ble enemies, against traitors and bullies, against Bolingbroke and Swift in the last reign. With the arrival of the King, that splendid conspiracy broke up; and a golden opportunity came to Dick Steele, whose hand, alas, was too careless to gripe it. Steele married twice; and outlived his places, his schemes, his wife, his income, his health, and almost every thing but his kind heart. That ceased to trouble him in 1729, when he died, worn out and almost forgotten by his contemporaries, in Wales, where he had the remnant of a property./ Posterity has been kinder to this amiable creature; all women especially are bound to be grateful to Steele, as he was the first of our writers who really seemed to admire and respect them. Congreve the Great, who al ludes to the low estimation in which women were held in Elizabeth's time, as a reason why the women of Shakspeare make so small a figure in the poet's dialogues, though he can himself pay splendid compliments to women, yet looks on them as mere instruments of gallantry, and destined, like the most consummate fortifications, to fall after a certain time, before the arts and bravery of the besieger, man. There is a letter of Swift's, entitled "Advice to a very Young Married Lady," which shows the Dean's opinion of the female society of his day, and that if he despised man he utterly scorned women too. No lady of our time could be treated by any man, were he ever so much of a wit or Dean, in such a tone of insolent patronage and vulgar protection. In this performance, Swift hardly takes pains to hide his opinion that a woman is a fool: tells her to read books, as if reading was a novel accomplishment; and informs her that" not one gentleman's daughter in a thousand has been brought to read or understand her own natural tongue." Addison laughs at women equally; but, with the gentleness and politeness of his nature, smiles at them and watches them, as if they were harmless, half-witted, amusing, pretty creatures, only made to be men's playthings. It was Steele who first began to pay a manly homage to their goodness and understanding, as well as to their tenderness and beauty.* In his comedies, the heroes do not rant and rave about the divine beauties of Gloriana or Statira, as the characters were made to do in the chivalry romances and the highflown dramas just going out of vogue; but Steele admires women's virtue, acknowledges their sense, and adores their purity and beauty, with an ardor and strength which should win the goodwill of all women to their hearty and respectful champion. It is this ardor, this respect, this manliness, which makes his comedies so pleasant and their heroes such fine gentlemen. He paid the finest compliment to a woman that perhaps ever was offered. Of one woman, whom Congreve had also admired and celebrated, Steele says, that "to have loved her was a liberal education." "How often," he says, dedicating a volume to his wife, "how often has your tenderness removed pain from my sick head, how often anguish from my afflicted heart! If there are such beings as guardian angels, they are thus employed. I cannot believe one of them to be more good in inclination, or more charm "As to the pursuits after affection and esteem, the fair sex are happy in this particular, that with them the one is much more nearly related to the other than in men. The love of a woman is inseparable from some esteem of her; and as she is naturally the object of affection, the woman who has your esteem has also some degree of your love. A man that dotes on a woman for her beauty will whisper his friend, That creature has a great deal of wit when you are well acquainted with her.' And if you examine the bottom of your esteem for a woman, you will find you have a greater opinion of her beauty than anybody else. As to us men, I design to pass most of my time with the facetious Harry Bickerstaff; but William Bickerstaff, the most prudent man of our family, shall be my executor." Tatler, No. 206. - His ing in form, than my wife." breast seems to warm and his eyes to kindle when he meets with a good and beautiful woman, and it is with his heart as well as with his hat that he salutes her. About children, and all that relates to home, he is not less tender, and more than once speaks in apology of what he calls his softness. He would have been nothing without that delightful weakness. It is that which gives his works their worth, and his style its charm. It, like his life, is full of faults and careless blunders; and redeemed, like that, by his sweet and compassionate nature. We possess of poor Steele's wild and checkered life some of the most curious memoranda that ever were left of a man's biography.