[a] Hunt, a famous boxer on the stage; Mahomet, a ropedancer, who had exhibited at Covent garden theatre the winter before, said to be a Turk.

PREFATORY NOTICE TO

THE TRAGEDY OF IRENE.

The history of this tragedy's composition is interesting, as affording dates to distinguish Johnson's literary progress. It was begun, and considerably advanced, while he kept a school at Edial, near Lichfield, in 1736. In the following year, when he relinquished the task of a schoolmaster, so little congenial with his mind and disposition, and resolved to seek his fortunes in the metropolis, Irene was carried along with him as a foundation for his success. Mr. Walmsley, one of his early friends, recommended him, and his fellow-adventurer, Garrick, to the notice and protection of Colson, the mathematician. Unless Mrs. Piozzi is correct, in rescuing the character of Colson from any ident.i.ty with that of Gelidus, in the Rambler[a], Johnson entertained no lively recollection of his first patron's kindness. He was ever warm in expressions of grat.i.tude for favours, conferred on him in his season of want and obscurity; and from his deep silence here, we may conclude, that the recluse mathematician did not evince much sympathy with the distresses of the young candidate for dramatic fame. Be this, however, as it may, Johnson, shortly after this introduction, took lodgings at Greenwich, to proceed with his Irene in quiet and retirement, but soon returned to Lichfield, to complete it. The same year that saw these successive disappointments, witnessed also Johnson's return to London, with his tragedy completed, and its rejection by Fleetwood, the patentee, at that time, of Drury lane theatre. Twelve years elapsed, before it was acted, and, after many alterations by his pupil and companion, Garrick, who was then manager of the theatre, it was, by his zeal, and the support of the most eminent performers of the day, carried through a representation of nine nights. Johnson's profits, after the deduction of expenses, and together with the hundred pounds, which he received from Robert Dodsley, for the copy, were nearly three hundred pounds. So fallacious were the hopes cherished by Walmsley, that Johnson would "turn out a fine tragedy writer[b]."

"The tragedy of Irene," says Mr. Murphy, "is founded on a pa.s.sage in Knolles's History of the Turks;" an author highly commended in the Rambler, No. 122. An incident in the life of Mahomet the great, first emperor of the Turks, is the hinge, on which the fable is made to move.

The substance of the story is shortly this:--In 1453, Mahomet laid siege to Constantinople, and, having reduced the place, became enamoured of a fair Greek, whose name was Irene. The sultan invited her to embrace the law of the prophet, and to grace his throne. Enraged at this intended marriage, the janizaries formed a conspiracy to dethrone the emperor. To avert the impending danger, Mahomet, in a full a.s.sembly of the grandees, "catching, with one hand," as Knolles relates it, "the fair Greek by the hair of her head, and drawing his falchion with the other, he, at one blow, struck off her head, to the great terror of them all; and, having so done, said unto them, 'Now, by this, judge whether your emperor is able to bridle his affections or not[c].'" We are not unjust, we conceive, in affirming, that there is an interest kept alive in the plain and simple narrative of the old historian, which is lost in the declamatory tragedy of Johnson.

It is sufficient, for our present purpose, to confess that he _has_ failed in this his only dramatic attempt; we shall endeavour, more fully, to show _how_ he has failed, in our discussion of his powers as a critic. That they were not blinded to the defects of others, by his own inefficiency in dramatic composition, is fully proved by his judicious remarks on Cato, which was constructed on a plan similar to Irene: and the strongest censure, ever pa.s.sed on this tragedy, was conveyed in Garrick's application of Johnson's own severe, but correct critique, on the wits of Charles, in whose works

"Declamation roar'd, while pa.s.sion slept."[d]

"Addison speaks the language of poets," says Johnson, in his preface to Shakespeare, "and Shakespeare of men. We find in Cato innumerable beauties, which enamour us of its author, but we see nothing that acquaints us with human sentiments, or human actions; we place it with the fairest and the n.o.blest progeny which judgment propagates by conjunction with learning; but Oth.e.l.lo is the vigorous and vivacious offspring of observation, impregnated by genius. Cato affords a splendid exhibition of artificial and fict.i.tious manners, and delivers just and n.o.ble sentiments, in diction easy, elevated and harmonious; but its hopes and fears communicate no vibration to the heart: the composition refers us only to the writer; we p.r.o.nounce the name of Cato, but we think on Addison." The critic's remarks on the same tragedy, in his Life of Addison, are as applicable as the above to his own production. "Cato is rather a poem in dialogue than a drama; rather a succession of just sentiments in elegant language, than a representation of natural affections, or of any state probable or possible in human life. Nothing here 'excites or a.s.suages emotion:' here is no 'magical power of raising phantastick terrour or wild anxiety.' The events are expected without solicitude, and are remembered without joy or sorrow. Of the agents we have no care; we consider not what they are doing, or what they are suffering; we wish only to know what they have to say."

