Where, or under what circumstances, the person of whom we are speaking, paid the last debt of nature, is not recorded, but this slight tribute seems affectionately paid by our Sexagenarian to his memory.
Among the various incidents of his wayward passage through life, he used to relate one which appears worth commemorating. Whilst he exercised his occupation of a watchmaker in Maiden-lane, he was on some occasion or other in his shop at a very early hour in the morning, expecting any thing but a customer. An old man, of very mean appearance as to dress and person, presented himself, and desired to see one of the most valuable watches in his possession, and one that without any consideration of price, he could conscientiously recommend. Our friend John happened to have a repeater by him, made by one of the first artists, and of the goodness of which he thought very highly. This he accordingly produced. The old man, after taking a few minutes to examine it, enquired the price.—“Fifty guineas.”—“Is that the lowest?”—“It is.” The money was immediately paid, and the old gentleman, on leaving the shop, gave his card of address.
He turned out to be the celebrated Mr. Elwes of avaricious memory, and he frequently called afterwards in Maiden-lane, to express his satisfaction with his purchase.
Utrumque in alto ventus est exin velum vertatur.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
“Many are the characters who pass through the vale of life, who in their time contributed to the improvement of society by their accomplishments, rendered service to literature by their learning, and enlivened and delighted numerous circles by their wit, who have been suffered to pass away, as though they had never been, without any memorial of their talents, or their virtues. To plant one slip of myrtle or of laurel round the graves of such, to rescue from ‘dumb forgetfulness’ even the few who have been comprehended within the limited circle of our own personal knowledge, cannot surely be deemed an unamiable, nor altogether a useless office.”
With such an apostrophe, the Sexagenarian commences the notes, which are here modified and curtailed, of the individuals next introduced. Two of the same name first present themselves—sed valde dissimiles.
Both of them were highly estimable as men, desireable as companions, accomplished and valuable as authors, though in very different ways. One was facetiousness and good humour personified, the other was grave and saturnine: the conversation of the one was full of vivacity and mirth-inspiring anecdote, animated by much reading and extensive knowledge of the world; the other instructed his hearers by his diversified knowledge, which he readily communicated, and although there were some “pursuers of literature,” who affected to ridicule his talents, no insinuation could be more injurious or false. Even on the very subject which provoked the aspersions of the satirist, sounder critics allowed that he had the best end of the staff. He got the better of an adversary elated with popular favour, presumed to be at the head of one particular branch of criticism, in which indeed he had spent a long and laborious life.