sary to follow the rules of virtue, and to preserve an unvaried regard to truth. For though it is undoubtedly possible that a man, however cautious, may be sometimes deceived by an artful appearance of virtue, or by false evidences of guilt, such errors will not be frequent; and it will be allowed, that the name of an author would never have been made contemptible, had no man ever said what he did not think, or misled others but when he was himself deceived. That he was not altogether free from literary hypocrisy, and that he sometimes spoke one thing and wrote another, cannot be denied; because he himself confessed, that, when he lived in great familiarity with Dennis, he wrote an epigramt against him. Mr. Savage, however, set all the malice of all the pigmy writers at defiance, and thought the friendship of Mr. Pope cheaply purchased by being exposed to their censure and their hatred; nor had he any reason to repent of the preference, for he found Mr. Pope a steady and unalienable friend almost to the end of his life. About this time, notwithstanding his avowed neutrality with regard to party, he published a panegyric on Sir Robert Walpole, for which he was rewarded by him with twenty guineas; a sum not very large, if either the excellence of the performance, or the affluence of the patron, be considered; but greater than he afterwards obtained from a person of yet higher rank, and more desirous in appearance of being distinguished as a patron of literature. "The Author to be Let" was first published in a single pamphlet, and afterwards inserted in a collection of pieces relating to the "Dunciad," which were addressed by Mr. Savage to the Earl of Middlesex, in a dedication* which he was prevailed upon to sign, though he did not write it, and in which there are some positions, that the true author would perhaps not have published under his own name, and on which Mr. Savage afterwards reflected with no great satisfaction: the enumeration of the bad effects of the uncontrolled freedom of the press, and the assertion that the liberties taken by the writers of journals with "their superiors, were exorbi- As he was very far from approving the contant and unjustifiable," very ill became men, duct of Sir Robert Walpole, and in conversation who have themselves not always shown the ex-mentioned him sometimes with acrimony, and actest regard to the laws of subordination in generally with contempt; as he was one of those their writings, and who have often satirised who was always zealous in his assertions of the those that at least thought themselves their su- justice of the late opposition, jealous of the rights periors, as they were eminent for their heredi- of the people, and alarmed by the long-continued tary rank, and employed in the highest offices of triumph of the court; it was natural to ask him the kingdom. But this is only an instance of what could induce him to employ his poetry in that partiality which almost every man indulges praise of that man who was, in his opinion, an with regard to himself: the liberty of the press enemy to liberty, and an oppressor of his counis a blessing when we are inclined to write try? He alleged, that he was then dependent against others, and a calamity when we find upon the Lord Tyrconnel, who was an implicit ourselves overborne by the multitude of our as- follower of the ministry; and that, being ensailants; as the power of the crown is always joined by him, not without menaces, to write in thought too great by those who suffer by its in-praise of his leader, he had not resolution suffifluence, and too little by those in whose favour cient to sacrifice the pleasure of affluence to that it is exerted; and a standing army is generally of integrity. accounted necessary by those who command, and dangerous and oppressive by those who support it. Mr. Savage was likewise very far from believing that the letters annexed to each species of bad poets in the Bathos were, as he was directed to assert, "set down at random;" for when he was charged by one of his friends with putting his name to such an improbability, he had no other answer to make than "he did not think of it;" and his friend had too much tenderness to reply, that next to the crime of writing contrary to what he thought, was that of writing without thinking. On this, and on many other occasions, he was ready to lament the misery of living at the tables of other men, which was his fate from the beginning to the end of his life; for I know not whether he ever had, for three months together, a settled habitation, in which he could claim a right of residence. To this unhappy state it is just to impute much of the inconstancy of his conduct; for though a readiness to comply with the inclination of others was no part of his natural character, yet he was sometimes obliged to relax his obstinacy, and submit his own judgment, and even his virtue, to the government of those After having remarked what is false in this by whom he was supported: so that, if his misededication, it is proper that I observe the impar-ries were sometimes the consequences of his tiality which I recommend, by declaring what Savage asserted, that the