It is when the oyster in the Persian Gulf is wounded and dying that it forms the pearl; and Jacob's expiring exclamation is a priceless gem of wisdom and beauty. Dying utterances are sometimes characteristic of a whole life. Richard Baxter's last words were, “I have pain......but I have peace.” Raleigh, feeling the headsman's ax, said, “It is a sharp medicine, but it cureth all sorrow “; Ignatius, “Yea, all torment which the devil can invent, so I may but attain Christ.” Diderot's last words were, “The first step towards philosophy is incredulity.” Gibbon said, “All is dark and doubtful “; Beethoven said, “I shall hear.” The polite Lord Chesterfield is reported to have last said, “Pray give Dayboles a chair “: Buonaparte, “Tête d'armée.” Julian the Apostate said, taking some of his blood and throwing it in the air, “Galilean, Thou hast conquered.” And Jacob's last words were similarly characteristic of his long and, on the whole, faithful life. Besides which they seem an inspired prophecy, and therefore come down carrying divine light through the centuries. If some fixed stars were plucked from their places, their light would still continue streaming down for ages afterward: Jacob was withdrawn, but his life and words still enlighten us.
But especially his words; for it sometimes occurs that a man of weak and imperfect character speaks with the eloquence of perfect wisdom. In extreme cases such inconsistency is repugnant, and the natural reflection suggested is, “Physician heal thyself.” Pope calls Bacon “the wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind;” and of a celebrated preacher it was said, that when he was in the pulpit (he talked so well that) he never should go out; and when out of it (he “walked” so badly that) he never should go in. Demosthenes made such soul-stirring orations against Philip that the Greeks who heard him rose and cried for arms; but whilst they were using them, Demosthenes himself preferred to use his legs. Truth is however so valuable that no matter from whom it comes, we should not let the speaker's inconsistences hinder our reception of it. Halting, Jacob's life might have been; but his words were generally peculiarly wise, beautiful, and pathetic. Here at the close, as was feigned of the swan, “Death darkens his eyes and unplumes his wings, Yet the sweetest song is the last he sings."
Since he has come to lean on the bare staff he can neither say nor do anything amiss. Joseph brings Manasseh and Ephraim for his blessing, but the old patriarch crosses his hands, and reverses their order in the succession. The sign of the cross, traversing and reversing natural order and human expectations, is found here as everywhere—from the crucifers; up to the constellations. Children begin early making “naughts and crosses,” and find naughts and crosses to the end of life. “My thoughts are not as your thoughts,” God says; and this not because the divine thoughts are designed to be apart from or opposed to ours, but because they are right and we are wrong—we look at the eddies; He sees the stream.
Jeremy Taylor remarks on the strangeness of the idea of the cross. Indeed it is difficult now to understand the import of it to those of old time: it has actually reversed its own original meaning. Now, it is outwardly honored. It is set in precious gems above crown and tiara, orb and scepter; it is an object of worship to three hundred millions of civilized people. It surmounts the most gorgeous and stately human edifices: magnificent cathedrals are built in its shape. It floats over land and ocean emblazoned on the standards of the most powerful nations. But then, when originally used, what was it a symbol of? A criminal's death, ghastly, agonizing, and degrading! Something far worse than what the gallows suggests now, for only slave-criminals were crucified.
Thus the shadow of the cross falls on all that follows. It transposes the members both of Jacob's and of Joseph's families, rejecting and selecting in a sovereign and final way, which sets aside human hopes and regulations. It selects Ephraim and Judah, and rejects Manasseh, Reuben, and others. If we are surprised as Joseph was, then the reply is, “I know it, my son, I know it.” It is absolute, and we must submit whether we understand its action or not. At the same time, if we consider in the light of subsequent events, we shall often find wise reasons for the peculiarity of that action. Manasseh's very name had an infirm suggestion in it, which was quite fulfilled in his half-hearted descendants: when they came to the Jordan, half of them stop short, and half go on: that was characteristic of the tribe, and the embryo of it may have been seen in Manasseh by Jacob, as the embryo of the irresolution of the tribe of Reuben was certainly seen by him in their head.
Of the latter he says, “Unstable as water,” and the simile is perfect. Water takes the color of anything adjacent, and the shape of everything with which it comes in contact. “Water,” says Burke, is insipid, inodorous, colorless, and smooth......For as fluidity depends on the roundness, smoothness, and weak cohesion of the component parts of any body, it follows that the cause of its fluidity is likewise the cause of its relaxing quality—namely, the smoothness and slippery texture of its parts.” One would think that he was describing the character of the Reubens—all those who are accursed with infirmity of purpose, invertebrate mollusks, who have no more backbone than a jelly fish. When Joseph was in danger from his brothers, Reuben who should, as eldest, have protected him, does proceed so far as to say, “Shed no blood” —the thought of blood is repugnant to this tribe, especially in theology— “put him down this pit.” He meant to rescue him; but something always happens to upset a Reuben's good intentions. He means to be an upright man, no doubt, but falls into the terrible sin of which his father accuses him.
The tribe carries permanently that disease of vacillation. They decrease in the wilderness, and when they come to Jordan stop short, and, though they promised, and undoubtedly meant to go across and fight the battles of Israel, yet they never do so, but were the first to be led away captive by Hazael and Tiglath-pileser. After the great crisis, when the Israelites cast off the yoke of the Canaanites, by defeating Sisera's vast army, Deborah celebrates the victory in a lofty wean, distributing praise and blame. Ephraim and others receive honorable mention; Meroz is bitterly cursed for inaction; but Reuben is dismissed with one of the keenest satires that the stinging tongue of woman ever uttered. “For the divisions of Reuben there were great thoughts of heart!” Hebrews “impressions.” “Why abodest thou among the sheepfolds, to hear the bleatings of the flocks? For the divisions of Reuben there were great searchings of heart!”
That was what Reuben gave when his brethren, in the agony of that mortal struggle, were giving their heart's blood, Reuben was giving his heart-searchings. Whilst Zebulun and Naphtali were “jeoparding their lives on the high places of the field,” in death clutch with a valiant foe, Reuben was amongst the sheepfolds, searching his heart as to what he ought to do—in the expressive American phrase, “sitting on the fence.” I expect he had nearly made up his mind about the time that the battle was over. Well, it is a convenient way. And he has left many descendants.