* Most *The Correspondence of Steele passed after his death into the possession of his daughter Elizabeth, by his second wife, Miss Scurlock, of Carmarthenshire. She married the Hon. John, afterwards third Lord Trevor. At her death, part of the letters passed to Mr. Thomas, a grandson of a natural daughter of Steele's; and part to Lady Trevor's next of kin, Mr. Scurlock. They were published by the learned Nichols - from whose later edition of them, in 1809, our specimens are quoted. men's letters, from Cicero down to Walpole, or down to the great men resignation to His will, which only can regulate our minds to a steady endeavor to please Him and each other. I am forever your faithful servant, Some few hours afterwards, apparently, Mistress Scurlock received the next one-obviously written later in the day ! — "Saturday night (Aug. 30, 1707). "DEAR, LOVELY MRS. SCURLOCK,"I HAVE been in very good company, where your health, under the character of the woman I loved best, has been often drunk; so that I may say that I am dead drunk for your sake, which is more than I die for you. RICH. STEELE." "To MRS. SCURLOCK. "MADAM, "Sept. 1, 1707. "IT is the hardest thing in the world to be in love, and yet attend business. As for me, all who speak to me find me out, and I must lock myself up, or other people will do it for me. "A gentleman asked me this morning, 'What news from Lisbon?' and I answered, 'She is exquisitely handsome.' Another desired to know when I had last been at Hampton Court?' I replied, It will be on Tuesday come se'nnight.' Pr'ythee allow me at least to kiss your hand before that day, that my mind may be in some composure. O Love! Here we have him, in his courtship-A which was not a very long one: "TO MRS. SCURLOCK. 66 Aug. 30, 1707. "MADAM,"I BEG pardon that my paper is not finer, but I am forced to write from a coffee-house, where I am attending about business. There is a dirty crowd of busy faces all around me, talking of money; while all my ambition, all my wealth, is love! Love which animates my heart, sweetens my humor, enlarges my soul, and affects every action of my life. It is to my lovely charmer I owe, that many noble ideas are continually affixed to my words and actions; it is the natural effect of that generous passion to create in the admirer some similitude of the object admired. Thus, my dear, am I every day to improve from so sweet a companion. Look up, my fair one, to that Heaven which made thee such; and join with me to implore its influence on our tender innocent hours, and beseech the Author of love to bless the rites He has ordained -and mingle with our happiness a just sense of our transient condition, and a thousand torments dwell about thee, Yet who could live, to live without thee?' "Methinks I could write a volume to you; but all the language on earth would fail in saying how much, and with what` disinterested passion, "I am ever yours, "RICH. STEELE." Two days after this, he is found expounding his circumstances and prospects to the young lady's mamma. He dates from "Lord Sunderland's office, Whitehall;" and states his clear income at 1,0251. per annum. "I promise myself," says he, "the pleasure of an industrious and virtuous life, in studying to do things agreeable to you." They were married, according to the most probable conjectures, about the 7th Sept. There are traces of a tiff about the middle of the next month; she being prudish and fidgety, as he was impassioned and reckless. General progress, however, may be seen from the following notes. The "house in Bury Street, St James's," was now taken. of our own time, if you will, are doc- | her and her alone. They contain tored compositions, and written with details of the business, pleasures, an eye suspicious towards posterity. quarrels, reconciliations of the pair; That dedication of Steele's to his wife they have all the genuineness of conis an artificial performance, possibly; versation; they are as artless as a at least it is written with that degree child's prattle, and as confidential as of artifice which an orator uses in a curtain-lecture. Some are written arranging a statement for the House, from the printing-office, where he is or a poet employs in preparing a sen- waiting for the proof-sheets of his timent in verse or for the stage. But 'Gazette," or his "Tatler;" some there are some 400 letters of Dick are written from the tavern, whence Steele's to his wife, which that thrifty he promises to come to his wife woman preserved accurately, and" within a pint of wine," and where which could have been written but for "To MRS. STEELE. he has given a rendezvous to a friend, call on him as I come home. I stay here in order to get Jonson to discount a bill for me, and shall dine with him for that end. He is expected at home every minute. Your most humble, obedient servant," &c. "Tennis-Court Coffee-house, May 5, 1708. "DEAR WIFE, — "I HOPE I have done this day what will be pleasing to you; in