Warned by the fate of The Lying Lover, Steele seems to have determined that there must be less sermonising in the new play. The result is that The Tender Husband is, as a whole, very amusing; but unfortunately a second plot—alluded to in the title—is woven into the story which gives to the play its interest; and as this account of the manner in which the "tender husband" tries the faithfulness of a foolish wife by means of his mistress, disguised as a man, is unwholesome in tone and unnatural, it spoils what would otherwise be an excellent farcical comedy, and at the same time has no real connection with the rest of the play. Fortunately, however, Mrs. Clerimont's weaknesses are hardly brought before the spectator except in the first scene and the last act. The rest of the piece describes the love affairs of Biddy Tipkin, a banker's niece—acted by the charming Mrs. Oldfield—whose head has been so completely filled with the romances which she has read that she begs to be called Parthenissa:—"If you ask my name, I must confess you put me upon revealing what I always keep as the greatest secret I have—for, would you believe it, they have called me—I don't know how to own it, but they have called me—Bridget." To her aunt she says, "Do you think that I can ever marry a man that's true and hearty? What a peasant-like amour do these coarse words impart?... Good madam, don't upbraid me with my mother Bridget, and an excellent housewife." She longs for a lover who will be associated with disguise, serenade, and adventure; and as she is an heiress, Captain Clerimont—the usual gentlemanly adventurer of seventeenth century comedy—is willing to humour her whims, and he is so successful that, though she is of opinion that "a lover should sigh in private, and languish whole years before he reveals his passion; he should retire into some solitary grove, and make the woods and wild beasts his confidants," yet she is soon able to admit "I am almost of opinion that had Oroondates been as pressing as Clerimont, Cassandra had been but a pocket-book: but it looks so ordinary to go out at a door to be married—indeed I ought to be taken out of a window, and run away with." Biddy Tipkin is the direct prototype of Sheridan's Lydia Languish, and Goldsmith was equally indebted to Biddy's cousin, Humphry Gubbin, for the idea of Tony Lumpkin. This booby son of an old-fashioned squire—the forerunner of Fielding's Squire Western—is as amusing as Biddy, whom his father wishes him to marry. Humphry, however, had scruples, and "boggled a little" at marrying so near a relation as a cousin. His father had been in the habit of beating him like a child, and it was not till he came to town that he knew he was of age, or what was his fortune. Mr. Pounce, a lawyer, anxious to secure Biddy for Captain Clerimont, advises Humphry not to be fooled any longer; and when Humphry remarks, "To tell you truly, I took an antipathy to my cousin ever since my father proposed her to me; and since everybody knows I came up to be married, I don't care to go down and look baulked," Pounce seizes the opportunity of providing for his sister Mrs. Fairlove, the mistress of the elder Clerimont. Biddy and Humphry having explained their feelings to each other, Humphry says, "I'll find out a way for us to get rid of one another, and deceive the old folks that would couple us;" but when Biddy replies, "This wears the face of an amour—there is something in that thought which makes thy presence less insupportable," he exclaims, "Nay, nay, now you're growing fond; if you come with these maids' tricks to say you hate at first and afterwards like me, you'll spoil the whole design."
Other characters, such as Biddy's "Urganda of an Aunt," who is not free from notions of romance on her own account, Pounce the disreputable lawyer, Sir Harry Gubbin, and Captain Clerimont, who obtains access to Biddy by disguising himself as a painter—an idea borrowed from Molière's Le Sicilien—add to the amusement of the piece; and then there are smart sayings in abundance, such as the elder Clerimont's: "I don't design you to personate a real man, but only a pretty gentleman;" or Pounce's: "Oh, dear sir, a fine lady's clothes are not old by being worn, but by being seen." These merits render the weakness of the ending the more regrettable. The moral is obvious: wife or son should be restrained only by generous bonds, for "wives to obey must love, children revere." If any one, after reading the episode of the elder Clerimont and his wife, is surprised at Steele's statement that he had "been very careful to avoid everything that might look ill-natured, immoral, or prejudicial to what the better part of mankind hold sacred and honourable," it should be remembered that in Steele's play a repentant wife is forgiven by her husband, whose own conduct was far from blameless, while in the comedies of his predecessors it was common for the wife to hoodwink her steadygoing husband triumphantly. Compared with such plays Steele's work is harmless, and even moral, in its intention.
It is impossible to say which were the "applauded strokes" contributed by Addison to The Tender Husband. Some writers, bearing in mind the Tory Foxhunter of the Freeholder, have attributed to Addison the character of Sir Harry Gubbin; others, remembering the description of a lady's library in the Spectator, have suggested that his hand is to be found in the description of Biddy Tipkin; and some, again, have thought that he was concerned rather in the serious portions of the play. Perhaps Addison's help consisted more in general hints given while the piece was under revision than in the contribution of any special portion. But speculation is vain in this matter. Addison and Steele were friends who were wont to work together without any jealous thought as to the exact share which each of them contributed.
