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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 remember it as the only occasion on which he ever
soiled his lips with slang … a thing he loathed。 We were both
Roberts； and as we took our places at table； he addressed me with a
twinkle： 〃We are just what you would call two bob。〃 He offered me
port； I remember； as the proper milk of youth； spoke of 〃twenty…
shilling notes〃； and throughout the meal was full of old…world
pleasantry and quaintness； like an ancient boy on a holiday。 But
what I recall chiefly was his confession that he had never read
OTHELLO to an end。 Shakespeare was his continual study。 He loved
nothing better than to display his knowledge and memory by adducing
parallel passages from Shakespeare； passages where the same word
was employed； or the same idea differently treated。 But OTHELLO
had beaten him。 〃That noble gentleman and that noble lady … h'm …
too painful for me。〃 The same night the hoardings were covered
with posters； 〃Burlesque of OTHELLO；〃 and the contrast blazed up in
my mind like a bonfire。 An unforgettable look it gave me into that
kind man's soul。 His acquaintance was indeed a liberal and pious
education。 All the humanities were taught in that bare dining…room
beside his gouty footstool。 He was a piece of good advice； he was
himself the instance that pointed and adorned his various talk。
Nor could a young man have found elsewhere a place so set apart
from envy； fear； discontent； or any of the passions that debase； a
life so honest and composed； a soul like an ancient violin； so
subdued to harmony； responding to a touch in music … as in that
dining…room； with Mr。 Hunter chatting at the eleventh hour； under
the shadow of eternity； fearless and gentle。
The second class of old people are not anecdotic； they are rather
hearers than talkers； listening to the young with an amused and
critical attention。 To have this sort of intercourse to
perfection； I think we must go to old ladies。 Women are better
hearers than men； to begin with； they learn； I fear in anguish； to
bear with the tedious and infantile vanity of the other sex； and we
will take more from a woman than even from the oldest man in the
way of biting comment。 Biting comment is the chief part； whether
for profit or amusement； in this business。 The old lady that I
have in my eye is a very caustic speaker； her tongue； after years
of practice； in absolute command； whether for silence or attack。
If she chance to dislike you； you will be tempted to curse the
malignity of age。 But if you chance to please even slightly； you
will be listened to with a particular laughing grace of sympathy；
and from time to time chastised； as if in play； with a parasol as
heavy as a pole…axe。 It requires a singular art； as well as the
vantage…ground of age； to deal these stunning corrections among the
coxcombs of the young。 The pill is disguised in sugar of wit； it
is administered as a compliment … if you had not pleased； you would
not have been censured； it is a personal affair … a hyphen； A TRAIT
D'UNION； between you and your censor； age's philandering； for her
pleasure and your good。 Incontestably the young man feels very
much of a fool； but he must be a perfect Malvolio； sick with self…
love； if he cannot take an open buffet and still smile。 The
correction of silence is what kills； when you know you have
transgressed； and your friend says nothing and avoids your eye。 If
a man were made of gutta…percha； his heart would quail at such a
moment。 But when the word is out； the worst is over； and a fellow
with any good…humour at all may pass through a perfect hail of
witty criticism； every bare place on his soul hit to the quick with
a shrewd missile； and reappear； as if after a dive； tingling with a
fine moral reaction； and ready； with a shrinking readiness； one…
third loath； for a repetition of the discipline。
There are few women； not well sunned and ripened； and perhaps
toughened； who can thus stand apart from a man and say the true
thing with a kind of genial cruelty。 Still there are some … and I
doubt if there be any man who can return the compliment。 The class
of man represented by Vernon Whitford in THE EGOIST says； indeed；
the true thing； but he says it stockishly。 Vernon is a noble
fellow； and makes； by the way； a noble and instructive contrast to
Daniel Deronda； his conduct is the conduct of a man of honour； but
we agree with him； against our consciences； when he remorsefully
considers 〃its astonishing dryness。〃 He is the best of men； but
the best of women manage to combine all that and something more。
Their very faults assist them； they are helped even by the
falseness of their position in life。 They can retire into the
fortified camp of the proprieties。 They can touch a subject and
suppress it。 The most adroit employ a somewhat elaborate reserve
as a means