uarrel; but it might reasonably have been hoped,
that lord Tyrconnel might have relented, and at length have forgot
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 him to solicit a
reconciliation; he returned reproach for reproach, and insult for
insult; his superiority of wit supplied the disadvantages of his
fortune, and enabled him to form a party, and prejudice great numbers in
his favour.

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 pathetick 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 performance a very
favourable reception; great numbers were immediately dispersed, and
editions were multiplied with unusual rapidity.

One circumstance attended the publication, which Savage used to relate
with great satisfaction: 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 poem begin to spread, than she
heard it repeated in all places of concourse; nor could she enter the
assembly-rooms, or cross the walks, without being saluted with some
lines from the Bastard.

This was, perhaps, the first time that she ever discovered a sense of
shame, and on this occasion the power of wit was very conspicuous; the
wretch 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 c