the mean time Eight o'clock, Fountain Tavern, shall lie this night at a baker's, one "MY DEAR, Oct. 22, 1707. "I BEG of you not to be uneasy; for I have done a great deal of business to-day very successfully, and wait an hour or two about my 'Gazette."" "Dec. 22, 1707. "MY DEAR, DEAR WIFE, — "Devil Tavern, Temple Bar, "DEAR PRUE, "I HAVE partly succeeded in my business to-day, and enclose two guineas as earnest of more. Dear Prue, I cannot come home to dinner. I languish for your welfare, and will never be a moment careless more. "Your faithful husband," &c. "Jan. 14, 1707-8. "DEAR WIFE, "MR. EDGECOMBE, Ned Ask, and Mr. Lumley have desired me to sit an hour with them at The George,' in Pall Mall, for which I desire your patience till twelve o'clock, and that you will go to bed," &c. "Gray's Inn, Feb. 3, 1708. "DEAR PRUE, Leg, over against The Devil Tavern,' at Charing Cross. I shall be able to confront the fools who wish me uneasy, and shall have the satisfaction to see thee cheerful and at ease. "If the printer's boy be at home, send him hither; and let Mrs. Todd send by the boy my night-gown, slippers, and clean linen." You shall hear from me early in the morning," &c. Dozens of similar letters follow, with occasional guineas, little parcels of tea, or walnuts, &c. In 1709 The Tatler " made its appearance. The following curious note dates April 7, 1710: "I enclose to you ['Dear Prue'] a receipt for the saucepan and spoon, and a note of 231. of Lewis's, which will make up the 507. I promised for your ensuing occasion. "I know no happiness in this life in any degree comparable to the pleasure I have in your person and society. I only fearfulness to see a man that loves you in beg of you to add to your other charms a pain and uneasiness, to make me as happy as it is possible to be in this life. Rising a little in a morning, and being disposed to a cheerfulness would not be amiss." In another, he is found excusing his coming home, being "invited to supper to Mr. Boyle's." "Dear Prue," he says on this occasion, " do not send after me, for I shall be ridiculous." or a money-lender: some are com- | to find the shoemaker calling for posed in a high state of vinous excite- money, and some directions from the ment, when his head is flustered with Captain, who has not thirty pounds burgundy, and his heart abounds with to spare. He sends his wife, "the amorous warmth for his darling Prue: beautifullest object in the world," as some are under the influence of the he calls her, and evidently in reply to dismal headache and repentance next applications of her own, which have morning some, alas, are from the gone the way of all waste paper, and lock-up house, where the lawyers lighted Dick's pipes, which were have impounded him, and where he smoked a hundred and forty years is waiting for bail. You trace many ago-he sends his wife now a guinea, years of the poor fellow's career in then a half-guinea, then a couple of these letters. In September, 1707, guineas, then half a pound of tea; from which day she began to save and again no money and no tea at the letters, he married the beautiful all, but a promise that his darling Mistress Scurlock. You have his Prue shall have some in a day or passionate protestations to the lady; two: or a request, perhaps, that she his respectful proposals to her mam- will send over his night-gown_and ma; his private prayer to Heaven shaving-plate to the temporary lodgwhen the union so ardently desired ing where the nomadic Captain is was completed; his fond professions lying, hidden from the bailiffs. Oh! of contrition and promises of amend- that a Christian hero and late Captain ment, when, immediately after his in Lucas's should be afraid of a dirty marriage, there began to be just sheriff's officer! That the pink and cause for the one, and need for the pride of chivalry should turn pale beother. fore a writ! It stands to record in poor Dick's own handwriting - the queer collection is preserved at the British Museum to this present day Captain Steele took a house for his lady upon their marriage, "the third door from Germain Street, left hand of Berry Street," and the next year -that the rent of the nuptial house he presented his wife with a country in Jermyn Street, sacred to unutterahouse at Hampton. It appears she ble tenderness and Prue, and three had a chariot and pair, and some- doors from Bury Street, was not paid times four horses; he himself enjoyed until after the landlord had put in an a little horse for his own riding. He execution on Captain Steele's furnipaid, or promised to pay, his barber ture. Addison sold the house and fifty pounds a year, and always went furniture at Hampton, and, after deabroad in a laced coat and a large ducting the sum in which his incorblack buckled periwig, that must have rigible friend was indebted