Pope, as may
be guessed from Spence's reports, had a large fund of interesting
literary talk, such as youthful aspirants to fame would be delighted to
receive with reverence; he had the reputation for telling anecdotes
skilfully, and we may suppose that when he felt at ease, with a
respectful and safe companion, he could do himself justice. But he must
have been very trying to his hosts. He could seldom lay aside his
self-consciousness sufficiently to write an easy letter; and the same
fault probably spoilt his conversation. Swift complains of him as a
silent and inattentive companion. He went to sleep at his own table,
says Johnson, when the Prince of Wales was talking poetry to
him--certainly a severe trial. He would, we may guess, be silent till he
had something to say worthy of the great Pope, and would then doubt
whether it was not wise to treasure it up for preservation in a couplet.
His sister declared that she had never seen him laugh heartily; and
Spence, who records the saying, is surprised, because Pope was said to
have been very lively in his youth; but admits that in later years he
never went beyond a "particular easy smile." A hearty laugh would have
sounded strangely from the touchy, moody, intriguing little man, who
could "hardly drink tea without a stratagem." His sensitiveness, indeed,
appearing by his often weeping when he read moving passages; but we can
hardly imagine him as ever capable of genial self-abandonment.
His unsocial habits, indeed, were a natural consequence of ill-health.
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