Theatre under the direction of Betterton the tragedian, where he exhibited two years afterwards (1697) "The Mourning Bride, a tragedy so written as to shew him sufficiently qualified for either kind of dramatic poetry. He produced these four plays before he had passed his twentyfifth year. Upon this, Johnson declares, that 66 among all the efforts of early genius which literary history records, he doubts whether any one can be produced that more surpasses the common limits of nature than the plays of Congreve.' About this time Collier made a powerful attack upon the stage and dramatic writers-Congreve and Vanbrugh presented themselves among others as champions on the side of their brother poetsThe opposition was fierce, and continued for a long time until at last Comedy grew more modest, and Collier lived to see the reward of his labour in the reformation of the theatre. Congreve's last play was "The Way of the World," which, although written with great labour and much thought, was received with so little favour that he resolved to commit his quiet and his fame no more to the caprices of an audience. From this time his life ceased to be public: he lived for himself and his friends, who eagerly sought his company, as his manners were polite, and his conversation pleasing. It was thought that he would have been displaced on the extrusion of his friends the Whigs, but the Earl of Oxford kept him in and on their return to power he was made Secretary for the Island of Jamaica, which, with his post in the Customs, is said to have afforded him twelve hundred pounds a year. Having long conversed familiarly with the great, he wished to be considered rather as a man of fashion than of wit; and when he received a visit from Voltaire, he disgusted him by the despicable foppery of desiring to be considered not as an Author but a Gentleman; to which the Frenchman replied, " that if he had been only a Gentleman he should not have come to visit him". In his latter days he was troubled with cataracts in his eyes, which at last terminated in blindness. This melancholy state was aggravated by the gout, for which he sought relief by a journey to Bath; but being overturned in his chariot, he complained from that time of a pain in his side, and died at his house in Surrey-Street in the Strand, January 29, 1728-9. He was buried in Westminster Abbey, where a monument is erected to his memory by Henrietta Dutchess of Marlborough, to whom, for reasons either not known or not mentioned, he bequeathed a legacy of about 10,000l. at the time when the ancient family from which he descended was, by the imprudence of his relations, reduced to difficulties and distress. "Congreve has merit of the highest kind; he is an original writer, who borrowed neither the models of his plot, nor the manner of his dialogue. Of his plays I cannot speak distinctly, for since 1 inspected them many years have passed; but what remains upon my memory is, that his characters answers; are commonly fictitious and artificial, with very little of nature, and not much of life. ' He formed a peculiar idea of comic excellence, which he supposed to consist in gay remarks and unexpected but that which he endeavoured he seldom failed of performing. His scenes exhibit not much of humour, imagery, or passion: his personages are a kind of intellectual gladiators; every sentence is to ward or strike; the contest of smartness is never intermitted; his wit is a meteor playing to and fro with alternate coruscations. His comedies have therefore, in some degree, the operation of tragedies; they surprise rather than divert, and raise admiration oftener than merriment but they are the works of a mind replete with images, and quick in combination, "Of his miscellaneous poetry I cannot say any thing very favourable. The powers of Congreve seem to desert him when he leaves the stage, as Anteus was no longer strong than he could touch the ground. It cannot be observed without wonder, that a mind so vigorous and fertile in dramatic compositions should on any other occasion discover nothing but impotence and poverty. He has in these little pieces neither elevation of fancy, selection of language, nor skill in-versification: yet if I were required to select from the whole mass of English poetry the most poetical paragraph, I know not See a very different opinion by Dryden in a Letter to Walsh, never printed, but quoted by Mr. Seward, ANECDOTES, vol. II, p. 102. what I could prefer to an exclamation in "The Mourning Bride:" ALMERIA. It was a fancy'd noise; for all is hush'd. LEONORA. It bore the accent of a human voice. ALMERIA. It was thy fear, or else some transient wind Hark! LEONORA. ALMERIA. No-all is hush'd, and still as death-'Tis dreadful! "He who reads these lines enjoys for a moment the powers of a poet; he feels what he remembers to have felt before, but he feels it with great increase of sensibility; he recognizes a familiar image, but meets it again amplified and expanded, embellished with beauty, and enlarged with majesty." "While Comedy or while Tragedy is regarded, his plays are likely to be read; but, except what relates to the stage, I know not that he has ever written a stanza that is sung, or a couplet that is quoted. The general character of his Miscellanies is, that they shew little wit, and little virtue. " "Yet to him it must be confessed that we are indebted for the correction of a national error, and the cure of our Pindaric madness. He first taught the English writers that " Pindar's Odes were regular; and though certainly he had not the fire requisite for the higher species of lyric poetry, he has shewn us that enthusiasm has its rules, and that in mere confusion there is neither grace nor greatness. FENTO N. ELISHA FENTON was born near Newcastle, in Staffordshire, of an ancient family whose estate was very considerable; but he was the younger of twelve children, and, being therefore necessarily destined to some lucrative employment, was sent first to school, and afterwards to Cambridge: but, doubting the legality of the government, and refusing to qualify himself for public employment by the oaths required, he left the University without a degree. By this perverseness of integrity he was driven out a commoner of nature, and reduced to M |