memories and portraits-第23章

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to　our　respect　and　pity。　　A　flavour　of　the　old　school；　a　touch　of　

something　different　in　their　manner　…　which　is　freer　and　rounder；　

if　they　come　of　what　is　called　a　good　family；　and　often　more　timid　

and　precise　if　they　are　of　the　middle　class　…　serves；　in　these　

days；　to　accentuate　the　difference　of　age　and　add　a　distinction　to　

gray　hairs。　　But　their　superiority　is　founded　more　deeply　than　by　

outward　marks　or　gestures。　　They　are　before　us　in　the　march　of　man；　

they　have　more　or　less　solved　the　irking　problem；　they　have　battled　

through　the　equinox　of　life；　in　good　and　evil　they　have　held　their　

course；　and　now；　without　open　shame；　they　near　the　crown　and　

harbour。　　It　may　be　we　have　been　struck　with　one　of　fortune's　

darts；　we　can　scarce　be　civil；　so　cruelly　is　our　spirit　tossed。　　

Yet　long　before　we　were　so　much　as　thought　upon；　the　like　calamity　

befell　the　old　man　or　woman　that　now；　with　pleasant　humour；　rallies　

us　upon　our　inattention；　sitting　composed　in　the　holy　evening　of　

man's　life；　in　the　clear　shining　after　rain。　　We　grow　ashamed　of　

our　distresses；　new　and　hot　and　coarse；　like　villainous　roadside　

brandy；　we　see　life　in　aerial　perspective；　under　the　heavens　of　

faith；　and　out　of　the　worst；　in　the　mere　presence　of　contented　

elders；　look　forward　and　take　patience。　　Fear　shrinks　before　them　

〃like　a　thing　reproved；〃　not　the　flitting　and　ineffectual　fear　of　

death；　but　the　instant；　dwelling　terror　of　the　responsibilities　and　

revenges　of　life。　　Their　speech；　indeed；　is　timid；　they　report　

lions　in　the　path；　they　counsel　a　meticulous　footing；　but　their　

serene；　marred　faces　are　more　eloquent　and　tell　another　story。　　

Where　they　have　gone；　we　will　go　also；　not　very　greatly　fearing；　

what　they　have　endured　unbroken；　we　also；　God　helping　us；　will　make　

a　shift　to　bear。



Not　only　is　the　presence　of　the　aged　in　itself　remedial；　but　their　

minds　are　stored　with　antidotes；　wisdom's　simples；　plain　

considerations　overlooked　by　youth。　　They　have　matter　to　

communicate；　be　they　never　so　stupid。　　Their　talk　is　not　merely　

literature；　it　is　great　literature；　classic　in　virtue　of　the　

speaker's　detachment；　studded；　like　a　book　of　travel；　with　things　

we　should　not　otherwise　have　learnt。　　In　virtue；　I　have　said；　of　

the　speaker's　detachment；　…　and　this　is　why；　of　two　old　men；　the　

one　who　is　not　your　father　speaks　to　you　with　the　more　sensible　

authority；　for　in　the　paternal　relation　the　oldest　have　lively　

interests　and　remain　still　young。　　Thus　I　have　known　two　young　men　

great　friends；　each　swore　by　the　other's　father；　the　father　of　each　

swore　by　the　other　lad；　and　yet　each　pair　of　parent　and　child　were　

perpetually　by　the　ears。　　This　is　typical：　it　reads　like　the　germ　

of　some　kindly　comedy。



The　old　appear　in　conversation　in　two　characters：　the　critically　

silent　and　the　garrulous　anecdotic。　　The　last　is　perhaps　what　we　

look　for；　it　is　perhaps　the　more　instructive。　　An　old　gentleman；　

well　on　in　years；　sits　handsomely　and　naturally　in　the　bow…window　

of　his　age；　scanning　experience　with　reverted　eye；　and　chirping　and　

smiling；　communicates　the　accidents　and　reads　the　lesson　of　his　

long　career。　　Opinions　are　strengthened；　indeed；　but　they　are　also　

weeded　out　in　the　course　of　years。　　What　remains　steadily　present　

to　the　eye　of　the　retired　veteran　in　his　hermitage；　what　still　

ministers　to　his　content；　what　still　quickens　his　old　honest　heart　

…　these　are　〃the　real　long…lived　things〃　that　Whitman　tells　us　to　

prefer。　　Where　youth　agrees　with　age；　not　where　they　differ；　wisdom　

lies；　and　it　is　when　the　young　disciple　finds　his　heart　to　beat　in　

tune　with　his　gray…bearded　teacher's　that　a　lesson　may　be　learned。　　

I　have　known　one　old　gentleman；　whom　I　may　name；　for　he　in　now　

gathered　to　his　stock　…　Robert　Hunter；　Sheriff　of　Dumbarton；　and　

author　of　an　excellent　law…book　still　re…edited　and　republished。　　

Whether　he　was　originally　big　or　little　is　more　than　I　can　guess。　　

