One of the most agreeable consequences of knowledge, is the respect and importance which it communicates to old age. Men rise in character often as they increase in years; they are venerable from 2 what they have acquired, and pleasing from what they can impart. If they outlive their faculties, the mere frame itself is respected for what it once contained; but women (such is their unfortunate style of education) hazard everything upon one cast of the die; 3-when youth is gone all is gone. No human creature gives his admiration for nothing: either the eye must be charmed, or the understanding gratified. A woman must talk wisely or look well. Every human being must put up with the coldest civility, who has neither the charms of youth nor the wisdom of age. Neither is there the slightest commiseration for decayed accomplishments ;-no man mourns over the fragments of a dancer, or drops a tear on the relics of musical skill. They are flowers destined to perish; but the decay of great talents is always the subject of solemn pity; and, even when their last memorial is over, their ruins and vestiges are regarded with pious affection.-(SYDNEY SMITH.) 5 6 DR. JOHNSON TO THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD. MY LORD, I have been lately informed, by the proprietor of the "World," that two papers, in which my Dictionary is recommended to the public, were written by your Lordship. To be so distinguished is an honour which, being very little accustomed to favours from the great, I know not well how to receive or 9 in what terms to acknowledge. 1 avancent en age. - 'as;' see page 240, note 2. 2 par. 3 coup de dé. 4 ou être de bonne mine ;-avoir bonne mine means to look well' in the sense of 'to look healthy.' 5 s'accommoder de. 6 See page 10, note 3. 7 Aussi bien ne trouve-t-on pas non plus. See page 88, note 10 8 articles. 9 See page 42, note 7. When, upon some slight encouragement, I first1 visited your Lordship, I was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your address, and could not forbear to wish that I might boast myself le vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre;-that I might obtain 3 that regard for which I saw the world contending; but I found my attendance so little encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue it. When I had once addressed your Lordship in public, I had exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly* scholar can possess. I had done all that I could; and no man is well pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little." Seven years, my Lord, have now past, since I waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it, at last, to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a patron before. The shepherd in Virgil grew at last acquainted with Love, and found him a native of the rocks. Is not a patron, my Lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached the ground, encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to take of 10 my labours, had it been early, had been kind;11 but it has been delayed till 12 I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. 13 I hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess 14 obligations where 16 1 Never separate thus, in French, the subject from the verb (see p. 30, n. 16, and p. 31, n. 4). 2 abord.-'your Lordship;' turn, 'you, my Lord' see p. 177, n. 2 (son abord, here, would sound awkward). 3 See p. 111, n. 17, p. 7, n. 7, and p. 242, n. 14. et étranger au grand monde. 5 de voir dédaigner ce qui, si peu que ce soit, est tout pour lui. no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the public should consider me as owing that to a patron which Providence has enabled me to do for1 myself. Having carried on my work thus far2 with so little obligation to any favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though I should3 conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for I have long been wakened from that dream of hope in which I once boasted myself with so much exultation, my Lord, your Lordship's most humble, most obedient servant. THE DEATH OF WILLIAM PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM. rose. WHEN the Duke of Richmond had spoken,7 Chatham For some time his voice was inaudible. At length his tones became distinct and his action animated.10 Here and there his hearers caught a thought or an expression which reminded them of William Pitt. But it was clear that he was not himself.11 He lost the thread of his discourse, hesitated, repeated the same words several times, and was so confused that, in speaking of the Act of Settlement,12 he could not recall the name of the Electress Sophia. The House 13 listened in solemn as it ought, 'humble obedient ser- 7 See page 28, note 5 8 il ne put se faire entendre. There can be no ambiguity here, in the French rendering, on account of what follows. 9 the tones of his voice.' 11 n'était plus le même (or, plus 13 See page 135, note 10. silence, and with the aspect of profound respect and compassion. The stillness was so deep that the dropping of a handkerchief would have been heard.2 The Duke of Richmond replied with great3 tenderness and courtesy ; but while he spoke, the old man was observed to be restless and irritable.5 The Duke sat down. Chatham stood up again, pressed his hand on his breast, and sank down in an apoplectic fit. Three or four lords who sat near him caught him in his fall. The House broke up in confusion. The dying man was carried to the residence of one of the officers of Parliament, and was so far restored as to be able to bear a journey to Hayes. At Hayes, after lingering a few weeks, he expired in his seventieth year. His bed? was watched to the last, with anxious tenderness, by his wife and children; and he well deserved their care. Too often haughty and wayward to others, to them he had been almost effeminately kind.10 He had through life been dreaded by his political opponents, and regarded with more awe than love even by his political associates. But no fear seems to have mingled with 11 the affection which his fondness, constantly overflowing in a thousand endearing forms, had inspired in the little circle at 12 Hayes. 8 Chatham, at the time of his decease,13 had not, in both Houses of Parliament, ten personal adherents. Half the public men of the age 14 had been estranged from him by his errors, and the other half by the exertions which he had made to repair his errors. His last speech had been an attack at once 15 on the policy pursued by the government, and on the policy recommended by the opposition. But death restored him to his old 16 place in the affection 3 of his country. Who could hear unmoved of the fall of that which had been so great, and which had stood so long? The circumstances, too, seemed rather to belong to the tragic stage than to real life. A great statesman, full of years and honours, led forth to the Senate House by a son of1 rare hopes, and stricken down in full council while straining his feeble voice to rouse the drooping spirit of his country, could not but be remembered 2 with peculiar veneration and tenderness. The few detractors who ventured to murmur were silenced by the indignant clamours of a nation which remembered only the lofty genius, the unsullied probity, the undisputed services, of him who was no more. For once,5 the chiefs of all parties were agreed. A public funeral, a public monument, were eagerly voted. The debts of the deceased were paid. A provision was made for his family. The City of London requested that the remains of the great man whom she had so long loved and honoured might rest under the dome of her magnificent cathedral. But the petition came too late. Every thing was already prepared for the interment in Westminster Abbey. Though men of all parties had concurred in decreeing posthumous honours to Chatham, his corpse was attended to the grave almost exclusively by opponents of the government. The banner of the lordship of Chatham was borne by Colonel Barré, attended by the Duke of Richmond and Lord Rockingham. Burke, Savile, and Dunning upheld the pall.8 Lord Camden was conspicuous in the procession. The chief mourner was young William Pitt. After the lapse of more than twenty-seven years, in a season as dark as perilous, his own shattered frame and broken heart were laid, with the same pomp, in the same consecrated mould. 1 'who gave' (page 55, note 8). 2 See page 21, note 6; and change the construction accordingly. 3 clamours of indignation.' See page 88, note 14. 5 Une seule fois. one of those which have no singular in French (as mentioned page 59, note 8). 7 On pourvut aux besoins de. 8 We say, porter (or tenir) les coins du poêle. 9To be the chief mourner,' is, 6 Remember that this word is conduire (or mener) le deuil. S |