Isaac? Because she was beautiful and tempting, and because I
was obstinate and doating. . . .' In the one passage is the gay and
skilfully light paradox, in the other the clean, rhythmical, and
balanced, yet dramatic and appropriate English that are elements of
Congreve's style. It is in the conventions of its characterisation that
_The Old Bachelor_ belongs, not to true Congrevean comedy but, to that of
the models from which he was to break away. The characterisation of _The
Way of the World_ is light and true, that of _The Old Bachelor_ is heavy
and yet vague. Vainlove indeed, the 'mumper in love,' who 'lies canting
at the gate,' is individual and Congrevean. But Heartwell, the
blustering fool, Bellmour, the impersonal rake, Wittol and Bluffe, the
farcical sticks, Fondlewife, the immemorial city husband, and the troop
of undistinguished women--what can be said of them but that they are
glaring stage properties, speaking better English than the comic stage
had before attracted? Germs, possibly, of better things to come, that is
all, so far as characterisation goes. The Fondlewife episode, in
particular, which doubtless was mightily popular--what is there more in
it than the mutton fisted wit and brutality of Wycherley, with some of
Congreve's English? Such scenes as these, it may be hazarded, so
contemptible in the light of Congreve's better work, are ineffective now
because they fall between two stools: between the comedy (or tragedy) of
a crude physical fact, naked and impossible, as in Rochester, and the
comedy (or tragedy) of delicately-phrased intrigue. The latter was yet
to come when this play was produced, and meantime such episodes went very
well, and their popularity is intelligible. For the rest _The Old
Bachelor_, though to us in these days its plot appear a somewhat
uninspiring piece of fairyland, was a good acting play, fitted with great
skill to its actual players. The part of Fondlewife, created by Dogget,
was on a revival played (to his own immense satisfaction) by Colley
Cibber. In Araminta Mrs. Bracegirdle began (in a faint outline as it
were) the series of lively, sympathetic, intelligent heroines which
Congreve wrote for her. Lord Falkland's Prologue is as funny as it is
indecently suggestive, which is saying a great deal. The one actually
spoken gave an opportunity of the merriest archness to Mrs. Bracegirdle,
and was calculated to put the audience in the best of good humours.

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