Part 12

We have hitherto only surveyed the brilliant colourings of the picture; but we must now proceed to examine its shades. All his good qualities were tarnished by one predominant and odious vice, which was pride. In relating the history of his own achievements, he would consider himself as little less than an Alexander or a Cæsar. He paid himself all the compliments for his heroic actions, which the most fulsome flatterer would give a victorious prince in his presence.--He assumed to himself all the honours of every battle he had been engaged in, without allowing the least merit to any other officer.

All parties being at last tired of the war, many thousands of their subjects having perished in the contest, many widows left to bemoan their husbands, and a great number of children to lament the loss of their fathers, a general peace put an end to this horrid carnage of human beings. It so happened, that the regiment to which Bounce belonged was directed to pass along the road on which his father's house was situated, in order to proceed to Windsor, where it was to be disbanded.

By this time, his father and mother had paid their last debt to nature; but his brothers, who were still living, hearing of his approach, ran to meet him, accompanied by many others in the village. They soon found him at the head of his battalion, exercising his men, in quality of captain and major.

They ran to him with open arms, saying, "O dear Bounce! were but our parents now living, what joy would this give to their aged hearts! My brother and I have been long sighing for this moment of seeing and embracing you. Thanks to that God who has preserved you through so many dangers, and at last has afforded us this inexpressible pleasure!" Having thus said, the two brothers attempted to embrace him.

The major, however, was very much displeased, that men, who had no cockades in their hats, should presume to take these freedoms with him, and call him brother. He pushed them from him, and treated their marks of affection with insolence and contempt. "What do you mean," said he, "by taking these freedoms with me?"--"Is it possible," replied the younger brother, "that you have forgotten us? Look at me, I am George, whom you formerly loved, whom you taught to dig and sow this ground, when I was but a little one, and not higher than the length of the sword which now dangles by your side."

This put the major into a violent rage, and he threatened he would have them apprehended as impostors, if they did not immediately depart.

This scene of pride and vanity passed at the head of his battalion, to which every soldier was witness. They dared not to speak their minds openly, but in their hearts execrated his conduct. They vented their indignation in whispers to each other. "Is it possible," said they, "that our major can be ashamed of having once been what we are at present? on the contrary, he ought to think himself happy, and be thankful, that Fortune has raised him from nothing to what he now is. It is more to the honour and reputation of a man, to acquire a fortune by merit, than it is to be born to one."

These were sentiments, however, of which Bounce had no idea; the fortune he met with seemed to increase the depravity of his heart rather than correct it. He even wished his fellow-soldiers to forget that he had originally been, like them, one of the rank and file, and consequently treated them with the most haughty and insolent contempt; while they, on the other hand, viewed him in the just light in which men ought to be considered, who, having soared above their original obscurity, suffer themselves to be led away by the empty parade of pride and ambition.

As he was one day reviewing the regiment in the presence of the colonel, the latter having found some fault in his method of giving the word of command, he gave him a very insolent and haughty answer, such as the military laws will not admit an inferior to give to a superior officer. He had frequently before given shameful instances of his pride and arrogance to those of higher rank; his colonel, therefore, determined to try him by a court-martial, and at once punish him for all his audacious infractions of the military law. He was accordingly tried, found guilty, and solemnly declared incapable of serving any longer in the army. He was disgraced and ruined.

It can hardly be expected, that such a man as we have here described, could have any great share of prudence or economy in the management of his private affairs. He was not worth any thing at the time of his disgrace, and, therefore, found himself obliged either to labour for his living, or starve. What a situation for a man to be reduced to, who, but a little while since, ingloriously despised that condition, which he was now forced to apply to for his subsistence!

Necessity, at last, obliged him to pay a visit to the place of his nativity, and beg the assistance of those whom he had so lately despised. The villagers, when they saw him thus reduced, in their turn, treated him with contempt, and made him experience how dangerous it is, whatever may be our present fortune, to despise any one merely because he may not be so great as ourselves.--During the whole course of his prosperity he had formed no friendly connections, and therefore now, in the hour of adversity, he had no creature to apply to, either to advise or assist him. Thus had his pride and folly deprived him of one of the greatest blessings of this life. The mind receives some little consolation in being _pitied_; but deplorable indeed is his situation, who cannot command that most trifling relief.

Finding himself neglected and despised by every one he had hitherto applied to, he was at last forced to seek relief from his brothers, whom he had lately insulted so cruelly. It was now, indeed, their turn to retaliate on him; but they had souls far greater than his. They despised every idea of mean revenge, and did him all the service they could under his present difficulties.

