he had the audacity to
deplore the sad vanity of Swift in permitting the publication of his
correspondence, and to declare that "no decay of body is half so
miserable."'[16]

That he had many fine qualities in spite of the littlenesses which mar
his character one would be loath to doubt. Among his nobler traits was
an ardent passion for literature, a courage which enabled him to face
innumerable obstacles--'Pope,' says Mr. Swinburne, 'was as bold as a
lion'--and a constant devotion to his parents, especially to his mother,
who lived to a great age. There are no sincerer words in his letters
than those which relate to Mrs. Pope. 'It is my mother only,' he once
wrote, regretting his inability to leave home, 'that robs me of half the
pleasure of my life, and that gives me the greatest at the same time,'
and the lines expressing his affection for her are familiar to most
readers. Truly does Johnson say that 'life has among its soothing and
quiet comforts few things better to give than such a son.'

Among his lady friends the dearest was Martha Blount, the younger of two
beautiful sisters, of whom Gay sang as 'the fair-haired Martha and
Teresa brown.' They came of an old Roman Catholic family residing at
Mapledurham, and were little more than girls when Pope first knew them.
With the elder sister he quarrelled, but Martha was faithful to him for
life, and when he was dying it is said that her coming in 'gave a new
turn of spirits or a temporary strength to him.' Swift, as we have said,
was one of the warmest of Pope's friends, and his letters to the poet
are by far the most attractive portion of the published correspondence.
He visited him at Twickenham more than once, and on one occasion spent
some months under his roof. Bolingbroke, his 'guide, philosopher, and
friend,' who for a time lived near to him at Dawley, was a frequent
guest, so also, in the days of their intimacy, was Lady Mary, who had a
house at Twickenham. Thomson the poet, too, lived not far off, and was
visited by his brother bard, whom Thomson's barber describes as 'a
strange, ill-formed, little figure of a man,' but he adds, 'I have
heard him and Quin and Patterson[17] talk so together that I could have
listened to them for ever.' Arbuthnot, one of the finest wits and best
men of his time, who, as Swift said, could do everything but walk, was
also a faithful friend of Pope; so was Gay, and so was Bishop Atterbury,
who, as the poet said, first taught him t