to him, cost somebody fifty guineas. He was handed over the residue of the prorather a well-to-do gentleman, Cap-ceeds of the sale to poor Dick, who tain Steele, with the proceeds of his estates in Barbadoes (left to him by his first wife), his income as a writer of "The Gazette," and his office of gentleman waiter to his Royal Highness Prince George. His second wife brought him a fortune too. But it is melancholy to relate, that with these houses and chariots and horses and income, the Captain was constantly in want of money, for which his beloved bride was asking as constantly. In the course of a few pages we begin wasn't in the least angry at Addison's summary proceeding, and I dare say was very glad of any sale or execution, the result of which was to give him a little ready money. Having a small house in Jermyn Street for which he couldn't pay, and a country house at Hampton on which he had borrowed money, nothing must content Captain Dick but the taking, in 1712, a much finer, larger, and grander house, in Bloomsbury Square; where his unhappy landlord got no better satisfaction than his friend in St. James's, and where it is recorded that Dick, giving a grand entertainment, had a half-dozen queer-looking fellows in livery to wait upon his noble guests, and confessed that his servants were bailiffs to a man. "I fared like a distressed prince," the kindly prodigal writes, generously complimenting Addison for his assistance in "The Tatler," "I fared like a distressed prince, who calls in a powerful neighbor to his aid. I was undone by my auxiliary; when I had once called him in, I could not subsist without dependence on him." Poor, needy Prince of Bloomsbury! think of him in his palace, with his allies from Chancery Lane ominously guarding him. same condition, was put into a chair, and sent home. Nothing would serve him but being carried to the Bishop of Bangor's, late as it was. However, the chairmen carried him home, and got him up stairs, when his great complaisance would wait on them down stairs, which he did, and then was got quietly to bed." * There is another amusing story, which, I believe, that renowned collector, Mr. Joseph Miller, or his successors, have incorporated into their work. Sir Richard Steele, at a time when he was much occupied with theatrical affairs, built himself a pretty private theatre, and, before it was opened to his friends and guests, was anxious to try whether the hall was well adapted for hearing. According All sorts of stories are told indic-ly he placed himself in the most reative of his recklessness and his good humor. One narrated by Dr. Hoadly is exceedingly characteristic; it shows the life of the time and our poor friend very weak, but very kind both in and out of his cups. 66 My father," says Dr. John Hoadly, the Bishop's son, when Bishop of Bangor, was, by invitation, present at one of the Whig meetings, held at ، The Trumpet,' in Shire Lane, when Sir Richard, in his zeal, rather exposed himself, having the double duty of the day upon him, as well to celebrate the immortal memory of King William, it being the 4th No. vember, as to drink his friend Addison up to conversation pitch, whose phlegmatic constitution was hardly warmed for society by that time. Steele was not fit for it. Two remarkable circumstances happened. John Sly, the hatter of facetious memory, was in the house; and John, pretty mellow, took it into his head to come into the company on his knees, with a tankard of ale in his hand to drink off to the immortal memory, and to return in the same manner. Steele, sitting next my father, whispered him - Do laugh. It is humanity to laugh. Sir Richard, in the evening, being too much in the mote part of the gallery, and begged the carpenter who had built the house to speak up from the stage. The man at first said that he was unaccustomed to public speaking, and did not know what to say to his honor; but the good-natured knight called out to him to say whatever was uppermost; and, after a moment, the carpenter began in a voice perfectly audible: "Sir Richard Steele ! ” he said, “ for three months past me and my men has been a working in this theatre, and we've never seen the color of your honor's money: we will be very much obliged if you'll pay it directly, for until you do we won't drive in another nail." Sir Richard said that his friend's elocution was perfect, but that he didn't like his subject much. The great charm of Steele's writing is its naturalness. He wrote so quickly and carelessly, that he was forced to make the reader his confidant, and had not the time to deceive him. He had a small share of booklearning, but a vast acquaintance with the world. He had known men and * Of this famous Bishop, Steele wrote, "Virtue with so much ease on Bangor sits, All faults he pardons, though he none commits." |
