was true: he even goes so far as to imply that Lord Rivers had, in his will, bequeathed to Savage six thousand pounds; but that, on receiving the account of his death, he altered the will, and bestowed the legacy on another person.' I think the fact of the case is, that the son of Earl Rivers and Lady Macclesfield was, at this time, really dead; and this opinion is strengthened by the over-endeavour of Savage to exaggerate her unnatural enmity. If she had been his mother, there was on his part as great a deficiency of natural feeling towards her, as there was on her part towards him. Truly, if we consider the number of years during which Lord Rivers, his father and godfather, never inquired after him, and the reciprocal conduct of the mother and the son, they must have been three of the most extraordinary personages ever described, for deficiency of natural affection. This interception of the provision which Lord Rivers intended to make, is rendered still more improbable by what Dr Johnson, on the authority of Savage, immediately after states, viz. that his mother endeavoured to rid herself from the danger of being at any time made known to him, by sending him secretly to the American plantations.' Now be it remembered, that his mother became afterwards the wife of the patentee of the very theatre which Savage most frequented. By whose kindness this scheme of kidnapping was counteracted, or by what interposition Mrs Brett was induced to lay aside her design, I know not. It is not inprobable that the Lady Mason might persuade or compel her to desist, or perhaps she could not easily find accomplices wicked enough to conour in such an action.' After stating this, Dr Johnson makes the following observations, the justice or common-sense of which is by no means apparent-It may be conceived,' says he, that those who had, by a long gradation of guilt, hardened their hearts against the sense of common wickedness, would yet be shocked at the design of a mother to expose her son to slavery and want-to expose him without interest and without provocation; and Savage might, on this occasion, find protectors and advocates among those who had long traded in crimes, and whom compassion had never touched before.' Without more particularly adverting to the improbability altogether of kidnapping the boy for Virginia, I would only remark on the plain nonsense of Dr Johnson's observations. Was it at all necessary to such a kidnapping scheme, that the mother should disclose to the agents her relationship to the boy they were to convey out of the country in so surreptitious a manner? and if they previously knew the relationship, and were creatures capable of executing such an unnatural machination, would they have scrupled to get this rich lady so effectually into their power as they would have done, either by executing her scheme, or by seemingly conniving at it, by taking her son into their own charge? If they did not know of the connexion, what comes of the Doctor's moral revulsion of the kidnappers? This part of the story, which rests on Savage's authority alone-and Savage was never respected by his contemporaries for his probity-I have no hesitation in at once rejecting, as in its conception an extravagant monstrosity; for the mother in all this period seems to have left the management of the child entirely to her own mother, Lady Mason, and no cause nor motive had occurred to move her to intercept the intended legacy, far less to instigate her to the wickedness of sending her son to slavery in Virginia. Dr John son, in the same frame of insatiable credulity, continues- Being hindered, by whatever means, of banishing him into another country, she formed soon after a scheme for burying him in poverty and obscurity in his own; and that his station in life, if not the place of his residence, might keep him for ever at a distance from her-(and yet she was the wife of a patentee of the theatre)—she ordered him to be placed with a shoemaker in Holborn, that after the usual time of trial he might become his apprentice.' The good Doctor, in the simplicity of his heart, states this on the authority of Savage himself. Now, mark how loosely this tale hangs together. In the first place, it supposes the mother all this time to be spontaneously actuated by something like a demoniacal virulence against her son, although it is manifest that Lady Mason was the agent in all that related to the child by Lord Rivers. Now, was Lady Mason dead when this project of the apprenticeship was hatched? It is not so said. Then who was the agent to negotiate with the shoemaker? Did that agent know of the relationship of the child? Was the shoemaker so incurious as to take no step to ascertain who were the connexions of this mysterious apprentice? Was no money to be paid to the shoemaker? The story-though it be true, in fact, that Savage was an apprentice to a shoemaker in Holbornappears utterly improbable in the alleged anterior machination. Lady Mason had been alive, she would of course, from her previous part in the plot, have been the negociator, through the nurse, as whose son the bastard passed; and here again the character of Lady Mason comes to be considered. Has it ever been blemished in all this business? and she was, at least, known to the nurse, if the nurse did not know who were the parents of the child. But observe what follows. While Savage is apprentice to the shoemaker, the nurse, who had always treated him as her own son, dies, and Savage, as her son, proceeds to