account of the circumstances which attended the publication of the "Dunciad," however strange and improbable, was exactly true. The publication of this piece at this time raised Mr. Savage a great number of enemies among those that were attacked by Mr. Pope, with whom he was considered as a kind of confederate, and whom he was suspected of supplying with private intelligence and secret incidents; so that the ignominy of an informer was added to the terror of a satírist. * See his Works, vol. ii. p. 233. faults, he ought not yet to be wholly excluded from compassion, because his faults were very often the effects of his misfortunes. In this gay period of his life, while he was surrounded by affluence and pleasure, he pub This epigram was, I believe, never published. Should Dennis publish you had stabb'd your brother, lished "The Wanderer," a moral poem, of characters wholly fictititious, and without the which the design is comprised in these lines: I fly all public care, all venal strife, And more distinctly in the following passage: This performance was always considered by himself as his masterpiece; and Mr. Pope, when he asked his opinion of it, told him, that he read it once over, and was not displeased with it; that it gave him more pleasure at the second perusal, and delighted him still more at the third. It has been generally objected to "The Wanderer," that the disposition of the parts is irregular; that the design is obscure, and the plan perplexed; that the images, however beautiful, succeed each other without order; and that the whole performance is not so much a regular fabric, as a heap of shining materials thrown together by accident, which strikes rather with the solemn magnificence of a stupendous ruin, than the elegant grandeur of a finished pile. The criticism is universal, and therefore it is reasonable to believe it at least in a great degree just; but Mr. Savage was always of a contrary opinion, and thought his drift could only be missed by negligence or stupidity, and that the whole plan was regular, and the parts distinct. It was never denied to abound with strong representations of nature, and just observations upon life; and it may easily be observed, that most of his pictures have an evident tendency to illustrate his first great position, "that good is the consequence of evil." The sun that burns up the mountains, fructifies the vales; the deluge that rushes down the broken rocks with dreadful impetuosity, is separated into purling brooks; and the rage of the hurricane purifies the air. Even in this poem he has not been able to forbear one touch upon the cruelty of his mother, which, though remarkably delicate and tender, is a proof how deep an impression it had upon his mind. This must be at least acknowledged, which ought to be thought equivalent to many other excellences, that this poem can promote no other purposes than those of virtue, and that it is written with a very strong sense of the efficacy of religion. But my province is rather to give the history of Mr. Savage's performances than to display their beauties, or to obviate the criticisms which they have occasioned; and therefore I shall not dwell upon the particular passages which deserve applause; I shall neither show the excellence of his descriptions, nor expatiate on the terrific portrait of suicide, nor point out the artful touches by which he has distinguished the intellectual features of the rebels who suffer death in his last canto. It is, however, proper to observe that Mr. Savage always declared the least allusion to any real persons or actions. From a poem so diligently laboured, and so successfully finished, it might be reasonably expected that he should have gained considerable advantage; nor can it without some degree of indignation and concern be told, that he sold the copy for ten guineas, of which he afterwards returned two, that the two last sheets of the work might be reprinted, of which he had in his absence intrusted the correction to a friend, who was too indolent to perform it with accuracy. A superstitious regard to the correction of his sheets was one of Mr. Savage's peculiarities: he often altered, revised, recurred to his first reading or punctuation, and again adopted the alteration: he was dubious and irresolute without end, as on a question of the last importance, and at last was seldom satisfied: the intrusion or omission of a comma was sufficient to discompose him, and he would lament an error of a single letter as a heavy calamity. In one of his letters relating to an impression of some verses, he remarks, that he had, with regard to the correction of the proof, "a spell upon him ;" and indeed the anxiety with which he felt upon the minutest and most trifling niceties deserved no other name than that of fascination. That he sold so valuable a performance for so small a price, was not to be imputed either to necessity, by which the learned and ingenious are often obliged to submit to very hard conditions; or to avarice, by which the booksellers are frequently incited to oppress that genius by which they are supported; but to that intemperate desire of pleasure, and habitual slavery to his