It is believed by some, that Dr Johnson's _admirable_ Dictionary is the most capital monument of human genius; that the studies of Archimedes and Newton are but like a feather in the scale with this amazing work; that he has given our language a stability, which, without him, it had never known; that he has performed alone, what, in other nations, whole academies fail to perform; and that as the fruit of _his_ learning and sagacity, our compositions will be classical and immortal. This may be true; but the book displays many proofs or his _ill-nature_, and evinces what I want to insist on, viz. that _he who despises politeness cannot deserve it_. For his seditious and impudent definitions[8] he would, in Queen Anne's reign, have had a fair chance of mounting the pillory. Hume, Smith, and Chesterfield may be quoted to prove, that Walpole and Excise were improper objects of execration; but an _emanation_ of royal munificence has, of late, relaxed the Doctor's _frigorific_ virtue; and, in his _False Alarm_, he affirms, that our government approaches nearer to perfection, _than any other that fiction has feigned, or history recorded_. This is going pretty far; but the peevish, though _incorruptible_ patriot, proceeds a great deal farther. His political pieces have great elegance and wit; yet, if the tenth part of what he advances in them be true, his countrymen are a mob of ignorant, ungrateful, rebellious ruffians. Every member in Opposition is a fool, a firebrand, a monster; worse, if that were possible, than Ravillac, Hambden, or Milton[9]. Here is a short specimen: 'On the original contrivers of mischief let an insulted nation pour out its vengeance. With whatever design they have inflamed this pernicious contest, they are themselves equally detestable. If they wish success to the colonies, they are TRAITORS to this country; if they wish their defeat, they are TRAITORS at once to America and England. To them (Mess. Burke & Co.) and them only, must be imputed the interruption of commerce, and the miseries of war, the sorrow of those who shall be ruined, and the blood of those that shall fall[10].' From the Doctor's volumes I am to select some passages, illustrate them with a few observations, and submit them to the reader's opinion. These pages aim at _perspicacity_. They are ambitious to record TRUTH. 'He that writes the life of another, is either his friend or his enemy, and wishes either to exalt his praise, or aggravate his infamy[11].' The Doctor betrays a degree of inconsistency incompatible with his reputed abilities. After such a confession, what have we to hope for in _his_ lives of English poets?