1 run mad, that he may have an opportunity of tossing his hands and kicking his heels." He was, however, at last, with difficulty prevailed on to comply with Garrick's wishes, so as to allow of some changes, but still there were not enough. 2 Dr. Adams was present the first night of the representation of IRENE, and gave me the following account :-- "Before the curtain drew up, there were catcalls whistling, which alarıned Johnson's friends. The Prologue, which was written by himself in a manly strain, soothed the audience, and the play went off tolerably, till it came to the conclusion, when Mrs. Pritchard, the heroine of the piece, was to be strangled upon the stage, and was to speak two lines with the bowstring round her neck. The audience cried out 'Murder! murder!" She several times attempted to speak; but in vain. At last she was obliged to go off the stage alive." This passage was afterwards struck out, and she was carried off to be put to death behind the scenes, as the play now has it. The Epilogue, as Johnson informed me, was written by Sir William Yonge. I know not how his play came to be thus graced by the pen of a person then so eminent in the political world. Notwithstanding all the support of such performers as Garrick, Barry, Mrs. Cibber, Mrs. Pritchard, and every advantage of dress 1 Mahomet was in fact played by Mr. Barry, and Demetrius by Mr. Garrick: but probably at this time the parts were not yet cast. 2 The expression used by Dr. Adams was "soothed." I should rather think the audience was awed by the extraordinary spirit and dignity of the following lines : "Be this at least his praise, be this his pride, In Reason, Nature, Truth, he dares to trust; This shows how ready modern audiences are to condemn in a new play what they have frequently endured very quietly in an old one. Rowe has made Moneses, in Tamerlane, die by the bowstring, without offence.-MALONE W and decoration, the tragedy of Irene did not please the public.' Mr. Garrick's zeal carried it through for nine nights, so that the author had his three nights' profits; and from a receipt signed by him, now in the hands of Mr. James Dodsley, it appears that his friend, Mr. Robert Dodsley, gave him one hundred pounds for the copy, with his usual reservation of the right of one edition. 2 IRENE, considered as a poem, is entitled to the praise of superior excellence. Analysed into parts, it will furnish a rich store, of noble sentiments, fine imagery, and beautiful language; but it is deficient in pathos, in that delicate power of touching the human feelings, which is the principal end of the drama. Indeed, Garrick has complained to me, that Johnson not only had not the faculty of producing the impressions of tragedy, but that he had not the sensibility to perceive them. His great friend Mr. Walmesley's prediction, that he would "turn out a fine tragedy writer," was, therefore, illfounded. Johnson was wise enough to be convinced that he had not the talents necessary to write successfully for the stage, and never made another attempt in that species of composition. When asked how he felt upon the ill success of his tragedy, he replied, "Like the Monument;" meaning that he continued firm and unmoved as that column. And let it be remembered, as an admonition to the genus irritabile of dramatic writers, that this great man, instead of previously complaining of the bad taste of the town, 1 I knew not what Sir John Hawkins means by the cold reception of Irene. I was at the first representation, and most of the subsequent. It was much applauded the first night, particularly the speech on to-morrow. It ran nine nights at least. It did not, indeed, become a stock-play; but there was not the least opposition during the representation, except the first night, in the last act, where Irene was to be strangled on the stage, which John [Bull] could not bear, though a dramatic poet may stab or slay by hundreds. The bowstring was not a Christian nor an ancient Greek or Roman death. But this offence was removed after the first night, and Irene went off the stage to be strangled. Many stories were circulated at the time, of the author's being observed at the representation to be dissatisfied with some o the speeches and conduct of the play, himself; and, like La Fontaine, expressing his disappro bation aloud.-BURNEY. 2 The amount of the three benefit nights, it is to be feared, was not very considerable, as the profit, that stimulating motive, never invited the author to another dramatic attempt.MURPHY. It appears, by a MS. note in Mr. Isaac Reed's copy of that Life, that the receipts of the third, sixth, and ninth nights, after deducting sixty guineas a night for the expenses of the house, amounted to £195 17s.; Johnson cleared, therefore, in all, very nearly £300. Aaron Hill (vol ii p. 355), in a letter to Mr. Mallet, gives the following account of "Irene: "—"I was at the anomalous Mr. Johnson's benefit, and found the play his proper representative; strong sense ungraced by sweetness or decorum." He had, indeed, upon submitted to its decision without a murmur. all occasions, a great deference for the general opinion: "A man," said he, "who writes a book thinks himself wiser and wittier than the rest of mankind; he supposes that he can