passions, which involved him in many perplexities. He happened at that time to be engaged in the pursuit of some trifling gratification, and, being without money for the present occasion, sold his poem to the first bidder, and perhaps for the first price that was proposed, and would probably have been content with less, if less had been offered him. This poem was addressed to the Lord Tyr-. connel, not only in the first lines, but in a formal dedication filled with the highest strains of panegyric, and the warmest professions of gratitude, but by no means remarkable for delicacy of connexion or elegance of style. These praises in a short time he found himself inclined to retract, being discarded by the man on whom he had bestowed them, and whom he then immediately discovered not to have deserved them. Of this quarrel, which every day made more bitter, Lord Tyrconnel and Mr. Savage assigned very different reasons, which might perhaps all in reality concur, though they were not all convenient to be alleged by either party. Lord Tyrconnel affirmed that it was the constant practice of Mr. Savage to enter a tavern with any company that proposed it, drink the most expensive wines with great profusion, and when the reckoning was demanded, to be without money; if, as it often happened, his company were willing to defray his part, the affair ended without any ill conse quences; but if they were refractory, and expected that the wine should be paid for by him that drank it, his method of composition was, to take them with him to his own apartment, assume the government of the house, and order the butler in an imperious manner to set the best wine in the cellar before his company, who often drank till they forgot the respect due to the house in which they were entertained, indulged themselves in the utmost extravagance of merriment, practised the most licentious frolics, and committed all the outrages of drunk-versation, which was so often to be observed. enness. Nor was this the only charge which Lord Tyrconnel brought against him: having given him a collection of valuable books, stamped with his own arms, he had the mortification to see them in a short time exposed to sale upon the stalls, it being usual with Mr. Savage, when he wanted a small sum, to take his books to the pawnbroker. pectations, as tending to infringe his liberty, of which he was very jealous, when it was necessary to the gratification of his passions; and declared, that the request was still more unreasonable, as the company to which he was to have been confined was insupportably disagreeable. This assertion affords another instance of that inconsistency of his writings with his conHe forgot how lavishly he had in his dedication to "The Wanderer," extolled the delicacy and penetration, the humanity and generosity, the candour and politeness, of the man, whom, when he no longer loved him, he declared to be a wretch without understanding, without goodnature, and without justice; of whose name he thought himself obliged to leave no trace in any future edition of his writings; and accordingly blotted it out of that copy of "The Wanderer" which was in his hands. Whoever was acquainted with Mr. Savage easily credited both these accusations: for having been obliged, from his first entrance into During his continuance with the Lord Tyrthe world, to subsist upon expedients, affluence connel, he wrote "The Triumph of Health and was not able to exalt him above them; and so Mirth," on the recovery of Lady Tyrconnel much was he delighted with wine and conversa- from a languishing illness. This performance tion, and so long had he been accustomed to live is remarkable, not only for the gayety of the by chance, that he would at any time go to the ideas, and the melody of the numbers, but for tavern without scruple, and trust for the reck- the agreeable fiction upon which it is formed. oning to the liberality of his company, and fre- Mirth, overwhelmed with sorrow for the sickquently of company to whom he was very little ness of her favourite, takes a flight in quest of known. This conduct indeed very seldom her sister Health, whom she finds reclined upon drew upon him those inconveniences that might the brow of a lofty mountain, amidst the frabe feared by any other person; for his conver-grance of perpetual spring, with the breezes of sation was so entertaining, and his address so pleasing, that few thought the pleasure which they received from him dearly purchased, by paying for his wine. It was his peculiar happiness, that he scarcely ever found a stranger, whom he did not leave a friend; but it must likewise be added that he had not often a friend long, without obliging him to become a stranger. Mr. Savage, on the other hand, declared that Lord Tyrconnel* quarrelled with him because he would not subtract from his own luxury and extravagance what he had promised to allow him, and that his resentment was only a plea for the violation of his promise. He asserted, that he had done nothing that ought to exclude him from that subsistence which he thought not so much a favour as a debt, since it was offered him upon conditions which he had never broken; and that