take care of those few effects which by her death were, as he imagined, become his own.' Now had this old woman no relations who knew that the child had been placed with her? none to interfere, as people in their condition of life were likely to do, that he should have been permitted to take possession of her effects? Mark also; in taking pos If session of her effects, Dr Johnson says, that he opened her boxes and examined her papers, among which he found some letters written to her by the Lady Mason, which informed him of his birth, and the reasons for which it was concealed.' This is curious. Is it probable that Lady Mason would have committed herself by writing any such letters to the old woman, had there existed such a wish for concealment as it is attempted to make us believe? That there may have been letters from Lady Mason, which suggested the idea of inquiring to whom they related; and that Savage, by inquiry, might have ascertained they concerned the child of Lady Macclesfield and Lord Rivers, which had been placed while an infant with his mother, the nurse, is highly probable; and from the character of his mind, it is not at all unlikely that he should have either imagined himself to be that child, or fancied that, with the evidence, he might pass himself off as such. My opinion is that the latter was the case, and that the poet and player, Richard Savage, was, in his capacity of Lady Macclesfield's son, an impostor. A remarkable gleam of light is thrown upon the probability of this notion by a circumstance hitherto unnoticed. The famous trial of the An nesley family began about this time, and it is curious in how many points the abduction of the heir of that family resembles the pretended machinations of which Savage gives an account of his being himself, both in what was done and intended, the object. When Savage had examined the papers found in the box of his nurse, or mother as I am disposed to think she really was, he remained no longer satisfied with his employment as a shoemaker, but resolved to share the affluence of the lady he was determined to consider as his mother; and accordingly, without scruple, he made use of every art to awaken her tenderness and attract her regard. It is singular enough, however, that this was done through the medium of letters; the natural course would have been, had there been no consciousness of deception, to have gone to her at once in person, for he had no reason at that time to think, though she might desire that her child should remain unknown, that she would reject him in the manner she did. Dr Johnson says, that neither his letters, nor the interposition of those friends which his merit or his distress procured him, made any impression upon her mind. She still resolved to neglect, though she could no longer disown him.' Now this is not correct; for she did acknowledge that she had had a child, but which was dead, and she did deny that Savage was her son. In fact, being persuaded that he was an impostor, all the extraordinary antipathy with which she regarded him is explained, by the simple circumstance of her believing that her own child was dead, and the natural mortification that she could not but suffer at the revival, after the lapse of so many years, of her dishonour and public degradation." Whether or not Savage was the real issue of the woman whom he now called mother, he at least failed to obtain a parent's recognition from her, and was necessitated to look for such means of support as he could himself command. The Bangorian controversy was at this period agitating the whole literary world, and into this controversy Savage, though very unfit for polemical controversy, rushed with headlong precipitancy, by publishing a poem against the bishop. The attempt was a failure, as might have been anticipated from his youth and inexperience. Undismayed, however, by the result, he next directed his attention to the drama, and produced a piece entitled, 'Woman's a Riddle.' It met with little success, but served to introduce him to the notice of Sir Richard Steele, the critic, and Mr Wilks, the actor. The former patronized him warmly, and even offered him the hand of his natural daughter; the latter succeeded in obtaining some pecuniary relief for him from his reputed mother, and also favourably introduced him to the celebrated and generous Mrs Oldfield, who was so taken with his story that she conferred on him a pension of fifty pounds per annum during her life. In 1724 Savage attempted a tragedy on the story of Sir Thomas Overbury. Aaron Hill wrote the prologue and epilogue for this piece, and the author himself made his first appearance on the stage in it, in the character of Sir Thomas. The piece partially succeeded; and Savage was gradually emerging from his obscurity and poverty, when both his reputation and life were placed in peril by the fatal consequence of a midnight brawl in which he and some of his dissolute companions were concerned, and in which a man was killed. Savage and one of his companions stood their trial for the murder, and were found guilty; but the countess of Hertford interested herself so warmly in Savage's favour, that the culprits were admitted to bail, and afterwards pleaded the king's pardon. During his imprisonment and trial, Savage conducted himself with great firmness and propriety. It is affirmed by Dr Johnson that his unnatural mother used every means in her power to thwart the efforts made to obtain his pardon. Savage was next patronised by Lord