Part 60 (1/2)

Chapter LXVI STEELE--THE SOLDIER AUTHOR

YOU have heard a little about d.i.c.k Steele in connection with Joseph Addison. Steele is always overshadowed by his great friend, for whom he had such a generous admiration that he was glad to be so overshadowed. But in this chapter I mean to tell you a little more about him.

He was born, you know, in Dublin in 1671, and early lost his father. About this he tells us himself in one of the Tatlers:

”The first sense of sorrow I ever knew was upon the death of my father, at which time I was not quite five years of age. But was rather amazed at what all the house meant, than possessed with a real understanding, why n.o.body was willing to play with me. I remember I went into the room where his body lay, and my mother sat weeping alone by it. I had my battledore in my hand, and fell abeating the coffin, and calling 'Papa,' for, I know not how, I had some light idea that he was locked up there. My mother catched me in her arms, and, transported beyond all patience of the silent grief she was before in, she almost smothered me in her embrace, and told me, in a flood of tears, Pap could not hear me, and would play with me no more, for they were going to put him under ground, whence he could never come to us again.”*

*Tatler, 181.

Steele's sad, beautiful mother died soon after her husband, and little d.i.c.k was left more lonely than ever. His uncle took charge of him, and sent him to Charterhouse, where he met Addison. From there he went to Oxford, but left without taking a degree. ”A drum pa.s.sing by,” he says, ”being a lover of music, I listed myself for a soldier.”* ”He mounted a war horse, with a great sword in his hand, and planted himself behind King William the Third against Lewis the Fourteenth.” But he says when he c.o.c.ked his hat, and put on a broad sword, jack boots, and shoulder belt, he did not know his own powers as a writer, he did not know then that he should ever be able to ”demolish a fortified town with a goosequill.”** So Steele became a ”wretched common trooper,” or, to put it more politely, a gentleman volunteer. But he was not long in becoming an ensign, and about five years later he got his commission as captain.

*Tatler, 89.

**Theatre, 11.

In those days the life of a soldier was wild and rough. Drinking and swearing were perhaps the least among the follies and wickedness they were given to, and d.i.c.k Steele was as ready as any other to join in all the wildness going. But in spite of his faults and failings his heart was kind and tender. He had no love of wickedness though he could not resist temptation. So the das.h.i.+ng soldier astonished his companions by publis.h.i.+ng a little book called the Christian Hero. It was a little book written to show that no man could be truly great who was not religious. He wrote it at odd minutes when his day's work was over, when his mind had time ”in the silent watch of the night to run over the busy dream of the day.” He wrote it at first for his own use, ”to make him ashamed of understanding and seeming to feel what was virtuous and yet living so quite contrary a life.”

Afterwards he resolved to publish it for the good of others.

But among Steele's gay companions the book had little effect except to make them laugh at him and draw comparisons between the lightness of his words and actions, and the seriousness of the ideas set forth in his Christian Hero. He found himself slighted instead of encouraged, and ”from being thought no undelightful companion, was soon reckoned a disagreeable fellow.”* So he took to writing plays, for ”nothing can make the town so fond of a man as a successful play.”

*Apology for himself and his Writings.

The plays of the Restoration had been very coa.r.s.e. Those of Steele show the beginning of a taste for better things, ”Tho'

full of incidents that move laughter, virtue and vice appear just as they ought to do,” he says of his first comedy. But although we may still find Steele's plays rather amusing, it is not as a dramatist that we remember him, but as an essayist.

Steele led a happy-go-lucky life, nearly always cheerful and in debt. His plays brought him in some money, he received a Government appointment which brought him more, and when he was about thirty-three he married a rich widow. Still he was always in debt, always in want of money.

In about a year Steele's wife died, and he was shortly married to another well-off lady. About this time he left the army, it is thought, although we do not know quite surely, and for long afterwards he was called Captain Steele.

Steele wrote a great many letters to his second wife, both before and after his marriage. She kept them all, and from them we can learn a good deal of this warm-hearted, week-willed, harum-scarum husband. She is ”Dearest Creature,” ”Dear Wife,” ”Dear Prue”

(her name, by the way, was Mary), and sometimes ”Ruler,”

”Absolute Governess,” and he ”Your devoted obedient Husband,”

”Your faithful, tender Husband.” Many of the letters are about money troubles. We gather from them that d.i.c.k Steele loved his wife, but as he was a gay and careless spendthrift and she was a proud beauty, a ”scornful lady,” for neither of them was life always easy.

It was about two years after this second marriage that Steele suddenly began the Tatler. He did not write under his own name, but under that of Isaac Bickerstaff, a name which Swift had made use of in writing one of his satires. As has been said, the genius of Steele has been overshadowed by that of Addison, for Steele had such a whole-hearted admiration for his friend that he was ready to give him all the praise. And yet it is nearly always to Steele that we owe the ideas which were later worked out and perfected by Addison.

It is Steele, too, that we owe the first pictures of English family life. It has been said that he ”was the first of our writers who really seemed to admire and respect women,”* and if we add ”after the Restoration” we come very near the truth.

Steele had a tender heart towards children too, and in more than one paper his love of them shows itself. Indeed, as we read we cannot help believing that in real life Captain d.i.c.k had many child-friends. Here is how he tells of a visit to a friend's house:-- *Thackeray.

”I am, as it were, at home at that house, and every member of it knows me for their well-wisher. I cannot indeed express the pleasure it is, to be met by the children with so much joy as I am when I go thither. The boys and girls strive who shall come first, when they think it is I that am knocking at the door. And that child which loses the race to me, runs back again to tell the father it is Mr. Bickerstaff.

”This day I was led in by a pretty girl, that we all thought must have forgot me, for the family has been out of town these two years. Her knowing me again was a mighty subject with us, and took up our discourse at the first entrance. After which they began to rally me upon a thousand little stories they heard in the country about my marriage to one of my neighbor's daughters.

Upon which the gentleman, my friend, said 'Nay, if Mr.

Bickerstaff marries a child of any of his old companions, I hope mine shall have the preference. There's Mistress Mary is now sixteen, and would make him as fine a widow as the best of them.'”

After dinner the mother and children leave the two friends together. The father speaks of his love for his wife, and his fears for her health.