her were, it seems, the disguises only of a broken heart and a kind of pageantry to cover distress; for in two months after, she was carried to her grave with the same pomp and magnificence, being sent thither partly by the loss of one lover, and partly by the possession of another.

        [3] I have often reflected with myself on this unaccountable humor* in womankind, of being smitten with everything that is showy and superficial, and on the numberless evils that befall the sex from this light fantastical disposition. I myself remember a young lady who was very warmly solicited by a couple of importunate rivals, who for several months together did all they could to recommend themselves by complacency of behavior, and agreeableness of conversation. At length, when the competition was doubtful and the lady undetermined in her choice, one of the young lovers very luckily bethought himself of adding a supernumerary lace to his liveries, which had so good an effect that he married her the very week after.

        [4] The usual conversation of ordinary women very much cherishes this natural weakness of being taken with outside and appearance. Talk of a new-married couple, and you immediately hear whether they keep their coach and six [horses], or eat in plate*; mention the name of an absent lady, and it is ten to one but you learn something of her gown and petticoat. A ball is a great help to discourse*, and a birthday furnishes conversation for a twelve-month after. A furbelow of precious stones, a hat buttoned with a diamond, a brocade waistcoat or petticoat, are standing topics. In short, they consider only the drapery of the species, and never cast a thought on those ornaments of the mind that make persons illustrious in themselves and useful to others. When women are thus perpetually dazzling one another's imaginations and filling their heads with nothing but colors*, it is no wonder that they are more attentive to the superficial parts of life than the solid and substantial blessings of it. A girl who has been trained up in this kind of conversation is in danger of every embroidered coat that comes in her way. A pair of fringed gloves may be her ruin. In a word, lace and ribbons, silver and gold galloons, with the like glittering gew-gaws, are so many lures to women of weak minds or low educations, and, when artificially displayed*, are able to fetch down the most airy coquette from the wildest of her flights and rambles.

        [5] True happiness is of a retired nature and an enemy to pomp and noise; it arises in the first place from the enjoyment of one's self, and, in the next, from the friendship and conversation of a few select companions. It loves shade and solitude, and naturally haunts groves and fountains, fields and meadows: in short, it feels everything it wants from within itself and receives no addition from multitudes of witnesses and spectators. On the contrary, false happiness loves to be in a crowd and to draw the eyes of the world upon her. She does not receive any satisfaction from the applauses which she gives herself but from the admiration which she raises in others. She flourishes in courts and palaces, theaters and assemblies, and has no existence but when she is looked upon.

        [6] Aurelia, though a woman of great quality, delights in the privacy of a country life, and passes away a great part of her time in her own walks and gardens. Her husband, who is her bosom friend, and companion in her solitudes, has been in love with her ever since he knew her. They both abound with good sense, consummate virtue, and mutual esteem, and are a perpetual entertainment to one another. Their family is under so regular an economy in its hours of devotion and repast, employment and diversion, that it looks like a little commonwealth in itself. They often go into company that they may return with the greater delight to one another, and sometimes live in town not to enjoy it so properly as to grow weary of it, that they may renew in themselves the relish of a country life. By this means they are happy in each other, beloved by their children, adored by their servants, and are become the envy, or rather the delight, of all who know them.

        [7] How different from this is the life of Fulvia! She considers her husband as her steward, and looks upon discretion and good housewifery as little domestic virtues unbecoming a woman of quality. She thinks life lost in her own family and fancies herself out of the world when she is not in the ring*, the playhouse, or the drawingroom: she lives in a perpetual motion of body and restlessness of thought, and is never easy in any one place when she thinks there is more company in another. The missing of an opera the first night would be more afflicting to her than the death of a child. She pities all the valuable part of her own sex and calls every woman of a prudent, modest, retired life a poor-spirited, unpolished creature. What a mortification would it be to Fulvia if she knew that her setting herself to view is but exposing herself and that she grows contemptible by being conspicuous.

