took measures to prevent his ever entering her house on any pretence whatever. Savage was so affected by the discovery of his real mother, that he frequently walked on dark evenings before her door, in hopes of seeing her as she might accidentally come to the window, or cross her apartment with a, candle. One evening he saw the door of her house open. He entered it and went up stairs. She discovered him before he advanced to her chamber, alarmed her domes tics, and ordered them to drive out of the house a villian, who had endeavoured to murder her. Savage, who had attempted, by the most submissive tenderness to soften her rage, hearing her utter so detestible an accusation, retired, and never attempted to speak to her again. During this time that he was assiduously endeavouring to awaken the tenderness of a mother, in whom all natural affection was extinct, he was destitute of the means of support, and having no profession, and a strong inclination to literary pursuits, he became an author from necessity. He wrote on the Bangorian controversy in opposition to Hoadley, a disgraceful poem; translated the play Woman's a Riddle, from the Spanish comedy of "La Dama Duende," and Love in a Veil, from "Peor esta qua estava." Steele espoused his interest with all that ardour of benevolence which constituted his character; nor did they end in common favours, he proposed to establish him in some fixed plan of life, to give him a natural daughter of his own, and to settle on them a thousand pounds, asserting that "the inhumanity of the mother had given every man a right to become his father." There proved a difficulty in: raising the thousand pounds, which delayed the marriage. In this interval Savage had undertaken to ri

dicule his benefactor. Steele then withdrew the allowance which he paid him, and never afterwards admitted him to his house. In June 1723 he produced Sir Thomas Overbury, which was performed at DruryJane for three nights only, which raised him a temporary independency of 1007. produced from the acting, printing, and dedication. Aaron Hill encouraged a subscription to "A Miscellany of Poems," by publishing his story in the "Plain Dealer," with the following verses, which had a powerful effect on all except his mother, whom they only hardened in aversion.

Hopeless, abandon'd, aimless, and oppress'd, lost to delight, and every way distress'd: cross his cold bed, in wild disorder thrown, thus sigh❜d Alexis, friendless, and alone.

"Why do I breathe? what joy can being give, when she who gave me life forgets I live! feels not these wintry blasts, nor heeds my smart; but shuts me from the shelter of her heart? saw me expos'd to want! to shame! to scorn! to ills!which make it misery to be born! cast me, regardless, on the world's bleak wild, and bade me be a wretch while yet a child!

Where can he hope for pity, peace or rest, who moves no softness in a mother's breast? Custom, law, reason, all! my cause forsake; and nature sleeps, to keep my woes awake! Crimes, which the cruel scarce believe can be, the kind are guilty of, to ruin me!

even she who bore me blasts me with her hate,
and, meant my fortune, makes herself my fate.
Yet has this sweet neglecter of my woes
the softest, tend'rest breast, that pity knows!

her eyes shed mercy whereso'er they shine,
and her soul melts at every woe-but mine.
Sure, then, some secret fate for guilt unwill'd,
some sentence pre-ordain'd to be fulfill'd,
plung'd me thus deep in sorrow's searching flood,
and wash'd me from the mem'ry of her blood.
But, oh! whatever cause has mov'd her hate,
let me but sigh in silence at my fate;

the God within, perhaps, may touch her breast;
and when she pities, who can be distress'd?
Advancing in credit, he appeared to gain upon man-
kind, when an intemperate disaster occurred which
sunk again his reputation, and his life was subjected to
the justice of the laws. On the 20th, of November
1727, Sayage came from Richmond, whither he had
retired to pursue his studies, when meeting with two
acquaintances, Marchant and Gregory, he went into
a coffee-house, where they sat drinking to a late hour,
They could not be accommodated with beds, and
rambling about the streets, they discovered a light at
a coffee-house near Charing-cross, went in, and de-
manded a room. A company was just leaving a par-
lour, being then paying their reckoning, and the room
would be shortly at liberty. Marchant, not satisfied
with this answer, rushed into the room, and behaved
rudely. This produced a quarrel; swords were drawn;
and, in the confusion a Mr. James Sinclair was killed.
A woman servant was wounded by Savage, as she
was endeavouring to hold him. Savage and his com-
panions were taken into custody, tried for the offence,
and he and Gregory capitally convicted. Savage
pleaded his own cause; but it was proved that he
gave Sinclair his death's wound, while Gregory com-
manded the sword of the deceased. The mercy of

the crown was solicited for him by his friends, but opposed by his mother, who prejudiced the Queen against him, and used all her influence to have him executed. A friend however arose who did not fail in the interposition. The amiable countess of Hertford effected his salvation, by pleading the extraordinary sufferings of the condemned culprit. She was joined in this purpose by Lord Tyrconnel, his mother's nephew, and by solicitations made by Mrs. Oldfield, to sir Robert Walpole. He was admitted to bail, and on the 9th of March 1728, pleaded the royal pardon. He had now recovered his liberty, but he had no means of subsistence. Incapable as his mother was of being moved by compassion, Savage determined to try the effect of ridicule. He declared his intention of exposing her diabolical conduct to public execration. This expedient proved successful. Lord Tyrconnel, on his engaging to lay aside his design, received him into his family, treated him as his equal, and allowed him 2001 a year. The vicious propensities of Savage however soon compelled Lord Tyrconnel to withdraw his voluntary bounty, and to banish him from his table. He had introduced company into his lordship's house, with whom he practised the most licentious frolics, committed outrages of drunkenness, sold or pawned the books which had been presented to him, stamped with Lord Tyrconnel's arms. Cast again on the world, he considered himself at liberty to take some revenge on his mother, and published The Bastard, which had an extraordinary sale, and compelled his mother to fly from Bath, to avoid hearing the lines, which were continually repeated in her hearing. A poem called the Volunteer Laureat, produced from the Queen a

ut stipend of 501 per annum. The money he received was always rapidly squandered, and poverty continued a galling inconvenience. He seldom ate but

2.

when invited by an acquaintance, from some of which his dress often excluded him. Often did he pass his nights in those houses which stand open for any casual wanderer; often in cellars, amid the riot and filth of the most profligate of the rabble; often did he walk in the streets till he was weary, then lie downs in summer upon a bulk, and in winter among the ashes of a glass-house. The death of the Queen in 1738, brought the loss of his pension and increasing poverty. He had yet some friends who were not inactive in his favour. Fifty pounds a year was offered to him on condition of his retiring into Wales and living there in privacy. This offer he accepted, but returned to London in the space of 12 months. He passed through Bristol on his return from Swansea, where his elegant manners and pleasant conversation procured him admittance to the tables of the rich; but his late hours and irregular conduct caused them to grow weary of him. His clothes indeed grew too shabby for genteel company, and poverty continued to harras him even to death's door, for, poor man! the brutal mistress of a coffee-room arrested him for the small sum of eight pounds. He was removed to Newgate, where the keeper, Mr. Dagge, supported him at his own table. Ungrateful and unrepentant, he languished in this abode for six months, till disease came to give the wretched being rest. His disorder terminated by a fever which caused his death on the first of Angust, 1743 in the 46th year of his age. Thus lived and thus died this unhappy man, leaving an instance of a remarkable combination of