The admirers of Pope will be sensible of the good nature and honesty of Dr Johnson, from the following unqualified assertion: 'The great object of his (Pope's) ridicule is _poverty_; the crimes with which he reproaches his antagonists are their debts, their habitation in the mint, and their want of a dinner. He seems to be of an opinion, not very uncommon in the world, that to want money is to want every thing[161].' The crimes with which Pope reproaches the Duncenian heroes are slander and _forgery_[162], most of them were not only bad writers, but bad men; and it is only in the latter point of view, that the poet considered them as fair objects of ridicule. Had Pope been capable of insulting honest indigence, his reputation and his glory must have been for ever blasted. The humanity of Englishmen would have rejected, with horror, such impious wit. The last part of this malicious paragraph is, after a few pages, contradicted by Dr Johnson himself. Had Pope been of opinion, that _to want money is to want every thing_, he would not have assisted Dodsley 'with a hundred pounds that he might open a shop--of the subscription of forty pounds a-year that he raised for Savage, TWENTY were paid by himself. He was accused of loving money, but his love was eagerness to gain, not solicitude to keep it. In the duties of friendship, he was zealous and constant. It does not appear that he lost a _single_ friend by coldness, or by injury; those who loved him once, continued their kindness[163].' This cannot be the picture of a man who insulted innocent misery. The Doctor is perpetually giving us strokes of his own character. Thus, of Mr Thomson we are informed, 'that he was "more fat than bard beseems," of a _dull_ countenance, and a _gross, unanimated, uninviting_ appearance.' This is the Rambler's portrait, but when applied to the author of the Seasons, it is not true, for Mr Murdoch assures us, 'that his worst appearance was, when you saw him walking alone, in a thoughtful mood; but let a friend accost him, and enter into conversation, he would instantly brighten into a most amiable aspect, his features no longer the same, and his eye darting a peculiar animated fire. His looks always announced, and half expressed what he was about to say[164].' The Doctor fills up several pages with blotted variations from Pope's manuscript translation of the Iliad. He exults in this precious production, and foresees that the wisest of his readers will wish for more. Having perused a few lines of it only, I cannot pretend to rate the value of this commodity: But a plain reader will be apt to suspect that the Doctor has on this, as on former occasions, adopted the prudent proverb,_ multum scribere, multum solvere_. If Lexiphanes _overflows with Greek_, he may, by comparing Pope with Homer, afford much entertainment.