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"Yet when the sense of sacred presence fires, "And strong devotion to the skies aspires, "Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, "Obedient passions, and a will resign'd; "For love, which scarce collective man can fill, "For patience, sovereign o'er transmuted ill; "For faith, which panting for a happier seat, "Counts death kind Nature's signal for retreat. "These goods for man the laws of Heaven ordain, "These goods he grants, who grants the power to

gain;

"With these celestial wisdom calms the mind, "And makes the happiness she does not find."

Garrick being now vested with theatrical power by being manager of Drury-lane theatre, he kindly and generously made use of it to bring out Johnson's tragedy, which had been long kept back for want of encouragement. But in this benevolent purpose he met with no small difficulty from the temper of Johnson, which could not brook that a drama which he had formed with much study, and had been obliged to keep more than the nine years of Horace, should be revised and altered at the pleasure of an actor. Yet Garrick knew well, that without some alterations it would not be fit for the stage. A violent dispute having ensued between them, Garrick applied to the Reverend Dr. Taylor to interpose. Johnson was at first very 'obstinate. "Sir, (said he) the fellow wants me to make Mahomet run mad, that he may have an opportunity of tossing his hands and kicking his heels." He was, however, at last, with

I

I Mahomet was, in fact, played by Mr. Barry, and Demetrius by Mr. Garrick but probably at this time the parts were not yet cast.

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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 alarmed 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 bow-string 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,

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,
"To force applause no modern arts are tried:
"Should partial catcalls all his hopes confound,
"He bids no trumpet quell the fatal sound;
"Should welcome sleep relieve the weary wit,
"He rolls no thunders o'er the drowsy pit;
"No snares to captivate the judgement spreads,
"Nor bribes your eyes to prejudice your heads.
"Unmov'd, though witlings sneer and rivals rail,
"Studious to please, yet not asham'd to fail,
"He scorns the meek address, the suppliant strain,
"With merit needless, and without it vain ;
"In Reason, Nature, Truth, he dares to trust;
"Ye fops be silent, and ye wits be just !"

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 and decoration, the tragedy of Irene did not please the publick. Mr. Garrick's zeal carried it through for nine nights, so that the authour 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.

IRENE, considered as a poem, is intitled to the praise of superiour 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

*

[I know not what Sir John Hawkins means by the cold reception of IRENE. [See note, p. 161]. 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 could not bear, though a dramatick poet may stab or slay by hundreds. The bow-string 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 of the speeches and conduct of the play, himself; and, like la Fontaine, expressing his disapproba tion aloud. B.]

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. Walmsley's prediction, that he would "turn out a fine tragedy-writer," was, therefore, ill-founded. 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 dramatick writers, that this great man, instead of peevishly complaining of the bad taste of the town, submitted to its decision without a murmur. He had, indeed, upon all occasions, a great deference for the general opinion: "A man (said he) who writes a book, thinks himself wiser or wittier than the rest of mankind; he supposes that he can instruct or amuse them, and the publick to whom he appeals, must, after all, be the judges of his pretensions."

On occasion of his play being brought upon the stage, Johnson had a fancy that as a dramatick authour 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,

3 Aaron Hill (Vol. II. p. 355,) in a letter to Mr. Mallett, gives the following account of Irene after having seen it: "I was at the anomalous Mr. Johnson's benefit, and found the play his proper representative; strong sense ungraced by sweetness or decorum.”

He humourously 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 shew 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."

1750: ÆTAT. 41.]-IN 1750 he came forth in the character for which he was eminently qualified, a majestick teacher of moral and religious 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

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