Utrumque in alto ventus est exin velum vertatur.CHAPTER XXXIV.
Utrumque in alto ventus est exin velum vertatur.
“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.
The publications of these two namesakes, as might be imagined, were alike different. One was a very entertaining and instructive essayist, a most skilful and accomplished biographer, an editor of various popular works, in which office he evinced a perfect knowledge of our language in all its stages from barbarity to refinement, great sagacity, sound judgment, and a cultivated taste. But neither did he escape the merciless rage of critics. What author can expect it? Who that writes a book may not atthe same time exclaim,
Ut quidem Hercle in medium hodie processerimVæ illis Virgis miseris quæ hodie in tergo morientur meo.
Ut quidem Hercle in medium hodie processerimVæ illis Virgis miseris quæ hodie in tergo morientur meo.
Ut quidem Hercle in medium hodie processerimVæ illis Virgis miseris quæ hodie in tergo morientur meo.
Ut quidem Hercle in medium hodie processerim
Væ illis Virgis miseris quæ hodie in tergo morientur meo.
But however the critic might gratify some latent spleen, the author’s reputation did not in the smallest degree suffer, nor was his zeal diminished. When the Sexagenarian retired from the world, he left his friend in the plenitude of honest fame, successfully pursuing his accustomed labours.
The works of the other nameless namesake were of a more profound and solid character. They embraced the large circle of politics, history, biography, language, and various criticism. They are as numerous and elaborate as those of the Spanish Cervantes, or of our own Philemon Holland. But they evinced deep research, extensive investigation, profound thinking, great judgment, and, it might almost be said, uncircumscribed knowledge.
Different as they were in talents, in their pursuits, dispositions and manners, both distinguished the Sexagenarian with their intimate acquaintance, and both continued with him, as long as he remained near them, a pleasing interchange of such literary stock as they severally possessed.