SAVAGE. 
own, and to keep him entirely ignorant of his real parentage. 
He from this time had the name of his nurse, and would 
have been entirely neglected as to his education, had not the 
mother of lady Macclesfield paid him some attention, and 
caused him to be sent to the grammar-school at St. Alban’s. 
While in this situation lord Rivers was taken dangerously 
ill, and feeling some compunctions of conscience, he wished 
to make provisions for his natural childern, of whom he had 
several, and sending for lady Macclesfield to make enquiry 
after Richard, she assured him he was dead: accordingly 
the legacy of 6000/. intended for him went to another. In 
effect also she deprived him of another legacy which his god¬ 
mother had left him, by concealing from him his birth, and 
thereby rendering it impossible for him to prosecute his claim. 
She endeavoured to send him to the plantations in North 
America, but this plan failed, and he was bound apprentice 
to a shoe-maker. Shortly after, his supposed mother died, 
and in searching her boxes he found some letters, which dis¬ 
covered to the youth the secret of his birth, of which it 
appears he had hitherto no suspicion whatever. The dis¬ 
covery naturally excited in him a disgust to his humble em¬ 
ployment, and it was now his object to rouse, if possible, 
the tenderness of his mother, who had married as a second 
husband Colonel Brett. Every effort of this kind, however, 
was repulsed with the most unfeeling harshness: and the de¬ 
serted and forlorn youth, unable to gain admittance into 
her house, was accustomed to walk before the door in dark 
evenings, in the hope that he might gain a view of her as 
she crossed her apartment with a candle. Having once 
found the door open he walked up stairs, hoping thereby to 
procure an interview; but this detestable mother no sooner 
perceived him, than she called the servants to turn him out 
of the house, pretending that he had a design of murdering 
her. Being now destitute of regular support, and feeling 
a propensity to literary pursuits, he resolved to become an 
author. In the Bangorian controversy he attacked bishop 
Hoadley: after which he turned to the stage, and wrote 
two pieces taken from Spanish comedies, which were no 
otherwise successful than in giving him an introduction to 
Steele and Wilks, both of whom befriended him ; but hav¬ 
ing offended the former, by ridiculing him behind his back, 
he lost his protection. Mrs. Oldfield, the actress, displayed 
her generosity to him, by some liberal donations; though, 
owing to her dislike of his manners and conversation, she 
would never admit him into her house. These temporary 
supplies afforded him but precarious support, and he at¬ 
tempted to improve his circumstances by writing a tragedy : 
but during the composition of it he was so entirely destitute 
of a home, that he used to study his speeches in the streets 
and fields, and write them with pen and ink, borrowed in any 
shop to which he was near, upon scraps of paper which he 
casually picked up in the streets. Thus was produced his 
tragedy entitled “ Sir Thomas Overbury,’’ which, being 
corrected by Cibber and Aaron Hill, was brought out at 
Drury-lane, in the year 1723. It had not much success, 
but introduced the author to' some of the wits of the day, 
and put into his pocket about 200/. Savage himself, in 
this play, took the part of Overbury on the stage; but his 
manner proved him totally unqualified for the theatre. He 
next published a volume of miscellaneous poems, to which he 
prefixed an account of the treatment which he had ex¬ 
perienced from his mother. His case was now generally 
known, and he was rising into some degree of reputation: 
but as fast as his friends, by their kind exertions, raised him 
from one difficulty, he sunk into another; and when he 
found himself much involved, he would ramble through the 
streets like a vagabond, without a shirt to his back. It was 
in one of these situations that an incident happened which 
plunged him into the deepest distress. Rambling late in the 
streets, with two companions, in November, 1727, they en¬ 
tered a house of entertainment, and in a quarrel with a com¬ 
pany just leaving the room as they entered it, he unfor¬ 
tunately killed a man, for which he was tried, convicted, and 
condemned to be hanged. His friends earnestly supplicated 
for mercy, but his mother used every effort to prevent his 
Vol. XXII. No. 1533. 