his only fault was, that he could not be supported with nothing. the morning sporting about her. Being solicited by her sister Mirth, she readily promises her assistance, flies away in a cloud, and impregnates the waters of Bath with new virtues, by which the sickness of Belinda is relieved. As the reputation of his abilities, the particu lar circumstances of his birth and life, the splendour of his appearance, and the distinction which was for some time paid him by Lord Tyrconnel, entitled him to familiarity with persons of higher rank than those to whose conversation he had been before admitted; he did not fail to gratify that curiosity which induced him to take a nearer view of those whom their birth, their employments, or their fortunes, necessarily place at a distance from the greatest part of mankind, and to examine whether their merit was magnified or diminished by the medium through which it was contemplated; whether the splendour with which they dazzled their admirers was inherent in themselves, or only reflected on them by the objects that surrounded them; and whether great men were selected for high stations, or high stations made great men. He acknowledged, that Lord Tyrconnel often exhorted him to regulate his method of life, and not to spend all his nights in taverns, and that he appeared very desirous that he would pass For this purpose he took all opportunities of those hours with him, which he so freeely be- conversing familiarly with those who were most stowed upon others. This demand Mr. Sa- conspicuous at that time for their power or their vage considered as a censure of his conduct, influence: he watched their looser moments, which he could never patiently bear, and which, and examined their domestic behaviour, with in the latter and cooler parts of his life, was so that acuteness which nature had given him, and offensive to him, that he declared it as his reso- which the uncommon variety of his life had conlution, "to spurn that friend who should pre-tributed to increase, and that inquisitiveness sume to dictate to him ;" and it is not likely that in his earlier years he received admonitions with more calmness. He was likewise inclined to resent such ex * His expression in one of his letters was, "that Lord Tyrconnel had involved his estate, and therefore poorly Bought an occasion to quarrel with him."-Dr. J. which must always be produced in a vigorous mind, by an absolute freedom from all pressing or domestic engagements. His discernment was quick, and therefore he soon found in every person, and in every affair, something that deserved attention: he was supported by others without any cure for himself, and was therefore at leisure to pursue his observations. More circumstances to constitute a critic on human life could not easily concur; nor indeed could any man who assumed from accidental advantages more praise than he could justly claim from his real merit, admit any acquaintance more dangerous than that of Savage; of whom likewise it must be confessed, that abilities really exalted above the common level, or virtue refined from passion, or proof against corruption, could not easily find an abler judge, or a warmer advo cate. What was the result of Mr. Savage's inquiry, though he was not much accustomed to conceal his discoveries, it may not be entirely safe to relate, because the persons whose characters he criticised are powerful; and power and resentment are seldom strangers: nor would it perhaps be wholly just; because what he asserted in conversation might, though true in general, be heightened by some momentary ardour of imagination, and, as it can be delivered only from memory, may be imperfectly represented; so that the picture, at first aggravated, and then unskilfully copied, may be justly suspected to retain no great resemblance of the original. It may, however, be observed, that he did not appear to have formed very elevated ideas of those to whom the administration of affairs, or the conduct of parties, have been entrusted; who have been considered as the advocates of the crown, or the guardians of the people; and who have obtained the most implicit confidence, and the loudest applauses. Of one particular person, who has been at one time so popular as to be generally esteemed, and at another so formidable as to be universally detested, he observed, that his acquisitions had been small, or that his capacity was narrow, and that the whole range of his mind was from obscenity to politics, and from politics to obscenity. than usual caution preserved by him, who knew, if he had reflected, that he was only a dependant on the bounty of another, whom he could expect to support him no longer than he endeavoured to preserve his favour by complying with his m chinations, and whom he nevertheless set at defiance, and was continually irritating by negli gence or encroachments. Examples need not be sought at any great distance to prove, that superiority of fortune has a natural tendency to kindle pride, and that pride seldom fails to exert itself in contempt and insult; and if this is often the effect of hereditary wealth, and of honours enjoyed only by the merit of others, it is