ay in state under the ancient roof of the
Jerusalem Chamber, and was interred in Westminster Abbey. The pall was
borne by the Duke of Bridgewater, Lord Cobham, the Earl of Wilmington,
who had been Speaker, and was afterwards First Lord of the Treasury, and
other men of high consideration. Her Grace laid out her friend's bequest
in a superb diamond necklace, which she wore in honor of him, and, if
report is to be believed, showed her regard in ways much more
extraordinary. It is said that a statue of him in ivory, which moved by
clockwork, was placed daily at her table, that she had a wax doll made
in imitation of him, and that the feet of the doll were regularly
blistered and anointed by the doctors, as poor Congreve's feet had been
when he suffered from the gout. A monument was erected to the poet in
Westminster Abbey, with an inscription written by the Duchess; and Lord
Cobham honored him with a cenotaph, which seems to us, though that is a
bold word, the ugliest and most absurd of the buildings at Stowe.

We have said that Wycherley was a worse Congreve. There was, indeed, a
remarkable analogy between the writings and lives of these two men. Both
were gentleman liberally educated. Both led town lives, and knew human
nature only as it appears between Hyde Park and the Tower. Both were men
of wit. Neither had much imagination. Both at an early age produced
lively and profligate comedies. Both retired from the field while still
in early manhood, and owed to their youthful achievements in literature
whatever consideration they enjoyed in later life. Both, after they had
ceased to write for the stage, published volumes of miscellanies which
did little credit either to their talents or to their morals. Both,
during their declining years, hung loose upon society; and both, in
their last moments, made eccentric and unjustifiable dispositions of
their estates.

But in every point Congreve maintained his superiority to Wycherley.
Wycherley had wit; but the wit of Congreve far outshines that of every
comic writer, except Sheridan, who has arisen within the last two
centuries. Congreve had not, in a large measure, the poetical faculty;
but compared with Wycherley he might be called a great poet. Wycherley
had some knowledge of books; but Congreve was a man of real learning.
Congreve's offences against decorum, though highly culpable, were not so
gross as those of Wycherley; nor did Congreve, like Wycherley, exhibit
to the world