693 
receiving the royal clemency. At length the countess of 
Hertford laid the whole case before the queen, and Savage 
obtained a pardon. 
Savage had now lost all tenderness for his mother, which, 
it is said, the whole series of her cruelty had not before been 
able wholly to repress; and considering her as an implacable 
enemy, which nothing but his blood would satisfy, threatened 
to harass her with satires, and to publish a full account of 
all her usage of him, unless she consented to allow him a 
pension. This expedient proved successful, and her nephew, 
lord Tyrconnel, in order to silence him, took Savage into 
his family, treated him as a companion, and gave him 200/. 
a-year. This was the most prosperous part of Savage’s 
life. He was courted by all who endeavoured to be thought 
men of genius, and caressed by all who valued themselves 
upon a refined taste. In this period of his life he published 
“ The Temple of Health and Mirth,” on the recovery of 
lady Tyrconnel from a severe fit of illness; and “ The 
Wanderer,” a moral poem, which he dedicated to lord Tyr¬ 
connel, in strains of the highest panegyric: but these praises 
he in a short time found himself inclined to retract, being 
discarded by the man on whom they were bestowed. For this 
quarrel, lord Tyrconnel and Mr. Savage assigned very dif¬ 
ferent reasons. Our author’s known character pleaded 
strongly against him ; for his conduct was ever such as made 
all his friends very soon grow weary of him, and even 
forced most of them to become his enemies. 
Being thus once more without the means of subsistence, 
Savage thought himself at liberty to take revenge upon his 
mother. He accordingly wrote “ The Bastard,” one of his 
most vigorous efforts, to which the subject gave great tem¬ 
porary popularity. This poem made its appearance at the 
time when his mother happened to be at Bath, and many 
persons, indignant at her conduct, took frequent oppor¬ 
tunities of repeating passages from it in her hearing. This 
was, probably, the first time that ever she discovered a sense 
of shame, and on this occasion the power of wit was very 
conspicuous: “ The wretch,” says Savage’s biographer, 
“ who had, without scruple, proclaimed herself an adulteress, 
and who had first endeavoured to starve her son, then to 
transport him, and afterwards to hang him, was not able 
to bear the representation of her own conduct, but fled 
from reproach, though she felt no pain from guilt, and left 
Bath in the utmost haste, to shelter herself among the 
crowds of London.” Some time after this Savage formed 
the resolution of applying to the queen, who. having once 
given him his life, he hoped might extend her goodness to 
him by enabling him to support it. With this view he pub¬ 
lished a poem for her birth-day, which he entitled “ The 
Volunteer Laureat,” for which she sent him 50/., with an 
intimation that he might expect a like sum annually. It 
was, however, too small an allowance for a man of his strange 
and singular extravagance. His usual custom was, as soon as 
he had received his pension, to disappear with it, and secrete 
himself from his most intimate friends till every shilling was 
spent, which being done he again appeared as pennyless as 
before. But he would never inform any person where he 
had been, or in what manner his money had been dissipated. 
From the reports, however, of some, who found means to 
penetrate his haunts, it should seem that he expended both 
his time and his cash in the most sordid sensuality; particu¬ 
larly in eating and drinking, in which he would indulge in 
the most unsocial manner, sitting whole days and nights by 
himself, in obscure public houses, immersed in filth and 
sloth, without decent apparel. 
It was at this period that he contracted an intimacy with 
the afterwards celebrated Dr. Samuel Johnson, then come 
to London as a literary adventurer, who seems to have been 
captivated by a politeness of manner and elegance of con¬ 
versation in Savage, which atoned for bis many moral de¬ 
fects. He frequently accompanied him in his nocturnal 
rambles, and made him a subject of close observation, whence 
he derived materials for that life of Savage, which is cer¬ 
tainly among his most admired performances. 
After the death of the queen, Savage’s distresses became 
8 0 so 