some extenuation of any indecent triumphs, to which this unhappy man may have been betrayed, that his prosperity was heightened by the force of novelty, and made more intoxicating by a sense of the misery in which he had so long languished, and perhaps of the insults which he had formerly borne, and which he might now think himself entitled to revenge. It is too common for those who have unjustly suffered pain, to inflict it likewise in their turn with the same injustice, and to imagine that they have a right to treat others as they have themselves been treated. serve no panegyric, who is capable of reproaching a criminal in the hands of the executioner. That Mr. Savage was too much elevated by any good fortune, is generally known; and some passages of his Introduction to "The Author to be Let," sufficiently show that he did not wholly refrain from such satire as he afterwards thought very unjust when he was exposed to it himself; for, when he was afterwards ridiculed in the character of a distressed poet, he very easily discovered, that distress was not a proper subject for merriment, nor topic of invective. He was then able to discern, that if misery be the effect of virtue, it ought to be reverenced; if of illfortune, to be pitied and if of vice, not to be But the opportunity of indulging his specula- insulted, because it is perhaps itself a punishtions on great characters was now at an end.— ment adequate to the crime by which it was proHe was banished from the table of Lord Tyr-duced. And the humanity of that man can deconnel, and turned again adrift upon the world, without prospect of finding quickly any other harbour. As prudence was not one of the vir But these reflections, though they readily octues by which he was distinguished, he had curred to him in the first and last parts of his made no provision against a misfortune like this. life, were, I am afraid, for a long time forgotten; And though it is not to be imagined but that the at least they were, like many other maxims, separation must for some time have been pre-treasured up in his mind rather for show than ceded by coldness, peevishness, or neglect, though it was undoubtedly the consequence of accumulated provocations on both sides: yet every one that knew Savage will readily believe, that to him it was sudden as a stroke of thunder; that though he might have transiently suspected it, he had never suffered any thought so unpleasing to sink into his mind; but that he had driven it away by amusements, or dreams of future felicity and affluence, and had never taken any measures by which he might prevent a precipitation from plenty to indigence. use, and operated very little upon his conduct, however elegantly he might sometimes explain, or however forcibly he might inculcate them. His degradation, therefore, from the condition which he had enjoyed with such wanton thoughtlessness, was considered by many as an occasion of triumph. Those who had before paid their court to him without success, soon returned the contempt which they had suffered; and they who had received favours from him, (for of such favours as he could bestow he was very liberal,) did not always remember them. So much more certain are the effects of resentment than of gratitude: it is not only to many more pleasing to recollect those faults which place others below be-them, than those virtues by which they are themselves comparatively depressed; but it is likewise more easy to neglect than to recompense; and though there are few who will practise a laborious virtue, there will never be wanting multitudes that will indulge in easy vice. This quarrel and separation, and the difficulties to which Mr. Savage was exposed by them, were soon known both to his friends and enemies: nor was it long before he perceived, from the haviour of both, how much is added to the lustre of genius, by the ornaments of wealth. His condition did not appear to excite much compassion; for he had not always been careful to use the advantages he enjoyed with that moderation which ought to have been with more Savage, however, was very little disturbed at the marks of contempt which his ill-fortune | him to solicit a reconciliation; he returned rebrought upon him, from those whom he never proach for reproach, and insult for insult; his esteemed, and with whom he never considered superiority of wit supplied the disadvantages of himself as levelled by any calamities: and his fortune, and enabled him to form a party, and though it was not without some uneasiness that prejudice great numbers in his favour. he saw some, whose friendship he valued, change their behaviour, he yet observed their coldness without much emotion, considered them as the slaves of fortune, and the worshippers of prosperity, and was more inclined to despise them, than to lament himself. It does not appear that, after this return of his wants, he found mankind equally favourable to him as at his first appearance in the world. His story, though in reality not less melancholy, was less affecting, because it was no longer new; it therefore procured him no new friends; and those that had formerly relieved him, thought they might now consign