Tyrconnel, who granted him a pension of £200, which, however, he soon contrived to forfeit by quar. relling with his noble friend. He then betook himself to lampooning and satirizing some people, and panegyrizing others, as a means of raising the wind. To the queen he paid his court by presenting her majesty with an annual copy of verses under the character of 'The Volunteer Laureat; his reputed mother he annoyed and drove from Bath, where she was then staying, by the publication of a poem, entitled 'The Bastard,' containing many plain allusions to his own history; Sir Robert Walpole he first courted in some adulatory verses, and then attacked for not gratifying his inordinate expectations. Meanwhile his habits were becoming daily more dissolute, and the shifts to which he resorted more discreditable; his wit had lost its novelty, and his outrageous conduct rendered his presence burdensome to his friends. Pope and some others proposed to settle a small annual pension upon him on condition that he would retire to the country and remain there. He at first acceded to the proposal; but he soon got dissatisfied with a country life, and attempted to get back to his old haunts. In January, 1743, he was arrested for debt in Bristol, and, six months after, died in prison. His collected works were published in two volumes octavo, with a memoir from the pen of his friend Dr Johnson, which is acknowledged to be one of the most splendid of the whole series of lives from the pen of the biographer of the English poets. James Thomson. BORN A. D. 1700.-DIED A. D. 1748. THIS favourite poet was the son of the Rev. Mr Thomson, parish minister of Ednam in the shire of Roxburgh, at which place he was born on the 11th of September, 1700. Mr Riccarton, a neighbouring clergyman, first observed in James the dawning of those talents which afterwards distinguished him, and took a warm interest in the regulation and superintendence of his studies. Sir William Bennet of Chesters also honoured the promising boy with his kindness, and occasionally invited him to spend his vacations at his seat. A poetical epistle, addressed by Thomson, in his fourteenth year, to Sir William, has been recently published.' After going through the usual course of school-education at Jed burgh, Thomson was sent to the university of Edinburgh, with the view of preparing himself for entering the divinity hall, being intended for the church. Whilst at the university Thomson contributed some articles to a volume entitled, The Edinburgh Miscellany. One of 'See Pickering's edition of Thomson's Works. them, entitled, 'On a Country Life, by a Student,' shows his early and deep attachment to rural scenery, and was perhaps the germ of those conceptions which he afterwards imbodied in The Seasons.' The divinity-chair was at this period filled by Mr Hamilton, whose lectures Thomson had attended for about a year, when there was prescribed to him, for an exercise, a poetical version of the 104th psalm. Thomson executed the task in a manner which surprised the professor, and drew down upon himself the plaudits of the whole class. Mr Hamilton, however, thought it necessary to warn the young man against too habitual and free a use of his imagination, as likely to unfit him for the profession before him. Dr Johnson says that the professor likewise censured one of Thomson's expressions in this version as bordering on the profane. There is a complete copy of it in Pickering's edition of the poet's works, in which the obnoxious line will be sought for in vain ; though it may, as the editor suggests, have been altered in the transcript. In 1725 Thomson resolved to proceed to London, and try his fortune there as a literary adventurer. That he encountered the ordinary lot of his brethren at his first starting on his literary career, appears from a letter which he addressed to his friend Dr Cranston, in September, 1726, in which he solicits a loan of twelve pounds until his finances are replenished from the sale of some property which belonged to the family. The distressed poet is supposed to have written from Barnet, in the neighbourhood of London. "This country I am in," says he, "is not very entertaining; no variety but that of woods, and them we have in abundance; but where is the living stream,-the airy mountain, and the hanging rock, with twenty other things that elegantly please the lover of nature? Nature delights me in every form. I am just now painting her in her most lugubrious dress, for my own amusement, describing winter as it presents itself. After my first proposal of the subject, I sing of Winter, and his gelid reign, Deem it a barren theme. To me 'tis full Of manly charms; to me, who court the shade, Whom the gay seasons suit not, and who shun The glare of Summer. Welcome, kindred glooms! "After this introduction, I say, which insists for a few lines farther, I prosecute the purport of the following ones: Nor can I, O departing Summer, choose But consecrate one pitying line to you; Sing your last temper'd days, and sunny calms, "These terrible floods, and high winds, that usually happen about this time of the year, and have already happened here, I wish you have not felt them too dreadfully; the first produced the inclosed lines; the last are not completed. Mr Rickleton's poem on Winter, which I still have, first put the design into my head." Thomson's earliest patron in London was Mr Duncan Forbes, afterwards lord-president of the court of session,—a man, in the poet's own Query, Riccarton ? |