h nearest to our own time.

Out of this story he formed a tragedy, which, if the circumstances in
which he wrote it be considered, will afford, at once, an uncommon proof
of strength of genius, and evenness of mind, of a serenity not to be
ruffled, and an imagination not to be suppressed.

During a considerable part of the time in which he was employed upon
this performance, he was without lodging, and often without meat; nor
had he any other conveniences for study than the fields or the streets
allowed him: there he used to walk and form his speeches, and,
afterwards, step into a shop, beg for a few moments the use of the pen
and ink, and write down what he had composed, upon paper which he had
picked up by accident.

If the performance of a writer thus distressed is not perfect, its
faults ought, surely, to be imputed to a cause very different from want
of genius, and must rather excite pity than provoke censure.

But when, under these discouragements, the tragedy was finished, there
yet remained the labour of introducing it on the stage; an undertaking,
which, to an ingenuous mind, was, in a very high degree, vexatious and
disgusting; for, having little interest or reputation, he was obliged to
submit himself wholly to the players, and admit, with whatever
reluctance, the emendations of Mr. Cibber, which he always considered as
the disgrace of his performance.

He had, indeed, in Mr. Hill, another critick of a very different class,
from whose friendship he received great assistance on many occasions,
and whom he never mentioned but with the utmost tenderness and regard.
He had been for some time distinguished by him with very particular
kindness, and on this occasion it was natural to apply to him, as an
author of an established character. He, therefore, sent this tragedy to
him, with a short copy of verses[63], in which he desired his
correction. Mr. Hill, whose humanity and politeness are generally known,
readily complied with his request; but, as he is remarkable for
singularity of sentiment, and bold experiments in language, Mr. Savage
did not think his play much improved by his innovation, and had, even at
that time, the courage to reject several passages which he could not
approve; and, what is still more laudable, Mr. Hill had the generosity
not to resent the neglect of his alterations, but wrote the prologue
and epilogue, in which he touches on the circumstances of the author
with great tenderness.

Af