Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

For this end, by affected severity, he took measures for bringing down into Egypt all his father's children.

5. They were now arrived there; and Benjamin among the rest, who was his younger brother by the same mother, and was particularly beloved by Joseph. Him he threatened to detain; and seemed willing to allow the rest to depart. This incident renewed their distress. They all knew their father's extreme anxiety about the safety of Benjamin, and with what difficulty he had yielded to his undertaking this journey.

6. Should he be prevented from returning, they dreaded that grief would overpower the old man's spirits, and prøve fatal to his life. Judah, therefore, who had particularly uged the necessity of Benjamin's accompanying his brothers, and had solemnly pledged himself to their father for his safe return, craved, upon this occasion, an audience of the governor; and gave him a full account of the circumstances of Jacob's family.

7. Nothing can be more interesting and pathetic than this discourse of Judah. Little knowing to whom he spoke, he paints in all the colours of simple and natural eloquence, the distressed situation of the aged patriarch, hastening to the close of life; long afflicted for the loss of a favourite son, whom he supposed to have been torn in pieces by a Deast of prey; labouring now under anxious concern about his youngest son, the child of his old age, who alone was left alive of his mother, and whom nothing but the calamities of severe famine could have moved a tender father to send from home, and expose to the dangers of a foreign land.

8. "If we bring him not back with us, we shall bring down the gray hairs of thy servant, our father, with sorrow to the grave. I pray thee therefore let thy servant abide, instead of the young man, a bondman to our lord. For how shall I go up to my father, and Benjamin not with me? lest I see the evil that shall come on my father."

9. Upon this relation, Joseph could no longer restrain himself. The tender ideas of his father, and his father's house, of his ancient home, his country, and his kindred, of the distress of his family, and his own exaltation, all rushed too strongly upon his mind to bear any farther concealment. "He cried, Cause every man to go out from me; and he wept aloud."

10. The tears which he shed were not the tears of grief. They were the burst of affection. They were the effusions of a heart overflowing with all the tender sensibilities of

nature. Formerly he had been moved in the same manner, when he first saw his brethren before him. "His bowels yearned upon them; he sought for a place where to weep. He went into his chamber; and then washed his face and returned to them."

11. At that period, his generous plans were not completed. But now, when there was no farther occasion for constraining himself, he gave free vent to the strong_emotions of his heart. The first minister to the king of Egypt was not ashamed to show, that he felt as a man and a brother. "He wept aloud; and the Egyptians, and the house of Pharaoh heard him."

12. The first words which his swelling heart allowed him to pronounce, are the most suitable to such an affecting situation that were ever uttered;-"I am Joseph; doth my father yet live?"-What could he, what ought he, in that impassioned moment, to have said more? This is the voice of nature herself, speaking her own language; and it penetrates the heart: no pomp of expression; no parade of kindness; but strong affection hastening to utter what it strongly felt.

13. "His brethren could not answer him; for they were troubled at his presence." Their silence is as expressive of those emotions of repentance and shame, which, on this amazing discovery, filled their breasts, and stopped their utterance, as the few words which Joseph speaks, are expressive of the generous agitations which struggled for vent within him.

14. No painter could seize a more striking moment for displaying the characteristical features of the human heart, than what is here presented. Never was there a situation of more tender and virtuous joy, on the one hand; nor, on the other, of more overwhelming confusion and conscious guilt. In the simple narration of the sacred historian, it is set before us with greater energy and higher effect, than if it had been wrought up with all the colouring of the most admired modern eloquence. BLAIR.

SECTION VII.
ALTAMONT.

The following account of an affecting, mournful exit, is related by Dr. Young, who was present at the melancholy

scene.

1. THE sad evening before the death of the noble youth, whose last hours suggested the most solemn and awful reflections I was with him. No one was present, but his phy

sician, and an intimate whom he loved, and whom he had ruined. At my coming in, he said, "You and the physician, are come too late. I have neither life nor hope. You both aim at miracles. You would raise the dead!'

2. Heaven, I said, was merciful—“ Or,” exclaimed he,→ "I could not have been thus guilty. What has it not done to bless and to save me -I have been too strong for Omnipotence! I have plucked down ruin."—I said, the blessed Redeemer," Hold! hold! you wound me!-That is the rock on which I split :—I denied his name!”

3. Refusing to hear any thing from me, or take any thing from the physician, he lay silent, as far as sudden darts of pain would permit, till the clock struck: Then with vehemence he exclaimed, "Oh! time! time! it is fit thou shouldst thus strike thy murderer to the heart!-How art thou fled forever!-A month! Oh, for a single week! I ask not for years! though an age were too little for the much I have to do."

