of establishment which, wherever he went, he always appeared ambitious
to overthrow.

It must, therefore, be acknowledged, in justification of mankind, that
it was not always by the negligence or coldness of his friends that
Savage was distressed, but because it was in reality very difficult to
preserve him long in a state of ease. To supply him with money was a
hopeless attempt; for no sooner did he see himself master of a sum
sufficient to set him free from care for a day, than he became profuse
and luxurious. When once he had entered a tavern, or engaged in a scheme
of pleasure, he never retired till want of money obliged him to some new
expedient. If he was entertained in a family, nothing was any longer to
be regarded there but amusements and jollity; wherever Savage entered,
he immediately expected that order and business should fly before him,
that all should thenceforward be left to hazard, and that no dull
principle of domestick management should be opposed to his inclination,
or intrude upon his gaiety.

His distresses, however afflictive, never dejected him; in his lowest
state he wanted not spirit to assert the natural dignity of wit, and was
always ready to repress that insolence which superiority of fortune
incited, and to trample on that reputation which rose upon any other
basis than that of merit: he never admitted any gross familiarities, or
submitted to be treated otherwise than as an equal. Once, when he was
without lodging, meat, or clothes, one of his friends, a man not indeed
remarkable for moderation in his prosperity, left a message, that he
desired to see him about nine in the morning. Savage knew that his
intention was to assist him; but was very much disgusted that he should
presume to prescribe the hour of his attendance, and, I believe, refused
to visit him, and rejected his kindness.

The same invincible temper, whether firmness or obstinacy, appeared in
his conduct to the lord Tyrconnel, from whom he very frequently
demanded, that the allowance which was once paid him should be restored;
but with whom he never appeared to entertain, for a moment, the thought
of soliciting a reconciliation, and whom he treated, at once, with all
the haughtiness of superiority, and all the bitterness of resentment. He
wrote to him, not in a style of supplication or respect, but of
reproach, menace, and contempt; and appeared determined, if he ever
regained his allowance, to hold it only by the right of co