If the Sexagenarian was not personally acquainted with all the learned
men and wits of his time, it will already have appeared that he was more
or less familiarly known to a great many.
A considerable list is still to be found of literary characters,
scattered among the Memoranda, some of whom are designated by their real
names, whilst others are only to be discovered from their portraits. As
it may afford matter of amusement to many readers to exercise conjecture,
a select number of authors is subjoined, certainly delineated from the
life, as all were personally known to the artist who has represented
their lineaments.
Our notations commence with honest, but unfortunate John ⸺. His original
designation and employment was that of a watchmaker, but his natural
propensities inclined him to a love of letters and the arts, and he
certainly discovered considerable taste for both. It is to be feared,
and perhaps on his account to be lamented, that when he should have been
investigating improvements in mechanics, he was to be found studying
criticisms on Shakespeare with Henderson, or conversing about Salvator
Rosa with Mortimer.
This was certainly not the road to affluence, and it was not a great
while before he found that he had lost his way, and got entangled in
briars and thickets beyond his skill and ability to remove. He withdrew
from his mechanical occupation, and was compelled to exercise his
ingenuity in a far less promising and lucrative pursuit. He became
first of all, a writer in the newspapers; and here let the pride of
affluence forbear to express scorn and contempt at this employment, as
being mean, ignoble, or disingenuous. Let such be informed, that it is
not the employment itself, but the spirit and the motive with which
it is undertaken and prosecuted, which entitles it to approbation or
censure. It may be rendered, as it often has been, the vehicle of moral
instruction, of useful information, of agreeable amusement. It has been
pursued sometimes as an amusement of leisure, and not unfrequently, from
the pressure of necessity, by some of the ablest and some of the most
amiable characters among us.
The exercise of John’s abilities in this line, procured him a scanty
provision for himself, his wife, and a sister. It is doing him an act of
justice to state, that he was no politician, and never dipped his pen in
the gall of party, or interfered with the measures of government or the
proceedings of any opposition. His productions were perfectly harmless,
and chiefly consisted of anecdotes of the stage, of pictures and artists,
with such other matters as he gleaned from an extensive range of
acquaintance. But he had also another resource, though this was but an
unsubstantial one also. He had a taste for engraving, and a particular
fondness for the works of Hogarth, in which perhaps he was more skilfully
conversant than almost any other contemporary. He had, if our information
does not deceive us, a slight knowledge of Hogarth himself, but after his
death, he became intimately acquainted with Mrs. Hogarth. He was useful
to the widow in assisting in the disposal of Hogarth’s prints, and he
learned from her a great many particulars of the artist and his works,
which he afterwards turned to account. It is this circumstance which
entitles him to a place in the catalogue of authors.
Under the auspices of the Boydells, he published a minute detail and
description of all Hogarth’s works, in three large volumes; a very
agreeable and amusing work, which was well received by the public, and
afterwards republished.
He was an amiable and unoffending man, and there were many families,
of which that of the Sexagenarian was one, in which he was constantly
received with hospitality and kindness. He repaid the welcome he found,
by his lively conversation, and abundance of anecdotes. Poor fellow! it
is to be feared, that in the decline of life, when his powers of mind
were too enfeebled to communicate the usual pabulum of intelligence to
his employers, and when his bodily powers became too infirm to go in
quest of it, that he had to endure many and serious privations.
The literary fund was not then established, or his latter days might
have been rendered more comfortable. This admirable institution, as is
very well known, has frequently administered, in hours of suffering and
anguish, substantial consolation to afflicted and expiring genius. It
is to be hoped that its powers may be yet further extended, and that
by timely interference the extreme of suffering may be prevented, that
talent may not be checked in its ardent career from the want of aid and
encouragement, nor undertakings suffered to fall to the ground, and be
the cause of ruin to the original contriver, merely from the want of oil
to facilitate the motion of the machine.
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.