4. On my saying, we could not do too much: that heaven was a blessed place." So much the worse.-"I'is lost! 'tis lost! Heaven is to me the severest part of hell!" Soon after, Į proposed prayer,-" Pray you that can, I never prayed I cannot pray-nor need I. Is not heaven on my side already? It closes with my conscience. Its severest strokes but second my own.'

[ocr errors]

5. Observing that his friend was much touched at this, even to tears-(who could forbear? I could not)-with a most affectionate look, he said, "Keep those tears for thyself. I have undone thee.-Dost thou weep for me? That is cruel. What can pain me more?"

6. Here his friend, too much affected, would have left him." No, stay-thou still mayst hope; therefore hear me. How madly have I talked! How madly hast thou listened and believed! but look on my present state, as a full answer to thee, and to myself. This body is all weakness and pain; but my soul, as if stung up by torment to greater strength' and spirit, is full powerful to reason; full mighty to suffer. And that which thus triumphs within the jaws of immortality, is, doubtless, immortal-And, as for a Deity, nothing less than an Almighty could inflict what I feel."

7. I was about to congratulate this passive, involuntary confessor, on his asserting the two prime articles of his creed, extorted by the rack of nature, when he thus, very passionately exclaimed :-"No, no! let me speak on. I have not long to speak.-My much injured friend! my soul, as

my body, lies in ruins; in scattered fragments of broken thought.

8.Remorse for the past, throws my thought on the future. Worse dread of the future, strikes it back on the past. I turn, and turn, and find no ray. Didst thou feel half the mountain that is on me, thou wouldst struggle with the martyr for his stake; and bless Heaven for the flames!—that is not an everlasting flame; that is not an unquenchable fire."

9. How were we struck! yet soon after, still more. With what an eye of distraction, what a face of despair, he cried out! "My principles have poisoned my friend; my extravagance has beggared my boy! my unkindness has murdered my wife! And is there another hell? Oh! thou blasphemed, yet indulgent LORD GOD! Hell itself is a refuge, if it hide me from thy frown!"

10. Soon after, his understanding failed. His terrified imagination uttered horrors not to be repeated, or ever for gotten. And ere the sun (which, I hope, has seen few like him) arose, the gay, young, noble, ingenious, accomplished, and most wretched Altamont, expired!

11. If this is a man of pleasure, what is a man of pain? How quick, how total, is the transit of such persons! In what a dismal gloom they set for ever! How short, alas! the day of their rejoicing!-For a moment, they glitterthey dazzle! In a moment, where are they? Oblivion covers their memories. Ah! would it did! Infamy snatches them from oblivion. In the long living annals of infamy, their triumphs are recorded.

12. Thy sufferings, poor Altamont! still bleed in the bosom of the heart-stricken friend-for Altamont had a friend. He might have had many. His transient_morning might have been the dawn of an immortal day. His name might have been gloriously enrolled in the records of eternity. His memory might have left a sweet fragrance behind it, grateful to the surviving friend, salutary to the succeeding generation.

13. With what capacity was he endowed with what advantages, for being greatly good! But with the talents of an angel, a man may be a fool. If he judges amiss in the supreme point, judging right in all else, but aggravates his folly; as it shows him wrong, though blessed with the best capacity of being right. DR. YOUNG.

CHAPTER VII.

DIALOGUES.

SECTION I.

DEMOCRITUS AND HERACLITUS.*

The vices and follies of men should excite compassion rather than ridicule.

Democritus. I FIND it impossible to reconcile myself to a melancholy philosophy.

Heraclitus. And I am equally unable to approve of that vain philosophy, which teaches men to despise and ridicule one another. To a wise and feeling mind, the world appears in a wretched and painful light.

Dem. Thou art too much affected with the state of things, and this is a source of misery to thee.

Her. And I think thou art too little moved by it. Thy mirth and ridicule, bespeak the buffoon, rather than the philosopher. Does it not excite thy compassion to see mankind so frail, so blind, so far departed from the rules of virtue?

Dem. I am excited to laughter, when I see so much impertinence and folly.

Her. And yet, after all, they, who are the objects of thy ridicule, include, not only mankind in general, but the persons with whom thou livest, thy friends, thy family, nay even thyself.

Dem. I care very little for all the silly persons I meet with; and think I am justifiable in diverting myself with their folly.

Her. If they are weak and foolish, it marks neither wisdom nor humanity, to insult' rather than pity them. But is it certain, that thou art not as extravagant as they are?

Dem. I presume that I am not; since, in every point, my sentiments are the very reverse of theirs.

Her. There are follies of different kinds. By constantFy amusing thyself with the errors and misconduct of ethers, thou mayst render thyself equally ridiculous and culpable.

Dem. Thou art at liberty to indulge such sentiments; and to weep over me too, if thou hast any tears to spare

* Democritus and Heraclitus were two ancient philosophers, the former of whom laughed, and the latter wept, at the errors and follies of mankind.

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »