"I do not know how it is with others, but I feel the better always for the perusal of one of Congreve's comedies. I am the gayer at least for it; and I could never connect those sports of a witty fancy in any shape with any result to be drawn from them to imitation in real life. They are a world of themselves, almost as much as fairy-land. The Fainalls and the Mirabells, the Dorimants and the Lady Touchwoods, in their own sphere, do not offend my moral sense; in fact they do not appeal to it at all. They seem engaged in their proper element. They break through no laws, or conscientious restraints. They know of none. They have got out of Christendom into the land-what shall I call it-of cuckoldry-the Utopia of gallantry, where pleasure is duty, and the manners perfect freedom. It is altogether a speculative scene of things, which has no reference whatever to the world that is. No good person can be justly offended as a spectator, because no good person suffers on the stage. Judged morally, every character in these plays-the few exceptions only are mistakes-is alike essentially vain and worthless.

"Translated into real life, the characters of his, and his friend Wycherley's dramas, are profligates and strumpets, -the business of their brief existence, the undivided pursuit of lawless gallantry. No other spring of action, or possible motive of conduct, is recognised; principles which, universally acted upon, must reduce this frame of things to a chaos. But we do them wrong in so translating them. No such effects are produced in their world. When we are among them, we are amongst a chaotic people. We are not to judge them by our usages. No reverend institutions are insulted by their proceedings, for they have none among them. No peace of families is violated, for no family ties exist among them. No purity of the marriage bed is stained, for none is supposed to have a being. No deep affections are disquieted, no holy wedlock bands are snapped asunder, for affection's depth and wedded faith are not of the growth of that soil. There is neither right nor wrong, gratitude or its opposite, claim or duty, paternity or sonship."-On the Artificial Comedy of the last Century, by CHARLES LAMB.

Quem tulit ad scenam ventoso gloria curu,
Exanimat lentus spectator, sedulus inflat.

Sic leve, sic parvum est, animum quod laudis avarum
Subruit, aut reficit.-HORAT. Lib. ii. Epist. i.J

1 Him, whom glory in her airy car bas brought upon the stage, the careless spectator dispirits, the attentive renders more diligent. So slight, so small a matter it is which overturns or raises a mind covetous of praise.

Çon.

B

HE Old Bachelor, the first of Congreve's plays, was produced in 1693, at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, though the date when it was written is not exactly known. The plot, never a strong feature in any of Congreve's comedies, is not marked by striking originality or novelty of combination. Still, if the piece is stage-worn, the setting is bold and brilliant. The dialogue coruscates with wit of the highest order, and in every scene we are surprised by reflections and remarks so tersely and humorously turned as to appear like a fresh revelation. In common with all the comedies of Congreve, the language here is polished till it admits of no further improvement; the satire bites and sparkles, whilst the foibles and fashions of the hour-and we have no keener exponent of the social life of his day than this author-impregnate the whole like the aroma of a delicate yet penetrating wine. Of morality there is less than none, for throughout the comedy vice is always draped in the more attractive garb.

It is of this piece that Addison thus speaks in his Tatler, No. 9: 66 In the character which gives name to this play there is excellently represented the reluctance of a battered debauchee to come into the trammels of order and decency; he neither languishes nor burns, but frets for love. The gentlemen of more regular behaviour are drawn with much spirit and wit, and the drama introduced by the dialogue of the first scene with uncommon yet natural conversation. The part of Fondlewife is a lively image of the unseasonable fondness of age and impotence."

The Old Bachelor was acted as late as 1789.

The writer of the following commendatory verses was the Captain Southerne who, in conjunction with Dryden, revised the play so as to fit it for the stage.

To Mr. CONGREVE, on The Old Bachelor.

WHEN virtue in pursuit of fame appears,
And forward shoots the growth beyond the years,
We timely court the rising hero's cause,
And on his side the poet wisely draws;
Bespeaking him hereafter by applause.
The days will come when we shall all receive
Returning interest from what now we give;
Instructed and supported by that praise
And reputation which we strive to raise.
Nature so coy, so hardly to be wooed,
Flies like a mistress, but to be pursued.
O Congreve ! boldly follow on the chase;
She looks behind, and wants thy strong embrace;
She yields, she yields, surrenders all her charms,
Do you but force her gently to your arms:
Such nerves, such graces, in your lines appear,
As you were made to be her ravisher.
Dryden has long extended his command,
By right divine, quite through the Muses' land
Absolute lord; and holding now from none,
But great Apollo, his undoubted crown ;
(That empire settled, and grown old in power)
Can wish for nothing but a successor :
Not to enlarge his limits, but maintain
Those provinces which he alone could gain.
His eldest Wycherley, in wise retreat,
Thought it not worth his quiet to be great.
Loose, wandering Etherege, in wild pleasures tost
And foreign interest, to his hopes long lost :
Poor Lee and Otway dead! Congreve appears,
The darling and last comfort of his years.

Mayst thou live long in thy great Master's smiles,
And growing under him, adorn these isles :
But when-when part of him (be that but late)
His body yielding must submit to fate,
Leaving his deathless works and thee behind,
(The natural successor of his mind,)

Then mayst thou finish what he has begun ;
Heir to his merit, be in fame his son.

What thou hast done shows all is in thy power;
And to write better, only must write more.
'Tis something to be willing to commend;
But my best praise is, that I am your friend.

THO. SOUTHERNE.

T is with a great deal of pleasure that I lay hold on this first occasion, which the accidents of my life have given me, of writing to your Lordship: for since, at the same time, I write to all the world, it will be a means of publishing (what I would have everybody know) the respect and duty which I owe and pay to you. I have so much inclination to be yours, that I need no other engagement: but the particular ties by which I am bound to your Lordship and family, have put it out of my power to make you any compliment; since all offers of myself will amount to no more than an honest acknowledgment, and only show a willingness in me to be grateful.

I am very near wishing that it were not so much my interest to be your Lordship's servant, that it might be more my merit; not that I would avoid being obliged to you, but I would have my own choice to run me into the debt; that I might have it to boast I had distinguished a man to whom I would be glad to be obliged, even without the hopes of having it in my power ever to make him a return.

It is impossible for me to come near your Lordship, in any kind, and not to receive some favour; and while in appearance I am only making an acknowledgment (with the usual underhand dealing of the world), I am, at the same time, insinuating my own interest. I cannot give

1 Eldest son of Rich. Boyle, Earl of Cork, afterwards crea'ed Earl of Burlington. Lord Clifford was, however, himself a peer, having been called up to the House of Lords by writ in the life

time of his father.