But, while we thus p.r.o.nounce Johnson's failure in the production of dramatic effect, we will not withhold our tribute of admiration from Irene, as a moral piece. For, although a remark of Fox's on an unpublished tragedy of Burke's, that it was rather rhetorical than poetical, may be applied to the work under consideration; still it abounds, throughout, with the most elevated and dignified lessons of morality and virtue. The address of Demetrius to the aged Cali, on the dangers of procrastination[e]; Aspasia's reprobation of Irene's meditated apostasy[f]; and the allusive panegyric on the British const.i.tution[g], may be enumerated, as examples of its excellence in sentiment and diction.

Lastly, we may consider Irene, as one other ill.u.s.trious proof, that the most strict adherence to the far-famed unities, the most harmonious versification, and the most correct philosophy, will not vie with a single and simple touch of nature, expressed in simple and artless language. "But how rich in reputation must that author be, who can spare _an Irene_, and not feel the loss [h]."

FOOTNOTES [a] Rambler, No. 24, and note.

[b] Boswell's Life, i.

[c] Murphy's Essay on the Life and Genius of Dr. Johnson.

[d] Prologue at the opening of Drury lane theatre, 1747.

[e] Act iii. scene ii. "To-morrow's action!" &c.

[f] Act iii. scene viii. "Reflect, that life and death," &c.

[g] Act i. scene ii. "If there be any land, as fame reports," &c.

[h] Dr. Young's remark on Addison's Cato. See his Conjectures on Original Composition. Works, vol. v.

PROLOGUE.

Ye glitt'ring train, whom lace and velvet bless, Suspend the soft solicitudes of dress!

From grov'ling bus'ness and superfluous care, Ye sons of avarice, a moment spare!

Vot'ries of fame, and worshippers of power, Dismiss the pleasing phantoms for an hour!

Our daring bard, with spirit unconfin'd, Spreads wide the mighty moral for mankind.

Learn here, how heaven supports the virtuous mind, Daring, though calm; and vig'rous, though resign'd; Learn here, what anguish racks the guilty breast, In pow'r dependant, in success depress'd.

Learn here, that peace from innocence must flow; All else is empty sound, and idle show.

If truths, like these, with pleasing language join; Enn.o.bled, yet unchang'd, if nature shine; If no wild draught depart from reason's rules; Nor G.o.ds his heroes, nor his lovers fools; Intriguing wits! his artless plot forgive; And spare him, beauties! though his lovers live.

Be this, at least, his praise, be this his pride; To force applause, no modern arts are try'd.

Should partial catcals 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 judgment, 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!

PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.

MEN.

MAHOMET, Emperour of the Turks, Mr. BARRY.

CALI Ba.s.sA, First vizier, Mr. BERRY.

MUSTAPHA, A Turkish aga, Mr. SOWDEN.

ABDALLA, An officer, Mr. HAVARD.

HASAN, / Mr. USHER, Turkish captains, CARAZA, / Mr. BURTON.

DEMETRIUS, / Mr. GARRICK, Greek n.o.blemen, LEONTIUS, / MR. BLAKES.

MURZA, An eunuch, Mr. KING.

WOMEN.

ASPASIA, / Mrs. GIBBER, Greek ladies, IRENE, / Mrs. PRITCHARD.

Attendants on IRENE.

ACT I.--SCENE I.

DEMETRIUS _and_ LEONTIUS, _in Turkish habits_.

LEONTIUS.

And, is it thus Demetrius meets his friend, Hid in the mean disguise of Turkish robes, With servile secrecy to lurk in shades, And vent our suff'rings in clandestine groans?

DEMETRIUS.

Till breathless fury rested from destruction, These groans were fatal, these disguises vain: But, now our Turkish conquerors have quench'd Their rage, and pall'd their appet.i.te of murder, No more the glutted sabre thirsts for blood; And weary cruelty remits her tortures.

LEONTIUS.

Yet Greece enjoys no gleam of transient hope, No soothing interval of peaceful sorrow: The l.u.s.t of gold succeeds the rage of conquest; --The l.u.s.t of gold, unfeeling and remorseless, The last corruption of degen'rate man!

Urg'd by th' imperious soldiers' fierce command, The groaning Greeks break up their golden caverns, Pregnant with stores, that India's mines might envy, Th' acc.u.mulated wealth of toiling ages.

DEMETRIUS.

That wealth, too sacred for their country's use!

That wealth, too pleasing to be lost for freedom!

That wealth, which, granted to their weeping prince, Had rang'd embattled nations at our gates!

But, thus reserv'd to lure the wolves of Turkey, Adds shame to grief, and infamy to ruin.

Lamenting av'rice, now too late, discovers Her own neglected in the publick safety.

LEONTIUS.

Reproach not misery.--The sons of Greece, Ill fated race! so oft besieg'd in vain, With false security beheld invasion.

Why should they fear?--That pow'r that kindly spreads The clouds, a signal of impending show'rs, To warn the wand'ring linnet to the shade, Beheld without concern expiring Greece; And not one prodigy foretold our fate.