wards published it as a still more powerful check upon his irregular passions. Yet it does not appear that even the attention thus drawn to his conduct, and the ridicule excited by the contrast between his principles and his practice, led to any perceptible improvement. The truth is, throughout his whole life, Steele, so far as the principles and practices of moral and religious conduct are concerned,

Knew the right, but still the wrong pursued.

In 1701, Steele turned his attention to the drama, and produced a comedy under the title of The Funeral, or Grief à-la-mode, in which, with much humor, is combined a moral tendency superior to most of the dramatic pieces of that period. Though personally a rake, he made it a matter of principle, to employ his literary talents only in the service of virtue. In 1703, he produced another successful comedy, The Tender Husband, or The Accomplished Fools; and in the year following was represented his third, entitled, The Lying Lover; the strain of which proved too serious for the public taste. The ill success which attended his last play deterred Steele from again appearing as a dramatist, till 1722, when his admirable comedy, The Conscious Lovers, was represented with unbounded applause. 'The great, the appropriate praise of Steele,' says Dr. Drake, 'is to have been the first who, after the licentious age of Charles the Second, endeavored to introduce the Virtues on the stage. He clothed them with the brilliancy of genius; he placed them in a situation the most interesting to the human heart; and he taught the audience not to laugh at, but to execrate vice, to despise the lewd fool and witty rake, to applaud the ef forts of the good, and to rejoice in the punishment of the wicked.'

In order to introduce all Steele's dramatic works in connection, we have, in thus early noticing his 'Conscious Lovers,' somewhat anticipated the order of time, in his literary history. Immediately after the failure of 'The Lying Lovers,' which, he says, 'was damned for its piety,' and which to him was a source of deep mortification, he conceived the idea of attacking the vices and follies of the age through the medium of a lively periodical paper. Accordingly, on the twelfth of April, 1709, he commenced the publication of the Tatler, a small sheet designed to appear three times a week, ' to expose,' as he stated in his introductory number, 'the false arts of life, to pull off the disguises of cunning, vanity, and affectation, and to recommend a general simplicity in our dress, our discourse, and our behaviour.' Having now reached his thirty-eighth year, Steele was well qualified, by a thorough knowledge of the world, and a large fund of natural humor, for the task he had undertaken; and his sketches, anecdotes, and remarks, are, accordingly, very entertaining. At first, he endeavored to conceal himself under a foreign name; but he soon became known, and his friend Addison then came in to his assistance, and wrote a few papers for him upon more serious subjects than he himself was able or inclined to discuss, and also with various articles of a humorous character

When the Tatler had extended to the two hundred and seventy-first number, which was published on the second of January, 1711, Steele was induced, from the inconvenience of writing such a work without personal concealment, to discontinue it, and to commence a publication nearly similar in its plan, and in which he might assume a new disguise. This was the more celebrated Spectator, the first number of which appeared on the first of March, 1711. The 'Spectator' was published daily, and each number was invariably a complete essay, without any admixture of politics, which had not been the case with the 'Tatler.' Steele and Addison were united in this work from its commencement, and they obtained considerable assistance from a few other writers, of whom the principal were Thomas Tickell and Eustace Budgell. The greater part of the light and humorous sketches are by Steele; while Addison contributed most of the articles in which there is any grave reflection or elevated feeling. The 'Spectator,' which extended to six hundred and thirty-five numbers, is not only much superior to the Tatler,' but stands at the head of all works of the same kind ever produced; and, as a miscellany of polite literature, is not surpassed by any work whatever. It appeared every morning in the form of a single leaf, and was received at the breakfast tables of most persons of taste then living in the metropolis. In 1713, Steele, with the same assistance that he had enjoyed in conducting his previous periodicals, published the Guardian, which was also issued daily, and which ranks in merit, between the 'Spectator' and the 'Tatler.'

The beneficial influence of these publications on the piety, morality, manners, and intelligence of the English nation, has been extensive and permanent. When the 'Tatler' first appeared, the ignorance and immorality of the great mass of English society, were gross and disgusting. By the generality of fashionable persons of both sexes, literary and scientific attainments were despised as pedantic and vulgar. On this subject Dr. Johnson, in his life of Addison, remarks, 'That general knowledge which now circulates in common talk, was then rarely to be found. Men not possessing learning were not ashamed of ignorance; and in the female world any acquaintance with books was distinguished only to be censured.' Politics formed almost the only topic of conversation among the gentlemen, and scandal among the ladies; swearing and indecency were fashionable vices; gaming and drunkenness abounded; and the practice of duelling was carried to a most irrational excess. In the theatre, as well as in society, the corruptions of Charles the Second's reign continued to prevail; and men of the highest rank were the habitual encouragers of the most debasing amusements. To the amelioration of this deplorable state of public taste and manners did the 'Tatler' and the 'Spectator,' with zeal and success apply themselves; and in a very short time both public and private virtue and decorum assumed a firmer and received a finer polish from the pure precepts which they inculcated. The acrimony and malevolence that had hitherto attended the discussion of political opinions were greatly mitigated; and the talents which had previously been almost exclusively occupied in controversy, were now directed VOL. II.-R

into channels where elegance and learning mutually assisted in refining the passions.