When　I　knew　him　he　was　all　fallen　away　and　fallen　in；　crooked　and　

shrunken；　buckled　into　a　stiff　waistcoat　for　support；　troubled　by　

ailments；　which　kept　him　hobbling　in　and　out　of　the　room；　one　foot　

gouty；　a　wig　for　decency；　not　for　deception；　on　his　head；　close　

shaved；　except　under　his　chin　…　and　for　that　he　never　failed　to　

apologise；　for　it　went　sore　against　the　traditions　of　his　life。　　

You　can　imagine　how　he　would　fare　in　a　novel　by　Miss　Mather；　yet　

this　rag　of　a　Chelsea　veteran　lived　to　his　last　year　in　the　

plenitude　of　all　that　is　best　in　man；　brimming　with　human　kindness；　

and　staunch　as　a　Roman　soldier　under　his　manifold　infirmities。　　You　

could　not　say　that　he　had　lost　his　memory；　for　he　would　repeat　

Shakespeare　and　Webster　and　Jeremy　Taylor　and　Burke　by　the　page　

together；　but　the　parchment　was　filled　up；　there　was　no　room　for　

fresh　inscriptions；　and　he　was　capable　of　repeating　the　same　

anecdote　on　many　successive　visits。　　His　voice　survived　in　its　full　

power；　and　he　took　a　pride　in　using　it。　　On　his　last　voyage　as　

Commissioner　of　lighthouses；　he　hailed　a　ship　at　sea　and　made　

himself　clearly　audible　without　a　speaking　trumpet；　ruffling　the　

while　with　a　proper　vanity　in　his　achievement。　　He　had　a　habit　of　

eking　out　his　words　with　interrogative　hems；　which　was　puzzling　and　

a　little　wearisome；　suited　ill　with　his　appearance；　and　seemed　a　

survival　from　some　former　stage　of　bodily　portliness。　　Of　yore；　

when　he　was　a　great　pedestrian　and　no　enemy　to　good　claret；　he　may　

have　pointed　with　these　minute　guns　his　allocutions　to　the　bench。　　

His　humour　was　perfectly　equable；　set　beyond　the　reach　of　fate；　

gout；　rheumatism；　stone　and　gravel　might　have　combined　their　forces　

against　that　frail　tabernacle；　but　when　I　came　round　on　Sunday　

evening；　he　would　lay　aside　Jeremy　Taylor's　LIFE　OF　CHRIST　and　

greet　me　with　the　same　open　brow；　the　same　kind　formality　of　

manner。　　His　opinions　and　sympathies　dated　the　man　almost　to　a　

decade。　　He　had　begun　life；　under　his　mother's　influence；　as　an　

admirer　of　Junius；　but　on　maturer　knowledge　had　transferred　his　

admiration　to　Burke。　　He　cautioned　me；　with　entire　gravity；　to　be　

punctilious　in　writing　English；　never　to　forget　that　I　was　a　

Scotchman；　that　English　was　a　foreign　tongue；　and　that　if　I　

attempted　the　colloquial；　I　should　certainly；　be　shamed：　the　remark　

was　apposite；　I　suppose；　in　the　days　of　David　Hume。　　Scott　was　too　

new　for　him；　he　had　known　the　author　…　known　him；　too；　for　a　Tory；　

and　to　the　genuine　classic　a　contemporary　is　always　something　of　a　

trouble。　　He　had　the　old；　serious　love　of　the　play；　had　even；　as　he　

was　proud　to　tell；　played　a　certain　part　in　the　history　of　

Shakespearian　revivals；　for　he　had　successfully　pressed　on　Murray；　

of　the　old　Edinburgh　Theatre；　the　idea　of　producing　Shakespeare's　

fairy　pieces　with　great　scenic　display。　　A　moderate　in　religion；　he　

was　much　struck　in　the　last　years　of　his　life　by　a　conversation　

with　two　young　lads；　revivalists　〃H'm；〃　he　would　say　…　〃new　to　me。　　

I　have　had　…　h'm　…　no　such　experience。〃　　It　struck　him；　not　with　

pain；　rather　with　a　solemn　philosophic　interest；　that　he；　a　

Christian　as　he　hoped；　and　a　Christian　of　so　old　a　standing；　should　

hear　these　young　fellows　talking　of　his　own　subject；　his　own　

weapons　that　he　had　fought　the　battle　of　life　with；　…　〃and　…　h'm　…　

not　understand。〃　　In　this　wise　and　graceful　attitude　he　did　justice　

to　himself　and　others；　reposed　unshaken　in　his　old　beliefs；　and　

recognised　their　limits　without　anger　or　alarm。　　His　last　recorded　

remark；　on　the　last　night　of　his　life；　was　after　he　had　been　

arguing　against　Calvinism　with　his　minister　and　was　interrupted　by　

an　intolerable　pang。　　〃After　all；〃　he　said；　〃of　all　the　'isms；　I　

know　none　so　bad　as　rheumatism。〃　　My　own　last　sight　of　him　was　some　

time　before；　when　we　dined　together　at　an　inn；　he　had　been　on　

circuit；　for　he　stuck　to　his　duties　like　a　chief　part　of　his　

existence；　and　I　re