It really seems one of the attributes of genius to be indifferent to this world’s goods, and when time and labor have done their work, and the imbecility of years obscures its brilliancy, to droop neglected, and, if not in want, in despised poverty.  Such was the fate for a short time of this great man—­but only for a short time.  His powerful intellect retained its vigor, and his brilliant wit all its edges, to within a little while of his death.  Sadly I turn back, in memory, to the day he communicated to me that his necessities would compel him to dispose of the beautiful and valuable testimonials of the Bar of two proud nations to his character and abilities.  His great intellect was beginning to fade out; but, as the sun, declining to rest canopied with increasing clouds, will sometimes pierce through the interstices of the dark masses, and dart for a moment the intensity of his light upon the earth, the mind of Mazereau would flash in all its youthful grandeur and power from the dimness that was darkening it out.

He was a noble specimen of a French gentleman:  a French scholar, and a Frenchman.  His memory is embalmed in the hearts of his friends of every nation who knew him in New Orleans.  Strictly moral in his habits, full of truth and honor, and overflowing with generosity, social in his habits, and kindly in his feelings, he made friends of all who came in contact with him; and yet he had his enemies.  His intolerance of everything that was little or mean, and his scorn and hatred of men of such character, was never concealed, either in his conversation or conduct.  Such men were his enemies, and some, too, were his foes from the intolerance of political antagonism; but the grave obliterated these animosities, and the generous political antagonist cherishes now only respect for this truly great man.  With deep gratitude my heart turns to his memory:  his generous kindness, his warm friendship was mine for long years, and to me his memory is an incense.

John R. Grymes was a Virginian and close connection of John Randolph, of Roanoke, whose name he bore; but of this he never boasted, nor did any one hear him claim alliance of blood with Pocahontas.  Mr. Madison appointed him district attorney of the United States for the district of Louisiana, when a very young man.  This appointment introduced him to the Bar and the practice immediately.  He was one of those extraordinary creations, who leap into manhood without the probation of youth:  at twenty-two he was eminent and in full practice, ranking with the leading members of the Bar.  Truly, Grymes was born great, for no one can remember when he was not great!  Never, in company, in social life, with a private friend, at the Bar, or anywhere, was he even apparently simple or like other men; in private, with his best friend, he spoke, he looked, and he was the great man.  He was great in his frivolities, great in his burlesques, great in his humor, great in common conversation; the great lawyer, the great orator, the great blackguard, and the great companion, the great beau, and the great spendthrift:  in nothing was he little.