but being overturned in his chariot, complained from that time of a pain in his side, and died, at his house in Surrey-street in the Strand, Jan. 19, 1728-9.18 Having lain in state in the Jerusalem Chamber, he was buried in Westminster Abbey, 19 where a monument is erected to his memory by Henrietta Duchess of Marlborough,20 to whom, for reasons either not known or not mentioned, he bequeathed a legacy of about ten thousand pounds; the accumulation of attentive parsimony, which, though to her superfluous and useless, might have given great assistance to the ancient family from which he descended, at that time by the imprudence of his relation reduced to difficulties and distress.21 Congreve has merit of the highest kind; he is an original writer, who borrowed neither the models of his plot, nor the 18 He was very handsome. The best portrait of him is that among the KitKat series presented to Jacob Tonson, and now at Bayfordbury, Herts. 19 The pall-bearers were the Duke of Bridgewater, Earl Godolphin (husband of Henrietta Duchess of Marlborough), Lord Cobham, Earl of Wilmington, Mr. George Berkeley (husband of Mrs. Howard), and General Churchill, a name known to the readers of Mrs. Oldfield's 'Life.' (See 'Suffolk Papers,' 2 vols. 8vo., 1824, i. 330.) 20 When the younger Duchess [of Marlborough] exposed herself by placing a monument and silly epitaph of her own composition and bad spelling to Congreve in Westminster Abbey, her mother, quoting the words, said, "I know not what pleasure [happiness] she might have in his company, but I am sure it was no honour."- Walpole's Reminiscences. The charms of his [Congreve's] conversation must have been very powerful, since nothing could console Henrietta Duchess of Marlborough for the loss of his company, so much as an automaton, or small statue of ivory, made exactly to resemble him, which every day was brought to table. A glass was put in the hand of the statue, which was supposed to bow to her Grace and to nod in approbation of what she spoke to it.-Davies's Dram. Mis. iii. 382. Thomson published anonymously (8vo. 1729) A Poem to the Memory of Mr. Congreve, inscribed to her Grace Henrietta Duchess of Marlborough,' reprinted by me in 1843 for the Percy Society, and now universally admitted to be by Thomson. 21 Congreve was very intimate for years with Mrs. Bracegirdle, and lived in the same street, his house very near hers, until his acquaintance with the young Duchess of Marlborough. He then quitted that house. The Duchess showed me a diamond necklace (which Lady Di used afterwards to wear) that cost seven thousand pounds, and was purchased with the money Congreve left her. How much better would it have been to have given it to Mrs. Bracegirdle!— Dr. YOUNG: Spence by Singer, p. 376. 1670-1728-9. FINE PASSAGE IN THE MOURNING BRIDE.' 241 manner of his dialogue. Of his plays I cannot speak distinctly;\ for since I inspected them many years have passed; but what remains upon my memory is, that his characters 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 answers; 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.2 22 Of his miscellaneous poetry I cannot say anything very favourable. The powers of Congreve seem to desert him when he leaves the stage, as Antæus was no longer strong than when 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 what I could prefer to an exclamation in 'The Mourning Bride:' ALMERIA. "It was a fancied noise; for all is hush'd. 22 Of Congreve's four comedies, two are concluded by a marriage in a mask, by a deception which perhaps never happened, and which, whether likely or not, he did not invent.-JOHNSON: Preface to Shakespeare. In Dennis's 'Works,' ii. 514, is a long and capital letter from Congreve concerning humour in comedy, that deserves to find a place in any reprint of his works. VOL. II. R No: all is hush'd and still as death.-"Tis dreadful! How reverend is the face of this tall pile, Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads, Thy voice-my own affrights me with its echoes." 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 recognises a familiar image, but meets it again amplified and expanded, embellished with beauty, and enlarged with majesty.23 Yet could the author, who appears here to have enjoyed the 23 Johnson said [16th Oct. 1769] that the description of the temple in 'The Mourning Bride' was the finest poetical passage he had ever read; he recollected none in Shakespeare equal to it. "But," said Garrick, all alarmed for the god of his idolatry, "we know not the extent and variety of his powers. We are to suppose that there are such passages in his works. Shakespeare must not suffer from the badness of our memories." Johnson, diverted by this enthusiastic jealousy, went on with great ardour: "No, Sir, Congreve has nature" (smiling on the tragic eagerness of Garrick); but composing himself, he added, "Sir, this is not comparing Congreve on the whole with Shakespeare on the whole; but only maintaining that Congreve has one finer passage than any that can be found in Shakespeare. Sir, a man may have no more than ten guineas in the world, but he may have those ten guineas in one piece, and so may have a finer piece than a man who has ten thousand pounds; but then he has only one ten-guinea piece."-Boswell by Croker, p. 203. 1670-1728-9. HIS FUNERAL POEMS. 243 confidence of nature, lament the death of Queen Mary in lines like these: "The rocks are cleft, and new-descending rills And each, with streaming eyes, supplies his wanting urn. And round the plain in sad distractions rove: In prickly brakes their tender limbs they tear, And leave on thorns their locks of golden hair. With their sharp nails, themselves the Satyrs wound, And tug their shaggy beards, and bite with grief the ground. See how she wrings her hands and beats her breast, And, many years after [1703], he gave no proof that time had improved his wisdom or his wit; for, on the death of the Marquis of Blandford, this was his song: "And now the winds, which had so long been still, Began the swelling air with sighs to fill; The water-nymphs, who motionless remain❜d, Now loos'd their streams: as when descending rains The prone creation, who so long had gaz'd, Dismal to hear, and horrible to tell! Nothing but groans and sighs were heard around, In both these funeral poems, when he has yelled out many syllables of senseless dolour, he dismisses his reader with senseless consolation: from the grave of Pastora rises a light that forms a star; and where Amaryllis wept for Amyntas, from every tear sprung up a violet. But William is his hero, and of William he will sing: "The hovering winds on downy wings shall wait around, It cannot but be proper to show what they shall have to catch and carry: ""T was now, when flowery lawns the prospect made, And flowing brooks beneath a forest's shade, A lowing heifer, loveliest of the herd, Stood feeding by; while two fierce bulls prepar'd Unthought presage of what met next my view; For soon the shady scene withdrew. And now, for woods, and fields, and springing flowers, Behold a town arise, bulwark'd with walls and lofty towers; Two rival armies all the plain o'erspread, Each in battalia rang'd, and shining arms array'd; With eager eyes beholding both from far Namur, the prize and mistress of the war." The Birth of the Muse' is a miserable fiction. One good line it has, which was borrowed from Dryden. The concluding verses are these: "This said, no more remain'd. Th' etherial host The father, now, within his spacious hands Encompass'd all the mingled mass of seas and lands; He launch'd the world to float in ambient air." Of his irregular poems, that to Mrs. Arabella Hunt seems to be the best his ode for Cecilia's Day, 24 however, has some lines which Pope had in his mind when he wrote his own. His imitations of Horace are feebly paraphrastical, and the additions which he makes are of little value. He sometimes retains what were more properly omitted, as when he talks of vervain and gums to propitiate Venus. 25 24A Hymn to Harmony,' written in honour of St. Cecilia's Day, 1701. By Mr. Congreve. London: Tonson. 1703, fol. 25 I have read my friend Congreve's verses to Lord Cobham, which end with |