instruct or amuse them, and the public to whom he appeals must, after all, be the judges of his pretensions." On occasion of this play being brought upon the stage, Johnson had a fancy that, as a dramatic author, his dress should be more gay than what he ordinarily wore he therefore appeared behind the scenes, and even in one of the side boxes, in a scarlet waistcoat, with rich gold lace, and a gold-laced hat. He humorously observed to Mr. Langton, "that when in that dress he could not treat people with the same ease as when in his usual plain clothes." Dress, indeed, we must allow, has more effect, even upon strong minds, than one should suppose, without having had the experience of it. His necessary attendance while his play was in rehearsal, and during its performance, brought him acquainted with many of the performers of both sexes, which produced a more favourable opinion of their profession, than he had harshly expressed in his Life of Savage.' With some of them he kept up an acquaintance as long as he and they lived, and was ever ready to show them acts of kindness. He, for a considerable time, used to frequent the Green-room, and seemed to take delight in dissipating his gloom, by mixing in the sprightly chit-chat of the motley circle then to be found there. Mr. David Hume related to me from Mr. Garrick, that Johnson at last denied himself this amusement, from considerations of rigid virtue; saying, "I'll come no more behind your scenes, David; for the silk stockings and white bosoms of your actresses excite my amorous propensities." LETTER 16. TO MISS LUCY PORTER.2 "GOFF SQUARE, July 12, 1749. “DEAR MISS,—I am extremely obliged to you for your letter, which I would have answered last post, but that illness prevented me. I have been often out This appears to have been by no means the case. His most acrimonious attacks on Garrick, and Sheridan, and players in general, were subsequent to this period.-CROKER, 2 This is one of Johnson's letters to his step-daughter, which Mr. Croker received from the Rev. Dr. Harwood, the historian of Lichfield. of order of late, and have very much neglected my affairs. You have acted very prudently with regard to Levett's affair, which will, I think, not at all embarrass me, for you may promise him, that the mortgage shall be taken up at Michaelmas, or, at least, some time between that and Christmas; and if he requires to have it done sooner, I will endeavour it. I make no doubt, by that time, of either doing it myself, or persuading some of my friends to do it for me. "Please to acquaint him with it, and let me know if he be satisfied. When he once called on me, his name was mistaken, and therefore I did not see him; but, finding the mistake, wrote to him the same day, but never heard more of him, though I entreated him to let me know where to wait on him. You frighted me, you little gipsy, with your black wafer, for I had forgot you were in mourning, and was afraid your letter had brought me ill news of my mother, whose death is one of the few calamities on which I think with terror. I long to know how she does, and how you all do. Your poor mamma is come home, but very weak; yet I hope she will grow better, else she shall go into the country. She is now up stairs, and knows not of my writing. I am, dear miss, your most humble servant, "SAM. JOHNSON." CHAPTER IX. 1750-1751. 'ohnson begins "The Rambler "-His Prayer on commencing the Undertaking-Obligations to Correspondents-Adversaria-Success of the Rambler-Collected into Volumes"Beauties" of the Rambler-Writes a Prologue, to be spoken by Garrick, for the Benefit of Milton's Grand-daughter-"Life of Cheynel "-Lauder's Forgery against Milton-Mrs. Anna Williams. IN 1750 Johnson came forth in the character for which he was eminently qualified, a majestic teacher of moral and religions wisdom. The vehicle which he chose was that of a periodical paper, which he knew had been, upon former occasions, employed with great success. The Tatler, Spectator, and Guardian, were the last of the kind published in England, which had stood the test of a long trial; and such an interval had now elapsed since their publication, as made him justly think that, to many of his readers, this form of instruction would, in some degree, have the advantage of novelty. A few days before the first of his Essays came out, there started another competitor for fame in the same form, under the title of "The Tatler Revived," which, I believe, was "born but to die." Johnson was, I think, not very happy in the choice of his title,-"The Rambler;" which certainly is not suited to a series of grave and moral discourses; which the Italians have literally, but ludicrously, translated by Il Vagabondo; and which has been lately assumed as the denomination of a vehicle of licentious tales, "The Rambler's Magazine." He gave Sir Joshua Reynolds the following account of its getting this name: "What must be done, Sir, will be done. When I was to begin publishing that paper, I was at a loss how to name it. I sat down at night upon my bedside, and resolved that I would not go to sleep till I had fixed its title. The Rambler seemed the best that occurred, and I took it." 1 I have heard Dr. Warton mention, that he was at Mr. Rcbert Dodsley's with the lats |