re.'

In parts of its characterisation _The Way of the World_ is extremely bold
in observation, extremely careless of literary types and traditions. Mrs.
Fainall, a woman who is the friend, and assists in the intrigues, of a
man who has ceased to be her lover, is most unconventionally human. Of
all the inimitable scenes, that in which Millamant and Mirabell make
their conditions of marriage is perhaps the most unquestionable triumph.
'Let us never visit together, nor go to a play together, but let us be
very strange and well-bred'--there is its keynote. The dialogue is as
sure and perfect in diction, in balance of phrases, and in musical
effectiveness as can be conceived, and for all its care is absolutely
free in its gaiety. It is the ultimate expression of the joys of the
artificial. As for the prologue, it is an invitation to the dullards to
damn the play, and is anything but serenely confident. The dedication,
to 'Ralph, Earl of Mountague,' has an interesting fact: it tells us that
the comedy was written immediately after staying with him, 'in your
retirement last summer from the town,' and pays a tribute to the
influence of the society the dramatist met there. 'Vous y voyez
partout,' said Voltaire of Congreve, 'le langage des honnetes gens avec
des actions de fripon; ce qui prouve qu'il connaissait bien son monde, et
qu'il vivait dans ce qu'on appelle la bonne compagnie.'

The want of dramatic skill which has been alleged against Congreve is
simply a question of construction--of the construction of his plays as a
whole. His plots hang fire, are difficult to follow, and are not worth
remembering. But many things besides go to the making of good plays, and
few playwrights have had all the theatrical virtues. Do we not pardon a
lack of incident in a novel of character? In this connexion it is worth
while to contrast Congreve with Sheridan, who in the matter of
construction was a far abler craftsman. But is there not in the elder
poet enough to turn the scale, even the theatrical scale, ten times over?
Compare the petty indignation, with which the dramatist of _The School
for Scandal_ deals with his scandalmongers, and the amused indifference
of Congreve towards the cabalists in _The Way of the World_. Or take any
hero of Congreve's and contrast him with that glorification of vulgar
lavishness and canting generosity, that very barmaid's hero, Charles
Surface. It is all very well to say that Joseph is the