him to others. He was now likewise considered by many rather as criminal, than as unhappy; for the friends of Lord Tyrconnel, and of his mother, were sufficiently industrious to publish his weaknesses, which were indeed very numerous; and nothing was forgotten that might make him either hateful or ridiculous. But though this might be some gratification of his vanity, it afforded very little relief to his necessities; and he was very frequently reduced to uncommon hardships, of which, however, he never made any mean or importunate complaints, being formed rather to bear misery with fortitude, than enjoy prosperity with moderation. He now thought himself again at liberty to expose the cruelty of his mother; and, therefore, I believe, about this time published "The Bastard," a poem remarkable for the vivacious sallies of thought in the beginning, where he makes a pompous enumeration of the imaginary advantages of base birth; and the pathetic sentiments at the end, where he recounts the real calamities which he suffered by the crime of his parents. The vigour and spirit of the verses, the peculiar circumstances of the author, the novelty of the subject, and the notoriety of the story to which the allusions are made, procured this perIt cannot but be imagined, that such repre-formance a very favourable reception; great sentations of his faults must make great num-numbers were immediately dispersed, and edibers less sensible of his distress; many, who had only an opportunity to hear one part, made no scruple to propagate the account which they received: many assisted their rcirculation from malice or revenge; and perhaps many pretended to credit them, that they might with a better grace withdraw their regard, or withhold their assistance. tions were multiplied with unusual rapidity. the assembly-rooms, or cross the walks, without being saluted with some lines from "The Bastard." One circumstance attended the publication, which Savage used to relate with great satisfac tion. His mother, to whom the poem was with "due reverence" inscribed, happened then to be at Bath, where she could not conveniently retire from censure, or conceal herself from observation; and no sooner did the reputation of the Savage, however, was not one of those who poem begin to spread, than she heard it repeated suffered himself to be injured without resist-in all places of concourse; nor could she enter ance, nor was less diligent in exposing the faults of Lord Tyrconnel; over whom he obtained at least this advantage, that he drove him first to the practice of outrage and violence: for he was This was perhaps the first time that she ever so much provoked by the wit and virulence of discovered a sense of shame, and on this occaSavage, that he came with a number of attend- sion the power of wit was very conspicuous; ants, that did no honour to his courage, to beat the wretch who had without scruple proclaimed him at a coffee-house. But it happened that he herself an adulteress, and who had first endeahad left the place a few minutes; and his lord-voured to starve her son, then to transport him, ship had, without danger, the pleasure of boasting how he would have treated him. Mr. Savage went next day to repay his visit at his own house; but was prevailed on, by his domestics, to retire without insisting upon seeing 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 with the utmost haste, to shelter herself among the crowds of London. Thus Savage had the satisfaction of finding, that, though he could not reform his mother, he could punish her, and that he did not always suffer alone. Lord Tyrconnel was accused by Mr. Savage of some actions, which scarcely any provocations will be thought sufficient to justify; such as seizing what he had in his lodgings, and other instances of wanton cruelty, by which he in- The pleasure which he received from this increased the distress of Savage, without any ad-crease of his poetical reputation, was sufficient vantage to himself. for some time to overbalance the miseries of These mutual accusations were retorted on want, which this performance did not much alboth sides for many years, with the utmost de-leviate; for it was sold for a very trivial sum gree of virulence and rage; and time seemed to a bookseller, who, though the success was so rather to augment than diminish their resentment. That the anger of Mr. Savage should be kept alive, is not strange, because he felt every day the consequences of the quarrel; but it might reasonably have been hoped, that Lord Tyrconnel might have relented, and at length have forgotten those provocations, which, however they might have once inflamed him, had not in reality much hurt him. The spirit of Mr. Savage indeed never suffered uncommon that five impressions were sold, of which many were undoubtedly very numerous, had not generosity sufficient to admit the unhappy writer to any part of the profit. The sale of this poem was always mentioned by Savage with the utmost elevation of heart, and referred to by him as an incontestable proof of a general acknowledgment of his abilities. It was indeed the only production of which he could justly boast a general reception. |