The little matters their father had left them had long been divided among them, and Bounce had made away with his share, as well as with all his pay. In this situation, the brothers gave him a little spot of ground to cultivate, on which he was obliged to employ all his time, in order to procure a scanty subsistence. He had now time enough to reflect on the elevated station from which his pride and folly had thrown him.

He would frequently exclaim to himself, "O diabolical pride, to what a melancholy situation hast thou brought me! Why, O Fortune! did you raise me so far above my original character, as to make me forget my former situation, and thereby make my fall more inglorious and irreparable? had you not raised me above the state of a subaltern, I might have still been happy; but, by making me great, you have ruined and undone me!"

Ideas and reflections such as these perpetually haunted him, and interrupted his repose; until Death, more kind to him than Fortune, put an end to his feelings and sufferings by an untimely end, leaving an example of the fatal consequences which pride brings in its train.

Be cautious, my youthful readers, how you suffer this vice to get possession of your hearts, since it renders deformed the most perfect beauty, and eclipses the most brilliant accomplishments.

_The Nettle and the Rose._

We may consider human life as a garden, in which roses and nettles are promiscuously scattered, and in which we often feel the sting of the wounding nettle, while we enjoy the fragrance of the blooming rose. Those bowers of delight, entwined with the woodbine and jessamine, under whose friendly umbrage we seek shelter from the noon-day sun, frequently are the abode of snakes, adders, and venomous creatures, which wound us in those unguarded scenes of delight.

As the year has its seasons, and winter and summer are constantly in pursuit of each other; so changeable likewise is the condition of mortals; and, as the elements are frequently disturbed by storms, hurricanes, and tempests, so is the human mind frequently ruffled and indisposed, till the sun-shine of reason and philosophy bursts forth and dispels the gloom. Murmuring brooks, purling streams, and sequestered groves, whatever the fictions of a poetical imagination may have advanced, are not always the seat of unmingled pleasure, nor the abode of uninterrupted happiness.

The hapless Florio pined away some months on the delightful banks of the Severn: he complained of the cruelty of the lovely Anabella, and told his fond tale to the waters of that impetuous stream, which hurried along regardless of his plaints. He gathered the lilies of the field; but the lilies were not so fair as his Anabella, nor the fragrance of the blushing rose so sweet as her breath; the lambs were not so innocent, nor the sound of the tabor on the green half so melodious as her voice. Time, however, has joined Florio and Anabella in the fetters of wedlock, and the plaints of the swain are changed. The delusion of the enchantment is vanished, and what he but lately considered as the only object worthy of his sublunary pursuit, he now contemplates with coolness, indifference, and disgust: enjoyment has metamorphosed the rose into a nettle.

Ernestus, contrary to his inclinations, was compelled by his parents to marry the amiable Clara, whose sense, tenderness, and virtues, soon fixed the heart of the roving Ernestus; and what at first gave him pain and disgust, by degrees became familiar, pleasing, and delightful. Here the nettle was changed to the rose.

The wandering libertine, who pursues the rose through the unlawful paths of love, who tramples on every tender plant that comes within his reach, and who roves from flower to flower, like the bee, only to rob it of its sweets, will at last lose his way; and, when benighted, be compelled to repose on the restless bed of wounding nettles.

The blooming rose is an utter stranger to the regions of Ambition, where gloomy clouds perpetually obscure the beams of the joyful sun; where the gentle zephyrs never waft through the groves, but discordant blasts are perpetually howling, and where the climate produces only thorns and nettles.

The rose reaches its highest perfection in the garden of Industry, where the soil is neither too luxuriant, nor too much impoverished. Temperance fans it with the gentlest breezes, and Health and Contentment sport around it. Here the nettle no sooner makes its appearance, than the watchful eye of Prudence espies it; and, though it may not be possible totally to eradicate it, it is never suffered to reach to any height of perfection.

Since then human life is but a garden, in which weeds and flowers promiscuously shoot up and thrive, let us do what we can to encourage the culture of the rose, and guard against the spreading nettle. However barren may be the soil that falls to our lot, a careful and assiduous culture will contribute not a little to make the garden, at least, pleasing and cheerful.

Printed by J. Swan, 76, Fleet Street.

Transcriber's Notes:

Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.

Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced quotation marks retained.

Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.

Occasional occurrences of the archaic long "s" (printed as "f") have been replaced with the modern "s".

Occasional missing periods and opening or closing quotation marks remedied.

Page 95: "Though her visitors did not look" was printed as "visiters", but was changed here for consistency with other occurrences of "visitor" or "visitors" in this text.

Page 97: "spised" probably should be "despised".

End of Project Gutenberg's The Blossoms of Morality, by Richard Johnson