THE character of Congreve was established by his brilliant comedies, before he appeared in the sable garb of tragedy, and his "Mourning Bride" was presented to the town; its first announcement was in 1691; the high fame and celebrity of its author attracted to it universal curiosity and attention, and crowded the Theatre on the night of its performance. The great Dryden, "Glorious John," himself a monument of fame, is recorded to have been present, and to have expressed the highest delight and approbation. The audience followed in the train of the " Mighty Master," and the tragedy was crowned with applause. But, though the opinion of such a man as Dryden must ever be regarded with the highest consideration and respect, it has not determined the character of the "6 Mourning Bride." Congreve's comedies, notwithstanding the vein of licentiousness that runs through them, are splendid productions of the first or der of talent; the characters are all drawn with the nicest discrimination to the taste and manners of the age; they are sparkling with wit, and enlivened by the happiest dialogue. It has been remarked, (and justly too) as a proof of his genius, that though all his characters are witty, yet the wit of the master differs essentially from that of the servant, and the man of high fashion scatters his repartee with an ease and indifference far above the second-rate foplings who ape his elevation. It is told of Congreve, that, on his preferment by friends in power to a situation of considerable emolument, on the profits of which he lived in ease and elegance, he wished to throw off the reputation of a literary man, and felt offended at Voltaire's visit to him in that character. Had his fame rested on a less firm foundation than that of his efforts as a comic writer, we fear he would have had little difficulty in disembarrassing himself of what he seemed to think a troublesome appendage, were it only supported by the Mourning Bride.

Eur. Mag. Vol. 82.

One

passage, the speech of Almeria on her visit to the tomb of Anselmo, is quoted by that great (yet often prejudiced) critic, Dr. Johnson, as the most poetic in the English language, and it is undoubtedly one of the very highest beauty.

ACT II-SCENE I.

Enter Almeria and Leonora. Alm." It was a fancy'd noise, for all is hush'd.

Leon. It bore the accent of a human voice.

Alm. It was thy fear, or else some transient wind

Whistling through hollows of this

vaulted aisle. We'll listen

No; all is hush'd and still as death! 'tis dreadful!

How rev'rend is the face of this tall pile,

Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads

To bear aloft its arch'd and pondrous roof,

By its own weight made stedfast and immoveable,

Looking tranquillity! It strikes an

awe

And terror on my aching sight; the tombs

And monumental caves of death look cold,

And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart.

Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice:

Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear

Thy voice-my own affrights me with its echoes."

"Si sic omnes;" this tragedy would stand on a lofty pedestal of fame indeed, and fully equal the most splendid of this great writer's productions in comedy; but through the play there are few, if any other passages of force or beauty to be found; the scenes are strained, and the dialogue tumid and unnatural. The character of Zara is the most prominent, and the fine acting, the eye and voice, of Mrs. Siddons gave it a force and colouring it never had before; while she remained on the stage, the play preserved its ascendancy. The grief and passion of 30

and the Tories shouted with equal vehemence, that they might shake off the incumbering mantle of jacobitism, and appear equal friends to freedom as their triumphant adversaries; but its subsequent and present attraction consists in its inspiriting appeals to liberty; these sentiments which immortalized ancient Rome while she was free, and which still ennoble this great and happy country these with the high moral feeling which pervades it, its classic poetry, and the affecting picture of a great and good man struggling with the remnant of his little band in a holy cause, against superior force and overpowering ambition, and at length falling by his own hand sooner than swell the conque"ror's triumph, when he despaired of his country, these form, and must continue to be its certain support, until the people of England feel and think differently from what they long have done: Addison had previously been highly distinguished in the world of letters; he had produced an opera, called "Fair Rosamond," ," the comedy of the "Drummer," and had taken a part with his friend Sir Richard Steele in his play of the "Tender Husband," his papers in the Spectator still remain the most perfect standard of literary composition in the English language; but his highest ambition seems to have fearfully rested on the success or failure of his "Cato.'; On the night of its representation, too anxious to remain at home, and too agitated to appear among the audience, he is reported to have placed himself in the green-room of the Theatre motionless and silent, the living statue of fear and apprehension; but the audience were early in their plaudits, and as the play proceeded the welcome shouts forced their way to the retirement of the author, anticipated the re

ports of the messenger, whom he kept at his side, and the triumph of Addison was proportioned to his anxiety. Pope, who wrote the prologue, declared that Cato' was not so much the wonder of Rome in his days as He is of Britain in ours." This tragedy is executed in such strict unison with all the laws of the severest criticism, and all the unities of the ancient masters (led

by the great Stagyrite) are so strictly preserved, that, unless a critic be more merciless than Dennis, he can find nothing to blame Yet though the tremendous castigation of Pope annihilated the character of the unfortunate Dennis, his dissection of "Cato," though coarse, is in many respects just. The inconsistencies and failings he points out, from Addison's unvarying adherence to the ancient rules of composition, are fully warranted. We may close our remarks by stating, that though "Cato" must ever command, admiration, and deserve our ap. Our plause, it will have little effect in moving our feelings, or exciting our passions. Had Addison leisure from his political avocations and the inquietudes of private life, to complete the other dramatic works which he planned, it is probable he would have appealed to the pas sions more, and founded his triumphs on individual excitement; but on the death of Queen Anne his friends came into power, and he was soon after appointed principal Secretary of State; his genius does not appear to have lain in politics, and his private hours were embittered by a splendid, but unhappy marriage with the Countess of Warwick. He died in 1719, at the early age of forty-seven; the affecting incident of his death-bed and his interview with Lord Warwick are sneered at by Horace Walpole, who says he was then "maudlin with wine." Addison, it is known, indulged in wine partly, perhaps, from coldness of constitution, and as much from private unhappiness; but the sarcasm of Walpole is a foul libel on the memory of a man whose life and writings were dedicated to the cause of morality and virtue, and whose death was regretted by all that was great, and lamented by all that was then good in England.

The "Revenge," of Dr. Young, the author of the "Night Thoughts," is an instance of a tragedy, founded on individual passion and excitement alone, which has kept the stage while his Brothers"and"Busiris"are neglected, and their sententious morality and more elaborate conception have sunk into comparative oblivion; yet the "Revenge," with all the talents of its author, had not the