As we walked along to a particular part of the temple, There, says the gentleman, pointing with his finger, that is the Poet's Corner; there you see the monuments of Shakspeare, and Milton, and Prior, and Drayton.* Drayton! I replied, I never heard of him before; but I have been told of one Pope; is he there? It is time enough, replied my guide, these hundred years; he is not long dead; people are not done hating him yet. Strange, cried I, can any be found to hate a man, whose life was wholly spent in entertaining and instructing his fellow-creatures? Yes, says my guide, they hate him for that very reason. There are a set of men called answerers of books, who take upon them to watch the republic of letters, and distribute reputation by the sheet; they somewhat resemble the eunuchs in a seraglio, who are incapable of giving pleasure themselves, and hinder those that would. These answerers have no other employment but to cry out Dunce, and Scribbler; to praise the dead, and revile the living; to grant a man of confessed abilities some small share of merit; to applaud twenty blockheads, in order to gain the reputation of candor; and to revile the moral character of the man whose writings they cannot injure. Such wretches are kept in pay by some mercenary bookseller, or more frequently the bookseller himself takes this dirty work off their hands, and all that is required is to be very abusive and very dull. Every poet of any genius is sure to find such enemies; he feels, though he

* [Michael Drayton, author of the Poly-Olbion,' who died in 1631. His monument was erected at the expense of the Countess of Dorset, and his epitaph

"Do, pious marble, let thy readers know
What they, and what their children owe
To Drayton's name," &c.--

is generally attributed, and Mr. Gifford believes justly, to his friend Ben Jonson.]

[An allusion, probably, to Griffiths, in the management of the Monthly Review. See Life, ch. vi.]

seems to despise, their malice; they make him miserable here, and in the pursuit of empty fame, at last he gains solid anxiety.

Has this been the case with every poet I see here? cried I. Yes, with every mother's son of them, replied he, except he happened to be born a mandarine. If he has much money, he may buy reputation from your book-answerers, as well as a monument from the guardians of the temple.

But are there not some men of distinguished taste, as in China, who are willing to patronize men of merit, and soften the rancor of malevolent dulness? I own there are many, replied the man in black, but, alas! sir, the book-answerers crowd about them, and call themselves the writers of books; and the patron is too indolent to distinguish; thus poets are kept at a distance, while their enemies eat up all their rewards at the mandarine's table.

Leaving this part of the temple, we made up to an iron gate, through which my companion told me we were to pass, in order to see the monuments of the kings. Accordingly I marched up without farther ceremony, and was going to enter, when a person, who held the gate in his hand, told me I must pay first.* I was surprised at such a demand; and asked the man, whether the people of England kept a show? whether the paltry sum he demanded was not a national reproach? whether it was not more to the honor of the country to let their magnificence or their antiquities be openly seen, than thus meanly to tax a curiosity which tended to their own honor? As for your questions, replied the gate-keeper, to be sure they may be very right, because I don't understand them; but as for that there three

* [This has been so long a subject for reproach to our country, that some good reason one would suppose must exist for the continuance of the practice. One cause probably is the unaccountable propensity of our countrymen to deface places into which they are gratuitously admitted.]

pence, I farm it from one-who rents it from another-who hires it from a third-who leases it from the guardians of the temple, and we all must live. I expected, upon paying here, to see something extraordinary, since what I had seen for nothing filled me with so much surprise; but in this I was disappointed; there was little more within than black coffins, rusty armor, tattered standards, and some few slovenly figures in wax. I was sorry I had paid, but I comforted myself by considering it would be my last payment. A person attended us, who, without once blushing, told a hundred lies: he talked of a lady who died by pricking her finger; of a king with a golden head, and twenty such pieces of absurdity. Look ye there, gentlemen, says he, pointing to an old oak chair, there's a curiosity for ye; in that chair the kings of England were crowned: you see also a stone underneath, and that stone is Jacob's pillow. I could see no

curiosity either in the oak chair, or the stone: could I, indeed, behold one of the old kings of England seated in this, or Jacob's head laid upon the other, there might be something curious in the sight; but in the present case there was no more reason for my surprise than if I should pick a stone from their streets, and call it a curiosity, merely because one of the kings happened to tread upon it as he passed in a procession.

From hence our conductor led us through several dark walks and winding ways, uttering lies, talking to himself, and flourishing a wand which he held in his hand. He reminded me of the black magicians of Kobi. After we had been almost fatigued with a variety of objects, he at last desired me to consider attentively a certain suit of armor, which seemed to show nothing remarkable. This armor, said he, belonged to General Monk.— Very surprising, that a general should wear armor! And pray, added he, observe this cap, this is General Monk's cap-Very strange indeed, very strange, that a general should have a cap

also! Pray, friend, what might this cap have cost originally?— That, sir, says he, I don't know; but this cap is all the wages I have for my trouble.-A very small recompense, truly, said I. Not so very small, replied he, for every gentleman puts some money into it, and I spend the money.-What, more money! still more money!-Every gentleman gives something, sir.—I'll give thee nothing, returned I: the guardians of the temple should pay you your wages, friend, and not permit you to squeeze thus from every spectator. When we pay our money at the door to see a show, we never give more as we are going out. Sure, the guardians of the temple can never think they get enough. Show me the gate; if I stay longer, I may probably meet with more of those ecclesiastical beggars.

Thus leaving the temple precipitately, I returned to my lodgings, in order to ruminate over what was great, and to despise what was mean, in the occurrences of the day.*

LETTER XIV.

THE RECEPTION OF THE CHINESE FROM A LADY OF DISTINCTION.

From the same.

I was some days ago agreeably surprised by a message from a lady of distinction, who sent me word, that she most passionately desired the pleasure of my acquaintance; and, with the utmost impatience, expected an interview. I will not deny, my

* ["I remember once," said Dr. Johnson, "being with Goldsmith in Westminster Abbey. While we surveyed Poet's Corner, I said to him,

'Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis.'

When we got to Temple Bar he stopped me, pointed to the heads upon it and slily whispered me,

'Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis.'-Boswell, vol. iii. p. 282.]

dear Fum Hoam, but that my vanity was raised at such an invitation: I flattered myself that she had seen me in some public place, and had conceived an affection for my person, which thus induced her to deviate from the usual decorums of the sex. My imagination painted her in all the bloom of youth and beauty. I fancied her attended by the loves and graces; and I set out with the most pleasing expectations of seeing the conquest I had made.

When I was introduced into her apartment, my expectations were quickly at an end; I perceived a little shrivelled figure indolently reclined on a sofa, who nodded by way of approbation at my approach. This, as I was afterwards informed, was the lady herself, a woman equally distinguished for rank, politeness, taste, and understanding. As I was dressed after the fashion of Europe, she had taken me for an Englishman, and consequently saluted me in her ordinary manner; but when the footman informed her grace that I was the gentleman from China, she instantly lifted herself from the couch, while her eyes sparkled with unusual vivacity. "Bless me! can this be the gentleman that was born so far from home? What an unusual share of somethingness in his whole appearance! Lord, how I am charmed with the outlandish cut of his face! how bewitching the exotic breadth of his forehead! I would give the world to see him in his own country dress. Pray turn about, sir, and let me see you behind. There! there's a travell'd air for you. You that attend there, bring up a plate of beef cut into small pieces; I have a violent passion to see him eat. Pray, sir, have you got your chopsticks about you?* It will be so pretty to see the meat carried to the mouth with a jerk. Pray, speak a little Chinese: I have

i * [Two slender sticks, or porcupine quills, by the means of which, placed between the thumb and the two first fingers of the right hand, the Chinese throw their food, with great expedition, into their mouths.]