but which Johnson said
the fellow desired only that they might afford him more opportunity of
tossing his hands and kicking his heels. He always treated the art of a
player with illiberal contempt; but was at length, by the intervention
of Dr. Taylor, prevailed on to give way to the suggestions of Garrick.
Yet Garrick had not made him alter all that needed altering; for the
first exhibition of Irene shocked the spectators with the novel sight of
a heroine who was to utter two verses with the bow-string about her
neck. This horror was removed from a second representation; but, after
the usual course of ten nights, the tragedy was no longer in request.
Johnson thought it requisite, on this occasion, to depart from the usual
homeliness of his habit, and to appear behind the scenes, and in the
side boxes, with the decoration of a gold-laced hat and waistcoat. He
observed, that he found himself unable to behave with the same ease in
his finery, as when dressed in his plain clothes. In the winter of this
year, he established a weekly club, at the King's Head, in Ivy Lane,
near St. Paul's, of which the other members were Dr. Salter, a Cambridge
divine; Hawkesworth; Mr. Ryland, a merchant; Mr. John Payne, the
bookseller; Mr. John Dyer, a man of considerable erudition, and a friend
of Burke's; Doctors Macghie, Baker, and Bathurst, three physicians; and
Sir John Hawkins.

He next became a candidate for public favour, as the writer of a
periodical work, in the manner of the Spectator; and, in March, 1750,
published the first number of the Rambler, which was continued for
nearly two years; but, wanting variety of matter, and familiarity of
style, failed to attract many readers, so that the largest number of
copies that were sold of any one paper did not exceed five hundred. The
topics were selected without sufficient regard to the popular taste. The
grievances and distresses of authors particularly were dwelt on to
satiety; and the tone of eloquence was more swelling and stately than he
had hitherto adopted. The papers allotted to criticism are marked by his
usual acumen; but the justice of his opinions is often questionable. In
the humourous pieces, when our laughter is excited, I doubt the author
himself, who is always discoverable under the masque of whatever
character he assumes, is as much the object as the cause of our
merriment; and, however moral and devout his more serious views of life,
they are often defective in that mo