        [8] I cannot conclude my paper without observing that Vergil has very finely touched upon this female passion for dress and show in the character of Camilla [in the Aeneid, Book 11], who, though she seems to have shaken off all the other weaknesses of her sex, is still described as a woman in this particular. The poet tells us that after having made a great slaughter of the enemy she unfortunately cast her eye on a Trojan who wore an embroidered tunic, a beautiful coat of mail, with a mantle of the finest purple. "A golden bow," says he [Vergil], "hung upon his shoulder; his garment was buckled with a golden clasp, and his head was covered with a helmet of the same shining metal." The Amazon immediately singled out this well-dressed warrior, being seized with a woman's longing for the pretty trappings that he was adorned with:
 

This heedless pursuit after these glittering trifles, the poet (by a nice concealed moral) represents to have been the destruction of his female hero.
 

[Notes

parti-colored habits (par. 1): striped or multi-colored clothing, or suits and dresses; fantastic (par. 1), fantastical (par. 3): too inclined to fantasy; pretty melancholy novel (par. 2): attractively-written melancholy novel; crazy (par. 2): damaged or injured, as if by cracks; humor (par. 3): quirk, predisposition; competition was doubtful (par. 3): competition was in doubt as to its outcome; eat in plate (par. 4): dine with fancy goldplated or silverplated dinnerware; help to discourse (par. 4): provides an aid for discourse; filling their head with colors (par. 4): filling their thoughts with showy superficial things; artificially displayed (par. 4): artfully shown; the ring (par. 7): a fashionable area in London--a circular course at Hyde Park for riding and coach driving

Vocabulary (asterisk indicates unusual sense of the word)

epigraph (intro., par. 1); Ovid (epigraph); splendid (par. 1); equipages (par. 1); gilded (par. 1); Venus (par. 1), Adonis (par. 1); powdered* (par. 1); footmen (par. 1); pages* (par. 1); melancholy (par. 2); addresses* (par. 2); forsook (par. 2); constitution* (par. 2); pageantry (par. 2); pomp (par. 2); thither (par. 2); unaccountable (par. 3); smitten (par. 3); befall (par. 3); solicited (par. 3); importunate (par. 3); complacency (par. 3); supernumerary (par. 3); liveries (par. 3); petticoat (par. 4); discourse [n.] (par. 4); furbelow (par. 4); brocade (par. 4); drapery* (par. 4); attentive (par. 4); illustrious (par. 4); embroidered (par. 4); galloons (par. 4); gew-gaws (par. 4); coquette (par. 4); retired* (par. 5); shade* (par. 5); haunts* (par. 5); flourishes (par. 5); abound (par. 6); consummate [adj.] (par. 6); esteem [n.] (par. 6); repast (par. 6); diversion* (par. 6); commonwealth (par. 6); relish [n.] (par. 6); steward (par. 7); discretion (par. 7); unbecoming [adj.] (par. 7); fancies [v.] (par. 7); drawingroom or drawing room (par. 7); prudent (par. 7); unpolished* (par. 7); mortification (par. 7); contemptible (par. 7); conspicuous (par. 7); Vergil (par. 8); Trojan (par. 8); tunic (par. 8); coat of mail (par. 8); mantle* (par. 8); trappings (par. 8); adorned (par. 8); heedless (par. 8); trifles (par. 8); nice* (par. 8)

Additional Study Questions

1. (a) What title might be given to this essay, other than its number in the Spectator series? What term does Addison himself use for Spectator 15 , rather than "essay"? (b) How does the epigraph* of Addison's essay help broaden the topic? (c) How does Addison's essay naturally divide into the following parts: (1) pars. 1-4, (2) pars. 5-8? (d) Which paragraphs in the essay are assigned to one extended or main example or main illustration? (e) How is the tone* of Addison's essay humorous and ironic?

2. How might the names of the women be given symbolically by Addison in paragraphs 6 and 7, given what you can find for the aur- and ful- (or fulv-) roots in your collegiate dictionary?

3. Is there any gender bias in Addison's essay? How so?

4. (a) How does Addison use allusion and symbolism in par. 1 to suggest how love and materialism pervade French culture and a particular woman's life? (b) How does Addison's balanced antithesis in the last sentence of par. 2 convey the ironies of how love and materialism affect a particular woman's life? (c) How does Addison use parallelism to pile up negative examples in par. 4? (d) How does Addison use metonymy or synecdoche ironically in the antepenultimate and penultimate sentences of par. 4? (e) How does Addison use both metaphor and pun in describing a certain kind of women in the last sentence of par. 4? (f) How and why is personification repeatedly used in par. 5? (g) Where and how does Addison use hyperbole in his essay?]