render our poet more affiduous to cultivate his

mental faculties, that he might atone for the defects of an ungraceful figure, by the accomplishments of an elegant and polished mind.

As thefe confiderations were incentives to his induftry, fo the condition of his circumstances proved propitious to the perfection of his ftudies. For, in the early part of his life, he inherited a decent competence, fufficient to defray all the expences which his conftitution and appetites required. Being free from want and dependance, he was under no neceffity to produce fugitive incorrect pieces for a prefent fupply; or to prostitute his talents to ferve the interest of a bookseller, or flatter the depravity of the

times.

During his retirement in Windfor-Forest, he became acquainted with Sir William Trumball *, who, in the year 1691, was appointed one of the principal fecretaries of ftate, which office he refigned in the year 1697, and retired to Eaft-Hamstead, the place of his nativity, which was near Binfield; and it was not long before Mr. POPE was introduced to him. Sir William delighted in learned converse, being of a ftudious turn, and particularly inclined to claffical and polite literature. Our poet, therefore, could

* Among other fingularities in the character of this ftatesman, it is faid, that in the year 1687, being appointed ambaffador to the Ottoman Porte, he performed the journey on foot.

not fail of being agreeable to one with whom nature had formed him to affimilate, notwithftanding the inequality of their years: and Sir William foon admitted him to a fhare of his friendship. They affociated together, on terms of intimacy, and, when they were feparated, a literary correfpondence fubfifted between them, fo long as Sir William lived; and at his death, Mr. POPE did juftice to his memory, by the epitaph now extant among his works.

This retirement in the foreft, could not be otherwife than grateful to a ftudious mind, and we may judge of the impreffions it made, from our poet's having, about this time, compofed his Ode on Solitude, which is the firft fruit now extant of his poctical genius, and which strongly paints that tranquil, contemplative, and moral caft of mind, which diftinguished the writer *.

In this retreat likewife, he firft became acquainted with the writings of Waller, Spencer and Dryden. The works of Spencer, he perufed with great delight, and renewed his acquaintance with them in his riper years. But on the firft view of Dryden's works, he was fo ftruck with the excellence of a writer, whofe

*We must not infer from hence, however, what a learned critic would infinuate, that Mr. POPE's genius was confined, and that he was not mafter of a creative and glowing imagination, the Acer fpiritus ac vis." But the nature, force, and extent of his genius, will be beft determined by a progreffivè and candid examination of his feveral pieces,

talents

talents were congenial with his own, that he abandoned the reft, and ftudied his writings with uncommon pleasure and unremitted attention. He used to say, that Dryden had improved the art of verfification beyond any of the preceeding poets, and that he would have been perfect in it, had he not been so often obliged to write with precipitation. His works, therefore, ferved as one of the models from whence our poet copied, and he even adopted the very turns of his periods: juft as Mr. Addifon did those of Sir William Temple in profe, not lefs ftrongly marked than the imitations of the poet, though lefs commonly obferved. In short, from Dryden principally, our bard learnt all the magic of his verfification.

From the time he became fo enamoured of Dryden's works, he grew impatient to fee the author, and at length procured a friend to introduce him to a coffee-house which Dryden frequented, where he had the fatisfaction of feeing him. But Dryden died before any intimacy could take place between them, which Mr. POPE often lamented, particularly in his firft letter to Mr. Wycherley, in the following pathetic manner. Virgilium tantum vidi." He never spoke of him without a kind of rapturous veneration, and he makes refpectable mention of him in feveral parts of his works.

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During his refidence in the foreft, our poet, being then between the years of thirteen and fifteen, compofed a comedy and a tragedy. With regard to the fubject of the former, we are wholly in

the dark; the latter however was founded on a ftory taken from the legend of St. Genevieve. But whether he diftrufted his talents for dramatic poetry, or whether he was cautious of hazarding his fame on the fickle taste of a captious audience, he could never be prevailed on to write for the ftage, though he was ftrongly importuned by feveral, and particularly by Betterton *, with whom he was acquainted from a boy t.

*It appears to have been Mr. Betterton's good fortune, to have been not only admired as a player, but esteemed as a man. In the pofticript to one of our author's letters to Mr. Cromwell, he fpeaks of him in a manner, which does honour to his memory.

"This letter of deaths, puts me in mind of poor Mr. "Betterton's; over whom I would have this fentence of "Tully for an epitaph, which will ferve him as well in his "moral, as in his theatrical capacity

"Vitae bene actae jucundiffima eft recordatio.”

In another letter to the honourable J. C. he speaks of him with greater warmth of affection" I am very glad, fays he, for the fake of his widow, and for the credit of the deceased, that Betterton's remains are fallen into such hands, as may render them reputable to the one, and beneficial to the other. Befides the public acquaintance I long had with that poor man, I alfo had a flender knowledge of his parts and capacity by private converfation, and ever thought it pity he was neceffitated, by the ftraitness of his fortune, to act (and especially to his latest hours) an imaginary and fictitious part, who was capable of exhibiting a real one, with credit to himself, and advantage to his neighbour."

+ Mr. Cromwell likewife preffed our author very ftrongly to pay his court to the Tragic Mufe, as appears from the following paffage.

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In his latter days he told a particular friend that he had a ftrong propenfity to the tragic drama, and should certainly have made it his principal ftudy, had not the moral and intellectual characters of the players of his time, fo different from that of Betterton, always deterred him from putting his defign in execution. And whoever has carefully obferved, in his other works, the profound penetration into nature, and easy fublime of expreffion, together with his uncommon correctness of judgment, will hardly doubt but he would have fucceeded to the utmoft of his ambition, and what is more to his own fatisfaction, in the merit of theatrical compofition.

Soon after his composing these dramatic pieces, our poet had the courage to attempt the arduous task of writing an epic poem, which he called Alcander, of which he wrote four books of about

a

"Leave elegy and tranflation to the inferior class, on whorn the Mufes only glance now and then, like our winter's fun, and then leave them in the dark. Think on the dignity of tragedy, which is of the greater poetry, as Dennis fays, and foil him at his other weapon, as you have done in criticifm. Every one wonders that a genius like yours will not fupport the finking drama; and Mr. Wilkes (tho' I think his talent is comedy) has expreffed a furious ambition to fwell in your buskins."

As fome, perhaps, may be curious of farther information refpecting this early and adventurous effay, it may not be improper to fubjoin the following particulars.__ Alcander was a prince of Rhodes, driven from his crown by Deucalion, father of Minos. In this epic piece, Alcander displayed all

the