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Pope, Alexander

Alexander (1688-1744), an eminent English poet of the Queen Anne or classical period. His parents were Catholics, his father a linen merchant. He was born at London, and, being deformed, was educated at home. He was a dwarf in size, only four feet high, and so crooked that he was called an interrogation point. Even when grown up he sat in a high chair at table. He had so little warmth in his body that he wore heavy clothing and three pairs of stockings. His temper was tart and crabbed. He began writing creditable verse at the age of twelve. At sixteen he was recognized as the sharpest political writer of the day. His services were considered so valuable to the government that the first opportunity was taken to make him a grant of $35,000. He was able, in 1717, the year of his father's death, to retire with his mother to the suburb of Twickenham, where a beautiful lodge was set in five acres of walks, walls, vines, flowers, and foliage. He worshiped his mother and surrounded her with every comfort, but he was not a pleasant man in society.

On account of his fame he was invited to the homes of the nobility, but, as a matter of fact, he was dreaded by guests and servants. They made him just about as welcome as they would a wasp. He dressed elegantly and was refined in bearing. He was an omnivorous reader and worked like a slave in polishing off his verse, writing and rewriting till it pleased his ear. He aimed to keep a manuscript by him two years before sending it to press, and then corrected his proofs so freely that the matter had to be reset. Pope was unsparing, even ill natured, in his criticism of aspiring writers and flattering friends. His Dunciad is a mock heroic poem in honor of the literary dunces of the day. True to his nature, it is full of stings that rankled in the minds of his victims. His ability was unquestioned. He never flattered, his praise was desired even by those who had little reason to love him. In his later years he assailed Addison bitterly, chiefly out of jealousy. The latter, we are given to understand, took the abuse good naturedly, having respect for Pope's ability and infirmities. Portions of Pope's translation of the Iliad and Odyssey are still included in the standard English required for entrance to college. The work brought him $35,000. An Essay on Criticism is a discussion of the views of great writers of antiquity on the art of composition. It is practically a rhetoric in verse, and is often quoted. The poet Burns lamented that he could not come up to the standard set by Pope, not knowing that he was himself greater. A young courtier cut a lock of hair from the head of a court beauty. A quarrel followed. Pope wrote The Rape of the Lock in a mock heroic vein to laugh the quarrel out of court. It is considered the wittiest poem of the sort in existence.

Pope's masterpiece, An Essay on Man, on which his fame rests, is a nondenominational poem written to "justify the ways of God to man." It is his best thought written for no particular clique. It is full of moralizing. A few quotations give a better idea of the serious, elevated tone than can be given in pages of description. The last quotation only is from his Moral Essays.

QUOTATIONS.

Eye Nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies,
And catch the manners living as they rise.
Hope springs eternal in the human breast.
Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind.
One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right.
Know then thyself, presume not God to scan;
The proper study of mankind is man.
Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
As to be hated needs but to be seen;
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
Order is Heaven's first law.
Honour and shame from no condition rise;
Act well your part, there all the honour lies.
Worth makes the man, the want of it the fellow.
A wit's a feather, and a chief a rod;
An honest man's the noblest work of God.
'Tis education forms the common mind:
Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined.

TRIBUTES.

The most faultless of poets.--Byron.

By his satires he was a benefactor of society.--Welsh.

He is the greatest of the artificial poets; the poet of society rather than of nature.--Emery.

Volume IV · Aiton’s Encyclopedia