1 ,v> 



fixed to his elegant folio edition of the " Essay on Man," a 

 whole-length of Mr. Pope, from after Jervas. In Dodsley's 

 Collection of Poems, vol. iii. is a very striking bust of Mr. 

 Pope, as an accompaniment to Mr. Dodsley's affecting poem 

 to his memory, which he entitles The Cave of Pope. Surely 

 this bust must have strongly resembled Pope, or Mr. Dods- 

 ley would not have inserted it. The profile to Ruffhead's 

 Life, in 4to. 1769, must have been a likeness, or Bishop 

 Warburton would not have permitted its insertion. His age 

 was then twenty-four. It is finely engraved by Ravenet, 

 from Kneller. It is a striking portrait. A copy of this is 

 admirably engraved in Bell's Poets, richly ornamented. A 

 copy from that by Richardson is prefixed to Warton's edi- 

 tion. Among the portraits at Hagley, is that of Pope, and 

 his dog Bounce, by Richardson.* Lord Chesterfield thus 

 speaks of Pope: — " His poor, crazy, deformed body, was a 

 mere Pandora's box, containing all the physical ills that ever 

 afflicted humanity. This, perhaps, whetted the edge of his 

 satire, and may, in some degree, excuse it. I will say no- 

 thing of his works; they speak sufficiently for themselves; 

 they will live as long as taste and letters shall remain in this 

 country, and be more and more admired, as envy and resent- 

 ment shall subside. But I will venture this piece of classical 

 blasphemy: which is, that however he may be supposed to 

 be obliged to Horace, Horace is more obliged to him.'' Mr. 

 lluffliead (generally supposed to have had his information 

 from Dr. Warburton) thus states— " Mr. Pope was low in 

 stature, and of a diminutive and misshapen figure, which no 

 one ridiculed more pleasantly than himself. His constitution 

 was naturally tender and delicate, and in his temper he was 



* In the grounds of J< r (>fjl<!/, were once inscribed these lines: — 

 Here Pope! — ah, never must that tow 'ring mind 

 To his loved haunts, or dearer friend return : 

 What art, what friendship-! oh! what fame resign 'd: 

 In yonder glade I trace hi? mournful urn. 



