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conscious of himself； that if； day after day； he is allowed to
hector and hear nothing but approving echoes； he will lose his hold
on the soberness of things and take himself in earnest for a god。
Talk might be to such an one the very way of moral ruin； the school
where he might learn to be at once intolerable and ridiculous。
This character is perhaps commoner than philosophers suppose。 And
for persons of that stamp to learn much by conversation； they must
speak with their superiors； not in intellect； for that is a
superiority that must be proved； but in station。 If they cannot
find a friend to bully them for their good； they must find either
an old man； a woman； or some one so far below them in the
artificial order of society； that courtesy may he particularly
exercised。
The best teachers are the aged。 To the old our mouths are always
partly closed； we must swallow our obvious retorts and listen。
They sit above our heads； on life's raised dais； and appeal at once
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。