We are again carried back to a remoter period; but these inequalities,
with respect to chronology, merely serve to confirm the opinion long
since given, that had life been spared, and opportunity allowed, the
Sexagenarian meditated a compact and regular whole.
In the part of the manuscript at which we are now arrived, are many
observations and anecdotes of an eccentric, but well-known character, of
considerable reputation for science in his day, an excellent antiquary, a
polite scholar, and accomplished gentleman.
Such was E. K⸺, of M⸺ S⸺. His taste was acute, refined, and multifarious,
his knowledge great and extensive, and on certain subjects profound. He
possessed some of the finest bronzes in the world, a few exceedingly
valuable pictures, beautiful specimens of Oriental curiosities, and
more particularly of rare and old china, and above all, a most numerous,
well-chosen, and costly library. He was bred to the profession of the
law, but becoming, by the death of a relation, possessed of such property
as made the continuance of his professional labours unnecessary, he
retired from it, and afterwards pursued a life of literary ease and
leisure.
He kept a hospitable table, to which he frequently invited the more
distinguished literary characters of the country. To these he always
shewed kindness and to some whose more necessitous circumstances required
it, he communicated more substantial assistance. In the margin opposite
to the place where the above sentence appears, the Sexagenarian had
written with a note of admiration thus—“We are a needy crew!”
One in particular, a foreigner, who was a Fellow of the Royal Society,
and had contributed very largely to the Philosophical Transactions, and
was also the author of many curious and profound works on philosophy
and chemistry, had perpetual welcome at his table, and received various
proofs of more solid regard.
His liberality also in accommodating those who were not fortunate enough
to possess literary stores, equal to his own, with the loan of his
treasures, and his readiness of communicating what he knew to those who
required it, were equally prompt, kind, and conspicuous.
He had, during that season of the year when the provinces pour their
more opulent, refined and enlightened inhabitants into the bosom of the
metropolis, weekly meetings of learned and eminent men, among whom were
always to be found some of the most distinguished characters of the
country.
He had much ardour of curiosity with respect to discoveries and
observations in foreign and remote countries, and particularly directed
his attention towards Africa. He was familiarly acquainted with all that
had, in ancient and modern times also, been published on the subject of
that country, which still seems to mock the unavailing efforts of all who
attempt to penetrate into its interior recesses. He did not, however,
live to see how much of this obscurity and darkness had been dissipated
by the generous and patriotic efforts of the African Association, and by
the result of the exertions of Browne, Hornemann, Park, and others.
Of all the books which our modern æra have produced on the subject of
foreign discovery, he principally avowed his admiration of Turner’s
Embassy to the court of the Dalai Lama, at Thibet, concerning which we
had previously very little, and indeed no satisfactory information. He
considered this work as highly valuable and important, and as filling
up an interesting desideratum in the philosophical history of man. The
extraordinary peculiarities of religious superstition, which prevail in
that country, the extreme singularity of manners, particularly those
relating to marriage, where it often happens that one woman is wife to
six or seven brothers in a family, had so much occupied his mind, that it
is more than probable, that his ideas on these subjects must have been
communicated to paper, and remain among his manuscripts.
Hospitable, kind, and generous, he had one marvellous weakness, which
often produced the most unpleasing consequences, namely, a childish
irritability of temper.
The wrong label accidentally put upon a decanter, on one occasion so
exasperated him against the offending servant, that much temporary
inconvenience was occasioned to a large and elegant party, who were at
dinner. These squalls, however, were short and transitory;—and perhaps
more tolerable than the grimace and adulatory obsequiousness of “the
Traveller,” whose name next succeeds.
Opera haud fui parcus meâ. Nimis homo
Nihili est, qui piger est, nimisque id genus odi ego male,
Vigilare decet hominem qui volt sua tempori conficere officia.