the drama, Congreve appears to have come out in the
light of an independent gentleman. He was already sufficiently
introduced into literary society; Pope, Steele, Swift, and Addison were
not only his friends but his admirers, and we can well believe that
their admiration was considerable, when we find the one dedicating his
'Miscellany,' the other his translation of the 'Iliad,' to a man who was
qualified neither by rank nor fortune to play Maecenas.

At what time he was admitted to the Kit-kat I am not in a position to
state, but it must have been after 1715, and by that time he was a
middle-aged man, his fame was long since achieved; and whatever might be
thought of his works and his controversy with Collier, he was recognised
as one of the literary stars at a period when the great courted the
clever, and wit was a passport to any society. Congreve had plenty of
that, and probably at the Kit-kat was the life of the party when
Vanbrugh was away or Addison in a graver mood. Untroubled by conscience,
he could launch out on any subject whatever; and his early life, spent
in that species of so-called gaiety which was then the routine of every
young man of the world, gave him ample experience to draw upon. But
Congreve's ambition was greater than his talents. No man so little knew
his real value, or so grossly asserted one which he had not. Gay,
handsome, and in good circumstances, he aspired to be, not Congreve the
poet, not Congreve the wit, not Congreve the man of mind, but simply
Congreve the fine gentleman. Such humility would be charming if it were
not absurd. It is a vice of scribes to seek a character for which they
have little claim. Moore loved to be thought a diner-out rather than a
poet; even Byron affected the fast man when he might have been content
with the name of 'genius;' but Congreve went farther, and was ashamed of
being poet, dramatist, genius, or what you will. An anecdote of him,
told by Voltaire, who may have been an 'awfu' liar,' but had no
temptation to invent in such a case as this, is so consistent with what
we gather of the man's character, that one cannot but think it is true.

The philosopher of Ferney was anxious to see and converse with a
brother dramatist of such celebrity as the author of 'The Way of the
World.' He expected to find a man of a keen satirical mind, who would
join him in a laugh against humanity. He visited Congreve, and naturally
began to talk of his works. The fine gentlema