While conducting the 'Tatler,' Steele occupied the post of Gazette writer under the Whig ministry; and for the support which he gave them he was rewarded, in 1700, with an appointment as one of the commissioners of the Stamp-Office. When the Tories, soon after, came into power, they attempted, by allowing him to retain his office, and holding out the prospect of farther preferment, to win him over to their party; but Steele, true to his principles, resigned the emoluments which he derived from government, and boldly entered into the political warfare which then raged. For his efforts against the Tory party he was, on the accession of George the First, rewarded with the post of surveyor of the royal stables at Hampton, and soon after knighted by the King. His life was passed, from this period, in almost constant political strife and pecuniary embarrassment; and towards its close he retired to an estate which he had obtained through his wife, at Llangunnor, near Caermarthen, in Wales, where he died on the first of September, 1729.

As Steele aimed only at giving his papers in the 'Tatler' and 'Spectator' 'an air of common speech,' his style never attained to that accuracy and grace which marked the writings of Addison. Vivacity and ease, with great fertility of invention, both in incidents and characters, are the highest qualities of his compositions. His personages are drawn with dramatic spirit, and with a liveliness and airy facility that blinds the reader to his defects. Illustrative of these remarks we present the following paper from the 'Tatler:—

AGREEABLE COMPANIONS AND FLATTERERS.

An old acquaintance who met me this morning seemed overjoyed to see me, and told me I looked as well as he had known me do these forty years; but, continued he, not quite the man you were when we visited together at Lady Brightly's. O! Isaac, those days are over. Do you think there are any such fine creatures now living as we then conversed with? He went on with a thousand incoherent circumstances, which, in his imagination, must needs please me; but they had the quite contrary effect. The flattery with which he began, in telling me how well I were, was not disagreeable; but his indiscreet mention of a set of acquaintance we had outlived, recalled ten thousand things to my memory, which made me reflect upon my present condition with regret. Had he indeed been so kind as, after a long absence, to felicitate me upon an indolent and easy old age, and mentioned how much he and I had to thank for, who at our time of day could walk firmly, eat heartily, and converse cheerfully, he had kept up my pleasure in myself. But of all mankind, there are none so shocking as these injudicious civil people. They ordinarily begin upon something that they know must be a satisfaction; but then, for fear of the imputation of flattery, they follow it with the last thing in the world of which you would be reminded. It is this that perplexes civil persons. The reason that there is such a general outcry among us against flatterers, is, that there are so very few good ones. It is the nicest art in this life, and is a part of eloquence which does not want the preparation that is necessary to all other parts of it, that your audience should be your well-wishers; for praise from an enemy is the most pleasing of all commendations.

It is generally to be observed, that the person most agreeable to a man for a constancy, is he that has no shining qualities, but is a certain degree above great

imperfections, whom he can live with as his inferior, and who will either overlook or not observe his little defects. Such an easy companion as this, either now and then throws out a little flattery, or lets a man silently flatter himself in his superiority to him. If you take notice, there is hardly a rich man in the world who has not such a led friend of small consideration, who is a darling for his insignificancy. It is a great ease to have one in our own shape a species below us, and who, without being listed in our service, is by nature of our retinue. These dependents are of excellent use on a rainy day, or when a man has not a mind to dress; or to exclued solitude, when one has neither a mind to that or to company. There are of this good-natured order who are so kind to divide themselves, and do these good offices to many. Five or six of them visit a whole quarter of the town, and exclude the spleen, without fees, from the families they frequent. If they do not prescribe physic, they can be company when you take it. Very great benefactors to the rich, or those whom they call people at their ease, are your persons of no consequence. I have known some of them, by the help of a little cunning, make delicious flatterers. They know the course of the town, and the general characters of persons; by this means they will sometimes tell the most agreeable falsehoods imaginable. They will acquaint you that such one of a quite contrary party said, that though you were engaged in different interests, yet he had the greatest respect for your good sense and address. When one of these has a little cunning, he passes his time in the utmost satisfaction to himself and his friends; for his position is never to report or speak a displeasing thing to his friend. As for letting him go on in an error, he knows advice against them is the office of persons of greater talents and less discretion.

