2 ‘Vade’ is no doubt the true word here. The double sense of it,—that is, to fade, or to go away,—may be seen in Todd's Johnson and in Nares' Glossary. Neither of them quote the following lines from the Earl of Surrey's Poems. They occur in his Ecclesiastes.
We, that live on the earth, draw toward our decay,
Our children fill our place awhile, and then they vade away.
And again,
New fancies daily spring, which vade, returning mo.
“Why Sir,” said Dr. Johnson, “a man grows better humoured as he grows older. He improves by experience. When young he thinks himself of great consequence, and every thing of importance. As he advances in life, he learns to think himself of no consequence, and little things of little importance, and so he becomes more patient and better pleased.” This was the observation of a wise and good man, who felt in himself as he grew old, the effect of Christian principles upon a kind heart and a vigorous understanding. One of a very different stamp came to the same conclusion before him; Crescit ætate pulchritudo animorum, says, Antonio Perez, quantum minuitur eorundem corporum venustas.
One more of these dark pictures. “The heart” says Lord Chesterfield, “never grows better by age; I fear rather worse; always harder. A young liar will be an old one; and a young knave will only be a greater knave as he grows older. But should a bad young heart, accompanied with a good head, (which by the way, very seldom is the case) really reform, in a more advanced age, from a consciousness of its folly, as well as of its guilt; such a conversion would only be thought prudential and political, but never sincere.”
It is remarkable that Johnson, though, as has just been seen, he felt in himself and saw in other good men, that the natural effect of time was to sear away asperities of character
Till the smooth temper of their age should be
Like the high leaves upon the Holly Tree,
yet he expressed an opinion closely agreeing with this of Lord Chesterfield. “A man, he said, commonly grew wicked as he grew older, at least he but changed the vices of youth, head-strong passion and wild temerity, for treacherous caution and desire to circumvent.” These he can only have meant of wicked men. But what follows seems to imply a mournful conviction that the tendency of society is to foster our evil propensities and counteract our better ones: “I am always, he said, on the young people's side when there is a dispute between them and the old ones; for you have at least a charm for virtue, till age has withered its very root.” Alas, this is true of the irreligious and worldly-minded, and it is generally true because they composed the majority of our corrupt contemporaries.
But Johnson knew that good men became better as they grew older, because his philosophy was that of the Gospel. Something of a philosopher Lord Chesterfield was, and had he lived in the days of Trajan or Hadrian, might have done honour to the school of Epicurus. But if he had not in the pride of his poor philosophy shut both his understanding and his heart against the truths of revealed religion, in how different a light would the evening of his life have closed.