It will be convenient to notice here a Chancery suit which arose out of Steele's arrangement with Christopher Rich, of the Drury Lane Theatre, respecting the production of his plays. Steele was the complainant, and in his bill, dated 1707, he said that about December, 1702, Rich paid him £72 on the understanding that Steele would write for him another play. Steele gave a bond of £144; and in 1705 furnished Rich with The Tender Husband, which was acted on the condition that the author was to have the profits of two days' acting in the autumn. The profits exceeded £72, but Rich would not pay over the balance, and commenced an action for the £144. Steele, therefore prayed that these proceedings might be stayed by injunction.
Rich, in his reply, said that the terms of the agreement for the production of The Funeral having been carried out to Steele's satisfaction, Steele agreed, in January, 1703, to give Rich a new play, and at the same time borrowed £72, to be repaid with interest in March, upon pain of the forfeiture of £144. Steele did not pay; but in 1705 he produced The Tender Husband. The profits, however, were so small that £10 8s. 2d. was all that, according to the agreement, Rich was called upon to pay as the result of the first four days' acting. Steele agreed that this sum should go to the use of the company, and that the play should be acted for his benefit once in the following winter. The performance took place in November, though Steele at the last objected that there would not be a sufficiently good audience. The treasurer was told to give Steele the balance £2 17s. 6d., which resulted from this performance, together with the £10 8s. 2d. already mentioned; but Steele neglected or refused to take the money. Rich added that the play had been acted several times at the Haymarket Theatre without his consent—which was quite true; and he prayed that this action might be dismissed, with costs.
There is no further record of the case until April 29, 1710, when Rich's counsel showed that his client had submitted an answer to the plaintiff's bill on January 27, 1708, and that Steele had since then taken no action. The Court thereupon ordered that the bill should be dismissed, with costs, which were to be taxed.[6] The pleadings, which contain much that is of interest to the student of theatrical history, are given in full in the Appendix.
V.
In the earlier part of 1705, probably soon after the production of The Tender Husband, Steele married a widow, Margaret Stretch, whose maiden name was Ford. This lady belonged to a good family in Barbados; and her brother, Major Robert Ford, who made his will in December, 1704, left to her the residue of his property. He was then about to sail for England, and within a few weeks he was taken prisoner by a French privateer, and died on the high seas. In March, 1705, his sister took out letters of administration, and soon afterwards she was married to Steele, who subsequently wrote to the mother of the lady who was to be his second wife: "My late wife had so extreme a value for me that she, by fine, conveyed to me her whole estate situate in Barbados, which, with the stock and slaves (proper security being given for the rent), is let at £850 per annum, at half yearly payments, that is to say, £425 each first of May, and £425 each first of December. This estate came to her encumbered with a debt of £3,000, by legacies and debts of her brother, whose executrix she was as well as heiress."
In January, 1707, we find Steele administering to the property of his wife, who had died in December. Mary Scurlock, of whom we shall hear immediately, was at the funeral. There is no source of information respecting the deceased lady, except the writings of the scandalous Mrs. Manley, who had quarrelled with Steele, but certainly knew something of the facts, if she chose to speak the truth. Her statement is that Steele had embarked in alchemy, and had been ruined by a rogue who cheated him, when he found an opportunity of repairing his fortunes by marrying a rich but elderly lady. Hints are thrown out that an odd misfortune, occasioned by Steele's sister, was the cause of his wife's death; and that he found consolation in "a younger wife, and a cry'd up beauty." It is true that Steele had a sister who was mad; but his second wife, who knew the facts, was willing to marry him in a few months, which she would hardly have done if there had been any suspicious circumstances connected with her friend's death. Possibly, however, the end was accelerated by some fright. There can be no doubt that Steele's sanguine nature had led him, at a period not exactly defined, to experiment with the crucible, in the hope of discovering the oft-sought-for aurum potabile. When he wrote the scene in the Lying Lover, in which Charcoal appears, he would seem to have discovered the absurdity of his study of occult science.
In a prologue to Vanbrugh's The Mistake, acted at the new theatre in the Haymarket on December 27, 1705, Steele satirised the popular demand for dresses, music, and dancing: "If 'tis a comedy, you ask—Who dance?" In August, 1706, he was appointed gentleman-writer to Prince George of Denmark, with a salary of £100 a year, "not subject to taxes." In the course of the following year he contributed verses to a new monthly paper called The Muses' Mercury, and the first number (January, 1707) contained a reference to Mrs. Steele:—"Had not the death of a dear friend hindered Captain Steele from finishing a comedy of his, it would also have been acted this season." We shall see that in the years that followed Steele often contemplated the production of another play, but was no doubt prevented by his numerous other occupations. He was appointed Gazetteer by Robert Harley, on Arthur Maynwaring's recommendation, in April or May, with a salary of £300, liable to a tax of £45, and he endeavoured to obey "the rule observed by all Ministries, to keep that paper very innocent and very insipid"; but, inevitably, there were often complaints either about what was inserted or what was omitted.