The Latin word for a flatterer (assentator) implies no more than a person that barely consents; and indeed such a one, if a man were able to purchase or maintain him, can not be bought too dear. Such a one never contradicts you, but gains upon you, not by a fulsome way of commending you in broad terms, by liking whatever you propose to utter; at the same time is ready to beg your pardon, and gainsay you, if you chance to speak ill of yourself. An old lady is very seldom without such a companion as this, who can recite the names of all her lovers, and the matches refused by her in the days when she minded such vanities (as she is pleased to call them, though she so much approves the mention of them). It is to be noted that a woman's flatterer is generally elder than herself, her years serving to recommend her patroness's age, and to add weight to her complaisance in all other particulars. We gentlemen of small fortunes are extremely necessitous in this particular. 1 have, indeed, one who smokes with me often; but his parts are so low, that all the incense he does me is to fill his pipe with me, and to be out at just as many whiffs as I take. This is all the praise or assent that he is capable of, yet there are more hours when I would rather be in his company than that of the brightest man I know. It would be a hard matter to give an account of this inclination to be flattered; but if we go to the bottom of it, we shall find that the pleasure in it is something like that of receiving money which lay out. Every man thinks he has an estate of reputation, and is glad to see one that will bring any of it home to him; it is no matter how dirty a bag it is conveyed to him in, or by how clownish a messenger, so the money is good. All that we want to be pleased with flattery, is to believe that the man is sincere who gives it us. It is by this one accident that absurd creatures often return the most skillful in this art. Their want of ability is here an advantage, and their bluntness, as it is the seeming effect of sincerity, is the best cover to artifice.

Terence introduces a flatterer talking to a coxcomb, whom he cheats out of a livelihood, and a third person on the stage makes on him this pleasant remark, 'This fellow has an art of making fools madmen.' The love of flattery is indeed sometimes the weakness of a great mind; but you see it also in persons who other.

wise discover no manner of relish of any thing above mere sensuality. These latter it sometimes improves, but always debases the former. A fool is himself the object of pity till he is flattered. By the force of that, his stupidity is raised into affectation, and he becomes of dignity enough to be ridiculous. I remember a droll, that upon one's saying the times are so ticklish that there must great care be taken what one says in conversation, answered with an air of surliness and honesty, If people will be free, let them be so in the manner that I am, who never abuse a man but to his face. He had no reputation for saying dangerous truths; therefore when it was repeated, You abuse a man but to his face? Yes, says he, I flatter him.

It is, indeed, the greatest of injuries to flatter any but the unhappy, or such as are displeased with themselves for some infirmity. In this latter case we have a member of our club, that, when Sir Jeffrey falls asleep, wakens him with snoring. This makes Sir Jeffery hold up for some moments the longer, to see there are men younger than himself among us, who are more lethargic than he is.

When flattery is practiced upon any other consideration, it is the most abject thing in nature; nay, I can not think of any character below the flatterer, except he that envies him. You meet with fellows prepared to be as mean as possible in their condescensions and expressions; but they want persons and talents to rise up to such a baseness. As a coxcomb is a fool of parts, so a flatterer is a knave of parts.

The best of this order that I know, is one who disguises it under a spirit of contradiction or reproof. He told an arrant driveller the other day, that he did not care for being in company with him, because he heard he turned his absent friends into ridicule. And upon Lady Autumn's disputing with him about something that happened at the Revolution, he replied with a very angry tone, ‘Pray, madam, give me leave to know more of a thing in which I was actually concerned, than you who were then in your nurse's arms.'

JOHN HUGHES, one of the occasional contributors to Steele's periodicals, was born at Marlborough, in Wiltshire, on the twenty-ninth of January, 1677. He was early brought to London, and received the rudiments of his education at a private school; but the weakness of his constitution preventing him from attempting the severer studies of a university, he devoted his attention to the softer pursuits of poetry, music, and drawing; in each of which he made very considerable progress. His acquaintance with the muses and the graces did not, however, render him averse to business, or unfit him for it; for he held a situation in the office of ordnance for several years, and at the time of his death, which occurred on the seventeenth of February, 1719, was secretary for the commissions of the peace under the Earl of Macclesfield, to whom he had been recommended by Lord Chancellor Cowper.

Hughes was of a mild, amiable, contented, and pious disposition, and possessed very considerable abilities as an essayist. He furnished two papers and several letters for the 'Tatler,' eleven papers and thirteen letters for the 'Spectator,' and two papers for the 'Guardian.' At one time he enjoyed very considerable reputation as a poet, but at present his translations only are esteemed. Of his various dramatic pieces, The Siege of Damascus, alone has escaped oblivion. This play was successfully brought out at Drury Lane Theatre on the very night of the author's death; and for its elevated tone of morality, pure diction, and imposing imagery, it challenges