endeavoued, 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 corruscations. His comedies have therefore, in some degree, the operation of tragedies, they surprize rather than divert, and raise admiration oftener than merriment. But they are the works of a mind replete with images, and quick in combination." son. repar These observations convey, perhaps, as much censure as praise. It is curious to observe the discordant opinions of eminent men, and Dryden may be opposed to John"As for comedy," he says, tee is one of its chiefest graces. The greatest pleasure of an audience, is a chace of wit kept up on both sides, and swiftly managed." That this chace of wit may become harrassing and wearisome to an audience, has been felt, I believe, by every reader or hearer of Congreve's plays, and perhaps part of the reputation attached to his name, may be a continuation of the fame he acquired from the early ripeness of his genius, and not altogether owing to the intrinsic excellence of his productions. His merits are, however, very high-a vigorous and original mind may be traced every where, luxuriating in it's favorite employment, and he deserves immortal honor, as being the first who chose his incidents from common life, and made his plot subservient to his dialogue. Unless, indeed, he more properly deserves the humbler praise only of having restored the stile Shakespeare had exhibited in his "Merry Wives of Windsor," and occasionally in other plays. With regard to the characters which are suited to comedy, we must take his own opinion, and certainly his strict attention to it, constitutes one of the chief excellencies of his productions. "Those characters," he observes, "that are wont to be ridiculed in most of our comedies, are of fools so gross, that in my humble opinion they should rather disturb than divert the well-natured and reflecting part of an audience; they are rather the objects of charity than contempt, and instead of moving our mirth, they ought very often to excite our compassion." He should have added, that 'the characters should be natural and usual, as well as fit objects of ridicule. This opinion however, as far as it goes, seems strictly just, and therefore it may be doubted whether Shakespeare's characters of Slender and Sir Hugh Evans, or even the more comic Acres of Mr. Sheridan, are calculated to afford much amusement. For the same reason all religious distinctions and personal defects, if unattended with affectation, are improper objects of comedy. The most glaring example of this latter fault which occurs to me, may be found in "The little French Lawyer," of Beaumont and Fletcher, where the misfortunes of Champernelle, a brave and honorable soldier, incurred in fighting the battles of his country, are consigned to the laughter of the theatre. We must not take our leave of this eminent dramatist, without noticing an additional fault in him, and that of considerable magnitude. His characters want relief. They are too uniformly either vicious or ridiculous. Congreve was certainly a most fortunate man, yet it might be supposed from a perusal of his plays, that he had never found a friend who had not betrayed him, or fallen in love with any woman who had not jilted him. Like the miserable Schahzenan, in the introductory story to the Arabian Nights, it might be imagined, that after some gross infidelity, or treachery to himself, he found consolation, and absolutely grew merry, from the reflection, that he only shared the common fate of mankind. unwearied exercise of his wit might be pardoned, if it was now and then subservient to the affections. Congreve died in 1728-9. The Amongst the fellow labourers of Congreve were Gay, Steele, and Addison. Of the numerous dramatic efforts of the first of these celebrated men, the only one which acquired or deserved the marked approbation of the public was the "Beggar's Opera," of which perhaps it is sufficient commendation to say, that after a reception of unparalleled success, it still retains the applause of the public in defiance of a prevalent opinion upon the pernicious nature of it's tendency. It is a composition of a singular rather than a vigorous mind, and the way in which the author trifles with the gallows, has at least the charm of novelty. Newgate becomes perfectly attractive in his hands, displaying a happy union of manly vigour and Arcadian simplicity. The dialogue is poor, but the songs are extremely fortunate, full of humorous and amusing conceits, set off in smooth, harmonious, and appropriate versification. It is impossible to read the songs of the Beggar's Opera without feeling that they possess a peculiar and singular charm, yet it is perplexing to say exactly in what this charm consists. I will quote one at random. Upon the parting of Polly and Macheath in the first act, thus the fair one sings. Polly. O what pain it is to part! Can thy Polly ever leave thee? But lest death my love should thwart And bring thee to the fatal cart, Thus I tear thee from my bleeding heart! Certainly the idea in the sixth line, is ill-calculated to provoke mirth-as little can the whole song be called affecting-the lovers of wit, I believe, would scarcely compliment it with their approbation, yet upon the whole it is pleasing. Its excellence, I believe, depends chiefly on humour, the principal exercise of which |