whom we see not, and not to love beings whom we perceive, and who interest all our senses. Ah! in this last moment, he shall see only God; the hitherto invisible will now be visible to him; his senses, already extinguished, will reject all sensual objects; all shall vanish around him; and God will take place of those delusions which had misled and deceived him through life.
Thus every thing changes to this unfortunate wretch; and these changes, with his separations and surprises, occasion the last bitterness of the spectacle of death.
Change in his credit and in his authority. — From the moment that nothing farther is to be expected from his life, the world ceases to reckon upon him; his pretended friends withdraw; his dependants already seek, elsewhere, other protectors, and other masters; even his slaves are employed in securing to themselves, after his death, an establishment which may suit them; scarcely, does a sufficient number remain around him to catch his last sighs. All abandon him; all withdraw themselves; he no longer sees around him that eager crowd of worshippers; it is a successor, perhaps, upon whom they already lavish the same attentions; whilst he, says Job, alone in the bed of his anguish, is no longer surrounded but by the horrors of death; already enters into that frightful solitude which the grave prepares for him, and makes bitter reflections on the inconstancy of the world and the little dependence to be placed on men.
Change in the public esteem, with which he had been so flattered, so intoxicated. — Alas! that world, by which he had been so celebrated, has already forgotten him. The change which his death shall necessarily occasion in the scene, may, perhaps engage for a few days the public attention; but this short interval over, and he shall be plunged in oblivion; scarcely will it be remembered that he has existed; every tongue will now be employed in celebrating the abilities of a successor, and exalting his character upon the wrecks of his memory and reputation. He already perceives this neglect; that he has only to die, and the blank will speedily be filled up; that no vestige of him shall even remain in the world; and that the upright alone, who had seen him surrounded with all his pomp, will say to themselves, Where is he now? Where now are those flatterers, which his greatness attracted? Behold to what the world conducts, and what is to be the portion of those who serve it!
Change in his body. — That flesh, which he had flattered, idolized so much; that vain beauty, which had attracted so many glances, and corrupted so many hearts, is already but a spectacle of horror, whose sight is hardly supportable; it is no longer but a carcass, which is approached with dread. That unfortunate creature, who had lighted up so many unjust passions: alas! his friends, his relations, even his slaves avoid him, conceal themselves, dare not approach him but with precaution, and no longer bestow upon him but the common offices of decency, and even these with reluctance. He himself shrinks with horror, and shudders at himself.
