important. The greatest applause on the first night, was awarded to his speech of “to-morrow,” which, however, is too long to quote. It contains the most vivid and vigorous lines of the tragedy, though these incline to the inflated. Irene was played by Mrs. Pritchard, who was then about thirty-seven. She would seem to have been a woman of genius, who pleased alike in parts of high tragedy, or low comedy; was at home both in Lady Macbeth and in Doll Common. Churchill wrote of her:
Pritchard by nature for the stage design’d,
In person graceful, and in sense refined,
Her art as much as nature’s friend became,
Her voice as free from blemish as her fame,
Who knows so well in Majesty to please,
Attemper’d by the graceful charms of ease.
Mrs. Cibber was the Aspasia. “I think she got more reputation than she deserved,” said Johnson,” as she had great sameness, though her expression was undoubtedly very fine. Mrs. Clive was the best player I ever saw. Mrs. Pritchard was a very good one, but she had something affected in her manner. I imagine that she had some player of the former age in her eye which occasioned it.” Havard (who wrote the tragedies of “Scanderbeg,” “Charles the First,” and “Regulus”), Berry, Sowdon, and Burton were entrusted with the subordinate characters. The play was most carefully rehearsed, the dresses were magnificent, if incorrect. The scene we are told—there was only one, the play was of classical pattern, and the unities of time, place, and action most rigidly regarded—“was splendid and gay; well adapted to the inside of a Turkish seraglio; the view of the gardens belonging to it was in the taste of eastern elegance.”
In his character of dramatic author, Johnson considered that he was bound to appear more gaily attired than was his custom. He discarded his ordinary snuff-brown suit, and appeared in a scarlet waistcoat, trimmed with rich gold lace, and a gold-laced hat. He showed his new magnificence behind the scenes of the theatre, and also in one of the side boxes, on the night of the production of “Irene.” Perhaps he desired to assume for the occasion a pose of extreme dignity, for he informed Mr. Langton, “that when in that dress he could not treat people with the same ease as when in his usual plain clothes.” Dr. Adams has described the first performance when the house would seem to have been crowded. “Before the curtain drew up there were cat-calls whistling, which alarmed Johnson’s friends. The prologue, which was written by himself, in a manly strain, soothed the audience, and the play went on 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.” Malone complained that the audience took offence at an incident they were in the habit of applauding in Rowe’s “Tamerlane.” But, in fact, they had restrained their impatience as long as possible. It boiled over at last. They would not have been offended at the bowstring business, had they been pleased at what had preceded it. They were not—they were dreadfully wearied. The loud condemnation that is heard at particular points in doomed plays is generally the residt of pent-up displeasure rather thau a sudden ebullition of antagonism. “Irene” was a decided failure. After the first performance the catastrophe, which it was said had been made to transpire on the stage at the instance of Garrick, who hoped probably to crown a heavy play with an effective conclusion, was transferred to behind the scenes. Irene was carried out to execution. She screams:
Guilt and despair! PUnutterable anguish!
Guilt and despair! Pale spectres grin around me,
And stun me with the yellings of damnation!
O, hear my prayers! Accept, all-pitying Heaven,
These tears, these pangs, these last remains of life,
Nor let the crimes of this detested day
Be charged upon my soul. O, mercy, mercy!
After which the stage direction runs. “Mutes force her out.”
But the alteration had little effect upon the subsequent audiences. In fact, the objections were not only to the end of the day, but also to the beginning and the middle. Burney mentions that Johnson in his side box was observed during the representation to be dissatisfied with some of the speeches, and the conduct of the play; and even expressed his disapprobation aloud. Garrick, for his friend’s sake and his own, did all he could to achieve a success. He kept the play on the boards and the public out of the boxes for nine nights. After that he was compelled to withdraw it, and “Irene” was never played again.
Johnson was remunerated by the receipts of the third, sixth, and ninth nights of performance. These, after deducting expenses, amounted to 195l. 17s. From Dodsley he received one hundred pounds for the copyright. Aaron Hill wrote to Mr. Mallet, “I was at the anomalous Mr. Johnson’s benefit, and found the play his proper representative; strong sense, ungraced by sweetness or decorum.” When asked as to how he felt upon the ill success of his tragedy, Johnson replied: “Like the monument.” Whether he was altogether conscious of the extent of its failure is questionable; but he seldom referred to the subject, and he never repeated the attempt. Perhaps Garrick would have been reluctant enough to try his public with a second tragedy from the pen of Doctor Johnson.
For a time, Johnson availed himself of his entrée to the green room, and seemed to find pleasure in the sprightly gossip of the players. At last, he said:
“No, David. I’ll come no more behind your scenes,” and he went on to explain that “the silk stockings and white bosoms of the actresses” disturbed his philosophical serenity.
Of some of the performers ho seemed to think highly. He valued Mrs. Clive’s comic powers, and enjoyed conversation with her.
“Clive, sir, is a good thing to sit by, she always understands what you say.”
The lady reciprocated his regard.
